#but here he's downright dangerous

[airenyah]

[gojorgeous]

"MINE, MINE, MINE."

pairing: alpha!geto x omega!fem!reader summary: your doctor won’t refill your prescription until you’ve reset your cycle. you’re desperate for that refill, but geto’s not having it. content: MDNI (18+ ONLY), a/b/o dynamics, nsfw, dubcon? (reader doesn’t want a heat but it’s medically necessary (LMAO what)), established relationship, unprotected sex, breeding, praise, pet names, knotting, slight manipulation, dacryphilia, somnophilia, spit, blood, oral (fem!receiving), so much licking and smelling?, geto and reader are just downright feral LMAO, lmk if i missed anything. a/n: have y’all figured out that i have a breeding kink yet… anyway, this is the first a/b/o fic that i’ve ever written but i just read one and was feeling *inspired*. if people want i might do a prequel sort of thing for this that goes more in-depth about how they met and stuff. lmk! also, i have a vampire gojo fic planned hehe get ready bbs. if you want more of my omegaverse fics check out my alpha!gojo fic here! and remember, AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED! divider credit to: @cafekitsune wc: 5.2k

“No.” 

No? You shift in your seat, cold and plastic, sure you must have heard him wrong. 

“I’m sorry?” you ask. You press your tongue to the roof of your mouth, an anxious habit.

“I can’t refill the prescription. I’m sorry, but, frankly, it would be completely irresponsible of me to do so. I’m shocked your previous physician prescribed them for so long.” Fingers find yours and twine them together. Your eyes flash to Geto, but he’s only staring at your new doctor, staring with that furrow in his brow he only gets when he’s worried.

Your new, soon-to-be old, doctor sighs again, running a hand through his thinning white hair. “You need to have a heat as soon as possible, allow your body to recalibrate. Indefinite use of suppressants is dangerous and unhealthy. They are meant to manage your cycles, not stop them altogether.” 

Sweat beads on your palms. He can’t be serious. But it’s his first opinion. Surely there’s another option.

“I-I’m sorry, doctor. I don’t think I’m understanding.” 

Another glance at Geto reveals that he’s frowning now. When his eyes find yours you see the decision there, one he’s already made without you. Your stomach drops.

The doctor sighs and suddenly the walls of the office feel small, tight, suffocating. The twinge of alcohol and chemicals in the air makes your nose scrunch. “Let me say this clearly. I will not refill your prescription for suppressants, nor will any other reputable physician. You have been taking them continuously for far too long. You risk permanent damage should you delay a proper cycle any longer.” The doctor glances to Geto, then back to you. “Go home with your alpha and allow nature to take its course. It’s what’s best.” 

Your eyes widen with realization– you are not leaving this office with what you came for. Your heart pounds and your palms sweat. “Th-that can’t happen, doctor. I need my suppressants. My job- I can’t be out that long a-and Geto can’t either, we–” 

“We will go home,” Geto interrupts, and his tone is final. “Thank you, doctor, for the advice.” 

Geto pulls you to your feet, gently but firmly. He leaves no question about the fact that you’re leaving. You can feel the intensity radiating off him in waves. You ignore it. You turn to your new doctor, silently smiting him. Why did your old one have to retire?

“Doctor, you don’t underst–” 

“Thank you again,” Geto interrupts.

Before you can make another sound, another protest, Geto pulls you through the door, out of the office, and back to the car. He opens the door for you, as he always does, except this time you’re not so eager to accept his chivalry. 

“Suguru,” you bite out. His eyes meet yours, but they are surprisingly gentle. So calm. How is he always calm? 

“Just get in, baby. We’ll talk about it in the car.”

You debate saying no, but you can’t bring yourself to start a fight when he’s being so good. You grumble when you climb in, buckling your seatbelt before Geto can do it for you.

The engine revs to life, but you hardly notice. You’re already scrolling your phone, the search bar reading a simple and straightforward “doctors offices near me”. You scroll right past the first ten, for once in your life wanting a doctor that’s a little sketchy. You scroll further– still not sketchy enough. Someone who’ll give you the prescription you need, even if it’s not necessarily… ethical. Or maybe you could get some on the street? Surely there was some kind of dealing ring for that. There was a dealing ring for everything, right?

“What are you doing?” His voice is soft, but his fingers are tight around the steering wheel, skin stretched tight across his knuckles.

You lift your phone to your ear, dialing the first office that looked relatively shitty enough. “Getting a second opinion,” you answer. 

Suguru plucks the phone so swiftly from your fingers that you hardly even notice it’s gone. You see him end the call and slip it into his back pocket, out of your reach. 

“Hey!” You scramble across the center console, hopelessly grabbing at your lost phone, your last hope. 

Suguru grabs your wrist, restraining you far too easily for your liking. “You’re not getting it back,” he says. His eyes never leave the road. 

Your brows pinch and anger boils in your stomach. “This is not for you to decide. It’s my body.”

He glances at you, unconcerned. Still calm. “And you’re not in a headspace to be making a responsible decision about it, so I’m making it for you.”

Your jaw drops and you pry your wrist free of his grasp. You escape, but you know it’s only because he allows it. “I am of perfectly sound mind, thank you.” 

He shakes his head and sighs. “You’re blinded by desperation.” 

“It’s still not for you to decide!” When you don’t notice any change in his expression, you switch tactics– from anger to honesty. You let your face fall, let your true feelings creep through. “You know how much I hate it, Su.” 

Finally, he cracks. It’s instantaneous, the way he melts for you- the way the soft smile finds his lips and his hand finds yours, twining your fingers together. “I know, but you have to, baby. You heard the doctor.” 

You clench your jaw and avoid the sting of tears behind your eyes. You had heard the doctor, but you weren’t ready. Maybe next month, when you’d had more time to mentally prepare. 

Your skin crawled. You hated it, hated this. You hadn’t had a heat in years, avoiding them like the plague. You hated how vulnerable they made you, how they put you at the mercy of another. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Suguru– you did. You trusted him more than anyone, anything, but you still hated the feeling of being so completely helpless, so completely out of control, even if it was Suguru you were submitting to. 

For most of your life, you’d successfully hidden your omega status. With the help of suppressants, you’d passed as a beta until your early twenties. Then you met Geto. 

You’d met at work. He was cute, beautiful even, you’d thought, but he screamed alpha– and alphas could be dangerous, especially for hiding, unclaimed omegas like you. You’d stayed away as long as you could and, for a while, you were quite successful. You avoided him in the halls, sat at the opposite end of the table in meetings, replied to emails succinctly but politely. All was well until you’d been trapped in an elevator with him one morning, biting your lip anxiously as you waited to reach the twelfth floor. He’d smelled so good that day, perhaps due to an oncoming rut. You hadn’t been able to resist inching closer, taking deeper breaths. Suguru would later tell you that he’d suspected your hidden status, but he had no reason to question you. At least, not until he had you up against the elevator wall with his face buried in your neck. One deep whiff was all he’d needed to know exactly what you were, even with suppressants in your system.

You’d dated for a little over a year, until you’d decided he was the one. Your fingers dust over the mate mark on your throat, the one that had not only made you undoubtedly Suguru’s, but also the one that had revealed to the world exactly what you were. There was no hiding your true identity with an alpha’s scarred mark on your neck. 

Suguru had never seen you through a heat– no one had. You’d taken your suppressants daily, ever since you met him and even long before that. He’d claimed you on a day like any other, no heat necessary. He hadn’t had a rut in all these years, either. When he felt one coming on all he had to do was pop a single pill and all was well– apparently with none of the nasty side effects that came along with your suppressants. Another unfair privilege of being an alpha you supposed. 

“Sugu, I can’t do this.” Your lip is raw from how much you’ve been chewing on it by the time you reach home. 

Suguru softly shuts the door behind you, lifting your twined hands to his lips, gently kissing your knuckles. 

“Yes you can. I know you can.” 

You shake your head. He doesn’t understand– doesn’t know what this will do to you, how it will break you. While you hadn’t had a heat in years, you had experienced them before. You loathed them more than anything, loathed the way your mind was a slave to your body and not the other way around, loathed the way your whole body pulsed and throbbed, loathed the way it made you feel so… weak. “I can’t. It’s-it’s-” Your hands come up to cover your face. You sigh and feel the blush crawling beneath your cheeks. “It’s embarrassing. Humiliating.” 

There’s silence for a moment, and then a soft sight. Suguru pries your hands from your face gently. When you meet his eyes, he’s all business.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, baby.” 

You shake your head and pull away, pacing. “I don’t want anyone to see me like that, Sugu. Not even you.” 

Strong hands catch your waist, holding you still. “It’s not a question. It’s happening– for the sake of your health.” 

You scoff and shake your head. “It’s not–” 

His thumb presses to your lips with just enough pressure to demand silence. The omega in you coos to listen, to submit– the other part of you reels with annoyance.

“End of discussion.” 

He’s closer now and you can feel waves of his breath skating across your skin. It’s like a drug, one that the primal side of you can never get enough of. Give in, give in, give in, your omega begs. Listen to your alpha… You try not to focus on the fact that he smells good enough to eat. You know what he’s doing– using his dynamic to persuade you, to make you see his way, playing to the omega you can usually hide so carefully.

“Sugu…” you say. You intend to be angry but you trail off when his eyes catch yours. 

“I got you, baby.”

Your heart melts at the words. He waits. Maybe he knows that the smell of his skin on yours is playing tricks on your mind. You wage a battle within. Every instinct urges you to agree and with every passing second it becomes harder to disagree. Perhaps he’s right, perhaps it's time you give in for once. Let him take care of you, your omega purrs. You’re nodding before you realize what you’ve done.

Suguru kisses you quickly, allowing no time for takebacks. When he pulls away he gets to work. He whips his phone from his pocket and you listen to him talking to his boss, your boss, saying that you’ll both be out of work for a week on “family” leave. Your face heats when you realize that your boss now knows exactly what you two are going to be doing for the foreseeable future. Suguru kisses you one last time before he’s out the door, off to get enough food and supplies to last a week. You won’t be leaving your apartment for some time. You don't fail to notice that he doesn’t return your phone before he’s gone.

~

You don’t notice a difference, even after the sun is gone. It’s not surprising, considering you usually take your suppressants at night– it’ll take a little while longer for them to fully exit your system… you hope. When you’re brushing your teeth you stare at the empty prescription bottle longingly. 

You join Suguru in bed. The moment you crawl onto the mattress he pulls you closer into his bare chest. You savor the way your bodies fit so perfectly- like he was meant for you and you alone. His front curls around your back, a leg slotted between your thighs. 

“Feel anything?” he asks. 

You shake your head to hide your swallow. You almost shiver when Suguru buries himself in your neck, inhaling your scent. You feel him harden against your backside. He must be able to smell your approaching heat even before you can. Part of you expects instinct to take hold of him, for him to make a move, but he only presses a kiss to your jaw and holds you tighter. 

“Sleep, baby.” 

For once, you follow orders without a fight.

–

Hot. Too hot. 

When your eyes flutter open, you feel the pounding of your heart, the labor of your breath, and the growing ache between your legs. 

You sit up so fast you see stars, panic flooding your veins. No, no, no, no, no. This was wrong, you’d made the wrong choice. You couldn’t do this. Already, you could feel control slipping from your grasp, your consciousness giving way to something more primal, more feral. You scramble, preparing to stand, to find your phone, to lock yourself away and suffer through this on your own.

“Deep breaths, baby.” 

Only then do you realize Suguru is already awake. He’s behind you, hands on your shoulders, both a comfort and a restraint. 

“Can’t-” Your breaths are ragged and so are your words. “Can’t do this, Sugu-” 

“Yes, you can.” He whispers. He pulls you closer, tighter against him. “You will.” 

You shake your head frantically, tears pooling on your lashes. When you turn, Suguru is staring at your neck, at the mate mark on your throbbing pulse. His jaw is clenched when his tongue darts out to wet his lips. He’s restraining himself, you realize. A glance down reveals he’s already painfully hard in his pants. You wonder how long he’s been sitting there, taking in your scent, waiting for you to wake. No doubt his rut has already been triggered.

His eyes raise to yours and he pauses at the tears that leak down your cheeks. He leans closer, and the scent emanating from his neck makes you groan against your will. His kisses away the tears. Slowly, one at a time. 

“I’ve got you, baby,” he whispers. “I’ve got you.” 

Your body pulls him closer, even as your mind pushes back. “My phone, Sugu,” you panic. “Gotta gimme my phone. C-call a new doctor.” 

He shakes his head and when you start to squirm he only holds you tighter, holds you in place. 

“No, baby.” 

You whimper, seeking the scent gland on his neck against your will. The smell makes your clit throb almost painfully. 

“Sugu, please,” you cry. Tears stream from your eyes, staining your lover’s skin. 

“‘S gonna be okay. Just let it happen. Don’t fight it, love.” 

With each passing moment, you feel your fight slipping further and further away. Suguru rubs at the muscles in your back until you’re slumped against him, pitifully moaning like a wounded animal. It’s not long before your body takes the reins, until you start desperately humping at his thigh, your clit throbbing almost painfully. 

“That’s it. Good girl.” 

Your eyes roll back at the praise and when Suguru grips your waist you cry out at the touch. Everywhere his skin meets yours feels electric. You’re burning, burning, burning. It’s not until Suguru lays you down on your back that you see the sopping patch of slick you’ve left on his thigh. You whimper at the sight. 

“‘S okay, baby. ‘Ve got you.”

Suguru is looking nearly as lost to the lust as you are. Only his willpower and intent keep him from shredding away your panties and breeding your cunt full that very second. He’s never been in the presence of a scent so intoxicating. He’s never been with you, or any omega, through a heat. He thought you smelled amazing before, but now… He is lost to you, lost to the heat he feels emanating from every inch of your skin, to the honeyed scent pouring from your neck, to the slick he sees staining through your panties. His dick twitches in his pants. 

“Love you so much, baby. Gonna take such good care of ya,” he whispers. Instinct drives him forward until he’s plastered his lips to your jaw, licking and biting at the skin. You nearly scream at the sensation. You feel his touch everywhere, all at once. With your last coherent thoughts you know that this heat will be unlike any other you’ve ever experienced. It’s already so intense you can hardly think, and you’ve only just begun.

“Sugu,” you plead. 

The sound of his name on your lips breaks him. His hand dips across your stomach, thumbing past the edge of your panties until he’s running his finger through your slit, gathering your slick and rubbing it against your clit. 

You scream and thrash, so sensitive it nearly hurts, but he only moves to pin you beneath him, forcing you to take everything he gives. 

“Gonna make you feel ‘s good, baby.” he hums. He’s lost to you, to your desires, to your needs. Every piece of him screams to please you, to take care of you, in every way possible.

He continues his messy circles on your clit and until you’re gasping, hole clenching around nothing, begging to be filled. 

“S-Sugu…” you whine.

The growl that rips from his throat has you arching your back and bearing your throat in an act of submission. You hear a tear and watch your panties hit the floor. Your shirt follows and then you’re completely bare beneath your alpha. His eyes go black at the sight, pupils blown so wide you can hardly see a smidgen of their usual brown. There’s a deep rumble in his chest that has you keening and reaching for him, needing him. He doesn’t waste time. His tongue finds your neck, laving sloppily at your scent gland and the sensation is so delicious that you writhe beneath him. 

His fingers slide down your stomach, dipping between your thighs and rubbing at your clit. The touch is somehow gentle despite the complete and total hunger in his eyes, but it has you whining nonetheless. Every place he touches you, which is nearly everywhere, stings so delightfully that your eyes are already rolling back.

But you can’t wait. You can’t. Your body is starved, rabid, and you know what you need.

“Ssssugu… please…” your words are hardly above a whisper, barely a breath, but your alpha still hears you, still knows what you want, what you need. 

“I got you, baby… shhhhh…” He gives a final lick to your scent gland before he’s leaning back on his knees, parting your thighs wide, exposing your leaking cunt. You can feel a puddle of slick beneath your ass, your hole clenching desperately around nothing, aching to be filled. 

Warm hands slide up your skin and settle on your hips, tugging you a little further down the bed. You whimper, but don’t have time to say anything before you feel him slipping through your folds. A glance down reveals his weeping tip, achingly flushed, bumping and rubbing against your clit. When did his pants come off? You don’t know, you don’t care, all that matters is that the sight steals your breath away. 

“Gonna knot you good, princess.” 

You nod, wanting nothing more than for him to make good on his promise. You claw and grip at his arms, chanting his name endlessly. His chest rumbles again and your thighs part further on instinct. Finally, he gives you what you want. You feel him pressing in, fat tip stretching you wide. One of his hands moves to press down on your tummy and the combination has tears pooling in your eyes. 

He slides in slowly. With every inch you think he must be done, that you can’t take any more. But you can, and you do. When he’s finally fully in your jaw is hanging open in ecstasy and your eyes are rolled back in your skull. His fingers brush your clit and your hips jerk. 

“That’s it. So good, baby. So fucking good.” 

Your tears flood over, racing down your cheeks. He’s over you again, loose strands of black hair brushing your skin and forcing a whimper from your throat. He licks away your tears, lapping at your cheeks like you’re a fucking lollipop. His hips start thrusting in time with his licks, and it’s more than you can handle. Your thighs tremble and suddenly you’re begging. Pleading, whining, screaming for more. He gives it to you. One hand finds yours, twining your fingers together as he pounds into you so hard he’s rattling your skull. He’s licking at your scent gland again, driving you further and further toward a cliff you’re afraid to fall from. You think this orgasm might shatter you, might break you so thoroughly you’ll never be put back together again. You can feel it tightening at your core with each thrust, each lick, each kiss. 

“Fuck,” you hear him growl and whimper at the sound of his voice so close to your ear. “‘M gonna bite you, princess. Gonna mark you up and knot you so good you’ll see fucking stars.” You pant beneath him, unable to word how excited you are by his words, how deliciously they roll across your skin and seep into your spine. “Tell me you didn’t take your pill, baby. Tell me I can breed this pussy full and it won’t go to waste.” He’s not talking about your suppressants you know, but rather the contraceptives you take in tandem with them. Of course you took it, but suddenly something makes you wish you hadn't. “‘M gonna flush ‘em down the fucking toilet. Never letting you take that shit again.”

The primal part of you surges forward at the idea. It chants deep in your mind. Yes, yes, yes…

“Suguuu… please…” It seems like those are the only words your tongue can form.

His lips press to yours, shushing you. “Shhh, baby. Don’ worry. I got you.” He licks across your cheek and down across your jaw until he finds your scent gland again. His thrusts pick up again and you think you might pass out from how good you feel, from how tight your muscles are coiling. You can feel his knot pulsing inside you, preparing to fill you to the brim. You’ve never felt more ready for anything. 

“Sugu–” 

And it’s at that moment that he makes good on his promise. His teeth sink into your neck and you feel your bond snap taut like a string, pulsing with the closeness of your connection. It’s pure ecstasy. Suguru’s knot swells, notching tightly inside you and when you feel his cum pulsing into your womb it’s all too much. You think you must be screaming from the pleasure but you only hear the ringing in your ears as your orgasm washes over you. Your muscles clench, your toes curl, your back arches, you see those stars Suguru promised. Heat tingles through your limbs and down your spine and you think you’ve probably just melted into the mattress. But you haven’t, and when your vision returns, you’re panting and staring at the ceiling. 

Suguru is above you and you can feel him still cumming, still releasing rope after rope of thick, hot cum into you. The sensation makes you groan and he laps at your neck, cleaning up the blood from the new mark he’s just given you. Your consciousness trickles back in, the primal piece of you partially sated for the time being. You remember the context of your situation, why you’re here and not at work, what you’re doing. You’re puzzled by why you’d been so panicked by the idea of a heat before. How could you have been so reluctant, so scared, when nothing has ever felt this right?

Suguru is peppering you with kisses now, pulling you tight to his chest and rolling you both onto your sides where you’ll stay until his knot softens. 

“Sleep, princess,” he says and he uses that tone that always compels you to listen, to please. You happily do as he says and when your eyes drift shut it’s not long before you’re lost to a world of comfortable darkness. 

~

You wake to the throbbing again. All of the pent up need Suguru had sated has returned with a vengeance. You need him again, but it appears he already knows that. 

You feel him between your legs, his hair fully loose now and tickling the insides of your thighs. He’s eating you out, slurping up the cum that’s leaking down your thighs and spitting it back onto your cunt. It’s filthy, disgusting, and you love it.

“Sugu–” you gasp and your hips buck. His eyes lock with yours and the smile he gives you nearly makes you come on the spot. He holds your gaze as he licks one last long stripe over your folds. You whimper and clench around nothing. Empty, empty, empty…

“Sorry, baby,” he whispers against your skin. He’s kissing his way up your body now, leaving little circles of spit that cool when they touch the air and make you shiver. “‘Y smelled so good…” 

You whine and whimper, clawing at his back and leaving scratches you think might draw blood. You’re too worried about getting him inside of you to check.

You’re gasping like you’ve never had a breath of air in your life, like you’ve drowned and every touch he gives you fills your lungs with much-needed oxygen. His hands rub gently at your waist, but it’s not enough. You want him to wreck you, ruin you. You say as much. 

“M-more…” you beg and when he hums against your neck you squirm desperately. Warm hands dig into your flesh and suddenly you find yourself flipped onto your stomach. You feel Suguru behind you, pushing your thighs apart with his knees. His hands find your hips again and lift, propping you up with your face still pressed to the pillows. When you whimper he runs a soothing hand up and down your spine. 

“‘S okay, baby. Relax. Lemme take care ‘ve you.” 

Yes, yes, yes, you think. You don’t think you’ve ever wanted anything more. His fingers dig into your skin, holding you still when he feeds his dick into you, one inch at a time. You cry out, tearing at the sheets and begging for more, even when you already feel like you’re splitting in half. When he’s finally seated inside you he drapes himself over your back, brushing your hair over one shoulder to expose your neck. He leans in to lick you again, thrusting sharply the moment his tongue brushes your skin. You wail, pressing your face to the sheets and attempting to rock yourself back against him. One of his hands smooths over the flesh of your ass as he sets a pace, one that makes you bite down on a pillow to muffle your screams. 

“No.” Suguru uses that tone that makes you listen, that one that calls instinctively to the omega inside you, that urges you to please. He reaches for your pillow, tossing it aside and letting his hand curl around your throat as he continues to fuck you, letting his fingers feel the vibrations of every noise you make. “Let me hear you, baby. Always let me hear you.” 

You nod, eager to make him happy, eager to do as he says. You don’t dare restrain a single sound, eyes rolling back. The angle he has you at has your thighs trembling. He’s so deep, so close. You feel his heartbeat against your back, feel his tongue on your skin, his hand on your throat, his cock at your cervix.

When he groans, you groan with him, feeling his dick pulse inside you, his knot beginning to swell. You need it, need it so bad you can hardly stand it. 

“P-please, please, please–”

He swells inside you, locking your bodies together as his orgasm hits. It’s all you need to find your own. You wail into the mattress, cunt clenching and legs trembling until you collapse, flattening against the beg. Suguru follows you down, wrapping his arms around your waist and whispering in your ear.

“Take it all, baby. Good girl. Take it all…” 

You nod, not even sure what you’re agreeing to. All you can feel is his cum flooding your insides, pulsing and pumping so deep into you that you swear your tummy is swelling with the sheer amount of it. Still, your body wants more, clenching and milking him for every last drop, just like he asked.

When you both come down from your orgasms he pulls you into his chest once again, whispering promises of protection and love that lull you into a trance-like state of happiness. When you fall asleep again, he’s chanting a word that your omega repeats right back to him. “Mine, mine, mine.”

When you wake again it’s to the sound of Geto staying true to his word and flushing every last birth control pill you have straight down the toilet. Your omega surges at the idea, but one mewl from you and he’s back in your arms, like you’re somehow the one in charge, not him. With every passing moment, you being to think that might be true- that perhaps a heat does not makes you as weak as you thought. Your alpha submits as much to you as you submit to him.

The week is spent in a frenzy. You do not measure by the numbers on the clock or where the sun is in the sky, rather you know time only as how long it’s been since Suguru’s been locked inside you. If it were up to you, you’d never stop, but Geto forces you to sleep, to eat, to bathe. Of course, he’s never far away when you’re following his instructions and you usually get a kiss and his knot as a reward for being such a good girl. 

It’s ten days later when your heat finally starts to wane. It feels as though every inch of you is covered in him. Bites, hickies, kisses, cum… no part of you has been left untouched. Suguru has had you everywhere. The bed, the shower, the bath, the kitchen. Every surface in the whole apartment reeks of sex and slick. He never keeps you too far from the bedroom, though, where you’ve piled up mountains of his shirts and sheets. Anything that smells like him, anything that can keep you tethered in those brief moments when Suguru goes to fetch you food or water or run you a bath. He takes care of you, just like he promised. 

When you wake completely clear-headed for the first time in well over a week, it’s to Suguru’s arms and lips. He’s got you all wrapped up in him, his arms locked around your waist almost like he expects you to bolt. You almost do when everything comes flooding back to you, this time with a completely clear conscience. But then he kisses your neck and whispers a delightful little, “welcome back, baby” against your neck and suddenly you’re realizing how… revitalized you feel, like a part of you has finally been properly satisfied after years of waiting. You’d always hated this, always hated the part of you that begged and cowered, hated heats- but maybe with Suguru… they really weren’t all that bad.

taglist (DM me to be added!): @lacheri, @la-undercover-latina

link: alpha!gojo fic

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[sunderwight]

AU where there's no system (or a decidedly less restrictive one) and Shen Yuan transmigrates into an OC rogue cultivator before the start of the novel, and decides he's gonna steal the protagonist before Luo Binghe even gets to Cang Qiong.

The logic is sound -- he'll keep Luo Binghe from experiencing neglect and abuse at Shen Qingqiu's hands, raise him away from the pressure of the sects and the likelihood that anyone else might find out about his heritage and try to harm him over it, keep him fully away from the Immortal Alliance Conference, and then Luo Binghe's course will change trajectory because he'll have no reason to want revenge against the world and no access to Xin Mo. Shen Yuan will be able to spare Luo Binghe some suffering and possibly survive in a world less subject to the harrowing whims of a half-mad tyrannical overlord. Win-win!

However, the tricky bit is that he's not sure exactly how far ahead of the novel he is, and also Airplane didn't specify where Luo Binghe grew up. This means that Luo Binghe could be any age younger than twelve and in any number of places along or near to the Luo river.

Shen Yuan decides he's going to approach this by pretending he is looking for the long-lost son of his sister, traveling through the likeliest areas, asking after abandoned children who might fit the protagonist's description. It's a long shot, he knows, and he's mostly relying on the existence of Narrative Destiny. But eventually he is directed by several people towards a particular city, which is not as close to the river as he'd have expected Luo Binghe to grow up, but then again he only knows that was where baby Binghe was found, not where the washerwoman who took him in ultimately lived.

It becomes clear to him, though, that he's been sent to the wrong target. But also why he's been sent astray is apparent in nearly the same breath, because among the slave children living in this area is a little boy who could be his much younger clone.

Seriously, this kid looks just like him! Or, well, close enough. He looks a lot like Shen Yuan's actual nieces and nephews from his past life. It's uncanny.

Also, because of his search, the slave kids get wind of what he's looking for (his long-lost nephew) pretty quick. The boy with the obvious resemblance to him greets Shen Yuan's own assessment with wary cynicism, but he's just a little boy. So it's not difficult to notice the way he's also practically vibrating with hopefulness, half-hiding behind a protective older kid and looking at Shen Yuan with big dark eyes like he expects to be rescued or destroyed with whatever he has to say next.

Shen Yuan has a big problem now. He just knows that if he says something like "actually no this boy is too old to be my nephew" or whatever other excuse, no one will believe him, and also this poor kid is going to be permanently scarred by it. He's going to think Shen Yuan is lying just so that he can reject him. On top of that, he's not in a good situation here. None of these children are even remotely well cared-for.

Shen Yuan's rogue cultivator self isn't rich on the level of being like a wealthy sect leader or anything, but he's made some money since transmigrating by doing random cultivator jobs and quests along the way here. He uses it all to purchase two little slave boys (Do Not Separate), then takes another job and uses that coin to acquire a somewhat rundown manor which used to belong to the local gentry. The Qiu family (rings some bells but that's not exactly an uncommon name) kept it up for a while in case a branch family sprung up in need of a residence, but they've been in decline and the place is downright decrepit, so they had been looking to sell it instead. It's too big for a wandering bachelor like SY to ever need on his own account, but that's sort of the idea. He makes more money taking on cultivator work, at first taking his boys along with him for lack of any alternative. Nerve-wrackingly dangerous! Eventually he hires workers to start restoring the manor, particularly setting up a yard to be a school area, and then starts taking on any freelance jobs he can get in order to steadily buy out the contracts on all the other kids. He gets it nice enough to house and care for as many orphans as he can acquire.

Not because he's a big old softie though!

His story of looking for his nephew is a bust now, since he's apparently "found" the kid. So he's got to change tactics! If he can't find baby Binghe and the washerwoman, the next best approach is to create an opportunity for them to come to him. So once he's got his new household established, he starts offering free lessons to all the local kids. Not just the ones he's taken in, but also any who come by and want to learn some things. It's a tempting setup for anyone who wants their child to get education but can't afford a tutor, and Luo Binghe's mother had been entirely the sort of person who would have packed up and left her situation if there had been an opportunity for it.

On that note, SY also starts hiring single mothers to help look after his new gaggle of children and do the work he doesn't know how to do in these times, like keeping house, laundry, cooking, actually raising kids, etc.

His "little school" is not universally popular. A few groups try and ruin him, because the poverty in the region provides a basis of business for them. The ringleaders of the human traffickers in the area don't want their trade to dry up, even if it means selling all of their merchandise for this round, so when they find out that their underlings let Shen Yuan buy off all the kids they try and intimidate him into returning them (it doesn't go well for them). The Qiu family also isn't thrilled after it becomes clear what he's doing, and get him investigated by the local authorities (read: use their bribed officials and local goons to try and interfere.)

When that doesn't work either the sects get involved, because the Qiu go crying to Huan Hua Palace that Shen Yuan is sketchy and is trying to establish his own sect. So Shen Yuan talks his way around the matter, and frankly the Qiu are small fish even if they're the biggest ones in the local pond, so HHP doesn't care to pursue things much further. (Read: SY could mop the floor with the disciples they sent to investigate him, and it's not worth it to piss off someone this mysterious and powerful just to bully some impoverished children.)

Shen Yuan is appalled by all this bullshit though. Trust the world of PIDW to make it so hard just for a guy to teach some poor kids how to read and do math!

It makes him dig in his heels about it, because he is at heart a stubborn bastard. The fires that once fueled a thousand angry screeds on zhongdian literature site is now aimed at the local magistrate. One of the women he's hired on has some dirt on the Qiu family, which leads SY to dig up some more until he eventually has enough to turn the tables on them. Local officials won't investigate because they've all been bought, but that in and of itself is of some interest to their superiors closer to the palace, and so SY arranges an investigation of his own that goes way further than he thought? Turns out there are some ugly skeletons in the Qiu closets, and the imperial investigator comes down on them hard.

Well, he can't say they didn't have it coming? Though he does feel bad for the children in the family, especially the oldest son, who gets hauled off to jail along with his father. At least the girl is sent to live with relatives. Maybe he should have done more to shield the minors in the situation...?

His kids tell him not to worry about it, though, that apparently young master Qiu was known to run people down in the streets and beat his servants and do other cartoonishly awful things. SY's not sure how much of it is true and how much of it is his little flock of fluffy sheep trying to ease his conscience, though they do all seem to take a lot of vindictive delight in the whole affair. Especially Nephew, who clings to his sleeves and loudly declares that the investigator should have publicly flogged the discredited nobles so that everyone could go watch, and then begs him for sweets as if that wasn't a creepy thing to hear come out of an eight-year-old's mouth. SY just sighs and tells him he can have something good when he finishes his calligraphy practice.

Of course, it's not exactly easy running what is basically an orphanage-slash-school (and maybe a budding sect...?), especially when pretty much all of the kids have been traumatized and faced stuff like rampant dehumanization, food insecurity, abuse, and neglect. Hiring single mothers soon becomes not only a plan to try and lure in Luo Binghe's mom, but an absolute godsend of an idea because SY has no clue WHAT he would do on his own about the discipline issues or emotional breakdowns or acting out that some of the kids get up to once it registers that they're in a safe enough place to unpack their baggage.

Apart from Nephew, SY's favorite kid is the one who came with him, the oldest of the flock of former slave children. He's the big brother of the group, the one who tries his best to look after the others and to not make any trouble himself. But even poor Little Yue is still just a kid who has been through too much, and he also eventually starts having some meltdowns and struggles with processing everything that has happened to him as a vulnerable child in an unkind world.

SY really didn't mean to start a trauma center for mistreated children!

Though, that's still not necessarily a bad thing for Luo Binghe to one day come across, provided he ever actually shows up...

Eventually, Shen Yuan does figure out that he must be ahead even of Luo Binghe's birth, though he still doesn't put together that he's interfered in the scum villain's backstory. Probably something even more amusingly obscure, like the creation year of some random artifact Luo Binghe used in some wife plot or other, tips him off and he mentally throws his hands up in the air. He's got to wait DECADES? Maybe he ought to try and find Luo Binghe's biological parents and just follow them around at this point!

Not that he can, now, though, because he has to make sure no negative IQ villains (who will probably just be cannon fodder for a subplot one day) decide to send goons to literally burn down his orphanage. Also if he's gone for too long his kids get upset. Probably because no one else is as weak to their puppy dog eyes and pleas for treats and toys as he is.

At least it gives him time to shore up his position, and train Nephew and Little Yue more extensively in cultivation. Despite his initial assurances to HHP that he was but a humble orphan wrangler who was only incidentally a cultivator, Shen Yuan does also teach the other kids some basic cultivation exercises. There are a few reasons for that.

One is just the principle of the thing. No, these kids don't all have the potential to become great immortals or anything, but they can still learn some of it and it's good for their health if they do. The only trouble is if they try and push too hard or attempt things beyond their range, and that's a risk with everyone who cultivates. Or even just exercises!

Another reason is that it helps stave off the jealousy that some of the kids have towards those with more cultivation potential. Teaching a lot of the basics all around makes it into just another topic at school. Some kids might not be as good at it as others, but those kids might also be better at math, or memorization, or board games, and while cultivation can open more doors to people as adults, for the children this is generally enough to satisfy their sense of fairness. Or at least reduce outbursts and fights.

Finally, the impression that any of SY's kids might be a cultivator also makes wicked people more reluctant to try and abduct or interfere with them. Cultivators are revered and nearly mythological figures in the public consciousness. It isn't difficult to see why, if even a rogue cultivator NPC like SY* can mop the floor with most random muggers (*Shen Yuan is not a normal rogue cultivator). Not many people want to risk bringing SY's ire down on them, but of those who might chance it if he wasn't around to immediately react, even fewer want to risk that the kids themselves could kick their asses.

Not knowing that only two of the orphans probably could in fact mop the floor with them helps keep all the rest safer, and is more believable when all of them can conduct themselves enough like disciples to fool anyone who doesn't know what to really look for.

Developments that surprise Shen Yuan but wouldn't surprise anyone else who is paying attention:

People start leaving unwanted babies and younger children on his doorstep. Not all the time, but more than once has he had to frantically find wet nurses and worry that he's changed things enough that some fishermen might just randomly drop the protagonist outside his gate, and he wouldn't even know because Binghe would be a literal infant??

Nephew (SJ) and Little Yue (Yue Qi -- only Shen Yuan calls him "Little", especially when he gets taller than SY by the time he's sixteen) are prodigies who get really good at cultivation, really fast, and between that and Shen Yuan's OP skills they completely warp Shen Yuan's ideas for what normal cultivation potential looks like. This would probably cause more problems if he wasn't teaching all the kids how to cultivate anyway, but means his students actually do kinda run the usual range of skills for a small sect.

SJ and YQ swiftly reach the point where they need more advanced equipment than just SY's teaching can provide, if they're going to keep building their skills. Gaining access to certain tools, aids, and materials (like spiritual swords) is a real hurdle though, and usually is for rogue cultivators (one of the major disadvantages of no sect affiliation.) Shen Yuan is hesitant to use stuff from the plot, since it's For Binghe, but he eventually caves and starts going after some things that he doesn't think the future protagonist will miss much. He also ends up buying stuff from HHP, since they're willing to sell things like spiritual tools and weapons if the price is right, whereas most other sects like Cang Qiong reserve them for members only.

They get an invitation to the Immortal Alliance Conference. Not the one where the Abyss opens up, obviously, the one where (originally) Shen Jiu reunited with Yue Qi and killed Wu Yanzi. Shen Yuan debates on going but the boys really want to, and things have calmed down enough that no one's trying to burn down the school whenever he leaves these days, so eventually he figures it'll be interesting to see some of the Cang Qiong characters and should be safe enough if he keeps his disciples close.

They don't run into young Yue Qingyuan or Shen Qingqiu on the trip, but Wu Yanzi does show up and get killed, and SY only hears about it and assumes they just missed all that action. (WYZ just got caught by some senior cultivators who recognized him and killed him to avenge some disciples he murdered.) Nephew and Little Yue do meet young Liu Qingge, Shang Qinghua, Mu Qingfang, and Su Xiyan though! Which gives Shen Yuan the opportunity to tell them all (mostly Su Xiyan) that if they're ever in trouble near his school, they can come to him for help. Hint hint.

This open invitation ends up being accepted broadly by a lot of traveling cultivators after the conference, who from then on treat Shen Yuan's school like a free motel whenever they're passing through. Plenty aren't even people SY met, but it seems his statement was taken as a general one to fellow righteous cultivators all around! Luckily, this has some advantages. Shen Yuan has no qualms running off anyone who tries to take unfair advantage of him or especially his kids or staff, and no shame in conscripting anyone who is decent enough to help teach his students, even if it's nothing to do with cultivating, and somehow word gets around and people start bringing school supplies, medicine, food, or other useful things along with them as gifts to help repay the hospitality. Young Liu Qingge comes by a lot on his way to and from various quests, or even seems to just turn up randomly sometimes (he comes to challenge YQ and SJ to fights), and SY's just like "I guess this is happening now" and teaches him to recognize the early signs of qi deviation and advises strongly against meditating in caves.

At one point a young Shang Qinghua turns up in one of the spare rooms, very obviously hiding an ice demon. Shen Yuan again is just like "I guess this is happening now" and shelters them until Mobei Jun has recovered, and sends a message to Cang Qiong that one of their An Ding caravans was attacked and their disciple is recovering under his roof but isn't well enough to travel yet. Much less stressful situation for Airplane (who is desperately trying to figure out what he did to manifest SJ's benevolent uncle from somewhere???)

Su Xiyan seems like the only person they met at the Immortal Alliance Conference who doesn't turn up at their door in a state of emergency at some point.

A few years later, there is a big scandal involving her and the demon emperor. Su Xiyan disappears, Huan Hua Palace accuses Tianlang Jun of plotting against the righteous sects, and Shen Yuan is even invited to the meeting where they try and rally everyone to go kill Binghe's dad. Naturally, he declines to participate in the witch hunt, but the major sects agree to it. By luck (or narrative fortune) Shen Yuan comes across Zhuzhi Lang on his trip back home, and mentions the ambush and his distaste for it (not knowing who ZZL is). ZZL warns Tianlang Jun and the confrontation goes very differently, especially since there's no Yue Qingyuan wielding Xuan Su.

It doesn't go well for the sects involved. Huan Hua Palace gets decimated. The Old Palace Master gets killed. Shen Yuan is like uhhhh that's... whoops? Didn't Luo Binghe need that in the future?? Fuck.

But the sect isn't wiped out completely, they just take a massive beating. Some of their younger disciples end up leaving and turning up on Shen Yuan's doorstep, for some reason. The manor house is becoming too small to account for all of these foundlings! They have to expand. Though the expansions would be a stretch to term a "palace" they end up occupying a much larger chunk of territory, and even investing in farmland and some storehouses to help support the sect. That's still not really a sect, of course. Even if a lot of the business that would have normally gone to Huan Hua Palace starts coming to them instead. Once HHP is back on its feet the stream will probably dry out. Probably?

Zhuzhi Lang starts hanging around. He's actually looking for Su Xiyan or their baby, dead or alive and per Tianlang Jun's instructions, but he uses Shen Yuan's school as base camp for his kind of hopeless efforts to find any traces of them, while also looking for ways to try and repay Shen Yuan. All the kids are just like "oh great, another weird man has fallen in love with Shizun -- someone go run interference" about it.

Some years later, an older woman and her young son turn up. Shen Yuan's off on a quest at the time, so SJ receives them. As is standard procedure he gives the woman a job and places the boy in classes, after giving him the aptitude tests. The kid is cute and precocious, so SJ uses him to distract YQ while he himself sneaks out to go join LQG on a monster hunt (and claim the valuable parts of the beast's remains for himself), and neither SY nor ZZL notice anything until SY's going over the paperwork for stuff he missed while he was gone. Since he procrastinated, it takes him like a week to find out that Luo Binghe is finally under his roof. He's going over the admission form right when SJ arrives with The New Adorable Child to try and distract SY enough that SY will let him go on a solo hunt -- as far as being distracted goes, it is way more effective than even SJ anticipated.

Then he has to figure out how to let ZZL know, so that ZZL can let Tianlang Jun know, so that Luo Binghe will have more family than just his mom and more resources than just a shabby little not-sect! But even once he figures it out and sets up the dramatic reveal, TLJ is just like "great! so can he just stay with you? he's probably fine there" which... irritates SY.

SJ fully conscripts Luo Binghe as a minion in his many cons. He never lost his street kid conman tactics, although he now uses them less as a ruthless survival tool or weapon and more to just get things to go his own way. LBH has the face and disposition of a little angel, which SJ no longer can pull off as a full grown adult, so he fills a gap. LBH also knows full well what's going, especially since a lot of SJ's tactics involve throwing LBH at SY like a smoke bomb.

Luo Binghe inevitably still develops a big fat crush on SY, so this is fine by him. Especially when he gets older, he starts bringing SY tea and making him breakfast and running his errands until even SJ is like "wait a minute, this little brat's stealing my job!" and by then it's too late. Luo Binghe is SY's personal assistant, the disciple at conman puppydog eyes has surpassed the master! While SJ was busy being like "I'm going to trick this idiot into doing my chores" LBH was going "I'm going to trick this idiot into giving me his job".

SY takes too long to officially name his school so everyone calls it the Shen Sect, much to his embarrassment.

[cute-sucker]

boxer!rafe holding his baby for the first time, and knowing him he made sure you had a private room and good food.

tell me why he would be so jittery though ??

୭ 🧷 ✧ ˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀 ୭ 🧷 ✧ ˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀

boxer!rafe never had gotten as scared as he did when you had given birth.

waiting. rafe had been waiting for hours, holding a lucky charm that you had given him. the strands of the bracelet were frayed as he toyed with it, over and over again. the smell of the hospital was nauseating, and the feeling of being in a place that smelt like antibiotics and sickness made his skin crawl.

he had gotten the call that your baby was born in the middle of a fight. he was on top of a guy before someone stormed in the middle of the fight. that was uncommon, and the referee quickly had them separated before rafe realised it was your work friend, delany. she looked frantic, as she tried to mouth something.

the minute he realised what it was, he was pulling the ropes of the ring, and yelling at people to get out of the way. blood was splattered across his mouth, and his swelling knuckles stung with pain, as his sweaty t-shirt stuck to his chest.

your water broke.

he was there in minutes, swearing as he tried to close the car. he'd run into the hospital with a huff, demanding to know where you were. to be quite frank it may have been sweet to you - but it was downright scary to the nurses.

a bulky guy with blood splattered all over him, holding a silly pink baby bag. the first nurse let out an uncomfortable laugh before telling him to sit down. now, rafe would have started yelling, but there was this drumming in his heart that made him feel as if he was going to vomit.

he couldn't lose you, no, this was a critical part of all of it. he'd read those stupid books that you had gotten him about pregnancy, and how dangerous it was, and how many mothers had died and how to hold a baby, and, and-

(goddamn it, he was scared.)

"mr. cameron. would you like to come in?"

he looked up to see a nurse with a painful smile, he took a deep breath before nodding his head. rafe felt his hands shake, as he took a step inside the room.

there you were, pretty as always with that discharge night gown, and a relieved sweaty smile on your face. you look so calm, but his eyes zone on your hands. the baby isn't in your hands, and he found himself wondering where the baby was, but he watched you get up to touch him.

"hey, hey baby. calm down. you need to stay like that," he muses, coming closer to rub your shoulders. you close your eyes, a soft gasp coming out of your mouth.

rafe gives you a soft peck on the shoulder, "why didn't you call me?" he whispers in that gentle tone of his. you squirm, peeling open your eyes with those pleading doe eyes,.

"i didn't want to bother you. i knew-" you gasped out, "i knew you had that important match and shit, and i don't know i thought it was like a bad time-"

rafe cursed, "didn't i tell you it was the two of us together? i shoulda' been there for you. shoulda' have held your hand through this shit-" and he knew he's going on a tangent as your lip wobbled and he quickly licked his lips while shaking his head.

"nah, it doesn't matter now. aw, my sweet girl did this all by herself. let me," he muttered, rubbing tears off your cheeks, "where's the baby?" you sniffled, nuzzling your face in his hands, before pointing to the sinks where he saw a small tiny girl.

she's squirming in the nurse's hands, as she gets washed off. her tiny face is squished up as she lets out small squeals. he's struck by how small, how tiny, how he made that little thing with you.

"i-" he choked up unable to take his eyes off your baby, "thank you sweets. thank you." his head bowed down into your lap, the words like worship. he was a devout in your temple.

"here's the baby, ms. cameron."

you looked up at her, a little bundle of joy as the doctor put her in your lap. rafe felt like everything was complete, feeling his throat sting and his hands get clammy. god, what did he do to deserve this?

the baby was perfect, a tiny sweet thing and rafe's hands shook at his sides as you looked up at him with teary eyes.

"do you want to hold her?"

he swallowed hard, his voice that soft whisper you knew so well, "can i?"

you laughed something that was so sweet, ringing in his ear like a song he never wanted to end. yet, he couldn't help but look at you with approval and when he looked into your eyes all he saw was love. all he saw was the truth. finally, he reached for his baby girl, calloused hands cradling her.

he finally had found his family.

[munson-blurbs]

Summary: A missing key and a terrible storm leaves you and Eddie stranded in the back of his van. What ever shall you do to pass the time?

WC: 1.6k

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), unprotected p in v, friends-to-lovers, kinda sub!Eddie but he's mostly just a simp.

A/N: This will be my last 1k+ fic for a while, as I'll be focusing on writing blurbs for Corroded Coffin Fest throughout July. Why not go out with a (literal) bang?

--

“What do you mean, you forgot your key?”

Your eyes widen as Eddie flicks through the keyring. He shakes his head in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. 

“I was switching keychains…I thought I put them all back…” He huffs out an irritated laugh. “Must’ve left the house key on the table.”

A warm breeze siphons through the humidity, gray clouds rolling in. August in Hawkins is unbearable as it is, and the sticky heat before a storm is downright brutal. 

Eddie jiggles the doorknob once more, to no avail. “Jesus H. Christ.” He rakes a hand through his curls, frizzy and knotted from the hot weather. “Back to your place?”

Before you can agree, lightning flashes and is swiftly accompanied by booming thunder. Your heart leaps into your throat and you jump. 

“Scared the shit outta me, too.” Eddie laughs nervously. A fat raindrop falls from the sky and plops on his nose, rolling off of the side. Another lands on his cheek, then one lands on yours, until rain pours in a steady sheet. 

Eddie grabs your hand, tugging you off of the trailer’s front steps and pulling you back to his van. He flings open the back doors, always kept unlocked unless he’s hauling concert equipment. 

“Get in,” he orders, and you follow his instructions without a second though. Rainwater pools in the grass, dirt turning into mud beneath your sneakered feet. His hands grip your waist, steadying you as you climb up. “We’ll wait in here until the rain dies down.”

You ignore the lingering flames that his touch leaves behind and the way he’s now sitting right next to you. “It’s like a monsoon out there.”

“Yeah.”

The two of you sit in silence for a few moments, listening to the storm raging outside. Raindrops sound like drum beats against the van’s exterior, a song you’ve heard many times before. 

A chill sweeps over you, reminding you of the wet cotton of your t-shirt clinging to your torso. Your miniskirt hasn't fared much better, the light-washed denim now dark. 

“Do you have a blanket back here?”

Eddie shakes his head. “That’s, like, the one thing I don’t have.” He gestures to the cluttered space. 

You offer a half-smile. “S’okay.” Your palms glide up and down your goosebump-covered arms. 

He notices this, frowning. “Here,” he says. “My hands are bigger than yours.” He clumsily positions himself behind you, knees knocking against your sides. His grasp is strong but gentle, hands warming you up from the outside in. 

“Thanks.” He’s close—so close—yet it feels like he’s never been farther away. Without thinking, you scoot back until your ass brushes against his fly. 

“Sh-Shit.” Eddie inhales sharply. “That’s, um, dangerous territory.”

You raise your brows, though he can’t see them. “And rubbing my arms isn’t?”

Eddie peers around, chin resting on your shoulder. He looks up and says, “it doesn’t turn you on though.”

“Says who?”

He breathes out a laugh, stopping immediately when he realizes that you’re not joking. His voice is barely above a whisper when he asks, “This…this turns you on?” 

You nod, suddenly shy at the admission. 

“How about this?” Eddie’s lips press against the back of your neck. One calloused hand reaches for the collar of your shirt, tugging it down to expose your shoulder. He kisses that, too, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin. 

“Mhm.”

“Fuck.” His other hand snakes around your throat, holding it firmly but being careful not to squeeze. “We shouldn’t do this. S’gonna ruin our friendship.”

Gently, you turn to face him, legs straddling his waist. “I’m fine with ruining it if you are.” The words are murmured, muffled by the proximity of your lips and his. 

Eddie swallows, Adam's apple bobbing with trepidation. “Just want you. Fuck, I want you so bad.”

He grabs your ass and pulls you closer until you can feel his erection straining against his jeans. You roll your hips, eliciting a moan from him. 

“You—I gotta—” He unbuckles his belt, tossing it amongst the van’s clutter. “I’m so hard it hurts.”

You reach for his pants button, but he shakes his head. “I’ll bust if you touch me,” he sheepishly explains. 

He takes off his own pants, which is much more of a chore than usual because of the rain-soaked fabric. He doesn’t bother to remove his Hellfire shirt, but you hardly notice. His tented boxers hold your focus, and despite his warning, you strip them away. You need to see what’s beneath them. 

The sight before you is nothing less than glorious. 

His cock is hard, curved slightly left, the pinkish-purple tip already leaking pre-cum. Your thumb traces the vein that runs along the shaft, and he shivers at your touch. When he looks at you with wide, wet eyes, you nearly melt on the spot.

“Is…Is this what you want?” Eddie’s voice is so soft you can barely hear it above the pouring rain. “Because…I want this so bad. So fucking bad.” Pleading, desperate, bordering on pathetic. Everything he showed outwardly, you felt on the inside.

You lean in, capturing his lips and pouring all of your desire into one searing kiss. “Don’t just want it. Need it. Need you,” you reassure him, feeling his length twitch against you. Taking it in your hand, you move your panties out of the way and rub the head against your clit. Every nudge sends a wave of pleasure crashing through your body. “Mmmph, please, please.”

Eddie wraps his hand around yours, guiding his cock into you. “There you go,” he whispers, hissing as you sink down. He fills you completely, bringing a pinch of pain as you adjust to him. “You okay?”

“Mhm. M-More than okay.” You grip his shoulders, curling your fingers into the shirt’s cotton fabric.  Moving your hips, you work him deeper until he’s bottomed out, sheathed within you down to the curls at his base. 

Everything is Eddie, and it feels so good. 

“Can’t believe I’m inside you.” He tries to kiss you, the action hindered by a small laugh. “I’m actually—we’re actually doing this. Fuck, you feel so good!” The last sentence is a growl, raw and primal. 

You hold on to him, knees scraping against the van’s worn carpet as your movements find their rhythm. There’s no more time for self-control. Only Eddie, his hips bucking to meet your core. 

“Might…might not last long,” he admits, swiping at a bead of sweat dripping down his temple. “You’re even better than my fantasies. Never knew you’d feel this f-fucking warm. Tight. Like you’re m-made for me.”

“Maybe I am.” You swoop down to suck on his neck. “Maybe I am made for you, and I’ve been waiting for you to realize it.”

Eddie groans, throwing his head back and exposing more of his neck, which you dutifully continue marking. His thoughts are clouded by lust; neither of you speak for a while, the only noises are moans and the van squeaking on its axles. 

“It’s always you.”

Your eyes meet his. “What?”

“In my fantasies. It’s always you. Every time I jerk off, I imagine your hands, your mouth, your perfect pussy—”

“Eddie.” His name is barely a breath. You clench around him just as he kisses you, and his teeth sink into your lower lip. It’s not hard enough to draw blood, but it produces a twinge of pain that has you skyrocketing towards climax. “Yes, yes, yes!”

He grabs your hips harshly, keeping you flush against him. The denim waistband of your skirt digs into your skin but you don’t care. Nothing matters, only Eddie, Eddie, Eddie…

“I’m coming. Fuck, I’m coming.” He thrusts upwards in short, punctuated strokes, heaving as he spills into you. 

The two of you stay like that for a few moments, catching your breath and processing what just happened. You confessed that Eddie’s touch turned you on, you rode him in the back of his van, and then he confessed that he thinks about you when he touches himself. 

Oh, and he gave you an earth-shattering orgasm. 

As if reading your mind, Eddie says softly, “you came…right? Because if you didn’t, I can—”

“Yeah.” You can’t help but giggle, silencing him with a kiss. “I definitely came.”

His chest sags with relief. “Good. Me, too. I mean, obviously. It’s right…” He withdraws, cock softening, his cum trickling down your thigh. “Holy fucking shit.” 

There’s no masking his grin, visible through the t-shirt’s thin fabric as he pulls it over his head. With a careful touch, he wipes away his mess. 

“I think I owe you a new shirt.”

“Nah.” He shakes his head, tossing the shirt aside. “I have a million of these. Not the first time one’s been, uh, stained.”

Eddie’s cheeks turn crimson at his admission. He averts his gaze from you, bringing his attention to the foggy window. The condensation squeaks under his forefinger as he draws a smiley face through it. 

“What do you wanna do till my uncle gets home?”

You, you think, but the last thing you need is for Wayne to find the van a-rockin’. “Maybe I could hear more about those fantasies of yours? And I could tell you some of mine?”

Eddie looks back at you, his spent cock still managing a small twitch. “Mmm.” His lips find your throat, sending vibrations through you when he speaks. One hand snakes between your bodies, his middle finger landing on your clit. He makes small, deliberate circles as he murmurs.

“Ladies first.”

--

[bbystark]

♡ soap's little plan ♡

abo!141 x omega!reader

♡ masterlist ♡ request more! ♡

summary: despite having a pack of his own, soap finds himself wanting more. he's grown tired of being the only Omega with 2 unruly Alphas. good thing you showed up, now he can flush those pesky little suppressants and make you theirs.

⚠︎ suggestive themes, soap being a little obsessed, invasions of privacy

a/n: series??? idk where this came from but enjoy

Soap wasn’t an unhappy man. He was talented, knew just how dangerous he was in the field, how many brushes with death he’d skillfully skirted with a big “fuck you” and a bloody smile. He had the respect of his peers and fear of the new recruits. Most importantly, he had a pack he loved. Never went to bed wanting or alone. His inner Omega should be satisfied, all things considering, and yet, he still yearns. 

He feels guilty sometimes. When he’s laid out on one of his mate’s beds, sweaty and thrumming with release. He rolls over, pressing wet kisses to damp skin and trying to focus on fingers that ghost over his head. Tries to push out the gnawing subconscious thought of more. He wants to scoff at himself. 3 mates and somehow he still couldn’t help but be greedy. 

It’s like Price says in the field (and in the bedroom, funnily enough): “You're a goddamn restless dog ain’t ‘ya? Restless and a dog, indeed. 

His words run through Soap’s mind as he stares at you. His dirty little one-sided secret. He’s watched you for months. Smelled you immediately when his eyes first landed on you, an unforgettable mix of vanilla licorice, fruit, and a tang of something earthy, like grass or rain. So unbelievably feminine and soft, he was intoxicated. Couldn’t help but watch as you walked down the hall. You had glanced at him, eyebrows furrowing slightly; he remembered the chill that ran through him when you locked eyes. 

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °

He had immediately sweet talked the Beta receptionist into handing over your file. He had tucked it under his arm and taken it to his room, locking the door and glancing around like he was a teen with a raunchy magazine. Read it front to back. You were smart, specialized in cybersecurity before you joined the military. Now you drifted from team to team, going where you were needed. Helping run covert hops here, a little hacking there. He felt a grin take over his face when he saw that in your last assignment, you acted as a demolition expert. An impressive resume, he faintly wondered why you hadn’t been pinned down by a team yet. Clearly, you were an asset. 

He got to your current contract papers, seeing you were brought on to be a floater. You’d help with missions in the unit how they saw fit. He could only pray that he’d be working with you eventually. He closes the file, thumbing the small file photo of you. You were beautiful no doubt, not smiling but still holding a hint of softness. 

He pauses when he realizes he didn’t see a presentation in your file. He flips through the pages again, skimming through your medical report. The boxes next to ‘Omega’, ‘Alpha’, and ‘Beta’ are all unmarked. It clicks then, your sweet smell and the lack of presentation in your files. You were an Omega. 

Soap wasn’t really supposed to be where he was as an Omega. While there were no rules against it, there were hardly any Omegas here for a reason. It was hard, both physically and mentally. Soap had taken twice the recommended amount of suppressants and nearly went broke buying scent blockers. Put his body through hell and back to prove he was worthy. It was only when he became Lieutenant and had the protection of a pack that he felt comfortable enough to stop hiding his presentation . By then, no one could really say anything about it. 

His heart raced. You were an Omega. He had no proof other than being one himself, but he was almost sure of it. It did nothing to curb his growing curiosity. 

He should have pushed you out of his mind, but he’s Soap. He’s insistent and can be downright stubborn when it comes down to it. It was just his nature. He formulated a whole plan, get close to you, slowly ease you into meeting his pack, then make you theirs. Plain and simple. 

It was not plain and simple. 

First of all, the guilt started eating at him. He had everything he’d ever hoped for, a family, a successful career, and here he was. The worst part is that Soap couldn’t help it, he loved his mates, their masculine presence and smell that filled a room. But he secretly can’t help but wish there was another Omega around, someone who could help him ground his Alphas. Gaz did a great job, but he was a beta, and Soap often received the brunt end of Ghost and Prices’ more baser instincts. Not just an Omega, but a woman. Someone with that femininity and power that balances and soothes an entire pack into submission. 

Second of all, you didn’t want to give him the time of day. 

The first time he approaches you is in the dining hall, your face stoic and focused as you grab an apple and place it on your tray. He takes a few breaths, your muted and yet somehow still overwhelming scent filling his senses. 

“New around here bonnie?” He finally gets the courage up to speak.  “Names Johnny, but people call me Soap.” He reaches a hand out. 

You take it hesitantly, and he revels in the softness. He tries not to get distracted by the way his hand almost completely covers your own. 

“Y/n.” you respond curtly, releasing his hand and grabbing your tray.  “Transferred a week ago.” You don’t wait for his response, making your way over to one of the many tables littered with people chatting. Soap hastily grabs a banana and his tray, taking long strides to catch up with you. 

“So uh, how you likin’ it so far?” He flinches at his own stutter. God, he’s out of practice. 

You give him a pointed look. 

“S’fine.” You sit, hastily picking up your spoon and taking a bite of oatmeal. It doesn’t deter Soap. 

He spends the next 30 minutes talking your ear off, receiving the occasional nod or “mhm” from you. You give up very little about yourself, answering shortly and precisely. It drives him mad. 

You cut off his rant on the latest recruits, standing abruptly. “It was nice talking with you Lieutenant MacTavish, but I have to get going.” 

He watches as you leave, stunned and frankly a little turned on at how easily you brushed him off. Soap was a sucker for a chase. 

He faintly realizes that you knew his rank and last name, and has a feeling that you’re a careful and intelligent woman. It only fuels his growing suspicion of your presentation. 

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °

Soap keeps trying after that, despite the gnawing feeling of guilt and greediness. The less you give him, the more enraptured he becomes. With every eye roll and silent stretch you give him, he falls deeper and deeper into the need to make you his. 

It only takes a couple months for it all to come to a head. Soap finds you in a hallway late at night, most people tucked away in their quarters. Your scent is slightly off, soured and citrusy. He loves it. 

“Where are you stormin’ off to?” 

You don’t answer, which is not unusual, but the way you push past him without so much of a glance, is. “Aye, c’mon love, what’s got you so worked up?” 

You turn on your heel, almost crashing into Soap. You didn’t hate him, sometimes you even welcomed the company, even though his jokes were shit. Not that you’d let him know you even remotely liked his presence. You stare him down for a second, teeth gritted. 

You had just overheard some particularly nasty and sexist comments about you, not the first time- hell not even the fiftieth time. But it never stung less, that people refused to see your experience and rank simply because you had the misfortune of being born a woman. You regret the words almost as soon as you say them. 

“Leave me the fuck alone, MacTavish. I’m not interested in your company, and I sure as shit didn’t ask for it. Go bother your pack, and leave me alone.” You spit the word at him, and you’re not sure why. Maybe it’s a reflection of your own loneliness deep down. You can’t stand the shock on his face, so you turn around and sulk to the kitchen to find a sweet treat to placate you. 

Soap watches as you leave, and he’s hurt. How can you not see how perfect you’d be for the pack? Granted, he’s the only one that knows, he still has no idea how to broach the topic with his pack. Would they hate him? Call him selfish, wonder why they weren’t enough for him? His fists clench at his sides as your scent completely fades. 

Then it clicks. He doesn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it before. He smiles to himself, no longer upset at your blatant rejection. He almost skips back to his room. 

He has it all figured out. 

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °

The next morning he flirts with some nurses, brings them donuts from the place off base. While they’re all distracted and giggling amongst each other, he quietly slips into the record room and grabs your files. His heart beats out of his chest at the little checkmark next to “Omega”. 

He knew it. He flips through the files quickly, finding a detailed page tracking your heat cycles. You haven’t had a heat in years, seeing a note that says you denied a doctor's request to go into heat at least once every 3 years. He knew that pain, he couldn’t imagine you putting yourself through that. You shouldn't be putting yourself through that. He’ll make sure that you don’t have to anymore. 

He flips a few more pages, going back to when you did have your heats. He finds an entry that notes that you had unusually long and painful heats, along with a prescription of sedatives. The next line states that you usually have them every 3 months, February, May, August and sometimes December. He hears his heartbeat in his ears when he realizes his luck of it being the beginning of December. It was meant to be. 

He closes the file quietly, closing his eyes in relief. You’d be his, and his pack’s, soon. 

That night, while you’re showering in the gym, Soap is breaking into your room. It doesn’t take much effort, he’s in within minutes, stepping into your sacred space. There’s a half assed nest in the corner of your room, your instincts must be strong if you’re still nesting while taking suppressants. He wants to go over and fluff it for you, add his scent covered shirt to the pitiful pile. He shakes his head. He needs to focus on why he’s here. 

He rifles through your cabinets, desperately searching. He knows you like long showers, but he’s still on edge. If he gets caught, it’s all over. He tries to be quick without disturbing the placement of your items, but he begins to panic when he can’t find those familiar little pills. He rushes to your bed, looking underneath. He’s about to lose hope when he moves from underneath your bed, cursing when he knocks his head on the frame. 

He almost doesn’t hear it. The soft thud of something falling. He looks back under the bed, eyes falling on a tiny box meant for jewelry. He grabs it, slowly opening it and removing the piece of foam on top. 

Bingo. 

He stares at the tiny pills, the familiar pale blue a contrast against the black of the box. He spills a few in his hand. There were enough for months. You were like he was, handing your health over in exchange for surviving here. His fist closes over pills as he makes his way out of your room. He locks your door behind him, trying not to run to his room. When he makes it there, he’s buzzing with excitement. He goes to his bathroom, opening the toilet lid and fishing the box from his pocket. He doesn’t hesitate in throwing them all into the bowl, and watching as the water swirls when he flushes. The water settles, and your pills are gone. 

Omega’s are the most sensitive of the three presentations. Senses more in tune than even the best Alpha. It was in their very biology to be strong in ways Alpha’s were not, to hold a pack together. Your biology would work quickly, work through the artificial hormones you’d been poisoning yourself with in haste. It happened to him, after so long of suppressing his Omega, it came back with a vengeance. You would be no different. 

And with Price’s rut- and Ghost’s, coming up soon, they won’t stand a chance against the strong smell of an Omega in heat. He’ll make sure that they find you, that they take care of you. 

It was all part of his plan, after all.

[wholoveseggs]

Pretender

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Daemon Targaryen X Reader} Working in a brothel was never easy, but when a man claiming to be the prince comes to visit, it can be downright dangerous.

7.5k words - Warnings: smut, whore!reader, mild dubcon, oral sex m!receiving, face fucking, riding, ffm threesome, rough sex, mentions of rape, graphic violence, choking, gold cloaks, deception & Daemon being Daemon...

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

♡♡ Hey! If you don't want to be tagged in Daemon fics just let me know! He's a much different character than Elijah & I don't wish to waste your time ♡♡

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@absolutemarveltrash @darkened-writer

There were far worse fates than being a whore. If it meant that you were able to make it another day in this world, you were willing to do it. Even if that meant selling yourself for a few crowns.

It wasn't all bad, there were some who treated you with kindness and respect, others who didn't, and some who weren't even sure how to treat a woman. They were the ones you felt most sorry for, the ones who just wanted to feel a bit of kindness and were too afraid to go and get it from elsewhere. Or simply had nowhere else to turn.

Tonight was one of the quieter nights. Most of the men were either gone or asleep. You could hear the low murmurs of the few that were still awake, soft moans from the rooms next to you as they had their fun. The smell of sweat and sex hung heavy in the air, it had become something you'd grown accustomed to over the years.

You were lounging around with the other girls, laughing and talking as the night dragged on, when you heard the sound of hooves against the dirt outside, and the creak of a cart.

One of the girls, named Lina, came stumbling in, she was extremely drunk, almost tripping over herself as she tried to regain her balance. Her dress was askew and her hair was messy.

This was a common occurrence for her these days, ever since her man had died she had thrown herself into a bottle, trying to forget. You couldn't blame her for it, she was in pain and she needed an escape, you just wished that her solution didn't cause such destruction.

She plopped down onto the floor next to you and laid her head in your lap. "You're always so warm and soft, just like a pillow" she giggled and rubbed her head into you, like a cat seeking comfort.

You softly ran your fingers through her hair, untangling the knots as best you could. "How are you feeling, sweetie?"

"I feel great," she slurred. "Any work?"

"Not at the moment, no" you sighed.

"That's a shame," she said, looking up at you with big, sad eyes. "I'm low on coin,"

"We all are," said another of the girls, a pretty blonde girl by the name of Kari. She was less sympathetic to Lina's situation than you were.

"If you don't have coin, then leave. Don't stay here and take up our space," she snapped.

"Kari" you hissed, trying to get her to back off, but she ignored you.

"What? I'm right" she scoffed.

You were interrupted by a group of men entering the brothel, loud and obnoxious. They were all dressed in fine clothes, reeking of alcohol and crowns, just what you had been waiting for.

Lina was instantly on her feet, swaying a little but keeping her balance as she walked over to greet the newcomers.

"What can I help you with, my lords?" she asked, her voice a low purr as she batted her eyelashes.

Kari gave you a pointed look and went off to tend to another customer, leaving you alone to deal with the new arrivals.

They all looked like typical nobility. Clean-shaven and dressed in silk. You had a good eye for these sorts of things. It was easy to spot the difference between a merchant and a noble, and these men were definitely nobles.

They were also clearly drunk, slurring their words and stumbling around the place, laughing at everything.

Lina was already leading two of the men away, no doubt eager to earn a few coins and keep her drinking habits intact.

You turned your attention to the man standing to the side of the group. He was tall and slender, with fair skin and long blonde hair. His eyes were a piercing blue, like two pools of ice.

He smiled at you and stepped forward, extending a hand towards you. "Have you ever had a prince before?" he asked, his voice low and smooth.

You took his hand and returned his smile. "No, my lord, I can't say I have,"

You have heard many men claim to be one noble or another, sweet little lies they tell you as a way to seem important. It mattered very little to you, they were all the same when it came down to it.

Kari came sauntering back into the room, her dress slipping off her shoulder as she walked. She looked over at you and the blonde man and raised an eyebrow.

You smiled at her and leaned in closer to the man. "Kari, this one is a prince, isn't he handsome?"

Kari's eyes widened and she let out a small gasp, bowing dramatically, her dress slipping even further down her chest, revealing her cleavage.

"Prince Daemon Targaryen," he announced, his chest puffed out.

"I've never met a prince before," she said, her voice filled with awe. She was over doing it just a little, and you had to fight the urge to laugh at her performance.

"Oh, but I can change that," he replied, a smirk on his face.

Kari grinned and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her body against his.

"I'm sure you can," she whispered, her breath hot against his ear.

His other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his side.

You felt a tingle run down your spine, he was quite handsome and you could see the appeal of bedding a prince, even if you didn't actually believe his claim.

"Why don't we all get comfortable," he said, his voice low and deep.

You and Kari exchanged glances, grinning at each other, rich men usually pay well.

 The two of you led the prince up the stairs, his arm still wrapped around you, his hand resting on your hip. The three of you entered the room, the door slamming shut behind you. He wasted no time in grabbing hold of Kari and kissing her, his hands roaming her body.

You watched with fascination as the two of them kissed and touched each other, their bodies moving together. Without looking at you, he reached out and grabbed you, pulling you towards him and kissing you passionately.

"Double the pleasure, double the coin, my prince," Kari stated gently, breaking the kiss and stepping away from him. She was always keen on making the payment clear, before the fun could begin.

"Are you questioning my generosity?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Kari shook her head. "No, of course not. I would never do such a thing,"

You nodded in agreement.

The man looked at the two of you, a slight smile on his face. "Do you think a prince cannot afford two whores?" he asked, his tone playful.

You smiled at him, "No, we know you can," and you hoped that you were right.

He grinned and kissed you again, a little more aggressive this time. He nipped at your bottom lip, his teeth grazing against the sensitive skin.

"Kneel for your prince," he commanded, his voice firm.

You and Kari exchanged amused looks, then both kneeled before him. She began to untie the laces of his trousers while you looked up at him with innocent eyes, your tongue running across your bottom lip.

"What's it like? To ride a dragon," you asked him, genuinely curious.

"Like nothing else," he replied.

You could tell that he was getting impatient, his eyes darkening with lust. His hand ran through your hair, gripping it tightly and pulling your head back.

"Suck," he ordered, and you obeyed, wrapping your lips around the tip of his cock. You slowly took more of him into your mouth, using your tongue to pleasure him.

"Gods, that feels amazing," he moaned, his hips bucking forward.

He was rough and demanding, but it was nothing you and Kari couldn't handle. You continued to suck and lick him, while she stroked him and kissed his thighs.

The two of you worked in tandem, bringing him to the edge and then pulling him back. You could feel him growing more and more frustrated, his hand gripping your hair tighter.

Finally, he could take it no longer, he grabbed Kari by the hair and pushed his cock all the way to the back of her throat. His hand pressed against the top of her head as he fucked her mouth hard.

She gagged and coughed, but still tried her best to please him. You could see her discomfort and you slowly stood up, kissing his neck and touching his chest, trying to calm him down.

After a few more moments, he released her, shoving her back. She fell back on the floor, coughing and sputtering.

He was breathing heavily, his eyes wild. Without a word, he pulled down your dress, revealing your naked form beneath. He was on you in an instant, pushing you down onto the bed and climbing on top of you, his hands on your throat.

Your head spun, and the room seemed to grow hazy as the pressure on your throat increased. He parted your legs with his knee and pressed himself inside you, groaning with pleasure as he buried his cock deep within you.

He was a wild man, taking you roughly, with no thought of your own comfort or pleasure. Grunting and growling like an animal as he claimed you. You could feel the tears pricking your eyes as his hand tightened around your throat.

"How does it feel to fuck a dragon?" he asked, his face mere inches from yours. You couldn't reply, his hand still holding your windpipe in a vice-like grip. His eyes were cold and calculating, the passion of a moment ago now gone.

You scratched at his wrists, but he just laughed, slamming into you with a savage ferocity. He was like a beast, taking you for all you were worth.

When men were rough like this, a part of you would disappear inside yourself. You would no longer feel as if it was you who were being manhandled, the parts of your body no longer connected to your mind.

You could smell his sweat, feel his hands on you, hear the low rumbles of his voice, but you were no longer here. Your body was simply an object, a vessel, and your mind had retreated somewhere far away, watching from the shadows.

Kari had composed herself enough to join the two of you on the bed. She climbed behind you, running her hands along your body. You were just lying there, allowing yourself to be used, but Kari's touch was a small comfort.

He slammed into a few more times before climbing off of you and grabbing Kari, flipping her on her stomach, pinning her down. He wasted no time entering her, thrusting in and out like an animal, the sound of slapping flesh filling the room.

You lay there, listening to the sounds of the two of them, trying to make sense of things. He didn't last long, men like this rarely did. After a few minutes, he let out a strangled groan and pulled out, his seed spilling out onto her back.

He rolled off of her, panting and laughing to himself, a satisfied grin on his face. She sat up and brushed some hair from her sweat-soaked forehead, looking over at you.

She crawled towards you and wrapped her arms around you, kissing your cheek gently. Her hand intertwining with yours. The two of you had certainly experienced worse customers than him. He didn't appear unhappy with what you did. You were fortunate in that sense.

"I shall take you both on my dragon, fuck you on his back while we fly," he said, a wicked grin on his face.

You had no idea how one would manage to do such a thing, but you were certain he was just trying to impress you.

"That would be something," Kari replied, a smile on her lips.

He was sitting there, his hand lazily stroking his cock as he watched the two of you. "Kiss," he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You and Kari exchanged a look, then leaned in and kissed each other, the feeling of her soft lips against yours making your heart skip a beat.

He was watching the two of you with rapt attention, his eyes dark and hungry. He reached out and pulled you away from her, his lips crashing down onto yours. His hands roamed your body, his touch rough and demanding.

"That's a good girl," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear.

He grabbed a tankard of wine from the nightstand, drinking it down and tossing it aside. You observed the muscles on his back, the way they flexed in the dim light, you could see long scars down his back. They looked like the marks caused by a whip, you knew the scars well, having seen them on many of the men and women in the brothel.

"My Prince, forgive me, but those scars, where did they come from?" you asked, unable to contain your curiosity.

He flinched at your question, not looking at you. "Tourneys," he said sharply, bending over and grabbing his shirt from the floor.

You didn't press the issue, he clearly didn't want to talk about it.

He pulled his shirt on, the silk material stretching over his muscular frame. Then he collapsed onto the bed, pulling you down with him, wrapping his arm around you.

You looked at him and saw a haunted look in his eyes, the same look that many of the others in the brothel had. He was running from something, or someone.

"Call me your prince and tell me you love me," he whispered, his breath warm against your ear.

"Of course, my prince," you replied, and the words felt hollow.

"I love you my prince," Kari purred, cuddling up to him.

"Yes, I know you do," he said, his eyes glazing over.

The two of you stayed with the prince all night, his talk turning into ramblings, bragging about dragon riding, flying in the clouds, great battles and tourneys he had won. He talked of nothing but how good he had it, how great he is, of all the wonderful things he owned.

While it was not the worst experience you'd had, it wasn't a pleasant one either. Kari kept encouraging him to keep bragging, praising him and showering him with compliments. All you wanted was to close your eyes and drift off to sleep, but his obnoxious voice made it nearly impossible.

By the time the sun came up, he was fast asleep. His snoring so loud you were sure he was going to wake up the rest of the brothel. 

You and Kari were counting the coin he had given you, making sure it was all there. It wasn't as much as you were expecting, considering his claims of royalty. But you'd make do, it'd tide you over for a while. You would certainly sleep comfortably tonight.

Although he was Prince Daemon, you didn't want to fuck him again, not for any amount of coin. If he returned to visit, you would simply make yourself scarce.

Much to your disappointment the prince had turned into a regular at the brothel. At least once a week he would return, bringing with him a small fortune and a lot of drink.

Lina was very pleased, she was the one he favored most of all. And as long as she was getting her coins, she was happy. You supposed she was too numb from drink to feel the pain or humiliation of his treatment.

You and Kari, on the other hand, were less enthusiastic about the prince's presence. Always trying your best to avoid him, finding ways to keep yourselves occupied while he was there.

But you had a feeling that he knew what the two of you were doing, and that you were avoiding him. He didn't seem upset by it, but there was a look in his eye that made you nervous.

He was in the main room tonight, with Lina in his lap, the two of them drunkenly talking about who knows what. But his eyes were on you, and it made your skin crawl.

You quickly got up and looked for a place to hide, not wanting to be caught in his sights. He was a dangerous man, you could sense it, and you had no interest in being alone with him.

You made your way through the halls, between tapestries of silk and dimly lit rooms, keeping your head down. It was almost too easy to disappear here, to find the dark corners and hide away from the world.

You weren't looking where you were going, and you found yourself crashing into someone.

"Sorry, sorry," you muttered, moving to continue walking.

You felt a hand grip your arm, and you looked up at a man dressed in dark clothing, a hood covering his face. There was an air of danger around him, the way he held himself was confident and commanding.

He looked you over, his gaze roaming over your body. From what you could see of his face, he was handsome, with a strong jawline and sharp features. His hair was blonde, resting on his shoulders.

"No need to apologize, little dove," he said, his voice deep and rich.

His hand slid down your arm, his fingers brushing against yours. "Come, let's have a drink," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear.

You nodded, grateful for any excuse to get away from the prince. You could also do with some extra coin, and this man seemed willing to pay.

He followed you to one of the private rooms, the curtains hanging around the bed were a soft blue, the room dimly lit by candles.

He gently leaned his sword against the wall, his fingers tracing over the hilt. It had an odd looking pommel, the metalwork intricate, the hilt the shape of a gold dragon.

He turned and sat on the bed, his hood falling down, revealing his face.

He was handsome, his blonde hair tumbling over his shoulders, his eyes sharp and bright. He was tall and lean, with a muscular build.

"So, what brings you to a place like this?" you asked, standing in front of him.

"Curiosity," he replied, reaching out and pulling you into his lap.

You gasped, your face inches from his. He smirked, his fingers wrapping around the silk ribbon around your waist, untying it. The thin dress fell open, revealing your chest.

"You are a pretty thing," he whispered, his eyes raking over your body.

You blushed, your heart beating faster. You were used to men commenting on your looks, but something about the way he said it made you feel warm.

"I bet you tell all the girls that," you teased, your hand reaching out and resting on his chest.

"I bet you pretend to enjoy it," he countered.

"And if I do?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He laughed, his fingers tracing the curve of your neck.

"I'll know the difference," he said, leaning in, his breath ghosting over your lips.

"Is that so?" you whispered, a smile tugging at your lips.

He chuckled, his other hand coming up and resting on your lower back. He pulled you closer, his lips brushing against yours.

He was surprisingly gentle, his lips soft, his hands caressing your body. He kissed you like a lover, not like a man who was paying for a whore.

You melted into his touch, your hands moving up and tangling in his hair. He groaned, his fingers digging into your skin.

You knew the brothel had men of all shapes and sizes, some kinder, others rougher, but he was a different breed altogether. You were enjoying yourself in a way you never had before.

"See? You're not pretending,"he whispered against your lips.

You laughed softly, your eyes fluttering open, looking into his. He was staring at you with such intensity, it made your heart skip a beat.

He smiled at you, his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin. You could feel the warmth of his body, the strength of his arms around you.

"What kind of men do you usually entertain?" he asked, his lips moving to your neck.

"All kinds," you replied, letting him undress you, the silk pooling at your waist. "From beggars to princes," you said.

"Princes, hmm? I suppose a prince would have more coin than most," he said, gently cupping your breasts, his thumbs grazing over your nipples.

"Some," you replied, trying to keep your breathing steady. “The prince does come here often. Although he is not the most agreeable of men," you explained.

"You know a lot about the prince?" he asked, his lips grazing against the shell of your ear.

"Indeed, he told me he would show me his dragon," you said, smiling, tracing your finger down his chest, playing with the hem of his shirt. "Caraxes, is it's name," you added, taking hold of his shirt and pulling it off.

"Oh? That's an interesting promise," he replied, his lips pressing kisses along your shoulder, his teeth nipping at the soft skin.

"He said I could ride it too," you said, feeling his lips curve into a smile against your skin.

"I'm sure you would be more than capable," he breathed, his nose brushing over the curve of your neck. "Perhaps you can practice on me," he murmured.

You giggled, a warmth blooming between your legs. He was handsome and charming, his touch gentle, he knew what he was doing. His hands moved over your skin, leaving a trail of heat wherever they went.

You shifted on his lap, feeling his arousal pressing against you. "Is that so?" you asked, your lips ghosting over his.

"Mmm," he groaned, his eyes darkening, his lips claiming yours.

His hand cupped the back of your neck, holding you close. You could taste the sweetness of the wine on his tongue, his kiss full of passion and desire. Your hands went to his breeches, unlacing them and pulling out his cock.

You stroked him, feeling the velvety skin beneath your fingers. He groaned, his lips breaking away from yours.

"If I were to ride you, I'm not sure I would be able to walk away afterwards," you whispered, looking down at him.

"Maybe that's my plan," he said, as his hand slipped between your legs.

You gasped, the pleasure rippling through your body. You had a feeling this was going to be the best coin you had ever earned. It was always a nice treat when you could be with a man that you actually enjoyed touching.

"You're bigger than most of the other men I've had," you purred, running your hand up and down his length.

"I bet you say that to all the men," he teased, his fingers dipping into your cunt, feeling the wetness there.

"I'll say whatever you want me to," you said, kissing his neck, his jawline.

"Such a sweet little liar," he said, his hand cupping your cheek, tilting your head up.

You looked at him, your eyes meeting his. They were a deep blue, almost purple. There was a gentleness to them, but also a fire.

"Am I bigger than the prince?" he asked, a playful smirk on his lips.

"Would it be treason to say yes?" you whispered, your teeth grazing his earlobe.

"I won't tell him," he said, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss.

You smiled into the kiss and slowly rocked your hips, rubbing your slit against the underside of his cock. He groaned, his hands gripping your waist, his thumbs brushing over your hip bones.

You pulled away from the kiss, sitting up slightly and lining his cock up with your pussy. You sank down onto him, keeping your eyes locked with his.

You began to ride him, slowly at first, then you increased the pace. He let out a low groan and his hands squeezed your ass, helping you bounce on his cock.

You leaned down, capturing his lips in another passionate kiss. Your hands gripped his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin.

You pulled away from the kiss and rested your forehead against his.

"Fuck," he hissed, his fingers digging into your thighs.

You let out a breathless laugh and began to ride him faster, grinding down onto his cock. You could feel his length pulsing inside of you, his breath hot against your neck.

He suddenly flipped you into your back, your hair splayed out across the pillows. He grabbed your thighs and pushed your legs back, sinking his cock inside you once more.

You moaned, feeling him pound into you. He leaned down and captured your lips in another kiss, his tongue invading your mouth. Your hands went to his arms, they were made of pure muscle, the corded veins bulging under his pale skin.

His hips started to falter, a sure sign he was close to his release. He buried his face in the crook of your neck as he let out a low and desperate groan. You could feel his cock throb as his seed filled you.

"I can see why the prince likes you," he said, a small smile on his face as he rolled off of you.

You chuckled, moving to cuddle up next to him.

"Oh? What makes you say that?" you asked, nuzzling into his chest.

"The way you fuck," he said, his lips curling up into a smirk. "It's truly fit for royalty,"

You giggled and buried your face into his chest, the smell of his sweat mixed with sex intoxicating.

"You are a far better lover than him, perhaps living up in a castle all his life has spoiled him," you said, tracing patterns on his chest.

He smiled, his arm wrapping around your waist, his thumb rubbing circles over your skin.

"I don't even know your name," you whispered, your hand reaching up and stroking his cheek.

"It doesn't matter now, does it?" he asked, his voice low and soft.

You watched him, wondering why a man would pay for a whore when he could easily get a woman willing. But then again, you knew the type of men who came to a place like this, perhaps he was married, or didn't have time for courtship.

He sat up and poured himself a cup of wine, the dark liquid spilling into the glass. He took a sip, then handed it to you.

"Thank you," you said, sitting up and taking a drink, the taste of wine sweet on your lips.

He leaned in and kissed you passionately. You hummed softly and cupped his cheek, his stubble scratching your palm.

He moved off the bed and grabbed his shirt, pulling it over his head. He picked up his sword, strapping the sheath to his belt.

You laid back, propping yourself up by your elbows as you watched him dress. He looked at you, a smirk on his face.

"You look lovely like that," he said, his voice a low purr.

You nodded in thanks, giving him a gentle smile and watched him pull out his coin purse.

"Keep the change," he said, tossing the bag onto the bed.

"Thank you, ser," you said, watching him walk out the door.

"Ser," he chuckled. "I am no ser," he said, looking back at you one last time before shutting the door.

The following evening was a busy one, you had spent most of the night serving drinks, the men rowdy and full of ale.

The drunker they got, the more coin they would spend, but that also came with its risks. Some of the men would become violent, the women in the brothel would often have bruises, sometimes it would be a black eye or busted lip.

You had gotten good at handling the rowdy customers, a few sweet words and a soft touch was enough to keep most men docile.

You hadn't seen Lina since yesterday, which was odd, usually she was down here, drinking and entertaining the men.

"Have you seen Lina?" You asked Kari, who was collecting a number of empty tankards.

"She's probably passed out in some room, drunker than a sailor," Kari replied, shaking her head.

You frowned, that didn't seem right. Lina had a habit of drinking, but never enough to not show up for work.

Kari could see the concern on your face and placed her hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently.

"Don't worry about her, she'll be fine," she said, giving you a reassuring smile.

"What if Prince Daemon comes in? I do not wish to deal with him," you whispered.

"Then don't," she said, pouring herself a glass of wine.

"I cannot refuse him, he would make my life a living hell," you sighed.

"Then you best stay out of his way," Kari said, patting your shoulder.

You nodded, but knew that was easier said than done. If he showed up tonight, you were sure to run into him.

You continued to serve drinks, doing your best to avoid the more aggressive customers. You felt a hand grip your wrist, and turned to see one of the regulars.

"Come sit on my lap pretty girl," the man said, tugging on your wrist.

You smiled sweetly and sat down on his lap, resting your arm on his shoulder.

"How have you been, my love?" you asked, batting your lashes.

"Better now that you're here," he said, his hand resting on your knee, his fingers rubbing circles on the inside of your thigh.

"That's sweet," you said, trying not to flinch at his touch.

You leaned in and whispered into his ear, "What can I do for you tonight?"

He smirked, his hand sliding further up your thigh, he looked over your shoulder and paused. His eyes were fixed on something behind you, his expression one of shock and disgust.

You turned to see Lina stumbling through the main room, her hair a mess, her clothes torn, blood trickling down from a wound on her head.

She was muttering incoherently, her eyes wild and unfocused. She stopped in the middle of the room, looking around, a terrified expression on her face.

"Lina?" You immediately got off the man's lap and rushed to her side, placing your hand on her shoulder.

She screamed, slapping your hand away and staggering back. Her eyes were wide, her breathing heavy, she was looking at you as if you were a stranger.

"Lina, it's me," you said, trying to calm her.

She shook her head, backing away, her eyes darting around the room.

"You're alright," you said, stepping towards her.

She raised her hands in front of her, as if trying to shield herself from something. You could see the bruises on her wrists and her hands were trembling.

You reached out to her, but she flinched, moving away from you. She backed into a table, knocking over a tray of drinks.

The noise drew the attention of the patrons, everyone was staring at her, murmuring to each other.

You grabbed her arm, gently leading her to the stairs. She let you lead her, her body tense, her breathing rapid.

You opened the door to her room and led her inside. You could see the dried blood and cum on her thighs, and the tears in her clothes.

"What happened to you, Lina?" you asked, but she remained silent, her gaze fixed on the floor.

You went to the washbasin and dampened a cloth, sitting next to her on the bed. You began to clean the dried blood from her face, gently wiping the cloth over her bruised skin.

"You are safe now," you said, trying to soothe her.

"It was him," she suddenly said, her voice quiet and strained.

"Him who?" you asked, dipping the cloth back into the water, the blood turning it pink.

"Prince Daemon," she said, her voice cracking.

Your eyes widened, the cloth slipping from your fingers and landing in the basin with a wet splash.

"Daemon did this to you?" you asked, a pit of anger forming in your stomach.

Lina nodded, tears streaming down her face, her body shaking. "You mustn't tell anyone, he will kill me," she cried.

"Lina, I...," you trailed off, unsure of what to say.

You wrapped your arms around her and held her close, letting her cry into your shoulder.

"I'm sorry," you said, your voice breaking.

She pulled away, her eyes red and puffy, her lips quivering.

You felt your chest tighten, a wave of rage and despair washing over you. Daemon was a vile, evil man, and the fact that he had hurt Lina, filled you with an overwhelming anger.

You clenched your fists, feeling your nails dig into your palms, a stinging pain spreading over your skin.

"I... I lost all my coin...He took it," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

You wondered why a prince would bother stealing coins from a common whore, surely he had enough coin of his own.

"You can have whatever I earn tonight," you said, your tone serious.

"You don't have to do that," she said, shaking her head.

"Of course I do, you would do it for me," you said, gently cupping her cheek.

She nodded, her eyes glistening with fresh tears.

"Stay here, get some rest," you said, helping her lay down.

She pulled the blanket up to her chin, curling up into a ball, her body still trembling. You left the room, closing the door quietly behind you.

You walked back down to the main room, a burning rage coursing through your veins. You spotted Daemon, sitting at a table, drinking wine and laughing with a group of men.

You wanted to confront him, to pour hot tar over his head and watch him scream and writhe in pain. You looked around the room for a weapon, anything you could use to inflict harm upon him.

Your eyes landed on a serving tray, you picked it up, the metal cool against your palm. You were about to do something rash, something you couldn't come back from, when the man from last night caught your attention.

He was sitting at a table by himself, nursing a drink. He was wearing the same leathers as last night, and his sword was strapped to his hip.

He looked up, as if he could feel your gaze on him, and gave you a small smile. He gestured for you to come over.

You placed the tray back on the table, and walked over to him. You needed the coin for Lina, and he felt nice and smelled good, it would be a pleasant distraction.

"Back so soon?" you asked, swallowing your rage and fear, turning it to soft words and flirty touches.

You sat down on his lap, wrapping your arm around his shoulders, kissing his cheek and smiling sweetly.

"I missed you," he said, his hand going to your waist.

"Liar," you whispered, a playful smirk on your lips.

He laughed, the sound deep and rich, his eyes twinkling with amusement. He looked around the room then back to you, his gaze roaming over your body.

"Shall we?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.

"Yes," you replied, sliding off his lap and taking his hand.

He followed you to the stairs, his hand on the small of your back. You glanced over your shoulder at Daemon, a scowl on your face as you walked away from the opportunity to harm him.

You quickly led the man to your room, shutting the door and leaning against it, letting out a sigh.

"Are you alright?" He asked, setting his sword down and untying his shirt.

"Fine," you said, watching him undress.

His chest was pale and well muscled, his body lean and strong. He looked up at you, a playful smirk on his lips.

"Lying once again," he said, unbuckling his belt.

"My friend was attacked," you said, walking over to him, running your hands over his bare chest.

"I am sorry to hear that," he said, his gaze focused on you, his hands reaching up to cup your face.

"She was beaten and raped by Prince Daemon," you said, leaning into his touch, his calloused palms rough against your cheeks.

He stiffened at that, but just for a moment, before untying your dress and letting it pool at your feet.

"You shouldn't say things like that," he said, his hands gripping your ass and pulling you closer.

"Why? It's the truth," You replied, wrapping your arms around his neck, pressing your naked body against his.

"It can get you killed," he said, his voice low and his breath hot against your ear.

You shivered, his words sending a chill down your spine. "I do not care, he deserves to die," you hissed, nipping at his bottom lip.

He smiled and lifted you up, carrying you to the bed and laying you down. His lips were soft against yours, his tongue exploring your mouth.

"Tell me, do you always have such violent thoughts?" He asked, his hands roaming over your body.

He gripped your hips and pulled you underneath him, his erection pressed against your pussy.

"When men like him exist? Yes," you replied, moaning softly as he ground his hips against yours.

"And what would you do, if you had the power?" He asked, his fingers ghosting over your clit, making you moan.

"I would cut him open, and feed him his own guts," you replied, arching your back, a jolt of pleasure shooting through you. "Or perhaps burn him alive," you added, a dark smile spreading across your lips.

He chuckled, a wicked grin on his face, his eyes flashing with desire.

"And what of me? What would you do to me?" He asked, his fingers slipping inside of you, moving slowly, his thumb circling your clit.

You kissed him, hard and fierce, nipping at his lip, a small bead of blood forming. You could taste it, sweet and coppery, the smell of iron filling your nose. He chuckled at your roughness, his fingers moving faster.

"You've not wronged me, yet," you moaned against his lips, your hands going to his cock, the speed of your strokes matching his.

"Yet?" He chuckled, a low and seductive sound.

"There is time," you teased, pushing him off you and onto his back.

You straddled him, lowering yourself onto his cock, moaning as you felt him stretch you. He gripped your hips, guiding you as you began to ride him, his eyes watching you intently.

You arched your back, rolling your hips, grinding against him, your hands on his chest. You could feel him hitting that spot inside of you, making you moan and pant.

He sat up, his hands gripping your ass, his lips finding yours, a soft and passionate kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him close, his warmth enveloping you.

"Harder," you pleaded, a soft whimper escaping your lips.

He obliged, his grip tightening, his hips thrusting harder, deeper, filling you completely. You buried your face in his neck, muffling your cries of pleasure, your body tensing as you came.

He grunted, his cock throbbing inside of you, his hot seed spilling into you. You held each other close, panting and sweating, the room silent save for your labored breaths.

He captured your lips, a soft and gentle kiss, his fingers stroking your cheek. You pulled away, resting your forehead against his, a contented sigh escaping your lips.

"Is he here now? This prince," he asked, a bitter inflection to his tone.

"Yes," you replied, running your hands through his hair.

"Will you point him out to me?" He asked, his grip on your hips tightening.

You looked at him, a curious expression on your face. "Why?"

"Just curious," he replied, his fingers tracing circles on your lower back.

You looked into his eyes, a strange fire had crept into his gaze. You could feel a change in the air, the tension thick and heavy, the room seeming to grow darker.

"Okay," you said softly, a hint of trepidation in your voice.

"Good," he said, a sly smile spreading across his lips.

He helped you off his lap, standing and gathering his clothes, pulling his trousers and shirt back on.

You watched him, the way his muscles moved beneath his skin, his eyes focused and determined. He seemed to be lost in thought, his gaze distant, as if he was planning something.

"Who are you?" You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He didn't respond, just held out his hand for you. You took it, and let him help you off the bed, your fingers intertwined.

You descended the stairs, the tavern full and bustling, the air thick with the scent of sweat and ale. You led him towards the corner where the prince was, his table surrounded by a group of men.

"Them," you said, pointing to the prince and his entourage.

He nodded, and pulled you close, kissing your cheek and placing a large bag of crowns in your hand.

"For you and your friend," he whispered, before releasing you and disappearing into the crowd.

You stared after him, confused and intrigued. You didn't know what was going on, or what he was planning, but you couldn't help but feel a strange sense of excitement.

You went over to Kari who was in the lap of the regular from earlier, her hands wandering over his broad chest.

"Where did you go?" She asked, glancing at you, a questioning look in her eyes.

"Upstairs, with the man from last night," you replied, showing her the coins.

She grinned, her eyes wide. "Look at you, making the big coin," she said, a mischievous glint in her eye.

Suddenly there was a loud crash, the sound of breaking glass. You turned to see the prince on the ground, his table overturned, a shattered bottle of wine next to him. The men he was with nowhere to be seen.

A number of gold cloaks had come storming in, and were surrounding the table, their swords drawn.

You watched the man you had just been with appear behind them, making his way through the gold cloaks, they parted for him without question.

The prince looked up at him, his eyes wide with fear, his body trembling.

"What are you doing? I'm the prince! Prince Daemon Targaryen!" He stammered, trying to back away.

The man laughed, and looked around at the gold cloaks, who were smiling and laughing with him.

"Funny," he said, looking down at the prince. "I could have sworn that was me."

The man who claimed to be the prince looked horrified, his eyes wide with shock.

"That's right, your grace," the man said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You've been caught," he continued, the smirk turning into a sadistic grin.

You watched in horror and amazement as the pretender prince tried to scramble away, only to be stopped by a sword being plunged into his stomach.

He let out a gurgled cry, his blood spraying out onto the floor, a look of pure terror on his face. You and Kari screamed and looked away, covering your mouths in shock.

There was a horrible, visceral wet sound as the real prince Daemon cut open the pretender's stomach, and pulled out his innards, feeding them to him.

The room was silent, save for the sound of the dying pretender, gagging and wailing, his blood pooling around him.

"Let this be a lesson to all those who would dare to impersonate a prince of the realm," Daemon said, his voice booming across the tavern. "All pretenders shall meet the same fate."

The pretender had fallen silent, his body lying in a pool of his own blood and guts. Daemon wiped his hands and sword on the pretender's clothes, and turned to the gold cloaks.

"Clean this up, and dispose of the body," he said, his tone commanding.

The gold cloaks bowed, and began to drag the pretender's body from the tavern. The real prince looked around the room, his eyes landing on you.

You immediately looked to the floor, bowing before him, your heart pounding. You couldn't believe what had just happened, that the prince was a pretender and that the real Daemon had just been in your bed.

He walked over to you, and you kept your gaze down, not daring to look at him. You felt his hand under your chin, tilting your head up, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"I'll be sure to burn him too," he said, a small smile on his lips.

You could only nod, your voice caught in your throat. He smiled and released you, turning and walking away.

Everyone was in a state of shocked silence, people staring in awe and disbelief. Kari looked at you, her eyes wide and her face pale.

"What just happened?" She asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I... I don't know," you replied, your own voice shaking.

It was a lesson, one you never forgot. That even among whores, the truth would always find its way to the surface. And for that, there was no mercy.

[boneblushed]

Is it chill that you’re in my head?

synopsis your best friend James isn’t sure why he’s so angry about the fact that you’re going on a date with someone else.

wc 2.6K

“He’s looking over here,” James sings under his breath, his brown eyes full of mirth. He’s balancing on the spindly hind-legs of his library chair, the Potions essay he’s supposed to be doing laid out in disarray.

You send him a reproachful look. “You’re being malicious.” When you turn back around to face Davey Gudgeon’s table, there’s a split second of eye contact before he ducks his head down abashedly, his cheeks a brilliant rouge.

He has a crush on you, apparently. Sirius and Remus had overhead him talking about it on his way down to breakfast this morning—about how prefects rarely escaped unscathed after sharing something as intimate as a Saturday night duty.

James Potter, your best friend and a royal pain in your ass, finds this revelation abso-fucking-lutely hilarious for some reason. Asshole.

“Au contraire,” he murmurs, the grin on his face audible, “I’m being a world class wingman.”

The look on his face is downright dangerous. He waggles his eyebrows at you suggestively, unperturbed by the frown on your own, a warning. Easing forward until each hind-leg finds the ground with a resounding thud, he cups his hands around his mouth, whisper-shouting, “Oi! Gudgeon!”

Davey Gudgeon reddens further, a feat you didn’t think was possible until now. He glances over at James dismally, a furtive expression on his face. “What?” He mouthes, sending you this weak half-smile. It’s sort of sweet, almost contagious. You find yourself smiling back at him on instinct.

“Come over here, you bludger,” James chastises, like that’s the obvious next step. To be fair, it probably is to him — he’s never shied away from flirting with the girls he fancies, a self-proclaimed dating aficionado with way too much chat for his own good.

Davey hesitates, his nervous gaze flitting to you momentarily. He looks as though he wants to do just that, but isn’t sure whether his crush on you is reciprocated. Sweet.

He has gentle eyes, too, pretty juniper with bright specks of burnt ochre. A nice head of brown hair. If it was cold outside, you bet he’d offer you his Quidditch jersey without hesitation.

You think you need sweet, all things considered. You’ve known James Potter all of seven years now, had a wretched crush on him all of five, and never once has he indicated that his aforementioned expertise could ever extend to you.

It’s high-time that you gave your pathetic heart a rest.

“You’re making him miserable,” you mutter, ever-reproachful.

Davey hasn’t moved yet, though you’re sure he wants to, his hands braced on the table in front of him apprehensively. He keeps looking between you and James, surveying his options; in order ease his anguish, you decide you’d better make the decision for him.

You push your chair back and stand up, it’s spindly legs scraping against the vinyl floor forebodingly. James looks up in surprise. “Where r’you going?”

“To Gudgeon’s table.”

“Why?” James urges, perplexed. He half-stands too, his features a smidge less mirthful than before.

“So you’ll stop,” you reply, frowning down at him.

He raises his arms in surrender. “I’m stopping.” A pause. In the beat that passes, his assessing gaze falls over you in paces. “You’re not… you’re not keen on him too, are you?”

You think on this, cocking your head to one side. “I don’t know. Maybe? He’s kinda sweet.”

“But he doesn’t even have the balls to come over here and ask you out properly,” James whisper-shouts, mildly exasperated.

You’ve never once called him sweet.

He’s had this tragic crush on you for all of seven years, and never once has he been on the receiving end of such a fond adjective. He’d only made a fuss over this Davey situation because he was sure it was just a jibe — no way someone like you would be interested in a guy like Gudgeon, no way you would even entertain the possibility of more than friends.

Right?

James wants that more than friends thing with you, bad. This morning, when Sirius’d brought up Bludgeon’s crush on you—sniggering violently—he’d snuck a glance at your features to ensure that it wasn’t reciprocated. He’s sure he’d caught a bit of second-hand embarrassment, though maybe it was actually just tender hearted diffidence. Maybe Davey fucking Gudgeon had something that he somehow didn’t.

Right now, James’d give up his head boy badge and Quidditch captaincy to acquire that something. His chest hurts terribly. He runs his sloven fingers through his unkempt hair, sending you another look of bewilderment.

“Because you’re here,” you reprove. “Course he’s not going to come over when the James Potter is taking the mickey out of him.”

You say his name like it’s an insult. James’ heart plummets. “I’m not — he’s welcome to come over,” he argues quietly, chagrined. “Besides, he’s going to have to get used to me if he wants to be your boyfriend.”

“Why?” You frown. “I always bugger off when you’re with another girl.”

“That’s different,” James insists, frowning in tandem.

“How’s that different?”

They aren’t you, James thinks vaguely. His poor heart blunders for the umpteenth time this afternoon. “None of them are girlfriends.”

“Not for lack of trying,” you mutter. James swears he hears a hint of spite in your tone. “Doesn’t matter, anyway. M’going over.”

James slumps back into his seat reluctantly. He knows that you’re right, begrudging as that revelation may be — he is always flirting with one girl or another, though that’s more so to pass time than anything particularly serious. Never you. You’d see right through him, anyway. Besides, the last time he tried, it’d been so disastrous you’d assumed he was joking.

It’d been at that Halloween party they’d had in the Gryffindor Common Room last year, firewhiskey flowing and sweet treats piled atop every surface.

You were wearing this gorgeous, albeit bemusing, costume of a Muggle someone — Wonder Woman, or something, James didn’t quite understand it. Showing a lot of skin. Your pretty eyes were accented by rouge glitter, lips all glossy, and your exposed limbs and bare waist had eased his heart right into his throat.

And James Potter didn’t often find himself lost for words, but it appeared as though this party was one of those exceptions.

“Woah,” he’d murmured, wolf-whistling lowly. He was in this ridiculous, Babbity Rabbity costume (courtesy of Sirius, who was a cackling pot), feeling entirely out of place when you looked so beautiful. “Christ, Y/N, who’re you meant to be? The hottest muggleborn at Hogwarts or something?”

You’d rolled your eyes then, because no way he was serious. “Don’t tease, James. Did you guys manage to snag any cauldron cakes?”

He’d been too busy to insist his sincerity, fond gaze travelling down your bare limbs, slow. Lingering on the wafer of exposed waist between your corset and skirt. He’s still agonised by the want to touch your soft skin; that wretched Hogwarts shirt tuck has prevented this from happening.

“By the fire,” he’d answered after a beat, dazed.

And when you’d fallen out of earshot, James’ eyes still trained on your figure, Sirius and Remus’d come up behind him, the latter wearing Muggle-manufactured fangs. (Supposedly, he was meant to be a vampire.)

“You’ve got a tragic affliction, James,” Sirius’d tutted under his breath, faux-apologetic. “How’re you somehow able to flirt with every girl in this room except the one that matters?”

“Shut up,” he’d muttered back at the time, though as he thinks back on it now, he realises that Sirius was right.

For some reason, with you, he always manages to say exactly the wrong thing. He watches Davey scramble to straighten as you near his library table, the heat on his neck rising until his entire face is in a flush. And you’re smiling as you sit down beside him, this sweet, unabashed smile that looks too much like feelings reciprocated. Something in James’ ribcage cracks, an ugly emotion springing forth from within it. But he’s immobile, hands on the table and furrow in his brow, agonised by the fact that you’re looking at Davy all fond, not him.

Never him. You ask a question—James is trying his best to lip-read, but it’s difficult not to get carried away staring at your mouth. Davey nods, and then reddens some more. Then you stand up, feelings-reciprocated smile on your face as you walk back over to the table you’re sharing with James.

“He looks pleased,” James mutters grumpily.

You frown. “You don’t.”

“You’re doing charity work,” he answers, ignoring the insinuation. “You know that, right?”

“James,” you sigh, “you’re being unkind.”

“Because he’s punching.” But James knows this is unfair. He’s pretty sure every bloke in Hogwarts would be, if it was you and them.

—

“James,” Sirius calls, bemused. “You coming mate?”

Its autumn in Hogsmeade, and they’ve reached a cross roads.

The path to the left of them leads to the Hog’s Head Inn, one of their favourite haunts in the village due to its relative unpopularity. To the right, where James is glancing furtively, the cobblestone pavement takes them toward the Three Broomsticks. Where you are. With Davey.

Remus shares a knowing look with Sirius. “Think he’s in the mood for one of Rosmerta’s butter-beers, actually.”

James groans, scrubbing his calloused palm down his face slovenly. He knows exactly what he’s insinuating; Remus always has been the most astute of the lot. “Don’t bloody start.”

Sirius grins then, reaching for James and throwing an arm around his neck. “Reckon you’re going to need something stronger than butter-beer if you’re planning on watching Gudgeon snog your girl.”

His heart plummets. There’s that ugly emotion again, rearing its contemptuous head at him. “Wormtail’s there too,” he tries, shoving Sirius off. “We should go say hi.”

“Oh yes,” Sirius allows, his brown eyes full of mischief. “The one Marauder with a girlfriend. You after some tips, mate?”

“Cut him some slack, Sirius,” Remus chastises, though there isn’t much fire to his tone as he says it. “Reckon he’s miserable enough about the fact that the one time he fancies a girl she isn’t interested.”

James frowns, sending the pair of them a look of determination. “Look, shove off, both of you.” The crease between his eyebrows deepens further, keenly resolute. “I just want to check on her, alright? Make sure that bludger isn’t pulling anything funny.”

“Right.” Sirius nods soberly. “Or snogging her to death.”

“Fuck,” James groans again, his insides squirming. “You’ve gotta stop putting that image in my head.”

He turns toward the path to his right, the cobblestones plush with Autumn leaves, when he spots your figure in the distance and freezes. Coming closer. You look beautiful in this matter-of-fact, effortless way that makes James’ heart stutter; your pretty eyes are alight with mirth as you catch his gaze, this fond smile on your lips that makes him want to kiss you. Bad. He swallows thickly, his chest a pathetic mess.

Sirius and Remus must spot you too, because the pair of them beginning walking backward toward the Hog’s head, their eyebrows raised in tandem.

“She isn’t with the bludger, Prongs,” calls Sirius, a knowing lilt to his tone. “Now’s your chance.”

“My chance?” James asks, distracted.

“To snog her, you idiot.”

But James doesn’t hear him. Partly because the wind’s picked up, mostly because it’s difficult for him to concentrate on anything but your growing closeness.

Once you’re within earshot—more of you to agonise over, exposed waifs of skin like a siren song—he stumbles forward clumsily.

“Y/N,” James breathes out, pleasantly surprised. “Where’s Davey?”

You grimace, looking over your shoulder furtively. “I’ve just escaped him.”

James’ stomach deflates, relief washing over him in waves. He raises his eyebrows playfully. “Escaped?”

“Don’t,” you warn, frowning sternly. “He… he’s alright, really. Just doesn’t really know how to hold a conversation.” You grimace again. “Or take a hint. Like, at all.”

“Yeah? Why’d you say that?”

“Well,” you begin, and then you shiver, moving closer to James without meaning to. “Christ, Potter, you’re a really good wind shield, y’know that?”

“At your service,” he murmurs, inching forward too. “You were saying?”

You gaze up at him, the rough planes of his face ever present, and you’re struck by the revelation that he doesn’t need an old Quidditch jersey to keep you warm. He’s a furnace of body heat and cedar-wood cologne.

“Well,” you continue, voice low, “after two butter beers and absolutely zero chat, I’d sort of assumed that he’d have realised that this just isn’t going to work.”

“But…?”

“But,” you grimace, “he asked me out again.”

The way your features twist as you say it, as though that’s the last thing you want to do, wrings any residual jealousy he may be feeling right out of his stomach. He’s struck by this suddenly, overwhelming urge to caress your jaw and pull you closer.

“And let me guess,” James murmurs, grinning fondly. “You said yes.”

“I said I’ll see.”

“I worry all this charity work’s going to be the death of you, Y/N.”

You crinkle your nose up at him, punching his chest playfully. “Don’t you start James Potter.”

James raises his arms in surrender, still grinning. His gaze lifts above your head to take in the footpath behind you, and he finds himself looking right at the burly figure of Davey Gudgeon trudging toward the pair of you.

“Bloody hell,” he mutters, raising his eyebrows. “You weren’t kidding about him not being able to take a hint, huh?”

You furrow your brow, looking over your shoulder bemusedly. When your head whips back around to face him, your eyes are wide and a little tortured, dappled by the warm, orange hues of Autumn. A damsel, James’ thinks, dazed, as if that’s a normal thought for a eighteen-year-old bloke to have. He’s already spiralling over kissing you and it’s been all of five minutes.

“Is he looking over here?” You ask, your voice low.

James’ eyes dart back to Davey. “Uh, yeah?”

“Good.”

You wrap your arms around his neck hurriedly, leaning forward and pressing your lips against his. James takes a second to recalibrate, his poor heart a mess, but when he does, he’s quick to circle your waist and pull you closer, his strong arms firm and torso warm on your figure. It’s a deft kiss, chaste as it is agonising, though kiss enough for him to memorise the feeling. The buttery taste of your lips, the perfect way they appear to mould against his.

It’s a tandem emotion — you’ve revelling in this kiss far more than you should, the arduous pressure of James’ lips on your own. He’s going to leave a mark. He tastes like sugar quills and feels like the death of you, his sloven hands pressing into the bare skin of your waist.

When you do finally pull away, your cheeks are warm and you’re a little breathless. “S’he still there?”

A beat passes. James doesn’t look up.

You mistake his pause for unease, and grimace abashedly, looking away from him. In hindsight, you aren’t sure what possessed you to kiss him like that — you want to pretend it was to stave Davey away, but your traitorous heart says otherwise.

God, you think, it was a really good kiss. If only James liked it as much as you did.

If only you knew.

“Sorry,” you add in a hurry, still grimacing. “I — I wasn’t thinking, I just didn’t want Davey to come over here and I —”

“Y/N,” James interrupts, his voice rough, gravelly around the edges. “Stop talking.”

You let out a breath. “Why?”

“I want to pretend you kissed me because you wanted to, just for one more second.”

“What?” You ask, your eyes wide. “Why?”

James thinks, isn’t it obvious? He’s still marvelling over how perfect your mouth is.

“Because,” he admits quietly, “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now.”

You don’t know what to say to this. Your still chest to chest with less than an inch between your figures, and you can feel your poor heart struggling to free itself from its cage. “You have?” You say, suddenly bashful.

James nods. His pupils are a little blown, his unkempt hair a mess, and he keeps his gaze trained on your lips as though he’s being paid for it. “And listen,” he murmurs, reaching forward to thumb over them softly. “Don’t worry about Davey Gudgeon.”

“Why not, James Potter?”

“Because I’d sooner die than let that bludger bore my girl to death again.”

[luminiamore]

STRETCH.

yoga instructer choso x black man-eater reader

a/n: this is heavily inspired by jennifer’s body (・_・ヾ

also 1000 followers WHATT? (つ✧ω✧)つ

no branding included in this fic actually, so yk what that means. part two in the future asf (ﾉ´ з `)ノ

warnings: murder, reader is a succubus who eats boys & the girls she sleeps with (not choso), reader has fangs, big dick choso, he’s shy, he do be eating ass though, sloppy eater, whiny choso, pussydrunk cho, breeding asf, soft dom choso but like (￣ω￣;) subby, he makes reader submit, just nasty, also frens with satosugu

masterlist

man-eater

Noun

man-eater (plural man-eaters)

An animal that attacks and kills humans for food, such as certain tigers or sharks; any animal that consumes human flesh. quotations 

A cannibal; a human that eats other humans. quotations 

(by extension, slang) A seductive dangerous woman, often readily taking and discarding male romantic partners. 

One thing you loved about the 21st century is that there was never a shortage of people. They were everywhere. Crawling around like little ants and fucking rapidly like rabbits. You never ran out of your source of food, your source of life. 

Your species have been around for a long time. You don’t remember how you came to be, but when you first opened your eyes, you were in the center of hot molten rock from the middle of the northwest Pacific Ocean. Tamu Massif, the world’s massive underwater volcano, just 1,600 km east of Japan, was your home. 

Your first feeding, your first kill, happened off the coast on the Seychelles beaches about two days after you were awakened. Your brown body was paling by then, but you didn’t know why. At first, you didn’t know what you were, but you knew you were weak and physically unable to move at some point. While still beautiful, your eyes lacked any life in them. You needed energy.

In your defense, they came to you. The wife did, more specifically. You were under the sun a lot; it was the only thing that could at least give you some life. You suspected she and the buff man with her were here as tourists, a honeymoon vacation spot perhaps. But, even after just being introduced to this world, you knew what you preferred. You were selective.

Her husband wasn’t all that interesting to break, but her... 

She was gorgeous, downright angelic. And you had such a strong desire to fuck her. And weirdly enough, your mouth started savoring at the thought of eating her. 

It seems you hadn’t known just how insatiable you can be, just how powerful you really are. It wasn’t on purpose; you swear it wasn’t. But you know what they say about firsts. She was addicting. How soft she was, how perfect her body fit with yours. She taught you how to feel, how to let go. You were so high on pleasure.

So, you can imagine your distress when you wake up to her unmoving body on top of your naked one. When you shift your eyes to the left, you notice her neck, specifically the missing chunk of it. You lick your lips and immediately grimace at the saltiness. You pushed her body towards your side with a huff. 

At first, you felt quite hysterical. You ran toward the mirror and saw something that caused you to gasp.  

Was that blood?

Red spots were all over your face, and your mouth area was even more adorned. Your locs are messy, cascading down past your hips. It wasn’t difficult to figure out what occurred while you were intoxicated with pleasure. 

Your face is grim as you grasp onto the skin of your forehead, groaning. Flashes start to appear in your mind. A glimpse of her face, body, her pussy. Flashes of you leaning into her neck, flashes of her neck being torn apart, and flashes of her body shaky under your firm hold. 

Oh.

After about ten seconds had passed of your staring in the mirror, you accepted that this woman was now dead. You had killed her. 

But.. you weren’t overwhelmed by dread. Not upset or guilty that you completely depleted this woman’s life force. A strong feeling coursed through every nook and cranny in your veins, and you felt rejuvenated. The eye bags that had formed beneath your wispy eyelashes were absent, you could tell that much despite the amount of blood splattered on your face.

You had a liking for this feeling. Your strength was apparent, and your skin was brighter and clearer. You experienced such a state of euphoria. And well, you would die if you didn’t get more. Literally and figuratively.

You didn’t make an effort to conceal the body; you felt no need to. You felt compelled to go somewhere, but when you looked in that direction, all you could see was the moving water. You escaped into the ocean at the exact moment, moving as fast as you could away from the small island and following the intense pressure calling out to you.

Since that incident, you’ve stayed in Japan. A black woman with unnatural beauty stalked through the night, undeniably being the center of attention. You were the talk of everywhere you went; people often compared you to a witch, a vampire was the funniest one you’ve heard. You were unusual and feared a little by the public. Although you were beautiful, every step you took was infused with a sense of danger and mystery. Death, even. 

It’s common for people who left with you to never be seen again. In the event that they were, they weren’t the same. People had this inexhaustible attraction towards you. They wanted to know more, they tried to discover the secrets you held. But unless you choose them, all people could potentially get out of you was a meaningless glance.

The more you kill, the stronger you become. You became aware of this shortly after your second kill, and you could soon hold off on feeding for weeks if you needed to. Though you’ve grown to realize that you’re superior to a particular breed, you were never the type to go crazy with power. Many of your species, you could tell, were famous and had the most influence on the public. 

Take the city’s most well-known billionaires, such as Suguru Geto and Satoru Gojo. Their ownership of many corporations and businesses allowed them to have multiple connections with dangerous parts of Japan, such as the Yakuza. However, they also contribute significant amounts of income to the city annually. Their support of the most popular things in the population was indisputable, making it impossible not to like them. It wasn’t because they wanted to; they weren’t that generous, but because they loved power. 

Passing them on your stroll, you could tell they were similar to you. Their scent was unlike that of humans, and their energy and absolute pheromones were ridiculous. They were looking for prey that night, you could tell by how potent it was. And perhaps if you were human, you would have fallen for their charm when they called out for you. 

They had plans to make you their meal for the night, but unfortunately, their hypnotic effect on humans didn’t work on you. That’s when they realized that you were like them, and well, they were both amused. 

“Aw, how cute,”

“Bet you would’ve tasted real good too.”

To this day, you don’t know if Suguru was talking about eating you or your pussy. Even so, you became a close friend of the pair from that moment forward. There were days when they would pop up to your apartment unannounced and grace you with their antics. It was more of a domestic setting, not sexual, but they enjoyed being around someone who deeply understood them. 

Today was one of those days. Your peaceful nap ended when they entered your bedroom and plopped down on your bed, discussing the last feeding they had. Satoru’s voice reaches an enthusiastic pitch,

“She was so bendy, Suguru! She bent over backwards, and she was still taking my dick,” 

The long-haired man shifts his eyes carelessly towards his best friend, who is resting on your thighs and intensely focused on something on his phone. You were oblivious to the words spewed out by Satoru, fighting against the sleep you had gotten before they arrived. The latter raises a brow,

“Hmm,”

“She told me she takes something called yoga classes? It’s a shame she’s dead now, she was fu- Wait! Hey, Y/n?”

Your response is a hum as he shifts his head to your face and speaks with a sly smile on his lips,

“Do you take yoga classes?” 

You were not very fond of modern activities, so you rarely indulged in them. You rarely attempt to learn about human life and what they do for fun or work due to that knowledge. Their values never weighed down on you, and as a result, you lived a peaceful life. When you glanced down at piercing ice eyes, the confusion was evident on your face, 

“What’s..yoga?”

Suguru gave a response instead, knowing that Satoru would give you a misleading description of the exercise, 

“It’s just an activity humans do to calm the mind and stretch the body.”

“I see. Does it bring pleasure?”

“Maybe, they seem to be very satisfied afterwards.”

You twist your head in thought, interesting. Satoru pokes at your shoulder, and when you glance down, he shows you his phone screen. Plentiful pictures of women in various positions, very flexible..positions. Was she holding herself up on her forearms?

“Where can I find this? I’d like to.. learn.” Your own words caused you to startle yourself, and now you’re completely awake. 

Since when? 

You hear a breathy laugh coming from beneath you. “Oh yeah? Didn’t peg you as the type to like playing with your food.” His fingers move to find the nearest yoga studio by your building, despite his taunting, and he feels internally happy when he discovers it’s one he knows. 

You flick his head, giggling while he grunts a bit. “It’s interesting. I didn’t know the body could shape itself like that.” In all honesty, he presented you with some pictures that made you grimace a little. 

“There’s a place called Kamo’s Zen Sanctuary a few blocks from here. Of course, Suguru and I are friends with the owner.”

The mentioned man hums in assurance, 

“We can send a car to take you tomorrow afternoon if you’re up for it.” He wiggles his brows as he waits for your response.

As always, they kept their word without fail. Before the car arrived the next day, a large package was delivered to your door with a flimsy note that said, ‘You’re welcome.’ 

It’s probable that you only needed one yoga set, but your friends wanted to give you a wide array of choices to pick from. Ultimately, you opted for a lightweight black set. When you looked in the mirror, you really saw how the clothing accentuated your body, especially your ass. Oh, you liked this.

Stopping outside the studio, your mind suddenly became well aware that you didn’t know how human establishments operated. You took pleasure in the decorative pieces that this place had. Cold air, a Buddha statue spilling water steadily in a bowl, and soothing violin music immediately welcomed you upon arrival. 

Despite not being familiar with the environment, you still entered it with grace. You would have left if it weren’t for the tall, handsome gentleman who sneaked up on you from behind. His silent demeanor made it impossible to hear him, and when you saw his face, you indeed weren’t disappointed.

“Do you need help, miss?”

Smooth was how his words came across. When you faced him, his face was smooth, too. Your body vibrated, your fingertips were slightly twitching, and your mind was reeling in the fact that you were suddenly very, very hungry. Although it’s been a week since you last had anything to eat, you’ve already found your next prey. 

Him. The quite pale man with a pair of beautiful, solemn eyes. The dark line across his face is a perfect fit for him, and it’s hard not to notice. His plum lips are almost puckered, but they look so soft you want to sink your teeth into them. You want him.

You eye his exposed biceps in the black shirt clinging onto his pale skin, “Yes, I want to learn yoga. How can I?”   

Even as his ears flush, he maintains a steady tone and unbothered expression when addressing you, barely making eye contact, “I can get you started with that. My name is Choso. I’m an instructor here. Come with me, miss.”

You nodded without reason because the man had already turned and started walking to a different room. You’re staring at him, more so the way his muscles ripple with every step he takes. There’s an intangible desire on your part to fuck this man, bite every inch of his body until he was withering in pleasure. 

Choso seemed shy, but you liked that he was nervous and fidgety around you as you faced him in a larger room with a mirror covering both ends. There were no lights on, only candles surrounding the black walls. The echo from the fish swimming in the small pond could be heard throughout the space. 

His back could be seen through the clear glass. As you looked around, you also noticed red mats and..blocks? This place was strange. You lick your lips when he speaks again, 

“This is where we do the practice. I sense that you’re new to this. Do you want to start with a small stretch first?” His hand reaches behind him to pick up a thin mat, his low purple eyes flickering between the object and you. 

“Of course, Choso.”

Choso has a sweet scent, almost like a bakery. The moment you walked inside, his scent infiltrated your nostrils. The sheer proximity of his body when he guided you into what he said was the downward dog position made you feel like you were floating. You felt hot, even on fire, when he touched you. The fabric you wore was so tightly held onto your body that it felt like he was touching your bare skin.

He was exerting pressure on your lower thighs, making them conform to the position. When you glanced in the mirror, he seemed so focused on what he was doing. You swear your pussy had a heartbeat. His gaze catches yours,

“Head down, miss.”

You listen wordlessly, your locs making small thumping sounds when they hit the red surface. Maybe Choso could feel the heat and craving radiating off of your body. Maybe he couldn’t. It’s impossible to read his thoughts, no matter which way you look at it. His face remains blank after he says ‘good job’ for maintaining the position after a minute. If he can feel your body heating up like you can, his expression doesn’t make it known. 

His body, however, does. More so, how red he gets, as if he’s heating up too as if he’s experiencing the same shit you are. Could he be?

Choso tells you about the next position he’s going to put you in,

“You’re a little tense on your outer hips, so we’re gonna do something called the Pigeon pose.”

You’re almost about to ask, ‘What’s that?’ but he shows you before you can even part your lips. Your right leg is flat against the floor, twisted in front of you almost perfectly, while your left leg elongates towards the back. Choso observes the difficulty of your arms in holding you up, so he goes in front of you to help. The firmness of his hands on your hips reflects his strength, especially when he presses down slightly to stretch the area. 

“It’s okay. Your legs are supporting you. You can relax a bit.” Can you, though? With the way, he’s pressing on an area that’s suddenly very sore to you. His voice is scratching some primal part of your brain. You think it’s impossible.

“Am I supposed to be doing something while in this position?” You intentionally lower your voice to make him look at you. He does, just not in the way you want. That stupid, blank expression is still on his face. You rub your lower body on the mat, shivering a little as it barely touches your clit through the fabric.

“You’re supposed to breathe. Just be.” He speaks softly against your face. You were fond of his closeness, the sensation of his breath being directly on your skin. 

“When will this feel pleasurable?” You exhale. You honestly weren’t seeing any interest in human activities again. You were only getting a slight burn on your legs, and that was due to the grip Choso still had on you.

You don’t know what it is you said, but you watch Choso intensely. You can see his eyes widen for a split second before returning to their original state.

“Pleasurable? You came here.. for pleasure?” 

There was a slight hiccup in his voice at the end of his question. You got him, you think. It shouldn’t be much to get him under you now. He taps his long fingers on your hip twice twice in an attempt to make you shift to the other leg, causing you to jump. 

A wince escapes your lips as he releases his grip on you, “I hear that this practice can give that. Is it true?”

You finally caught Choso’s eye on you. In fact, his gaze remains on you even after he observes your body shift its position. You believe that you like his eyes on you. He lowers himself to your level to help you still your body.

“I suppose it depends on what kind of pleasure you’re looking for, miss.”

You hum softly as you breathe him in once more today when his palms rest against you once again. What did he mean by that?

You reply, but your gaze never leaves his, “What kind of pleasure can you give me, Choso?” 

Choso was quiet, reserved from the public, and honestly tried his best to avoid any eye contact with you during your entire time in his studio. But he only has so much self-control, as did you. The only conversation was a series of intense squelching sounds as Choso sucked on your pink bud obscenely. 

“Oh fuck- Just like that, Cho!”

He moaned fervently against your brown lips, pulling your hips against his face and keeping your cheeks apart with his large grip. You were on your knees, back shaped into a perfect arch. He was not letting go, squeezing his tongue down your wet pussy lips. Your body shakes as his tongue licks a stripe through your folds, circles all over your puckered hole, and drool slips onto the thin mat.

“Ah-!”

Your cries made Choso even more red in the ears. He thought he was pretty dull, not exciting or engaging to talk to. He didn’t pay much attention to his looks, girls always found him too.. weird. It wasn’t something he expected to happen on his day. He knew who you were before you came in, Satoru had the pleasure of letting him know you were on your way. But the minute you came into his place of work, he found it very hard to resist you. That’s why he didn’t make any eye contact. 

The truth is, Choso was deeply attracted to you and found it terrifying. 

Choso’s pretty head was puzzled by the fact that he was responsible for the angelic sounds that emerged from your plump lips. He couldn’t fathom that he was on his knees licking the most sensitive parts of your body. But, he welcomed it, letting himself sink into the essence of you with a feeling of overwhelming desperation. 

“Want more. Come on, miss. Give m-me more, please.”

How much more can you give him? He already has his face deep inside of you. You understand what he is trying to say when he inserts two fingers into your wet mound, dragging them in and out and carefully grazing the spongy spot that makes you thrash around. You immediately clench at the intrusion, feeling the overwhelming pleasure burn in the pit of your stomach. 

Choso is eager to pay attention to all parts of you but doesn’t know where to focus. Every part of you tastes so celestial, he wanted you to give him everything at the same time. His finger-fucking is swift, and your mind is entirely absent when the man pushes his tongue into and out of your ass simultaneously. Choso was so turned on that his precum was making a stain on his shorts from how much he was leaking.

His moans vibrated against your lower lips, and you swore in all your existence that you had never been eaten so nasty like this. He was going to make you cum so fast that you couldn’t even be mad about it.

He can feel it. The fatness of your pussy is pressing against Choso’s two big fingers, forcing him to use more strength to maintain his rapid pace. Your wetness creates a beautiful clear puddle under his attack, and he can feel it. Could you also do that on his dick? Milk his cock over and over and over again until he couldn’t cum anymore? Choso has been an atheist his entire life, but he almost prayed for this one favor.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Ouuu fuck! I’m g-gonna-”

The man doesn’t respond at first, only presses into your G-spot harder and more forcefully, as if he has a point to prove. He circles at your clit, wrapping the twitching bud around his lips, and sucks hard. What does it for you is the drunk whispers vibrating against your core of ‘Please, give it to me. Just cum. Fuck, it’s so wet.’

Your stomach tightens, your hands grip the carpeted floor in front of you, and your mouth releases pornographic moaning as cream pours out of you and onto his waiting tongue. Choso is clamoring for your taste, and as a result, he moans out with you. You have a strong desire for him, but for some inexplicable reason, your body is unwilling to eat him. Instead, you never wanted to fuck a person so badly in your life. 

Choso’s close proximity makes him ignore your little whimpers while rubbing his blushing, leaking tip up and down your sloppy cunt. When did he even pull his dick out? 

“Bet it’s so w-warm inside. Ah-” When his flushed tip accidentally slips in, and he gets a taste of the warmth you bring, his breathy voice cracks. You’re whining now. Pushing back on Choso, sucking his wide cock in your greedy hole, feeling impatient to force him down far enough to rip your pussy. 

Choso has the most beautiful moans you’ve ever heard. His voice is deep, but his tone gets so high in pitch when he’s like this. It’s so whiny it makes you cream. Literally. His voice cracks, just like his resolve does when you slide all 7.8 inches of him in so that your hips are flush against his pelvis. The feeling of his dick inside of you is so good that you’re so close to begging.

He thought he could have some self-control, but he barely kept it together when he was just eating you out. Your drooling pussy convulsing and contracting against Choso, against his cock, is a sign that his soul has reached a part of heaven. He couldn’t stop himself, really. He couldn’t do anything but relentlessly fuck you at an inhuman pace. 

“So good. So good. Pussy’s so fucking-” He cuts himself off with a loud groan when he witnesses your soft brown cheeks being spread apart for him, revealing a magnificent view of your pussy being stretched beyond their limits. Giving him a beautiful view of your messy pussy creaming the more his dick repeatedly punches your g-spot again and again and again.

You’re wailing. You’re trying to find something to hold onto that can bring your mind back to reality. Choso makes it so hard. He is becoming more and more clingy to your liquids, and his hips are vibrating violently against yours, making you believe he might be bruising your cervix. You love it. You love every speck of pleasure flowing and rippling through your body. You love everything he’s giving your body at this moment.

“I-I know what you- Oh fuck. W-what you are,”

Huh?

The thought is almost pushed out of your head when he angles his hips to get deeper inside of you. Wet and dirty sounds of his balls hitting your clit are filling the air of the stretch room. Choso is rambling now. Your pretty pussy’s attempt to milk his cock until there was nothing is making him feel delirious. It just feels so good, so safe, so wet. God, you were so fucking wet for him. He continues his fucked out declaration,

“A-And I can tell y-you don’t like c-commitment, but please. Please let me k-keep you satisfied for all e-eternity.” His rough and insatiable pounding sends your mind to distant places while he pleads. 

With whatever coherent part of your brain is still there, you cower away at the proposition. Shaking your head rapidly in a ‘no’ motion. His harsh thrusts are practically felt in your womb, pushing your hips away when you scramble to grab something stable to hold you on the floor.

Of course, Choso doesn’t let you run away like that. He quickly brings your waist back against him, making sure that his cock is nestled in the deepest parts of your warmth for a moment before starting to thrust again. You’re forced to take it all, and he doesn’t even need to say a word to prevent you from trying that shit again.

Still, you whimper out,

“Chooo baby, I can’t- Ahhh! Can’t l-let you do that.”

Choso only frowns at the evident lie on your lips and pushes your entire body harder onto the mat. A loud gasp escapes your lips when you unexpectedly squirt all over the thin object due to the sudden pressure you feel on your cervix. He was so deep.

Choso doesn’t slow down; he only moans with staggering moans when your pussy sprays its juices on him. In fact, he goes faster. 

“P-Please, miss. I can make you feel this g-good whenever you want. I can- Fuckk. I promise I c-can always fuck you deep like t-this. I’ll worship you. I’d do anything you- anything you ask, just please. L-Let me.” 

It seems that Choso understood precisely what you needed, a bit of prodding and persuading. He’s sure that if someone happens to walk into the lobby, they’ll hear exactly what’s going on due to the loud squelching you both are making. But why does he want that? Why does he want everyone to know that he is the one making you cry out so pretty as if he were your god? Despite your brief resolve, you give the handsome man exactly what he asks. You.

“Yes! Oh fuck yes! M’all yours, Cho! M’cumming- Shit. Shit. Shit. I’m-”

The sounds you both made at the same time were too much for your lovemaking to drown out. With your dam breaking, your pussy twitching open and closed, and your tight pussy covering his heavy cock with splashes of clear liquid and your sweet, sweet cream, Choso gets a taste of heaven. He cums with you. His hand grips the sides of your hips so hard, even through your dark skin, that it might leave bruises. Your perfect pussy squeezing a heavy load out of the man so much that he was shaking when he felt it overfill your cunt. Fuck, you’re too much. 

Heavy breathing and a light pap sound coming from his cum dripping out of your poor pussy could barely be heard by both of you. Choso was in such a headspace that his mind needed to take a breather to gather what the fuck he was going to say to you in a few minutes, his dick softening inside you. You were feeling the after-effects of being fucked so good, buzzing in your right ear, spasming on a cock that’s still buried deep inside of you, and aches on your lower body.

You start to pull off of him, thinking that’s what he wants, but he immediately grabs your hips and keeps you still, still not getting over the euphoric feeling of your pussy on him. Choso realizes something, and at this moment, he feels the most embarrassed he has ever felt. He managed to get a girl's commitment without even knowing her name. 

“Um.. miss?”

You barely let out a whisper, “Yes, Cho?”

“… What’s your name?”

There’s a beat of silence. Please don’t hate me. Please don’t hate me. Please don’t hate me. Choso is pleading that you won’t hate him.

His thoughts were disrupted by a melodic laugh and a honey voice, “It’s Y/n, cutie.” 

Y/n? He finds that name so.. pretty. Almost as pretty as your body. Almost as pretty as the sight of your tight pussy creaming up and- 

Well, now he’s hard again. You won’t mind if he pleases you a little more, right? After all, he made a promise, and Choso is never known for breaking his promises.

tags🏷️:: @hatake05

tags🏷️:: @thickbihhwitdagapp

[emeraldbloodcrown]

i'm thinking of an alpha 141, with price and simon being you stereotypical alphas, while johnny and kyle might be mistaken for betas - until you piss them off and then even price and simon struggle to hold them back.

they're all alphas but they're also all part of the same pack, which wasn't planned by either of them but it's not unheard of for that to happen in a task force as close knit as the 141. it's their bread and butter to go into the most dangerous situations, to protect one another, to take bullets or knifes for the others; they're the only ones who can actually understand the depth of the trauma each of them is going through.

of course they'd bond together and form a pack. but they're all also alphas. alphas with a desperate wish to mate and breed, and they can't do that with each other, they need an omega for that. but an omega who not only accepts and respects their weird pack dynamic but actively wants that? unheard of, chances so slim they were non-existent.

but so were the chances of simon crawling out of that grave or johnny recovering from that shot to the head.

and they did find one, someone who loved all four of them, someone who wanted to be their mate and give them a child. a beautiful little girl, who somehow seemed to share all of their appearances. and it was perfect.

until it wasn't. until these alphas had to gravel with the situation that their omega was gone, mating bond ripped apart, and their little girl screaming her lungs out. so used to the omega's scent, which after months of trying their best was now fully gone, that it put her in severe distress for weeks on end, leaving not only her but her fathers restless.

and then there's you, their newly moved in neighbor, they only knew their name from their landlord when they came back from their latest mission, knocking and looking just as stressed as them.

price had opened the door for you, chest puffed and ready to tear you apart for coming at his pack but you were calm..exhausted beyond belief, of course, but understanding and most of all concerned for their girl..

"all that screaming can't be healthy for her either"

you had a small container with you, a remedy from your great-grandmother, all herbal so as not to offend her nose, that needs to be rubbed into her chest before bed.

"i'll just leave it here, maybe it helps"

johnny, always the perceptive one, will forever remember how you smiled sadly at their daughter, how your fingers seemed to itch towards her before you remembered your place and just left.

they would soon find out that you were an utter blessing, kind to the bone and so unbelievably considerate. the ointment worked wonders and for the first time in over a month, they saw their daughter smile again and each other finally relax.

and from that point on, johnny was gone, absolutely enamored by you and always jumping at the chance to invite you into their circles, knowing full well the others were much more hesitant, the pain and trauma from their omega abandoning them still stiff in their bones.

but they'd see what he already saw, and it was like you wanted to prove him right when you found out about what happened to their omega, to the one among them that should be bonded the closest to their little girl but was still able to just leave.

you clenched your fingers so tight he was almost afraid you'd break something, the muscles in your neck tightened and you downright snarled, nostrils flared and lip pulled back.

"is...is that normal? her screaming like that for weeks on end? is that likely to happen with something like this?"

the air in the room tensed, charged, similar to before a storm, and it answered all of their suspicion, when they gave you the answer that yes, it was normal - and it audibly cracked around you, like thunder striking, and you had to take a deep breath, mumbling in an old language to let your environment not be influenced by your emotions, lest you hurt or scare any of them.

"you're a witch"

and damn, it should terrify him, witches and shifters don't mix well but all he can think of is that he was right, you were perfect for them, your protectiveness of their daughter only outmatched by them, and if johnny hadn't already made up his mind, hadn't already talked it through with his pack, this would definitely solidify it:

witch or not, you were theirs and mark or not, they'd never let you leave again.

[hoshifighting]

seungkwan sporty college fling?? plss 🤭🫦

a/n: first of all— IUSHDIASUHIUNFIABDIASUDIUBFIUHE the fach that he's exactly my type makes me weak on the kneeeeees!! second: WITH THE PICS ALREADY? LOVE YOU! WARNINGS: smut, fluff, med student!reader who's interning in the university's infirmary, handjob, oral (m. receiving)

sporty college fling!seungkwan who's, like, everywhere on campus. if there’s a sport to play, you bet your ass he’s signed up. volleyball, tennis, soccer, basketball, swimming, god, even frisbee if it means he gets to be out there showing off. and, look, it’s not even about the attention—though he loves that, too. he just loves the energy, the cheers from the sidelines, the way he can walk off the field dripping sweat, grinning like he just won the damn lottery.

so when he catches wind that you’re interning in the college infirmary? oh, he’s already scheming. you had no idea he knew you were there, but seungkwan’s been keeping tabs on you ever since that one history class last semester, where he’d sit behind you just to crack dumb jokes and steal your notes when you weren’t looking. he’s been hovering on the edge of your radar ever since, some mix of a friend and a tease that’s always around, always a little too close, always making you laugh even when you’re trying to focus.

so of course, it’s not a coincidence that today he’s on the field, pulling a stunt in the middle of a perfectly normal soccer game. there’s a loud yelp, and before you know it, seungkwan’s got his ass on the ground, clutching his ankle like he’s been hit by a truck. dramatic doesn’t even cover it. a friend tries to help him up, but he waves them off like he’s gotta handle this himself.

“nah, nah, i need a professional,” he says, wincing like he’s in some world-class pain, all while side-eyeing the infirmary building. eventually, the whole team’s staring at him, and the coach—who’s definitely onto him, by the way—just sighs and gestures toward the infirmary.

“alright, go get checked out,” he grumbles, “and don’t make it a habit, boo.”

so in he limps, or, well, mostly fakes limping. you’re organizing the medicine cabinet when you hear him stumble in, and the second you turn around and see him putting on that pitiful, injured expression, you know something’s up.

“oh, my god,” you deadpan, crossing your arms. “what happened this time, seungkwan?”

he sighs, laying it on thick. “soccer injury,” he says, wincing as he hobbles over to sit on the infirmary bed. “took a hard hit. they said only the best in here can take care of me.”

you roll your eyes, grabbing the ice pack and tossing it to him. “you know i can see through this bullshit, right?”

he smirks, barely able to keep up the act as he catches the ice pack and shrugs. “hey, i thought i’d at least get a little sympathy. i could be bleeding out, you know?”

“from your ankle? really?” you quip back, unable to stop the grin forming on your face. he shrugs and presses the ice pack to his ankle, looking around like he’s already scouting out what else he can mess with in here. it’s like he doesn’t even have to try—just exists, and it’s annoying but also kind of cute how he always manages to get away with it.

sporty college fling!seungkwan in those thin-ass shorts that they cling in all the right places, showing off his thick thighs, flexing calves, and the outline that has you looking anywhere but his lap whenever he walks into the infirmary. he’s got that sporty glow, a little sweat-slick, hair sticking to his forehead, flushed cheeks from running around, and that cocky smirk that’s always somewhere between friendly and downright dangerous.

so when you’re shrugging off your white coat, your tank top sticking a bit because the damn AC is broken, you catch him watching. his eyes go half-lidded, looking you up and down like you’re not a damn intern who’s just here to patch him up. he can’t even help it, a tiny little gulp as you reach back, trying to hold his knee steady while you clean up the latest scrape. and you lean over him—just a little closer to get a good angle—but the look on his face is downright sinful. he’s flushed deeper than ever, lips parted, eyes blown out like he’s somewhere far away from just a check-up.

and then you see it. oh, he’s really trying to keep it together, but that bulge is so obvious, so tight against the fabric of his shorts, it’s almost painful just looking at it. he’s shifting in place, his thighs pressing together, his hands gripping the edge of the bed, trying so damn hard to play it cool. trying being the keyword. you glance up, arching an eyebrow, giving him a once-over that has his face going from flushed to wrecked.

“you, uh… need help with anything else?” you murmur, voice dropping a bit, glancing between his lap and his face like it’s the most casual thing in the world.

he damn near chokes on his own breath, a helpless moan slipping out before he can stop it, his hips shifting forward as if he’s waiting for permission. and he spreads his legs wider, scooting to the edge of the bed, that smug smile barely peeking through as he bites his lip, knowing exactly what he’s about to ask for without saying a single word.

when you step forward and slip your hand between his legs, fingers skimming over the fabric, he lets out a broken sigh, tipping his head back with this blissed-out look that makes your heart pound.

sporty college fling!seungkwan whos losing his cool right in front of you, his little fantasy about to come true as you start to pull down those shorts, that look of relief as your hand wraps around him.

he’s biting his lip so hard it’s a wonder he doesn’t draw blood, trying to muffle the whimpers spilling out as you give him a few slow strokes, teasing just enough to make him squirm.

“fuck,” he hisses, pressing his palm tighter against his mouth, eyes wide as he glances toward the door like he’s expecting someone to walk in. you can’t help but chuckle softly; the thought of getting caught makes this whole thing even hotter. the university walls are so thin you can practically hear the whispers in the hallway, and seungkwan's face is a so desperate.

“c’mon, be quiet,” you tease, your voice low as you lean in a bit closer, brushing your thumb over the slick tip of his cock. it’s dripping now, and you can feel the pre-cum pooling in your hand, making it so easy to slide your fingers along his length. he whimpers again, muffling the sound with his hand, and it’s the kind of sweet, desperate noise that makes you want to do this forever.

“i can’t help it,” he whispers, trying to keep his voice down but failing miserably, and you can’t tell if he’s more embarrassed by how loud he is or by the way he’s getting even harder under your touch. you pick up the pace a bit, letting your fingers work him as his breath hitches, eyes rolling back just a little.

he clenches his eyes shut, the way he arches his back, trying to chase the pleasure.. his grip on his mouth tightens, and you can see the strain in his muscles, how he’s fighting against the urge to let it all out.

his gaze drops, catching on your fingers wrapped around him, nails perfectly manicured and glinting as they move, slow at first and then faster, like you’re testing just how much he can take. his eyes flick up, and the sight of your chest, bouncing with each stroke, almost sends him over the edge. it’s the kind of view he could lose himself in—is losing himself in—and he can’t look away, no matter how much he wants to keep his cool.

the slick, wet sound fills the small space, louder than his shaky breaths, louder than the little whimpers he’s trying so hard to hold back. his hips buck up, chasing the friction, and you can see him practically falling apart in your hand, his lip pulled between his teeth as he fights to stay quiet. it’s no use, though; his control is slipping, and he knows it.

“fuck—” he chokes out, voice breaking as his hand clamps over his mouth again, but his eyes stay glued to you, watching every single move you make. he swallows, pupils blown wide, his gaze flicking between your hand and your face. he looks like he’s about to burst any second.

the second your lips wrap around just the tip of his cock, seungkwan’s hands fly to his mouth, but it’s useless. the control he’d tried so hard to keep shatters instantly. a loud, ragged moan escapes, so reckless it could probably be heard down the hall, but he doesn’t care anymore.

“oh, fuck—no, wait, wait,” he gasp-whines, hands gripping the edge of the infirmary bed. his hips buck, but he’s melting under your touch, eyes rolling back as you swirl your tongue just around the head. its like his body’s got a mind of its own now, the pleasure overtaking everything else, every little shudder amplified. the quiet whimpers turn to full-on, desperate moans—he’s way past caring if anyone outside hears.

and then—before he can even manage a warning so you could take your mouth off him—his whole body tightens, and he’s coming, spilling over your tongue, a hot, sudden burst that has him gasping. his hand fly up, fingers digging into his own hair, breathless as he watches

he tries to collect himself. his legs feel weak, like he’s just finished sprinting through campus, but it’s way better than any game high. his legs are trembling, knees wobbling as he hops off the bed, trying to look at least half put-together while he straightens his shorts. but one look at your smirk, and he’s got that shy, red-faced grin back, a little embarrassed.

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who keeps sneaking into the infirmary for a “checkup” every chance he gets, especially after practice, because, according to him, “gotta make sure i’m in top shape, right?”

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who starts showing up with snacks for you after practice—sweaty, still in his shorts and jersey, claiming they’re for you so “you don’t have to eat that vending machine crap all day.”

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who eventually works up the courage to pull you into a storage room between rounds, pushing you against a shelf with that smirk of his, whispering, “you didn’t think i forgot about how good you looked last time, did you?”

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who practically has your schedule memorized by now, showing up at the infirmary right when you’re alone, leaning against the doorframe as he says, “miss me yet?” like he’s not been haunting your thoughts all damn day.

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who starts leaving you little notes in your bag with ridiculous messages, like “come to my game, i need my lucky charm,” with a winking face drawn on it. and when you finally show up, he plays like his life depends on it, catching your eye in the crowd every chance he gets, shooting you that smirk as he sprints down the field.

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who gets bolder every time you’re alone, wrapping his arm around your waist in the empty hallway, backing you against the wall, grinning when you shoot him a look. “don’t act so innocent,” he murmurs, tilting his head down to kiss you until you’re breathless, leaving you flushed and slightly disheveled before slipping away like nothing happened.

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who gives you his hoodie on chilly nights after practice, watching with a satisfied grin as you pull it over your head. he’d even say, “looks better on you, anyway,” then stroll off, pretending not to be thrilled seeing you in his clothes.

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who one day catches you in the library and somehow convinces you to sneak into one of the back study rooms, grinning as he shuts the door and pulls you close, whispering, “been dying to get you alone, you know that?” before pressing his lips to yours, hands sliding up your back as if he’s got nowhere else he’d rather be.

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who gives you a hard time for staying late at the infirmary, texting you, “don’t make me come drag you out myself,” and then showing up anyway. he lingers, leaning against the counter, arms crossed, looking at you with a smug smile and saying, “told you i’d come get you.”

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who finally asks you to stay over after a game, all soft and flushed from the adrenaline, looking at you with those bright, honest eyes. he murmurs, “you know, i don’t really want this to just be a fling,” his hand slipping into yours.

[diejager]

This is omegaverse related so please here me out… What about something different? What about…

A

Feral Omega?

I’m talking like, this omega isn’t your typical omega. This omega is downright dangerous, reports of Omega going feral but causes of harm to them due to some omega discrimination.

So what if, reader who is feral omega, is down right butchering enemies. And doesn’t hesitate to almost maul some alpha recruits if they want to mess with her..

Cw: omegaverse, feral!reader, violence, blood, weird pack dynamic, discrimination, protective behaviour, tell me if I missed any.

You were a ‘one-of-a-kind’ omega —spoken with utmost reverence by them. You were their strong and independent omega, whispered in crowded halls, mumbled in darkest nights, screamed in busy moments, and kissed to in warm and comfortable beds. You were anything but a strong and dedicated and reliable soldier, someone Ghost had grown to respect after a joint Op, then coaxed to rely on by the others when they saw how welcoming Ghost was and simply how skillful you were at your job. 

You were small but spry, less bulky but flexible, weaker but resourceful. You were everything they sought for in an omega. You were so much alike Soap, yet molecularly different. Though it was every alpha’s dream of finding a soft and loving mate to provide and protect for, someone smaller and more fragile than their thick muscles and broad build, there was a thrill in being reminded that they weren’t always at the top, being grounded and brought back down from their high horses. Against all of traditional mating couples, your current age and time had demanded more equal partnering, a relationship where both parties stood on the same ground. 

And Ghost and Price thrived on that, their employment demanded a level of independence from their mates and pack mates, the capability of standing on their own and manage grief and stress. That’s where Soap stood, an omega at it’s finest, strong and independent and emotionally knowledgeable, the glue to their pack, and Gaz, the stabiliser, the soft and gentle hand that reminded them of who they were. 

Then you came bulldozing through their well-built dynamic: feral and wrathful, full of hate and anger for the world who had wronged you. When the military had rejected you for both your sex and gender, you’d worked up the ranks in the CIA with your blood, sweat and tears, starting from a fresh agent - a rookie - to an experienced one. You’d gotten so far that Laswell had eventually reach out to you, acknowledged by someone so powerful and partnered with The Ghost had gotten you the acknowledgment and respect you’d dreamed of. 

It was a rough start with Ghost, but he learned to rely on you as much as you did him, you had formed a mutual understanding that only grew into fondness after meeting the rest of his pack. They were a functioning mix of weird and quirky: a leading alpha that was a big, soft bear, another alpha that was rough on the edge but caring, an overenergetic and fiery omega and a beta that represented everything you liked in one, calm, open-minded and smart. It was odd seeing you join them so often and continuously on Ops that didn’t need much of CIA intervention, but you all made it work.

You’d become a familiar face on base, a blunt and no-nonsense agent to new people, but cracked jokes and smiled with those you knew. Fiercely protective of your pack as much as they were with you. If Soap was a menace, then you were an omen, your deep frown and growling snarl, baring your teeth as a warning before you attacked. The world had taught you to bark and bite —and bite you did, a strong and dangerous one, leaving you bruised and roughed up, but your opponent gasping for life and battered.

Honestly, sometimes you were more trouble than it’s worth, but wouldn’t have it any other way.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @haven-1307 @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

[lunaritex]

CHASING REDEMPTION. . .ᐟ — kinich.

᱖ content: modern+spiderman au, established relationship, reader is gender-neutral, both reader and kinich are in college, reader knows kinich's true identity, angst with comfort, happy ending dw.

᱖ from hye: ever since i saw this one edit of peter parker jumping down to save gwen… i knew what i had to do, except there is a small twist at the end. @kazuhaiku

Kinich swore he had planned the entire process in his mind. Everything was in place and all he needed was to be mentally and physically prepared to tell you the truth. But no matter how many plans he came up with, he did not take into account how a sudden robbery happened, resulting in him having to leap into action. He did not take into account how the robbery was not what it seems, with the robbers more than prepared to stand their grounds. They were armed with dangerous weapons that one could only obtain through illegal means. 

One thing led to another and he ended up arriving hours later than the agreed time. Kinich arrived at the agreed venue for your date and he was not surprised to spot no sign of you. He pointedly ignored the pitiful look the staff threw his way when he left in a hurry. Not wanting to waste anymore time, he used his spiderwebs to zip across the sky, turning a blind eye to how some people stopped to glance at him. 

It took him exactly five minutes to arrive at the balcony of your apartment. He nimbly landed on his feet, peering through the windows as his eyes furiously scanned your room. He swore his heart shattered when he saw a lump laying on the bed, covered with a blanket from head to toe. 

Knock knock. Knock knock. 

You raised your head when you heard someone knocking on your window, revealing your swollen eyes and tearstained face. You frowned when you realized it was your boyfriend. A part of you wants to leave him outside but you knew he was too stubborn for his own good. Surrendering, you unreluctantly crawled out of bed and moved to the window stand, unlocking the lock and slid it open. Shivers ran down your spine when the freezing wind grazed your skin. 

“What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be busy saving the city or something?” You asked, the sarcasm dripping in your tone made Kinich winced. 

Normally, you would have felt remorse at how you snapped at him but you have had enough. Clenching and unclenching your fists, you looked at him with narrowed eyes. “Look, I’m not in the mood to talk to you right now. You can come back another time-”

“No, I know you’re mad at me and I want to talk about it now,” he interrupted.

And that was the final straw. 

“It’s always all about you, you, you! When have you ever thought about me!? I bet the thought of me sitting in a cafe or restaurant, waiting for my boyfriend for hours, only for him to never turn up has never crossed your mind! Do you know how downright humiliating it is for me to leave and how I have to tolerate the sympathy glances thrown my way, as I walk out of the place? I know you’re doing a good deed by saving the city but sometimes, I wish you could set aside some time for me.” 

Your voice cracked like a whip, startling Kinich into silence. The fire in your eyes was undeniable, a mix of betrayal and exasperation. He tried to respond but you didn’t let him. 

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this. It feels like you don’t even care about me anymore and this relationship is starting to feel one-sided,” your voice grew a notch softer, exhaustion evident in your voice; as if you had already given up trying to fight for something that was no longer there anymore. 

“If you’re not going to say anything, then I think it’s best to end this. Goodbye Kinich and I wish you the best of luck,” you forced a teary-eyed smile at him, sliding the door closed and pulling the curtains, not wanting to see him a second longer. 

Kinich on the other hand, was rendered speechless. He wanted to talk to you again but since it was clear you had cut the line, he had no choice but to respect your decision. After sparing your window one more glance, he zips away into the dark sky. 

~

The next three weeks passed slowly. Both of you were busy preparing for your final exams of the semester. No matter how hard you try to focus on your studies, you just cannot seem to stop thinking about Kinich. Random thoughts like ‘is he doing fine?’, ‘has he eaten?’ and sometimes ‘I hope he’s not hurt again…’. You have not consulted your group of friends about your relationship but judging from how he was not constantly by your side, they already knew what happened. 

Currently, you are heading home after spending hours cramped in the campus library. You were too exhausted to be mindful of your surroundings. You had no idea that you were being followed, until it was too late. 

“Mphmf-!?” 

Your startled shout was instantly muffled when a gloved hand covered your mouth. Your sight turned blurry after you accidentally inhaled something. The last thing you heard was a man saying something along the lines of using you as bait for Spiderman, before everything turned black. 

When you regained consciousness, it took all of your willpower to not scream at how you were dangerously dangling in the air. The only thing supporting you was the rope tightly tied around your waist. Your wrists were tied and held behind your back. You didn’t dare try to move about, not wanting the rope to snap into half. You looked around, squinting your eyes as you tried to make sense of where you were through the darkness. 

All you could see was long and rectangular-shaped steel bars and you knew you were on a construction site. The pockets of your jeans were empty, meaning your kidnappers must have taken your phone after you were knocked out. There was nothing much you could do, except to play the role of a waiting duck. You sighed, lowering your head to look down at the ground and for a split moment, the thought of death flew through your mind. 

“Look who’s awake? Are you getting anxious that Spiderman isn’t here yet?” A sinister voice pierced through the silence. 

You raised your head to see two armed and masked men approaching you, coming to a stop at the edge. One man has a muscular build while the other man was as thin as a branch. Not wanting them to know they have the upperhand, you merely remained silent and looked at them with a bored expression. 

“I won’t rely on him that much if I were you. I doubt he knows that you guys are waiting for him,” you replied. 

The muscular man laughed. “Hah! Nice try, kid. But we’ve managed to drop him a nice little text using your phone, telling him to meet us here at nine sharp. And if he doesn’t, then I guess you can say bye to that boyfriend of yours.” 

Your blood ran cold at his words. 

“I’m here now, let them go.” 

A familiar voice interrupted your brief conversation. The two men turned around and there he was; Spiderman in his glory. You knew Kinich was seething with rage, judging from how his fists were clenched tightly the moment he was informed that you were held hostage. The men smirked in triumph as they slowly approached him, leaving you there to observe the scene unfold by itself. 

“About time you show up. It’s time for revenge for what you did to my face,” the muscular man said, pointing at his masked face with his thumb as he pulled out a gun. You gulped when you saw how dangerous they looked. 

“I don’t remember doing such a thing to you, but perhaps it might be a good thing for you,” your ex(?) replied, and you would have snickered if not for your current situation. 

“How dare you! I should have killed you when I had the chance!” He roared, enraged and started running full speed at Kinich, with his fellow partner-in-crime hot on his heels. 

From your vantage point, you watched with bated breath, heart racing as Kinich faced off against the two heavily-armed men. The tension crackled in the air, thick and electric. Kinich moved with a mix of agility and determination, dodging a flurry of blows while keeping his focus sharp. You could see the muscles in his jaw tighten as he assessed the situation, calculating his next move.

Each clash of steel rang out, echoing in the stillness around them. The men were imposing, their weapons gleaming menacingly in the light, but Kinich stood his ground, a fierce intensity in his eyes. With every punch and counter, you felt your own pulse quicken. You could only watch, willing him to outsmart his opponents and to emerge from the intense battle unscathed. Just when the fight was about to hit the climax and the two men were on the verge of being defeated, the skinny man turned to you. 

You watched in pure horror as he raised his weapon, aiming at the rope and fired. Whatever happened next was in slow motion. Your vision made an abrupt turn to the right, as gravity took over your body and pulled you down. The high-pitched scream you let out was not enough to describe the pure fear pumping through your veins. You made eye contact with Kinich and you could imagine the look of disbelief mixed with horror behind the mask. 

“Kinich!”

You screamed his name at the top of your lungs as your body began its descent to the hard concrete ground at lightning speed. Kinich forced himself to move, dodging the poor attempts of the men trying to stop him. Just for good measure, he shot a few webs aimed at their limbs to prevent them from moving. He jumped off the edge without hesitation, reaching out his hand as he tried to grab you. 

“Hold on, I’m coming!” He shouted, pure desperation heard in his voice. 

With a swift, fluid motion, he shot his web toward you, the silken strands glistening in the air before they wrapped securely around your stomach. Before you could even react, he yanked you towards him, the world spinning as you felt the force of his pull. Just as you landed against him, he swung into the air, the rush of wind whipping past you. Your heart raced as he propelled you both over the danger, each swing taking you away from the chaos below.

He landed gracefully in a safe area, setting you down gently. Your breath caught in your throat as you met his gaze—eyes fierce yet filled with concern. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, urgency in his voice, the adrenaline still coursing through him. You nodded, shaken but alive, gratitude swelling within you.

Your entire body was trembling like a fallen leaf. Kinich gently placed you on the ground, still holding you as your legs gave way. You remained still, the adrenaline and fear of experiencing close death still pumping through your veins as he removed the web from your frame, wincing at how some were still stuck on your clothes. None of you said a word after that, unsure of what to say to break the silence. 

“I-”

He wanted to speak, but you threw yourself at him, hugging him with a vice-like grip as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. Kinich fumbled about due to your combined weight but he managed to catch himself before he could hit his head against the ground. He removed the gloves and pulled the mask off, placing them on the side as he returned the embrace. Your sniffles and sobs were the only thing occupying the silence and Kinich knew you were beyond terrified of what you had just gone through. 

“Hey, it’s fine now. You’re safe, don’t worry, I got you,” he murmured, speaking in a soft and gentle tone as he reassures you. He ran his hand through your hair; an action he knows you love by heart. 

“I was so scared… I thought I was going to die…” You whimpered through your tears as you moved away from him, resting your hands on his shoulders. 

“Kinich, I’m sorry for snapping at you. That wasn’t nice of me, especially when you are doing something good which is saving the city and people,” you apologized, but he shook his head. 

“You don’t have to apologize. You weren’t in the wrong, in fact, it should be me. I shouldn’t have neglected you to the point where you felt like the relationship had become one-sided. I promise you that from now on, I will give you more of my time,” he gave you a small smile, reaching out to wipe away the stray teardrop on your cheek. 

“But, I don’t want to get in the way of your duty,” you protested. 

He merely shrugged his shoulders. “I’m sure the police can handle the troubles themselves for a day or more.” 

You chuckled and his features softened when he heard your laugh. You flinched when he suddenly carried you bridal-style in his arms after he stuffed his gloves and mask into his pocket. 

“Now that we’re done here, it’s time to go home, shall we?” He asked, looking down at you with a loving smile. 

“Indeed, we shall, Spiderman.”

[emepe]

— Pairing: Yuuta x Reader, established relationship

— General info: 18+, one-shot, smut

— Summary: When it comes to Yuuta, “just the tip” is the start of a dangerous game.

— Content warnings: nsfw, unprotected vaginal sex, virginity loss, implied religious guilt, mild god complex if you squint, coercion, slight breeding kink.

— Notes: Honestly, I wrote this just to see if I could still write decent smut (and Yuuta fits the trope perfectly ugh, I can't lie). Likes and reblogs are appreciated! Happy reading! 

Links: Read on AO3 |  Masterlist

It wasn't supposed to happen like this. You promised each other you would wait. But an innocent kiss on the cheek while watching TV led to a sloppy makeout session on the sofa, with your legs on either side of Yuuta's lap and your clothed cunt grinding needily onto his crotch as his fingers crept under your shirt and dug into your waist. 

A whine escapes your lips when he involuntarily thrusts his hips upwards, meeting you halfway, desperate for further friction.

“My God, Yuu,” you moan into his mouth, as your combined drool trickles down your chin.

“‘M sorry,” he mumbles, yet makes no effort to hold back. Because little by little, with every movement of your hips, his erection has become downright painful. It's practically throbbing in the confines of his jeans, swollen and red, aching to be let out, begging for relief.

But he promised.

It's a mental game to come down to his senses and draw an end when things get too heated between you. God knows you haven't one ounce of willpower when you're spiraling down a lustful haze. But he'd rather be the stronger one than risk the loss of your virtue ending in remorse. 

He loves you too much to force you to carry such an immense guilt. You vowed to wait until you were married and instead settled for a few steamy moments here and there — always sure you never made it too far.

You could hump and whine and he'd swallow every sweet sigh you pour into his mouth — as long as you never fully undressed and as long as he didn't ruin you by pushing himself between your legs. Then he'll wrap his arms around you, assuring you that whatever you did was still innocent, that you have no reason to feel guilty because you're both still pure. 

The vicious cycle never ends. 

You're incredibly precious to him — you're everything — but man, it really pisses him off sometimes that he has to be the one to protect a promise you were the first to suggest.

He brings a hand to collect your hair and nip at your neck, kissing it, tracing its slope with his tongue and sucking fervently at the supple skin. As if that's enough, as if it could compare to the glowing promise that being buried inside you represents. His cock twitches at the thought, the movement causing you to expel another string of holy affirmations.

His eyes land on the hand that grips at the fabric of his shirt as you whimper into his ear and the air thickens with the scent of spit, sweat, and desire.

The engagement ring on your finger has become a symbol of dread. So close to having you bound to him forever, and yet the time couldn't come fast enough.

His chest rises and falls dramatically with every shallow breath. It's all too much — the blood rushing south, the precum he can feel leaking from his tip and soiling his underwear, the line of sweat that transfers from your forehead to his as you squeeze your eyes shut and breathe against his mouth — it's all too good. 

But it's not enough.

He's tired of it, and you're not making things easier with your pathetic whimpers and your feverish body clinging to him. He can feel your pussy clenching around nothing through the layers of clothing dividing you. If he didn't know any better, he might’ve thought you wore a skirt on purpose to further drive him mad. He might be a patient man —loving, understanding, doting— but he's still a man.

“Just the tip,” he groans.

Your hips slow down as you struggle to comprehend what he just said, earning him a chance to will the cum threatening to spurt inside his jeans back.

“What?” you ask, tilting your head as you observe his blown pupils and his eyebrows upturned in desperate pleading.

“Just the tip, please.” 

Your lips part to draw a sharp breath as it dawns on you what he's asking for.

“But we promised,” you softly pronounce.

“It won't change anything if it's just the tip,” he promises. “It's barely anything. It'll be like the time you used your hand.”

He hopes your mind is too dizzy to comprehend that the two situations don't compare at all. 

Uncertainty casts over your features, but he can see a hint of consideration gleaming in your eyes at the idea. 

You'd be lying if you said you never considered loosening up on your convictions every now and then when you got so close to the act. But you didn't think you could handle disappointing Yuuta by breaking the promise you brought up in the first place. After all, he's so devoted to you and he promised to abide by your wishes no matter how long it took because the gratification when you finally joined in carnal pleasure would only make your commitment to each other all the more special. 

“As long as I get to be with you, the rest doesn't matter,” was what he said.

But now that he's looking up at you with such helpless eyes, like you're some sort of god he prays to, your morals take a toll.

His blue eyes stare adoringly into yours. 

“Please?” he asks again.

He presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Please,” he insists, tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth, biting down just hard enough to cause a whisper of pain before alleviating the feeling with his tongue.

“Please, please, please, it hurts,” he whines, tears lining his lashes and threatening to spill as he reaches between you to palm himself over his jeans. “I can't take it anymore. I'm begging you, I need you, I love you.”

How could you possibly say no when he asks so nicely? 

You'd have to be made of stone to deny him the pleasure. You'd have to be a monster to not relieve him of his throbbing pain. You'd have to be the cruelest god to impose him with such inhumane punishment.

“Yuu,” you whisper, his pain reflecting on your face upon witnessing his desperation. 

“Please,” he sniffles.

“Okay.”

The word falls over him like a fresh breeze.

“Really? You mean it?” 

His lips curve into an eager smile, with butterflies fluttering in his stomach in anticipation.

You nod, happy to see his teary eyes light up.

“Just the tip.”

“Just the tip, I promise.”

He brushes away at his tears with the heel of his palm.

“You're an angel,” he murmurs as he cradles your face with one hand and starts guiding your hips over his erection again with the other. 

Soon enough, you're back to panting into each other's mouths, feverish and dizzy at your new promise to fulfill. 

Your hands fumble to undo his jeans, clumsily pulling down the zipper in fragments.

“Just the tip,” you huff, as he moans upon feeling your clammy hands palm him through his underwear.

You pull on his briefs just enough for his erection to spring free.

“Oh, god,” you exhale, in awe of the intense red that consumes the head of his cock. Precum oozes from the tip, balls heavy as if he's seconds away from bursting. It's no wonder he looked so pained. 

“Just the tip,” he reminds you kindly as he pets your hair, heart rate spiking when he watches your thumb trace over his leaking tip.

He flips you over so that you're pressed onto the sofa while he hovers over you and hooks his fingers around your pink cotton panties, tugging them down your hips with ease and tossing them onto the floor, leaving you in your skirt.

The sight of your bare cunt — already a sopping wet mess from everything that now counts as foreplay — makes his cock twitch.

With his weight balanced on one forearm, he carefully drags himself between your folds, the most sinful sound reaching your ears as he coats his length in your juices. His free hand cradles your face as he bends down to capture your mouth in a heated kiss. His tongue pushes against yours, swallowing each of your moans as your hands lose themselves in his raven hair. 

With fingers trembling in excitement, he lets you go and starts lining himself to penetrate your insides.

“Yuu,” you gasp.

He watches in fascination as his reddened tip squeezes in and slowly disappears inside you, your cunt glistening with enough arousal that you barely feel any pain in the sudden stretch. In fact, Yuuta swears he can feel you suck him in the tiniest bit further as you flutter around the foreign member in your body. He can feel himself grow weaker as he's hit with the warmth and wetness of your insides. 

“Fuck,” he hisses, face dropping into the crook of your neck.

The overwhelming ecstasy of knowing he's connected to you burns at every inch of his skin as he scrambles to gather enough strength to pull out and push his tip back in again. 

You writhe under him, hands frantically pulling him in for a kiss. He complies. After all, you've gifted him with this — not that he wouldn't give in to your wishes otherwise. 

His brows furrow in concentration, eyes squeezed shut with the image of his tip swallowed by your insides flashing behind his eyelids. He pumps his head inside you — in and out, in and out — mesmerized by how good it feels even if it's barely a taste. 

It alleviates him… just a little.

He grips your hips with bruising force, rolling his hips further into you all at once, leaving a mildly burning sensation in its wake. 

A whine escapes your lips and your eyes close as you feel a tickle of his pubic hair brushing against your lower tummy. Your arms hook under his, bringing him close, scratching his back over his shirt.

An animalistic power washes over him, pushing him to penetrate the deepest part of you,  over and over again. His hand squeezes your face, demanding your attention and forcing you to meet his crazed gaze. His pupils are blown with lust, the gentle blue of his irises nearly gone. With the help of his thumb, he pries your mouth open, aggressively pushing his tongue against yours, relishing in the muffled cries of pleasure you release. 

The kiss is so needy, so aggressive, it's borderline painful and your jaw hurts from the tight grip of his hand. But it's still so fucking good.

When he pulls back, your eyes are lined with tears, much like his when he was begging to let you use just his tip minutes ago.

The sound of slapping skin echoes around you. Sloppy, wet, sinful.

“Yuuta, this doesn’t feel like just the tip,” you heave, feeling an unfamiliar knot tangling in your lower stomach. 

“It is, baby. I swear.”

You both know he's lying but you're too caught up in each other to care.

Your legs wrap around him, barely granting him enough space to move, but he doesn't care. This is better, this is what he needs to relieve the mild guilt that stems from lying to you, because this means you're just as thrilled by him ruining you as he is. And if you're so unwilling to ease your hold on him, he might as well kill two birds with one stone tonight and fill you to the brim with his cum.

The possibility of knocking you up has him reeling. A breathless laugh pushes past his lips as he looks down at you.

You're such a pretty mess and he's so in love. Your pussy does such a good job at sucking him in and he's so fucking drunk on it. 

The image of you sprawled below him, sweating and whining out his name will be burned into his memory forever. And you do have forever promised, he remembers. That ring on your finger — the very finger on the very hand that's creeping between your bodies to toy with your clit — stands as proof.

You perverted little thing, he thinks, as he feels you bucking your hips upward to meet his thrusts halfway.

“Yuuta, my god, oh my god!” you whimper as his strokes grow even sloppier and he grows even heavier on your body.

“Feel good, angel?” he taunts, using the nickname he imposed on you back before you became such a needy disaster.

An airy chuckle bubbles up his throat when you fervently nod and caress his cheek. He hooks an arm under your leg, pressing it further into your chest in a semi-mating press position. 

He carelessly thrusts his hips a few more times before he's washed over with a glorious relief that he pours inside you, marveling at the way your insides flutter around him, milking him dry with every wanton squeeze.

It's like you want to get knocked up, he thinks.

His hold on your leg loosens and his weight tumbles down on top of you as you work your way to clarity. 

He moves around on the limited space of the sofa so that you can snuggle into his chest with his arms wrapped tightly around you as he presses soft kisses onto the crown of your head.

You can feel his cum leaking from your insides and seeping into the couch cushions, but it'll be a while before either of you care to clean up your mess.

His warm embrace coaxes you to sleep. As you're teetering the line of peaceful slumber, a familiar thought pops into your head.

“Yuuta,” you murmur.

“Hm?”

“What we just did wasn't wrong, was it?”

He looks down at you, fingers lifting your chin so he can see your face. Your eyes are wide with worry. The duality with which you're able to confront these matters will forever be a mystery to him. 

His gaze softens and a smile graces his lips.

“Don't worry, angel. This was innocent.” 

He presses a kiss to your forehead.

“It's pure love.”

Back to masterlist

[streetlightyeri]

oklahoma smokeshow ; t.o

"cause you're a small town smokeshow."

w.c.: 6275

content: lovers to enemies (?) to lovers, angst, fluff, do i have to disclose natural disasters lol, death of a family member, no beta, and as always: FMC is named but has no descriptors

-

The thunder rumbled around Harlow, the sky turning blue with every flash of lightning. These circumstances aren’t what she pictured coming back to Oklahoma to be; the forecasted unprecedented storm week seemed like it was less of a random once-in-a-generation weather cell and more like a physical amalgamation of her emotions. She spent the entire plane ride pretending to be asleep with her head covered so the flight attendants didn’t see her tears; her seat partner acted like he didn’t hear the occasional sniffle. Harlow was grateful for that.

The rental she chose was the last truck on the lot: a Toyota Tacoma with an Arkansas license plate. She wanted to kick the metal plate and pretend it was her ex’s University of Arkansas alumni plate. Instead, she pretended to be normal, and climbed in, immediately turning on the seat warmers and relaxing against the leather. She pulled the seat up the farthest it could go; whoever rented before her practically had it brushing against the back row.

She felt like she was back in high school, driving her dad’s truck to Dairy Queen with her friends. Now, she couldn’t even remember the last time she saw a truck. She spent most of her time on the metro or in a yellow taxi. After her and Tyler’s blowup breakup, Harlow declined her full ride admission to University of Oklahoma and accepted a spot at Columbia University. She fantasized about him showing up at the airport to wish her luck; he didn’t. Similar to how she just did, she pretended to be asleep while she cried on the plane to JFK.

Tyler Owens got famous - there was no other way to say it. He was a hot-shot storm chaser with seemingly little regard for the dangers. But Harlow knew; he was calculative and a downright mathematical genius when it came to tornadoes. He completed his degree in meteorology a year early with high honors. He walked summa cum laude. Harlow watched the livestream. When she walked across stage in her powder blue cap and gown, she couldn’t help but wonder if he did the same. Or if he did it when she walked again two years later for her Masters. And again when she walked four and a half years later for her PhD.

She didn’t just run from him: she ran from the town of Clearwater, Oklahoma. Harlow was . . . a smokeshow. There was no denying it. But she was more than just attractive and Prom Queen. She was valedictorian, president of the Beta and Spanish Clubs, the organizer of natural disaster relief programs across the county. But everyone in Clearwater saw her as one thing: Tyler Owens’ pretty girlfriend who would soon be nothing more than a passing face on the street with a baby on her hip with another on the way. And Harlow couldn’t deny that maybe . . . just maybe she would’ve enjoyed that. But there were so many things that she couldn’t do in Clearwater, so many opportunities outside of the county lines.

But Tyler didn’t want that. He found out she applied to more than just UO and laughed at her. He asked what she could possibly want to do that wasn’t already in Clearwater, asked if she thought she’d be able to leave her mom. And Harlow couldn’t answer. She had nothing concrete that she wished for; she had nondescript dreams of moving away. She spent so long being what everyone wanted her to be, she had no clue what else there was to wish for - what else there was to be.

Their argument was one of her core memories, and in the Tacoma, even with the radio on and the thunder nearly shaking the road, she could hear everything like she was there again, that night 2 weeks after Prom as she helped him clean up his gear from his first ride of the season.

-

Tyler threw his rope down against his saddle. “If you hate it here so much, maybe we shouldn’t be together then!”

“Maybe we shouldn’t!”

The empty arena was completely silent. The groan of the tin roof in the gentle breeze was the only thing that interrupted the tense moment.

He swallowed hard, but didn’t move from his spot a few feet away from her. “Is . . . is that what you really want?”

Harlow tried to shrink in on herself, wrapping her arms around her torso, still wearing his sweatshirt. “I don’t - I don’t know, Tyler. The problem is I don’t know what I want, just what everyone else does. It’s just - you can’t understand. You’ll never be able to understand.” She dropped her arms and opted to lean against one of the bull shoots, the cold, rusty metal grounding her.

He just turned around, busying himself with tightening the straps of his gear. He was silent.

“Tyler-”

He shrugged so hard it shut her up, reaching in his pocket and tossing his keys onto the dirt. “Take the truck. I’ll get my keys and my stuff tomorrow. I’ll call for a ride.”

Harlow crossed her arms, “No, I’m not taking your truck.”

“And I’m not having you staying here in the dark waiting for someone to pick you up. So unless you want me to drive you home, take the damn truck.”

Harlow picked the keys up from the dirt. She cried on the way home then in her mom’s lap. After nearly an hour of listening to her daughter cry, Shiloh James brought her daughter to the family laptop and had her sign into her University of Oklahoma admissions portal and deny her spot. Shiloh looked at her diploma from UC Davis hanging on the wall, “Sometimes a fresh start is what you need most.”

-

Now here she was, back in Clearwater for the first time in years. The few times she visited before were quick, a few days at most before she jetted back across the country; she never came during storm season, too afraid to cross paths with him or hear his name.

This time, Harlow had taken a month off work to spend time with her mother. All it took was one call from her mom's nurse Kelly for Harlow to book her plane ride home.

Shiloh scolded Harlow when she learned she took a month of unpaid leave. “Honey, you’re being dramatic. Your coworkers need you more than I do here! Honest. I haven’t felt better.”

Harlow playfully rolled her eyes at her mother and cuddled against her on the couch, pretending once again that she was here for different reasons. “Nah, I think they’ll be just fine.”

She was learning she was really good at pretending. But, maybe she had been all her life.

-

Harlow dropped her mom off at her best friend’s house as was customary per Kelly. Shiloh had long since stopped treatment and no longer cared about keeping distance from her loved ones. So Thursdays became nights for her to spend with Ruth to reminisce on their years together. Harlow planned to spend the night getting drunk and pretending her life wasn’t unraveling, like she wasn’t about to spend the weekend deciding between cedar and mahogany and pine.

Instead, she got a call from a college of hers in New York, Kate.

“Hello?” She answered, not sure what could prompt a call like this at 5pm. The two were work friends, the one the other would drift to during conventions - nothing more. Neither liked talking about anything personal. She could count on one hand the amount of real conversations she’d had with the girl. But perhaps weather could get her mind off the storm brewing in her life.

“Hi, this is Dr. James?” Kate sounded unsure, as though her number may have changed.

After receiving confirmation, Kate started into a spiel about how she was in need of a second opinion on the cells that were forming over the next few days in Oklahoma.

“Wait,” Harlow cut her off, “Are you . . . in Oklahoma?”

Kate swallowed, “Yes, as a favor to a friend. He’s testing out new equipment.”

“I mean - I’m in Oklahoma as well. I can meet with you, if that’s easier. That way I can see the models you’re describing.” Harlow wasn’t sure why she was so ecstatic to help. Maybe she just wanted a distraction, a taste of what Tyler did every day, what prompted him to leave Clearwater just a year after she did.

After half an hour of preparing a bag with her laptop and other essentials for the night she was going to spend at the motel, she was headed towards a town a few dozen miles north. The ride was the same as every ride through the Great Plains: filled with wheat, windmills, and cows. When she finally arrived at the address she was given, Harlow sighed and looked at the backseat, wishing she brought extra blankets. The parking lot was full: there was no chance of her getting a room that night. Nevertheless, she unbuckled, pulling her bag from the passenger side floorboard. She didn’t need to search for the StormParr trucks. They were stark white with the brutalist style logo slapped on every inch of the vehicles. She scanned the group for a second, looking for Kate - or any woman in general.

Kate saw her first, gently waving her over to introduce her to the group. After a while of comparing models and data (most of which was written off by the StormParr team and deemed as rudimentary), Kate got the hint that Harlow was about to snap. In an attempt to mediate, she cut off the tall, broad man while he was in the middle of talking about his data collection, “I’m sorry, but I really do have to run to the restroom. Dr. James, would you mind accompanying me?”

Harlow gave her a thankful look. The two set off to Kate’s room on the second floor. “I’m sorry about all of that. I thought what you said was very helpful. The prediction of rain habits in the area can definitely contribute to the-”

She cut Kate off with a raised hand and a laugh as they ascended. “It’s fine, really. I have a PhD in Climatology. I’m used to being talked over by men. It’s not like they’re paying me, so I don’t really care.”

They were about to start up the second set of stairs when a man called up at Kate, “Well if it isn’t Big City! That was a good call today!”

Harlow would’ve thought they were talking to her if she hadn’t known Kate was surrounded by these same groups of storm chasers for the past couple of days.

Kate rolled her eyes and whispered to her, “Tornado Wrangler crew.”

Harlow felt her eyes blow wide and her blood run cold. She could hear the rushing in her ears and her heart pumping in her chest. Through the ringing in her ears, she heard Kate introducing her, “This is Dr. Harlow James.”

She got the nerve to turn to see the group of people. They looked exactly how they did on YouTube - cool, fresh, and close knit. Harlow felt like she was looking into a portal to what her life could’ve been. Harlow swallowed hard, the world spinning around her aside from Tyler. His eyes were locked on hers, his face giving none of his thoughts away. Harlow wasn’t as confident in her own facial features. Of all the things to come out of their mouths, she wasn’t expecting one of his crewmates to know about her.

“Of course we know her!” Boone laughed, “We use her weather mapping patterns to plan our-”

Tyler’s boot connected with his side, making him yelp in pain.

She felt her stomach jolt upwards. Harlow gripped Kate’s arm, whispering one word: “Bathroom.”

The blonde took her up the rest of the stairs. The second the door was unlocked, Harlow made a B-line for the bathroom, falling to her knees and emptying her dinner into the toilet. Kate stood awkwardly at the doorway to her hotel room, acting like she couldn’t hear her colleague vomiting through the door. She walked to Harlow’s duffel bag and rummaged through it until she found her mouthwash.

She mulled over if she should check on her or leave her be and throw the mouthwash bottle into the bathroom like it was a grenade. She was given a few extra moments to decide when a knock interrupted her thoughts. Kate opened the door, expecting Javier coming up to apologize for his crew’s actions towards Harlow but instead was met with Tyler Owens.

She couldn’t hide her surprise, “Oh, um, hello.”

He looked down at her hand and saw the travel sized bottle of Listerine. He tried to peer around her, but Kate pulled the door. He realized how it must’ve looked, “I came to check on her. Is she okay? She looked like she was about to faint.”

It was clear there was a history between the two, but Kate couldn’t tell what exactly it was. She wasn’t sure if she cared either. But she wasn’t about to leave this girl who she brought over. Kate tried to lie, to say that she was fine and just using the restroom, but a particularly violent gag sounded out.

He looked like it took all of his willpower to not push Kate out the way and run to the bathroom. “I just need to make sure she’s okay, alright?”

Kate went to deny him again, but Javier came up the stairs at that moment, talking without looking until he got right to her door, “Hey, Kate, I want to apologize about the way they treated Dr. James. It was entirely unprofession- oh . . .”

Javier sized up Tyler, whose jaw was locked. He turned to Kate instead. “Where’s Dr. James? I want to apologize personally.”

“Bathroom.”

He nodded in understanding when he heard another gag and Kate slightly raised the bottle in her hand.

“Please,” Tyler pleaded. “Let me check on her. She will dry heave until she passes out. She’s done it since we were kids.”

Kate wanted to say no, but the sounds were not letting up; if anything, they were getting worse. And she was not good with comforting someone or with bodily fluids. She glanced between the two, eventually stepping outside and handing Tyler the bottle. “Leave the door open.”

“Of course,” he assured her before bolting to the door. He knocked softly and was answered by a dry heave. He swallowed thickly, his voice soft, “Harlow?”

She made no noise of acknowledgement. He knocked again to nothing. He tried the handle, and it was miraculously unlocked. Once the door swung open, he was met with Harlow on her knees, arms wrapped around the toilet, dry heaving so hard her back arched up and down. He got on one knee next to her, gently running a hand down her back as he said her name. Her body shook with another heave. He pulled the hand towel off the bar on the wall and ran it under the faucet before wringing it out and placing it across her burning neck. That seemed to snap her out of the cyclical vomit-dry heave moment she was having. Her breathing started to deepen and even out as she reached up to flush the toilet twice. The redness in her face started to recede. She braced herself to stand, but didn’t have the strength to do so yet and almost stumbled head first into the counter.

Tyler was quick, “Whoa, whoa, darl- Harlow.” His hands reached out to steady her against the counter. She took deep breaths as she regained her bearings, running her hands under the cool water. She washed her mouth out, taking a swig of the mouthwash he offered. She splashed her face with water. She rubbed away the residual tears that formed during her vomit spell. Her mascara was still smudged underneath her eyes.

“Can you uh, grab my toothbrush and a shirt?” He didn’t need any explanation as to why she couldn’t get it herself. He brought them to her after practically emptying her duffel bag contents onto the bed. He ran a soothing hand up and down her back as she kept her eyes on the running water. She took another swig of mouthwash and swallowed it for good measure. He closed his eyes and turned away as she changed her shirt.

“You good?” He asked. She wanted to throw up again at how soft his voice was.

She nodded. She glanced up and met his eyes for a brief second before wiping her nose with a strangled laugh, her voice raspy, “Great first impression.”

She wiped up the water droplets on the counter with the towel he gave her earlier, doing anything to not look at him or acknowledge how close he was after a decade of nothing.

“Harlow.” His voice was still soft, but firm. “What did those guys say to you?”

She scoffed and wiped her wet hands on her shirt before walking out the bathroom. “Nothing I can’t ignore. I’m used to it.”

“What do you mean?”

She shrugged, putting her things back in her bag that were strewn across the bed, “The usual. No one taking my models seriously because I was the only female graduate in my PhD program and because I’m the only person using them.”

“I use them.”

She pulled the zipper, staring so hard at her bag Tyler thought it might burst into flames, “So I’ve heard.”

There was a beat of silence. “Why’re you working with guys like that?”

That made her look up, eyebrows knitted. “I’m not. I have no clue who they are. I came here as a favor for Kate. We’re professional acquaintances. It was a coincidence we were both here.”

She said too much with that because he immediately asked, “Why are you back in Oklahoma?”

She kept her response short and guarded, “Seeing mom.”

Silence stretched on for an awkward amount of time. Harlow went back to looking at her bag. Tyler’s eyes never left hers.

“Let me take you get food. You just flushed yours down the toilet.”

“No!” Harlow almost jumped back as she heard those words. “No, no, I’m fine.”

He cocked an eyebrow, “When’s the last time you ate?”

“I ate on the way here.”

“And that’s gone. Before that?”

Harlow tried to do the math in her head. She skipped lunch because she was so worried about getting her mother bathed for her night with Ruth. She picked at an egg this morning but couldn’t stomach it, too aware of the texture of it. She wasn’t about to tell him she hadn’t digested a meal since the night before, so she opted for “A while.”

“I’m taking you get food. Come on.”

There was little reason for Harlow to argue - if she said she was going to bed he’d insist on walking her to her room and then she’d have to admit she didn’t have one, or that she was going to get food herself and he’d insist it was pointless to go alone if he was offering to drive.

That’s how the two ended up at a 24/7 diner, cramped into the only booth available next to the front window where everyone walking past could stare at them. It felt very similar to how Harlow felt when the two were a couple in Clearwater: watched, judged, and laughed at.

The two did not talk. Harlow became more comfortable with looking up, so instead of staring at the plate the entire meal, she was able to get as far up as his nose. His eyes were off limits in her mind. If she looked at them this close up, she was sure she’d feel everything she felt that night in the arena come rushing back.

-

She wasn’t sure how the two ended up in a pasture across from the diner, but she had made the mistake of looking at his eyes when his hand covered hers when the bill came. And she did feel all of those emotions come rushing back. It felt like their argument picked up right where it left off. The tall grass tickled her legs that were now accustomed to fancy lotions.

“I LEFT BECAUSE IT WASN’T FAIR! IT STILL ISN’T!” She shouted at him, hoping no one across the street could hear.

“What are you talking about?” Tyler scoffed.

“I left because the only thing I could ever be in Clearwater was ‘Tyler Owen’s girlfriend.’”

“Would that really have been so bad? A picket fence? A few babies?”

“No! It wouldn’t have! But you got to be Tyler Owens. Hot-shot bullrider extraordinaire. Loved by everyone. I was nothing more than the town smokeshow, and that’s all I would ever be.”

“You chose to go to college!”

“And look where you ended up! Mr. Summa Cum Laude! Why was it okay for you to go and not me?”

Tyler couldn’t hide the shock on his face. “You . . . you kept up with me?”

Harlow nodded. “Yup. Watched the livestream of you graduating. Even though you started a year after me, we still ended up graduating the same year.”

“But why keep up? You left. You went to New York.”

“I was going to UO at first. Wanted to stay close to you. They were gonna pay for everything, can you believe that?” She let out a humorless laugh. “Then we broke up. And my mom told me to go to New York. Get a fresh start. Turns out I fucked up that fresh start, too.”

He knit his brows. “What do you mean?”

Harlow fell onto the tailgate, her feet dangling. She tried to speak but only a sob came out. She hung her head and squeezed her eyes shut, a tear running down her nose and falling onto the dirt. Tyler walked over slowly and apprehensively took a seat next to her. She didn’t move to bite his head off or push him off. After a few seconds, she was able to compose herself to say the words she’d been refusing to say. The ones she refused to repeat to Nurse Kelly. The ones she knew her mom didn’t like. “She’s dying, Tyler. That’s why I came home - to plan her funeral. The doctors gave her until the end of the month. I-I left and never came back, and now I’m never gonna see her again.”

“Oh, baby,” his heart clenched. Of all the people in the world that deserved something like that, Shiloh was the last one. She raised Harlow alone after her father skipped town when she was two. She baked homemade cakes for him on his birthday and included him in Christmas and donated every penny she could to those in Clearwater who needed it. He wrapped his arms around her, and she broke. She held onto his button down and let out the sobs she’d been pretending to not be holding back, the ones she muffled in her pillow at night so she didn’t wake her mom.

She would’ve continued if it hadn’t been for the breeze she felt. It was warm. Like the ones before it, but different. The heat was weighing the breeze down, not being carried by it. She slowly pulled away from Tyler. He tried to say something, but she held her hand out to quiet him. She slowly dismounted from the tailgate, landing on the ground with a thud. Tyler made significantly less noise when he stepped off. Harlow pulled her hair tie out, slipping the band onto her wrist before leaning down and snapping a few blades of grass from the ground.

“Harlow, what are you-” He shut up when she let go, the blades flying away. He understood what spooked her. He suddenly felt the heaviness in the air, the air blowing her hair in the same direction as the grass. Heat lightning flashed in the sky, illuminating a monster cloud. Tyler grabbed her upper arm, “Get in the truck. Now.”

She nodded, racing to the passenger side just as the wind began to pick up. Heading back to the motel was too risky and too far. The best bet was to find shelter in town. Tyler started down the main stretch of road, Harlow screaming out the window for people to find shelter; if it was just her in her rental, she knew that no one would take her seriously. She had no fame and was no household name, but the red truck she was in gave her all the credibility she needed. Pedestrians heeded her warning and turned, fleeing to the nearest buildings. Power began to flicker across the city, darkness rolling in waves as transformers blew. The tornado siren started its song. Tyler had to intervene by rolling the passenger side window up on his control panel once the hail started, Harlow getting pelted as she stuck her head out to yell warnings.

“The hail is enough extra warning for them, sweetheart. Look for a shelter we can go into.”

Her eyes scanned, but the lack of power made it hard to see anything, even with the flashes of lightning. But then she pointed to the right, “Look! A motel! They most likely have one!”

He pulled into the parking lot, not caring how shittily he parked. But to the two’s horror, there were still three people in the lobby and they were soon joined by a mother and daughter. The young woman was laughing at their nervous state.

“Chill, guys, 9 times out of 10 there’s not even a tornado.”

The other two men were arguing about a bad Yelp review. Tyler instructed her to find a shelter, stating he’d round up everyone in the lobby. Harlow never ran so fast in her life. She checked every room, but found no doors that led to a storm shelter. She felt her heart fall to her stomach as she returned to the lobby to tell them they’d have to try and stick it out there. But out the corner of her eyes she saw the empty pool. “Tyler! Over here!”

He guided them all to the door she was at. “We have to run for it.”

The mother, daughter, and shop owner nodded. The other two scoffed, refusing to admit that a tornado was making its way down main street. Tyler nodded to Harlow and she unlatched the door. It swung off its hinges and flew across the parking lot, then she patted the mother and daughter to go, then the clerk.

“This is your last chance! Come with us!”The two others shook their heads, finally starting to understand the severity, but too scared to venture out. Tyler could not wait any longer; he grabbed Harlow’s arm and pushed her out before going last. They caught up quickly, each helping the other three down the ladder.

Her voice was getting sucked away by the howling wind, “Get to the pipes! Hold on! Do not let go!”

She tried to help Tyler down, but he pulled his arm back. “Absolutely not! Harlow, get in and do not wait for me!”

There was no time to argue. She could hash this out with him when they made it out of this. He grabbed onto her torso and helped her descend. She immediately ducked down, making a run for the pipes. Tyler was right behind her, until he wasn’t: the clerk stood up to see the tornado behind them and got sucked to the middle of the pool. He held onto the ladder, but had to let go and duck when a vending machine flew towards him. Tyler fell to his belly, making his way around the machine, reaching his hand out for the man. But the man ignored Tyler’s warning. He got to his knees to reach Tyler’s hand faster. Harlow watched in horror as the man hit the side of the pool with a crunch before getting sucked away.

She was crying just as the mom and daughter were; the screws of the pipes shook with the strength of the tornado that was rapidly gaining on them. Tyler was slowly making his way back over to the group on his belly. She screamed his name, but it was covered by the sound of a train horn. She hooked her arm through the pipe and extended her body as far out as she could, trying to reach him.

He wanted to shout at her, to tell her to get back against the pipes, that he wasn’t letting her mom bury her, that he wasn’t going to bury her. But if she hadn’t done that, he’d be dead right now. Just as he made it back to her and wrapped her body in his, a truck flew into the pool and wedged itself above them. He could feel her heartbeat hammering; he tried to tighten his grip on her, his biceps protecting her head as he ducked his own. He whispered soothing, sweet nothings against her head.

The winds slowed, but her breathing was still hard. He broke first, trying to move to peek around the truck to ensure they were in the clear, but Harlow moved her hands to grip one of his arms. He squeezed one of her hands and placed it back on the pipe. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll be right back.”

She returned to her death grip on the pipe. He was back seconds later to pry her off and bring her above. The mother and daughter thanked them with tears in their eyes. Harlow knew she should be embarrassed at how she was clinging to Tyler the same way the girl was clinging to her mother. But he didn’t seem to mind. He let her cling to him as they waited for the rest of his crew to arrive for relief efforts. Once they did, he sat her in the passenger seat of his truck. He tried to help set up tables with food and water, but Lily shooed him away with two bottles of water.

She nodded in the direction of his truck where Harlow was on the phone, her body shaking from the adrenaline crash. “She needs you more than we do. Get her back safe. We have it from here.”

He glanced between Lily and Harlow. He wanted to ask if she was sure, but he knew Lily wouldn’t let him leave if they truly needed his help, so he thanked her and went to start up the truck just as she was hanging up the phone.

“She okay?” He didn’t have to ask who it was. There was only one person who Harlow went to for comfort.

She wiped at her cheek, “Yeah, yeah. Not even a drop of rain. She’s with Ruth.”

That made Tyler let out a belly laugh. “Are we sure they didn’t cause this?”

Harlow laughed wetly, “I would not bet money against it.”

-

When they arrived at the motel, Tyler was adamant on walking her to her room and getting her settled. It was nearing 1AM. Harlow looked at her lap and scratched at the nape of her neck. “So, uh, about that . . .”

He cocked an eyebrow, motioning with his hand for her to continue.

“I was gonna sleep in my rental. There’s no vacancy.”

He looked at her incredulously, “You’re joking, right?”

She stayed quiet.

“So you were just planning on getting here and sleeping in your truck?”

She shook her head, “No, I just wasn’t expecting every storm chaser in America to be at this motel. That or I was going to go home. Kate said there was still vacancy when we talked on the phone. She even verified that there were a handful of rooms left.”

“Well you’re not sleeping in your truck, absolutely not.” He turned his truck off, grabbing her duffle bag he threw into the backseat earlier.

She looked at him questioningly, holding her hand out for her bag, “Then I’m going home.”

“No. You are not driving half an hour in the dark right after you just waited out a tornado in a pool, especially not to be home alone. And you’re not sleeping in the backseat of an untinted rental in a parking lot, especially not one where I have confirmation that there are people here who do not respect you. You’re staying in my room.”

“I can’t!”

“Relax, I’ll sleep in the chair.”

Harlow felt her face flush. “That’s - that’s not what I meant. You paid for the room. You need to sleep in a bed without having to worry about your ex-girlfriend who dry heaves as an anxiety response.”

He rounded the truck by the time she finished talking. He reached over and unbuckled her, grabbing her hand to help her down. He shut the door behind her. “I didn’t care before, don’t care now. Come on, we need showers.”

“I’m sleeping on the chair then.”

“Yeah, sure.” He replied sarcastically.

He all but forced her to go first; while she washed all the dirt and mud off herself, he prepared a makeshift bed on the chair with bedding he found in the closet. It smelled of mildew, but there was no way he was giving her those blankets and keeping the ones on the bed for himself.

When she came out in a towel, he nearly tripped over the footstool he was adding padding to. He slammed his eyes shut and turned around. “A heads up would’ve been nice.”

He could hear the embarrassment in her voice, “I said your name like 4 times but you didn’t respond. I thought you were asleep. I have shorts on, I was just coming to get my other shirt from my bag.”

He felt silly talking to the wall with his eyes closed. “Don’t tell me you mean Throw Up shirt.”

“Okay, I won’t tell you.”

He groaned in frustration, reaching blindly for the pile of clothes he set out for himself. He felt for his shirt and tossed it in her direction. The noise of it hitting the wall let him know he missed, but he heard her shuffling to pick it up.

“Thank you.”

-

Tyler was about to scold her again when he opened the bathroom door, steam wafting out into the room, but found her asleep in the chair. She was curled into herself, legs pulled to her chest and secured by the mildew blanket. He shook his head in disbelief and pulled at the blanket to try and wake her up. She groaned and pulled the blanket back against herself.

“Harlow. Wake up. Take the bed.”

She simply groaned in response, turning to tuck her head farther against the chair.

“Baby, I’m not playing this game. Take the bed.”

Her words were almost incoherent, but he managed to decipher them, “If I’m in th’ bed, then you will be too. M’not takin’ from you.”

“Suit yourself, then.” He said, placing one arm under her back and the other under her knees, lifting her and bringing her to the bed.

He let her get settled and couldn’t ignore her shivers. He reduced the fan speed on the AC before climbing into bed behind her, his back to the door. He kept distance between the two of them, but she was shaking so hard it nearly turned the mattress into a massage bed.

“C’mere.” He hooked his arm around her torso and pulled her into himself. He was still pulsing with warmth from the shower. “You wouldn’t be cold if you had used hot water for your shower.”

He wasn’t aware if she was conscious or if she was acting on instinct, but she curled up into him, fitting like the puzzle piece he’d been missing for a decade.

-

Two and a half weeks passed. And so did her mother. Kelly announced her.

Her first call was the coroner’s office. Her second was Tyler. It had been radio silence since that night in the motel. He walked her to her car and made her promise to text her when she got home safe; aside from that, Tyler was trying to mentally piece himself back together enough to go back to never seeing Harlow James again.

The phone hadn’t even finished its first ring before he picked up. She was sobbing and incoherent, but he knew. He promised her he’d be there as soon as he could; he beat the police. He held her as she sobbed for her mom on the lawn as they wheeled her out the house. She spent every moment since that night with her mom, even those nights at Ruth’s. She savored every moment with the woman who raised her, but it wasn’t enough. She had too many memories of New York, and not enough of her mother. Her visits were so infrequent that her mother's weight loss was stark instead of gradual. But she knew if she had the chance to do it all again, her mother would be the one telling her to do it, that in order to find herself, she had to start anew.

Tyler was one of the pallbearers. After he did his duty, he found his place right back next to her. He held her while she cried, while she laughed, and while she sat there blankly. Everyone in town talked about how good it was to see the two together again despite the circumstances. And Harlow found herself wondering if maybe her mother knew this was how it was going to end all along. That she could be happy in this town. That the storm he caused would only be tamed by him.

And maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t be pretending anymore.

[thebiggerbear]

"You're safe now, I'm here." - Soldier Boy Prompt Response

Summary: Soldier Boy has been on a ton of dangerous missions in his time, fought a lot of battles, but never did he imagine he would be undertaking the one you had just tasked him with. Shit.

A/N: This is a prompt from @sydnee-kom-spacekru. A sort of sequel to the prompt response for "Sleep. I'll keep you safe." Been working on this since January 3rd. I had way too much fun with this one.

Happy Mother's Day to all of the mothers out there, all of the fur baby mamas, and all those who celebrate!

@deans-spinster-witch this is what popped into my head when you said "dangerous mission" lol. Once it was in there, I couldn't get it out. I hope it's decent and that you like it.

Unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine.

Warnings: Soldier Boy being himself; some misogyny; some homophobic language; some antiquated thinking (SB); angst; a lot of mentions of shit (yes, literal shit); language (I guess?); some smut; mention of breeding kink; a bit of a lactation kink (I know they did the Coke and milk thing in the show but you can't tell me he wouldn't have at least been on the verge of this kink if the opportunity arose)

Word Count: 11k+

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187; @rieleatiel

SB Taglist: @deans-spinster-witch; @birdiellie; @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl; @brightlilith

@muhahaha303; @just-levyy

You can also read on AO3

“You’re safe now, I’m here.”

SDV Leah version ✨ Russell Shaw version 1 & 2 ✨

Ben let out an aggravated sigh for what felt like the fortieth time and turned back to the table, his nose wrinkled. He glanced down and saw his daughter’s wide eyes watching him as she kicked her little legs, slobbering all over the fingers of one hand she had in her mouth. He made a face and shook his head, remembering when he told her “You’re lucky you’re cute, kid”, when she’d done the same thing about an hour before. He didn’t know what was so tasty about those fingers especially when there were other tastier options available. 

Speaking of which, you just had to pick the fucking perfect time to do your pumping shit so he would be stuck doing this shit, in the literal sense of the word. Ben thought he’d been on dangerous missions before but nothing ever made him want to retreat in the other direction more than the one he was about to embark on. The smell wafted up to him once more as the baby kicked her legs again.

“Christ, this kid fucking stinks.”

“Language!”

He rolled his eyes and glanced back over his shoulder, though he couldn’t see you. “It’s not like she understands what the fuck I’m saying!”

“Ben! We talked about this!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, turning back to his little girl. “No cursing around the baby,” he mocked you in a high voice, smirking when a small smile formed on her face.

Another wave hit him and he held a hand up to his nose. “Are you almost done in there?” He complained.

“No! I still have a little more to go.” He knew that; he could hear the machine still making its weird noises almost as if it was next to his ear. He hated and loved that thing. Hated it because it was so damn loud to his ears and it ruined a perfectly sexy image in his head when he first saw you doing it. Loved it because it was helping your body do one of the natural things it was designed to do and it also allowed him to get some one on one time with you out of the house for the occasional few hours if you could get Elena or Queen Lesbo to babysit. As a matter of fact, as harsh as the sounds were and how unsexy it was, it got him downright hard sometimes when he thought of either scenario because both brought it all back to sex for him. Either he was daydreaming about fucking another baby into you while watching you or he was thinking about how he was going to be fucking you later that evening when the two of you were alone. This time, though, it was going to be neither. 

You were getting ready to go out to have lunch with Elena, have some girl time or some shit. Whatever the fuck that meant. It certainly wasn’t what he’d been thinking the first time you mentioned it, which to him was a complete fucking wasted opportunity. He wasn’t into Elena at all or The One-Eyed Bitch Queen but he was definitely into seeing you get off. Just as long as it wasn’t another guy, he was good with it. But instead, his hopes had been dashed when your expression of disgust transformed into you pinching the bridge of your nose and explaining what girl time for you actually meant. His annoyance grew (and his nerves skyrocketed though he would never tell you that) when you mentioned he would be the one babysitting this time. He wasn’t happy but neither were you and when it came down to it, you were the victor of that argument.  

And now he had this shit on top of it, pun very much fucking intended. Needless to say, Ben was beyond done at this point.    

“Just change the diaper already,” you urged, your tone strained with the last threads of patience. “The longer she stays in her own mess, the more likely she is to get a rash and possible infection. Then she will be in pain and she’ll have to see the doctor. We don’t want that to happen. I’ve told you this time and time again and I’ve shown you how to do it. No more excuses, Ben. Just change it.”

Ben could feel his ire rising. “So you want me to do what you should be doing? I’m not the goddamn woman here!” He regretted it as soon as he said it. He heard you turn the machine off and he knew he was in for it now.

“What did you just say?” He heard you ask menacingly from the other room. Oh fuck. He knew he had about ten seconds to turn this around or the rest of the day and night were going to be shit. Worse than the actual shit he was smelling. He’d be lucky if he’d be able to sit next to you at the table later at dinner, never mind touch you again for the next few days.

“Nothing,” he grumbled, pulling a new diaper from the open package next to him and glancing down at the squirming baby in front of him. He was relieved when he heard the machine start up again and leaned over the table to lay down the law to his daughter. “Alright, look, kid, we gotta make some sort of deal here. You can’t be shitting up a storm and stinking up the place while your mother is out. Piss I can deal with. Puke, bad but doable. Shit…no fucking way.” He began to unbutton her onesie, screwing up his face in disgust as the smell slapped him in the face. “So if you really care about your old man and you want him to be happy, you’ll stop shitting all over the goddamn place. Got it?”

The baby gurgled back at him and he saw more drool coming out of her little mouth. 

Ben shook his head, giving her a sharp look. The least she could do was not look so happy about him having to do this for her. He gently pulled her legs out of the onesie as you’d shown him how to do (he ripped one too many the first week she was home) and he frowned when he saw a damp brown stain, the smell becoming even worse. He lifted her legs and as he’d suspected, the shit was fucking everywhere, having catapulted past the edge of the diaper and down her back. He briefly shut his eyes and looked away, groaning loudly, “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” He attempted to take a breath that didn’t smell like he was wading around in the worst shit someone ever took. Like he was that little bastard Termite and he’d shot too far off the mark. 

“Now what?” You yelled back.

“She shit everywhere! It’s all up and down her back.” He looked back down at his daughter. “Really?” Another gurgle. “Christ.”

“Yeah, because she’s been sitting in a full diaper for the last thirty minutes while you’ve been non-stop complaining about it, that’s why! Just get her cleaned up and into a new diaper, some new clothes, and then put her in her bouncy chair so you can clean the table. Or if you’re feeling adventurous, give her a bath. A bath is probably better.”

“Why don’t you come in here and fucking handle it then? I’ve told you, my sense of smell is about ten times what yours is!”

You huffed out an aggravated breath. “Because you have to learn how to take care of her, Ben! You’re her father for God’s sake. You should be able to handle one damn diaper change without being a child about it! What if I wasn’t here anymore? You’d be the one doing it all then.”

He straightened up at that, glaring back in your direction. “What do you mean if you weren’t here? Where the fuck would you go?”

“Language, Ben! Jesus!”

His jaw clenched and he turned back to grab a fresh wipe or five. He bunched them up in his hand and lifted the baby’s legs and began to wipe. There was so much shit, the wipes were filled instantly and it got onto his hand. “Fucking hell!” His daughter’s smile faded and she began to look as if she were about to cry. 

“What now?” You snapped. 

“It’s all over my goddamn hand, that’s what!” He bellowed.

“Well, wipe it off, get her cleaned up, then wash your hands.” There was no compassion in your tone, only irritation.

Ben should have shut the fuck up right then and there, and just done what you’d tasked him with. But, he was fucking done and livid at your obvious lack of sympathy. “This isn’t my fucking job! It’s yours! You should be doing this! Real men don’t change their kid’s shitty diaper! Women do!” 

The machine shut off again but this time, Ben didn’t give a fuck. He’d had it. He knew you’d be pissed at what he’d just said but too fucking bad. It was true, whether you liked it or not. No matter what today’s society had to say or not. Women were the caregivers, the nurturers or whatever the fuck he’d heard on that bald-headed doctor’s show the other day, the givers of life or some shit. Real men did their job in making the kid, being the father, and putting food on the table for his family while also providing a roof over their heads. That’s how it always worked and that’s how it should still be today. He’d done his job: he’d protected you, knocked you up with his kid, and stuck around to be its father, even after finding out it wasn’t going to be the son he’d initially hoped for. And here you were, trying to get him to fucking play Mr. Mom so you could go out for a few hours and get some girl time that wasn’t even going to reap any benefits for him after you’d left the kid with him all afternoon? No fucking way. His jaw tightened as he heard you approaching quickly. He didn’t care how pissed you were; he wasn’t backing down. 

But just then, the baby began to cry, having been scared by him yelling angrily (and probably because she was wet and uncomfortable and had been for some time now). He glanced down at her, his jaw unclenching and his features softening slightly. Fuck no. Ben could withstand a lot of shit (minus actual shit), and not a lot affected him, but his daughter’s cries? And because of him? That was his kryptonite. “No, no, no. Don’t cry, Princess. Daddy’s sorry he yelled, okay? He didn’t mean to scare you,” he quietly soothed. He went to pick her up to hold her, forgetting that she had shit all over her, and he only realized it when it dripped all down the front of his shirt and his hands and arms were covered with it as he balanced her against his chest. “Ahhh shit!” The baby began to cry louder.

You appeared, the top of your dress fixed and buttoned, a furious expression on your face. You held out your hands. “You’re safe now, I’m here,” you spat. “Give her to me.” 

Ben glared down at you. He had been spoiling for a fight a moment ago but after the baby started to cry, some of the fury went out of him, and apparently right into you it looked like. “Listen, don’t get all pissy because—”

“I said,” you snapped. “Give her to me.”

Ben shot you a look but did as you said. He watched as you got shit all over you but you didn’t even flinch. Instead, you snatched the fresh diaper from the table and unfolded it to place behind your daughter’s poop chute before grabbing the canister of fresh wipes and a towel. You didn’t even look at him as you passed by him to head into the bathroom. Fuck, he was definitely in trouble.

He grimaced down at his messy shirt and removed it, balling it up and throwing it into the baby’s laundry basket. He made his way to the open door of the bathroom, stepping in to wash his hands and forearms at the sink as he watched you in the mirror, sitting on the edge of the tub and filling it with water, the baby’s own tub inside it. You were cooing at your daughter who wasn’t crying anymore but letting out little whines that threatened to extend back into a crying jag if need be. The baby was unhappy and from the looks of it, so were you.

He dried his hands as you began to use the fresh wipes to clean your daughter. “There we go, Ellie,” you murmured. “We’re going to get you all nice and clean, okay?”

Hearing your soft-toned reassurances to the baby, Ben figured now might be as good a time as any to try to start melting away some of your anger with him. He cleared his throat. “If you want, you don’t have to use that thing. I can get in the tub with her. I have to clean up anyway.” He gestured to his bare chest but you didn’t even look up.

“I think you’ve done quite enough today, thank you,” you answered, your tone full of ice. Yeah, he was in fucking trouble. Fuck.

“Don’t be like that. I’ve told you, my sense of smell is ten times more powerful than yours. I tried and it just didn’t work out.” He crossed his arms, his jaw tight. Why would you be fucking pissed at him? He tried his best. He got shit all over for him as a result for Christ’s sake. And he only spoke the truth.

“And what the fuck do you think this is? Chocolate? Paint?” You gestured to the shitty fresh wipes sitting in the diaper and to your ruined dress. That wasn’t what stopped him short; you never cursed in front of your daughter. 

You continued to carefully clean the baby in your lap. “I told you when I found out I was pregnant that I would do it myself. You could take off and go do whatever you wanted to do after you held up your end of the deal. You could go get high, get drunk, fuck a ton of women, play at being a superhero — whatever. But no, you said you wanted to stay. Insisted on it, actually. I told you then.” You threw another freshwipe into the diaper and grabbed a clean one. “If you stay, if you really want this, then you need to be all in. Do you remember that?”

“What the fuck are you talking about? I am all in.”

“You call this all in?” You gestured towards the messy baby who had her hands in her mouth, watching her mother, tears still dotting her eyes. 

Ben started to feel uncomfortable, something almost like shame itching at his skin, and he didn’t care for it. He dropped his gaze to the ground. “So I didn’t change one shitty diaper. You don’t need to make a big fucking deal over it.”

“Ben,” you seethed. “Look at me.”

He reluctantly glanced up at you, still annoyed. 

“She’s your daughter and she can’t do these things for herself right now. Sometimes it’s going to be messy and sometimes it’s going to smell so bad you gag. And yeah, sometimes it’s going to make you uncomfortable, but you push through all of that because you’re her father and you love her no matter what. Because you want to take care of her, to make sure she is healthy and happy every single day. She’s our responsibility for the rest of our lives. It’s no longer about you, me, or anyone else. It’s about her. Just her. That’s it.”

He unclenched his jaw, hearing the seriousness of what you were saying, the truth he didn’t want to think about underlying your very words. It wasn’t that he didn’t love his daughter, he did, but why were you so insistent on giving him the dirty work? You knew how he felt about doing this type of shit. Not to mention, it felt like you were trying to shame him for not wanting to change one fucking diaper, like you were implying that he wasn’t a good father if he didn’t waltz into the nursery, smiling and eager to do it. He was a good father and a damn good provider. If it wasn’t for him, you wouldn’t even have this place to call home. He was the one who sacrificed and played nice with the old bitch and Butcher. Hell, If it wasn’t for him, neither of you would even be here right now! 

Ben hated himself when he had that thought. What the fuck was wrong with him? But since he didn’t want to look at that too closely, instead he turned it back on you. 

“I don’t need you lecturing me on how to be a father. I am a good father, goddammit! Hell, I’m a better father than my old man ever was. I provide for her and you every single day. I gave up everything to protect you, be with you, and be there to take care of my kid. Which is a lot fucking more than some of the other dames I’ve knocked up over the years can say. I put my life on the line for you both! And this is the thanks I get? Because I didn’t change one shitty fucking diaper?” He scoffed. “You are one ungrateful bitch.”

Your eyes widened slightly and Ben regretted his words the moment they flew out of his mouth. He hadn’t meant to say those things, not to you.

Your eyes dropped to your daughter in your lap who was staring back up at you. You nodded and after a moment, you scowled up at him. “Well, since we’re such a burden and keeping you from your great life…don’t let the door hit you on your misogynistic and spoiled ass on the way out.” He could see your eyes shimmering but he could also see the absolute fury and ice daggers you were shooting him with, too. He knew then just how badly he had fucked up. 

“Y/N, I—”

“I mean it. Get your shit and leave. I’ll do this alone just like I planned to all along anyway. There you go, you’re free. No more nagging from this ungrateful bitch, no more having to act like you give a shit about either of us, no more being weighed down. You’re free to go and get fucked up and drink all you want, Soldier Boy. Go knock up some more dames and then leave them to raise those kids all on their own, too. You know, like a real man does.” If your glare could kill alone, Ben would be six feet under right now, the one thing that could end him that the Ivans never found out about. 

You placed your daughter in her little tub and stormed over to him, shoving him out the door. You couldn’t really move him but he was so caught off guard at your outburst, your words, that he moved where you pushed him. “And best of all, no more shitty fucking diapers!” You slammed the bathroom door in his face and locked the door, knowing it wouldn’t keep him out if he wanted in, but the message was clear. You were done and you were willing to go it alone; you didn’t need him and you had enough of his bullshit. He’d not only heard it in your voice, your words, but he’d also seen it in your eyes. That hurt way more than he ever thought it would.

He stood there staring at the door, stunned. His daughter began to cry and he heard you soothe her with “Shhh, it’s okay, sweetness. Mommy’s here. We’re going to get you all cleaned up and feeling better in no time. Don’t you worry, Ellie.” You began to coo to her as you bathed her and before long, she was making happy noises again. You’d even made her laugh once.

Ben stood there, not feeling right about what just happened or that his family was on the other side of the door. He could break it down if he wanted to, you both knew that, but he wouldn’t. Nor would he break the lock to get in. He knew he had let his irritation get the best of him and he’d said some things that he couldn’t take back, no matter how he might try to apologize now. Why the fuck had he said those things, anyway? 

He loved the life you had now (minus the shitty diapers obviously) and the family you’d started to build. Hell, he loved you, something he hadn’t ever really felt before for a woman other than his mother. He thought he’d felt it once with Crimson Countess but he’d been wrong. What he thought he felt for her paled in comparison to what he actually felt for you. Not just for having his kid but also for loving him and not the suit. Yes, you’d gone to him for protection and yes, he’d done his best to take advantage of that fact, but something genuine formed between the two of you. Before long, he wasn’t just protecting you to hold up his end of the deal, he was also protecting you because he couldn’t bear to lose you. He was over a century old and he had never come across someone like you before, someone who actually saw worth in him as something more than a quick lay or a celebrity or a supe. Someone who worried for him when he left your sight or took on one of your would-be assailants. Someone who actually wanted to build a life with him — with him, not Soldier Boy. 

So why the fuck had he said those things? He knew why. You had made him feel ashamed that he hadn’t gotten the job done, that he hadn’t completed the one mission you’d given him and you hadn’t even left the house yet. You’d had to come in and rescue him, do the task instead, and you hadn’t balked or even thought twice about it.

You were softly singing to Ellie and he could hear a couple of breaks in your voice, betraying how upset you really were though you were trying to hide it for your daughter’s sake. 

Ben hung his head in shame when he heard you get choked up and stop for a moment, sniffling, before you started back up again. He threw on a fresh shirt and got to work cleaning the shit from the changing pad and this time, he didn’t complain.

Ben watched as you carried the baby into the room, still not looking at him. You saw that the table was clean and moved over to place your daughter on it, grabbing the clean onesie he’d set aside and began to dress her. “You’re still here?” You bit out though he could detect a hint of genuine surprise there, too. 

“Still here,” he murmured, hoping you would hear how sorry he was without him having to say it.

You finished buttoning up the onesie and popped the pacifier into Ellie’s mouth that he’d left out for you. “Think you can manage to watch her while I take a ten minute shower?”

“Since when do you take ten minute showers?” He’d meant it as a teasing question, to try to lighten the mood a little, but you turned a glare onto him, beginning to unbutton the top of your dress. 

“Forget it. I’ll put her in her bouncy seat and bring her in with me. You can go.” You went to pick up the baby when he held his hands out.

“I can watch her. Go take your shower.”

He could see the clear distrust in your eyes but you handed him your daughter nonetheless but not before you kissed her head. “Mommy will be right back, Ellie,” you whispered, stroking her back. You glanced up at him, unsure, but then turned to make your way to the bathroom, continuing to undo the fastenings on your dress. He let out a huge sigh when he heard the door snick closed and the shower start up.

“Daddy’s in big trouble, Princess,” he murmured to Ellie. She gazed up at him, going to town on her pacifier, her brows drawing together slightly from the effort. He smiled and dropped a kiss down on her little forehead. “That’s one thing you have in common with your old man. We love the nipples.” He chuckled under his breath, imagining just how hard you would roll your eyes and swat at his shoulder if you heard that. But instead, he heard a much more heartbreaking sound from you. You were crying…in the shower. Fuck. 

At that moment, he heard a car slowing down and pulling into the driveway. One glance out the window confirmed it was Elena. In the midst of all this, he’d forgotten you had plans for the day. Just then, he got an idea and hurried towards the front door. He had just reached it by the time Elena was about to push the doorbell. He whipped it open, making her jump in surprise. After she saw it was Ben with the baby in tow, she recovered quickly. “Oh, hey Ben. Is Y/N ready yet? Hi, Ellie.” She gave a tiny wave to your daughter, smiling.

“Uh, not yet. She’s in the shower. Hey, can you watch Ellie for a few? I’ve got something I need to do and I can’t take her with me.”

Elena seemed uncertain for a moment, studying him as if she were wondering what he was about to do, but then relented with a shrug. “Sure.” He opened the door wider for her to come in and once she had put her coat and purse on a chair, he handed Ellie over to her. 

“Thanks. Be right back, Princess.” He stroked the back of the baby’s head with his fingers before hurrying out of the room, intent on doing whatever he had to in order to make things right.

Ben quietly slipped into the bathroom, undressed, and snuck into the shower behind you. You had stopped crying after the doorbell sounded so you most likely knew Elena was here and waiting. You were rubbing suds-covered hands all over the front of your body. 

While you cleaned your front, Ben’s eyes roamed over your back. He was already predictably hard, just seeing you naked. You had the perfect ass and even though you still had some baby weight that you were trying to lose, in his eyes, you were fucking gorgeous. You had mournfully admitted a couple of weeks ago that your stomach was soft and you were embarrassed by the visible stretch marks and your wider hips, not to mention the few pounds sticking around. Your breasts were bigger (something he didn’t see as a problem), the areolas darker than ever before, and you were feeling a bit insecure about your new shape. He loved the new you, which he made sure to tell you over and over as he fucked you that night. You were the mother of his kid, you’d given birth to her, nourished her from your body, and you could give him even more. It endlessly fascinated him that his seed had taken root in you and a healthy child grew from it, one that was half you and half him. He’d literally fucked a baby into you and every time he saw you like this, he wanted to do it again (though you’d told him your body needed at least a year or two to recuperate before you could even entertain the idea of another pregnancy). You looked so fucking gorgeous carrying his kid and now, you were even more beautiful if that was possible. It was pure beauty that he saw when you breastfed his daughter, when you smiled down at her, talked to her, and rocked her to sleep. There wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t want you, on your back (or your hands and knees, he wasn’t picky), taking load after load from him until he knocked you up once more. 

So he had been dumbfounded and almost incredulous when you nervously admitted all of this to him, implying that maybe he didn’t find you attractive anymore and maybe he’d prefer a flat-stomached, tighter, younger, free-to-bang-all-day woman instead. That or some old lady. He’d fucked that notion right out of your head.

But now as he stepped toward you, not only was he incredibly turned on by you and how beautiful he still thought you were, but he also realized right then, just like he had many times before this moment, you were the only one he wanted. He wrapped his arms around you and pressed a kiss to your wet shoulder.

You let out a small gasp in surprise. “Where’s Ellie?”

“Elena’s got her.” 

“Well, I’m not doing anything with you in this shower so you might as well get out,” you snapped and attempted to wriggle out of his embrace. When you couldn’t, you huffed out an aggravated breath and went back to rubbing soap over your skin. 

He nosed your wet hair out of the way to get closer to your ear. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I never should’ve said that shit.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” you muttered, gliding soap down your arms. 

“I love you,” he murmured to the skin of your neck before dropping a kiss. “I love my little princess.” Another kiss. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Really? Because it sounds like you want to be somewhere else.”

“No, I don’t,” he assured. “I told you when I knocked you up. You two are it for me.”

You slowed down your movements and he took the opportunity to hug you a little tighter, burying his nose underneath your jaw. “I mean it, doll. This is right where I want to be.” He slowly ground his erection into the small of your back to also illustrate his point. He meant every fucking word; with you, around you, in you — there was no other place he’d rather be. 

You attempted to turn around in his arms and he loosened his grip so you could. He nearly let out a soft groan at the feel of your soap-slicked skin sliding against his dick. You stared up into his eyes and the smirk that formed on his face was beyond dirty, thinking you two were about to get to the fun part, your argument a thing of the past when you cupped his bearded cheeks in your suds-covered hands. 

“Ben,” you whispered. “I need to know that if something happens to me…that you’ve got this with Ellie.”

Ben’s grin morphed into a frown and his brows furrowed. “What the fuck are you talking about? What do you mean if something happens to you?”

Your eyes began to glisten and his heart dropped inside his chest. What the fuck hadn’t you told him?

“Did some cocksucker threaten you?” He growled menacingly, the rage he worked so hard to tamp down for yours and Ellie’s sakes was attempting to breach the surface at the thought of someone even thinking about hurting you. Mallory had said you’d be safe here; had the old bitch lied?

You shook your head and that only helped to quell the fire burning deep within slightly. A light appeared on your face and you glanced down as it got brighter, eyes wide in fear. “Your chest is glowing. Ben, stop! You need to calm down.” 

He took deep breaths as he’d learned to do, telling himself that you were here in his arms, right now, and you were safe. You were not in any danger. Hearing the sounds of his daughter a few rooms away helped him to get this fucking thing inside of him under control. He hated it, hated what the Reds had done to him, but it was now forever a part of him. He would do whatever it took to keep you both safe, even from this goddamn weapon inside his chest.

When you met his eyes again, there was no more light, no more glow lighting up your face from below. You lifted yourself up on your toes and brushed your lips against his. “Thank you,” you whispered. 

Ben nodded and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you up against him. He nuzzled you, feeling much calmer than he had a few moments before, but he still saw the same worry in your gaze that he’d seen before his inner nuke started to fire up. “Talk to me,” he implored.

You pressed your lips together and briefly looked away and he knew you didn’t really want to say what you were about to. It made him incredibly nervous. While you two had argued before and you’d told him to go when he was being an ass…what if what you meant was that you wanted out of this? Fear immediately took hold of him — fear of losing you, fear of losing Ellie, and all because he’d been a stupid fuck who couldn’t keep his mouth shut. You both were the two best things that had ever happened to him since being injected with Compound V. He didn’t want to go back to before. He only wanted now and the two of you. Hell, he wanted to keep creating a family with you, the family he’d always desired but never had. What had seemed within his grasp just hours ago now seemed to be getting further and further away. 

That thought had him speaking — no, downright begging. Soldier Boy begging…only for you. “Look, I know I’ve been a dick and I said some really fucked up shit earlier but I didn’t—”

You gently placed your fingers against his lips, effectively stopping him. You stared up at him sadly and that fear kicked into high gear. Fuck, he was losing you. And all because he hadn’t been able to keep his goddamn mouth shut or change one fucking dirty diaper. He’d fucking failed and now he was going to lose you and that dream he wanted to realize with you all in one swoop. All because he really was America’s Asshole.

But when you finally spoke, you said the last thing he expected. “I spent months running from Vought’s death squads before I found you. Even with you protecting me, even after I got pregnant, I was still in danger because they wanted me dead.” Your voice broke on the last word, betraying the tears that were imminent, along with the shimmering in your eyes getting worse.

His brows drew together in concern but he gently grasped your chin, making sure that you not only continued looking at him but that you heard every word he was about to say. “But you’re safe now,” he murmured. “Vought’s gone, Edgar and Homelander are dead…I would never let anything happen to you.”

Tears began to roll down your cheeks. “I know, but I keep thinking what if something goes wrong? What if one of the supes out there finds us? What if they get wind that I’m still alive? What if the surviving board members decide that I’m still a liability?”

He shook his head, moving his thumb up to stroke your cheek reassuringly. “No one survived. I made sure of it.” He placed his forehead down onto yours. “I promised I’d keep you safe, you both safe, and I did.” Ben tenderly rubbed his nose along yours. “Still do.” 

He was slightly relieved that you weren’t thinking of leaving him but also unhappy that you had still been worrying about this all of this time and he hadn’t had a clue. He was going to do whatever it took to reassure you, to remind you that you were safe and that you no longer needed to worry about any of those pricks that you’d had to run from before. He still remembered the nightmares you’d had, the jumps and startles in the middle of the night at the slightest sound. Eventually, it prompted him to hold you when you went to bed, promising to keep you safe so you could get some sleep while he kept watch. You would finally relax in his arms and close your eyes, content to listen to his strong heartbeat underneath your ear, knowing you were indeed protected.   

Sure, you’d kept your end of the deal and let him fuck you once you’d gotten some rest from running nonstop, but instead of getting bored like he usually did after hitting the same pussy a couple of different times, he’d actually started to like you. So he’d kept you close while he turned the hunt around to make Onehander, Edgar, and all of those assholes the prey instead. When he found out you were carrying his kid, he decided he’d do whatever it took to make you both safe and even ended up teaming up with the Brit and his team again, though he still didn’t trust them. Hell, he’d even made a deal with them to settle in this area and get you this house when you’d told him you wanted a home for your child to grow safely up in, to put down roots. He’d put up with your nearby neighbors, with having to see the One-Eyed-WonderBitch again, and shifting from the Supe life to suburban life (which was not an easy transition for him by any means). He did it all for you…for you and Ellie and the family you had chosen to have with him.

So to see now that after everything, you still didn’t feel completely safe, well…that bothered him. What kind of man had he been for you to keep feeling scared that Vought might come back at any moment to haunt you? He’d never given you details of the day that he’d annihilated them all for you because he knew you didn’t want them, but maybe he should have. If he had, maybe that would’ve helped to allay your fears of any possible reprisals.   

“I know you do,” you broke into his thoughts. “But…what if something else happens? What if I get sick or get hit by a car or I have an accident and fall or I have a medical emergency that could be fatal or—”

“Hey,” he interrupted your rambling. “You’re spiraling.” Something you’d done quite a bit when you first met. His heart sunk at the thought; this had gotten to that point and he hadn’t had one goddamn clue. He’d been so wrapped up in you and Ellie and the life you were building that he hadn’t even seen it. Maybe his father had been right; he was a fuck up. An assertion by the old man that you’d unknowingly been dismantling every single day with how much you loved and believed in Ben, but now…now he felt as if he didn’t deserve you. He watched more tears spill down your cheeks and he knew he definitely didn’t; here was the proof.

“I know,” you sobbed. “I’m sorry. I just…” You took in a ragged breath and looked into his eyes, your bottom lip starting to wobble. “I need to know that if something happens to me, that you’ll take care of Ellie the way she needs to be taken care of. If I’m gone, she’s going to need you and I need to know that she’ll be okay.”

He tried his best not to be insulted, not to show it for your sake so he wouldn’t upset you anymore than you already were, but it stung his ego a bit. “Of course, she would be okay. I’ve kept her safe this long, haven’t I?”

“I’m not just talking about safety, Ben. I’m talking about you actually taking care of her. Not just providing for her, but actually being there for her whenever she needs you. Like the diaper change I asked you to do today. Is it disgusting? Sure. No one likes dealing with it, smelling shit, getting it all over you…but she’s your daughter and she needed you to take care of it for her. What if I had gone for breakfast with Elena instead? Would she have sat in her own crap until I came back home because you feel as a man that it’s beneath you to change your own daughter’s diaper?” More tears appeared. “What if something had happened to me while I was out? Would you just push Ellie onto Elena and Maggie to take care of her so you could go back to your old life? All so you wouldn’t have to do any of the messy or hard stuff? Would you abandon her just like that?”

“Of course not,” he snapped, his consideration for you now forgotten in the face of what you’d said. “How the fuck could you even think I would do something like that? Haven’t I been here through everything like I fucking said I would be?”

“Yes, but I’ve been doing everything!” The words burst out of you. “At first, you didn’t want to feed her, burp her, bathe her — any of it! And I did it all! Why? Because that was supposed to be the woman’s job you’d said!”

Ben could feel his temper flaring at you bringing that up. You were also intimating that he didn’t do anything for your daughter. Were you blind to all of the effort he had put in to help you raise Ellie since that fight you’d had a couple of weeks after she’d been born? Didn’t you realize that most mornings you woke up well rested was because he’d gotten up with the baby in the middle of the night so you wouldn’t have to? And you were still holding that shit over his head? What the fuck was wrong with you? “That was the way it was back then,” he growled out. “I told you that! And I’ve been doing all of that shit you just mentioned since then! So I didn’t change one shitty diaper today! I said I was sorry! When are you going to fucking let it go?”

Instead of responding, you exploded into more sobs and shame churned in his gut. He really fucking hated seeing either of his girls cry. It made him want to beat the ever loving shit out of some son of a bitch. Even if he happened to be said son of a bitch sometimes. 

“Christ,” he muttered. “C’mere.” He pulled you to him and you held onto him tightly, crying into his neck. His hand slid down your back in a tender caress and he pressed his lips to your hair. “I’m sorry,” he whispered to you.

He kept you in his arms, hoisted you up so you could wrap your legs around his waist, and let you get it all out. He even shut the water off, knowing the temperature had vastly cooled in the amount of time he’d been in there with you so far. He vaguely recalled his plan from earlier to join you, apologize for what he’d said during your argument, and begin making up with you. That obviously had gone to shit; there would be no making up happening now, that was for sure. And if anything would get his dick to go soft with you naked against him, it was the sound of you crying. 

Once your sobs quieted down and turned into ragged inhales and a few sniffles here and there, he moved your hair out of the way so he could see you. “Better?”

You nodded, sniffling as you looked up at him. “Yeah.”

“Okay, let’s get you out of this tub then and get you dried off.” He placed a kiss on your forehead and went to open the shower curtain.

“Ben?”

He froze and turned to look at you. 

You lifted your head, letting out another sniffle. “I’m sorry, too.” Before he could say anything, you continued. “I know you’ve been trying and you’ve been doing everything I asked you to with Ellie. I just…I freaked out about the diaper thing.” You wiped at your face. “Because it just brought back that worry, that fear I have of what would happen to her if I wasn’t here.” Your voice wobbled slightly but you forged ahead anyway. “You know, I wasn’t scared like this when I was being hunted down. I mean, I was, but not like this. Back then, I only had myself to worry about. And then when I got pregnant, sure, I was a little more scared but I also knew you’d keep us safe.” You took another ragged breath in. “But ever since she’s been born, I have been absolutely terrified. That something might happen to her, to me…to her if something does happen to me. I’m so fucking scared, Ben.” Your voice broke then, prompting fresh tears to roll down your cheeks.

Ben had been insulted before, almost as if you hadn’t believed in him or his ability to keep either of you safe, but now as he listened to your heartfelt explanation, he realized it wasn’t really about any of that. It didn’t really have anything to do with him, except that you wanted him to be ready to care for your daughter if something ever happened to you. That unpleasant tug inside his gut happened once more when you finally confessed just how scared you were. He thought back over the last few months since Ellie had been born. Your push for him to be more involved; your fighting with him over his antiquated mindset as you’d called it over his ideas of what fatherhood entailed; your rushing him during your sexual escapades the few times he’d managed to get you away from the house while Elena watched the baby no matter how much it pissed him off that he couldn’t take his time with you like he wanted; your insistence that he watch Ellie while you go to lunch with your friend; your anger today at his refusal to deal with the shitty diaper situation — all of it suddenly clicked into place for him and made sense. Fuck, he didn’t think it was possible for him to feel any worse. He had completely failed you on all fronts. He had been the blind one; he’d never seen what was going on with you when it was right in front of him this whole time. Christ on a cross.

He gripped your chin gently. “Look at me.” You reluctantly met his gaze, yours glistening with fresh tears, and he could see the fear there plain as day. Fuck, how had he missed it all of this time? But instead of focusing on that, he sought to reassure you. “You and Ellie are safe. Nothing is going to happen. I would never let anyone hurt you. Either of you. I love you both too fucking much.” He grazed the pad of his thumb over your cheek to catch a stray tear that had escaped at his words. “And if it’s something that’s going to make you feel better, then let’s sit down and make a plan in case anything were to happen to you. Or even if I bit it. I want both of my girls to be taken care of, even if I can’t be here to do it myself.” You gave him a tearful smile. “So, let’s do that and kick this fear in its fucking ass. Sound good, doll?”

You nodded and leaned in, kissing him and making him smile. He’d been able to make you feel better after all and he felt damn proud of himself for being able to do so. “I love you,” you whispered.

He fucking loved hearing those three words from you every single time you said them; he knew you fucking meant it. And so did he. “I love you, too, baby.” When you beamed at him, another tugging sensation happened in his chest but this time, it was a far more pleasant one. He pecked your lips and opened the curtain. “Alright, let’s get you out of here.”

Before he could take a step out of the tub, you reached up and yanked the curtain closed, making his brows furrow. Your smile suddenly transformed into a devilish smirk. Immediately, he could feel his dick hardening again. He knew what that smirk meant. “We didn’t make up yet,” you murmured, starting to rub your body against his. “And we always make up after we fight.” 

Ben felt the stiff peaks of your nipples gliding across his skin and his mouth practically watered at the thought of sucking on them while he rammed into you repeatedly. Fuck, he loved your tits. There had been a time after Ellie was born where you’d pushed his head away anytime he tried to get his mouth on them while he was fucking you, complaining that they were too sensitive due to all of the feedings. But recently, he’d been able to start that up again without causing you discomfort and once, he had even gotten a tiny amount of milk squirted into his mouth by accident. It had been surprising for him, embarrassing for you, but it had turned out to be a major turn on. He found he didn’t mind the taste and the idea of him drinking you down, you shooting something into his mouth for once and him needing to be the one to swallow, that made him hornier than he’d ever been in his life. He’d fucked a lot of women in his time, sometimes high, sometimes sober; he’d done things that made most people blush to hear about or uncomfortable to imagine, some things which you flat out refused to do. He’d founded Herogasm and had marathon fucks that were legendary. He’d hosted orgies where he would be the only one left standing, having never tired out and still raring to go when everyone else was down for the count. And yet, when you’d unintentionally squirted the smallest bit of milk into his mouth, his dick had gotten so hard, he was shocked it hadn’t exploded right there. Well…it did, but not the way he’d originally been thinking. He’d greedily swallowed you down and kept sucking, even through the first load of cum he’d shot into you in reaction to that fucking hot as hell moment. From that point on, while he knew your breastmilk was Ellie’s main food source and he loved that, his daughter had to learn to fucking share. 

That was another reason why he had such a love/hate relationship with the breast pump machine you had. When he would watch the milk fill the bottle, he didn’t know whether to cry, jerk off, fuck you, or just watch. Sometimes he even wished you’d get rid of the contraption and just let him help you; it could be a rewarding experience for you both while you made sure Ellie had plenty to eat. 

Your smirk grew, almost as if you knew where his thoughts had gone, and you ghosted your lips over his. “Ben,” you called to him in a teasing singsong voice. “I said, we always make up after fighting.”

He could feel something wet moving against his abdomen as you attempted to roll your hips, knowing it had nothing to do with your recent shower, and he ground out, “Yeah, we fucking do” before he slammed his mouth against yours in a bruising kiss that was all tongue and teeth. He turned around and carefully pushed you up against the tiled wall, making sure not to break it or you. It wasn’t long before he was inside you, his hips pushing into you at a steady pace, his mouth suckling at you and your fingers in his hair, tugging roughly, as you muffled your moans with your other hand. Neither of you had forgotten that Elena was within earshot; Ben just didn’t give a fuck. He snatched your hand away from your mouth, gruffed out a command of “Let me fucking hear you”, and he didn’t give two shits who heard the fucking hot soundtrack of your making up. Instead, as you cried out your pleasure for the world to hear, he went back to your incredible rack, focusing on filling up on you while he worked towards filling you up. The thought of any fear or resentment from your earlier argument was long gone as you both chased your highs at lightning speed. The only words said between you were dirty or full of love. And even when you both had been forced to take a mostly cold shower afterwards to clean up once you both had caught your breath, only smiles, tender touches, and kisses had been exchanged along with a few laughs, both of you completely sated. Well, you were; Ben would never get enough of you and he planned to try to fuck you again later after the baby had fallen asleep.

But as for right now, seeing the bright smile on your face as he carefully wrapped a towel around you, the weight visibly lighter on your shoulders since you confessed your fears to him, he was determined to do whatever it took to not only make you feel safe but also to keep you feeling this way and being this happy. 

When you’d laughed at something he’d said, darted forward to kiss him, and wrapped your arms around his neck, his embrace tightened around you and he kissed the juncture in between your neck and shoulder, making you that silent promise. Whatever it took to make you feel safe again, he’d do it.

Elena glanced up to see you and Ben stepping into the living room, both dressed and looking refreshed. You had been missing in action for at least an hour and forty-five minutes. Elena already had an idea what you two had been doing considering everything she’d heard. Maggie had even heard when she called to check in and see when Elena would be returning home, beyond disgusted at the sounds Soldier Boy was making as he railed you in the shower. She’d told Elena to call her when she was done babysitting so the archaic asshole could get laid and promptly hung up. But even if Elena hadn’t heard what you’d been up to, she would have immediately known after seeing you both. Ben’s hair was still damp and yours was freshly blown out. Both of you were touching, unable to keep your hands off of each other and sporting matching grins, looking like practical newlyweds. Ben’s hand moved to the small of your back and both of you suddenly smiled wide upon seeing your daughter.

“Thank you for watching her and for waiting.” Your cheeks turned a shade of pink but you held out your arms. Elena was only too happy to hand you your baby back. “There she is,” you cooed, pressing a loud kiss to Ellie’s cheek. “Were you a good girl for your Aunt Elena?”

“She was a very good girl,” Elena confirmed, watching as Ben strode over and stopped next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you against him, his eyes centered on both of his girls with an affectionate smile to match. Sometimes Maggie still had trouble believing it, that Soldier Boy had been domesticated as she put it, but Elena never doubted how important you and Ellie were to him. She could see it every time he looked at you, at your little girl, and she actually thought it was beyond sweet. She had even said as much to which Maggie had rolled her eyes, muttered “Whatever, I’m going to vomit”, and walked away from the door while Elena waited to greet the three of you after she had extended a dinner invitation to your family one night. As expected Ben and Maggie didn’t get along too well, especially given their history, but the former seemed to be okay with Elena and she was okay with him because she knew how much he meant to you. And Maggie didn’t seem to mind you all that much, either. So you all somehow made the nearby neighbor thing work; for yours, Elena’s, and Ellie’s sakes if for nothing else. 

“She did get a little fussy, though, so I fed her one of the bottles you had in the fridge.”

You nodded and pressed a kiss to the baby’s forehead, briefly glancing at the clock on the mantle. “It’s about that time. Thank you so much for doing that. I’m sorry that we missed lunch.” You blushed once more when Ben let out a quiet chuckle.

“No problem,” Elena dismissed with a smile and a wave of her hand. “I’m glad everything seems to be okay. Ben looked a little worried when I got here.”

You glanced up at him, your brows arching in surprise. Ben shrugged, seeming unbothered at this observation.

“We can maybe shoot for next week if you’re game,” Elena offered. 

You went to answer when Ben cut you off. “Actually, why don’t you guys still go and grab a late lunch or something? Elena’s already here and you both are dressed to the nines.”

Your eyes widened when you looked over at your husband, worry lining your expression for a moment. “No, that’s—it’s too late. By the time we’d get home, it would probably be dinner time.” You let out a nervous sounding laugh. “Besides, Ellie’s going to need to feed before then and I—”

“You pumped earlier, right? I can feed her.”

You seemed unsure, biting your lip. “I did, but I’m not sure—”

Ben released you and held out his hands, smiling reassuringly at you. “It’s settled. You go. Ellie and I have got this. Don’t we, Princess?” The baby had her fingers in her mouth, drooling everywhere. Elena saw Ben shake his head, seeming amused.

You glanced down at your daughter, the happiness from before replaced by uncertainty. Elena knew you struggled to leave Ellie the first few times she’d babysat for you both to have some time to yourselves. It wasn’t surprising; you were a new mother after all. But this time, you seemed even more reluctant than usual. 

“Hey,” Ben softly called to you, prompting you to meet his gaze. “Remember what we talked about. We’re going to be fine. I’ve got her.”

It was moments like this that convinced Elena of your importance to him. If Maggie ever witnessed them, she was sure her girlfriend would reluctantly agree. Never had Elena ever heard him speak that gently to anyone, even his own daughter. Not when she and Maggie were in earshot anyway. 

Ben gave you a meaningful look and after glancing down at Ellie one more time, you eventually handed your daughter over to her father. “There’s my girl.” He leaned down to kiss the baby’s forehead. 

You watched, anxiety still apparent in your expression.“Ben, are you su—”

He immediately darted forward to kiss you, cutting you off. Elena had the grace to look away and give you two a moment.

“We’ll be fine,” she heard Ben murmur to you. “I’ve got this. I promise, baby. Go have your girl time and then come home. We’ll be here when you get back.”

“You’re absolutely sure?” You checked one last time.

“Of course I fucking am.”

“Language,” you chided.

Elena glanced over and found Ben smirking down at you, leaning closer. “You didn’t seem to mind my language earlier.” As expected, your cheeks reddened and he barked out a laugh, kissing one of them. “Alright, go have fun and we’ll see you later.” Then he leaned in to whisper something to you that couldn’t be heard and your jaw dropped, gently swatting at his hip since he was holding Ellie in both arms. He laughed and moved away, his gaze a little darker than before as it stayed fixed on you.

You kissed Ellie’s head and stroked her cheek, smiling. “I’ll see you soon, sweetheart. Be good for your daddy, okay? I love you.” Ellie gurgled and you smiled wider, leaning up to kiss Ben goodbye who immediately deepened it.

Elena was on the verge of looking away again when you pulled back, panting, and glared up at the smirking man in front of you. “You know, for someone who’s trying to get me to leave, you’re doing a miserable job.”

“Just giving you a little preview for later.” The stare between you two was so intense that it felt as if any unfortunate bystanders would suddenly burst into flames just from being too close. This time, Elena was the one nearly blushing. She would have never believed you two had just been having sex if she hadn’t heard it for herself. You both looked hungry and not for any late lunch. 

You leaned in, as if to kiss him again, when you reached up and planted a kiss on his brow instead, smirking as you backed away. “Until then, Benjamin,” you snarked, turning to leave. “Love you.” You let out a yelp a moment later when Ben swatted your ass with a free hand as you passed. 

You shot another glare at him and he simply smirked. “Love you, too, doll.” 

Elena gently pulled you towards the door, thinking if she didn’t get you out of the house soon, you definitely weren’t going to leave at all. Or more like Soldier Boy wasn’t going to let you leave. Not with the way his eyes were unashamedly glued to your ass.

You waved one last time in your family’s direction. “Bye, Ellie. See you soon, babygirl.”

Ben picked up Ellie’s little hand and simulated a wave, making you smile. 

Once Elena had you in the car and backed out of your driveway, she could see the earlier uncertainty returning. “So, what’s going on? First, Ben looked worried and now you. Something I should know about?”

You bit your lip and seemed to be mulling over whether to tell her or not. Elena gave you a moment to yourself to decide. Eventually you turned to look at her and sighed. “Okay.” You then proceeded to fill Elena in on everything you’d been feeling since your daughter had been born, everything you’d just told Ben.

Ben watched as you and Elena got into the car and left. He knew you would be worried but he was determined not to give you any reason to be. He meant it when he told you he had this. He wanted you to know that he could look after Ellie the way she needed looking after, which is why he insisted that you still go out to eat with Elena. He was going to make damn sure he passed this test and he was keeping his promise to you, that he would make you feel safe again. And if that meant he had to play Mr. Mom and change a few shitty diapers while you were gone, then so be it. 

Once the car disappeared, he let out a sigh and turned to look down at his daughter. She was staring up at him with those beautiful eyes that reminded him so often of his mother’s, though absent of any of the heartbreak she had endured in her life with his father. That was why when you asked about possible names for your daughter after you’d given birth, he’d mentioned Eleanor to bestow upon her. You’d loved it, especially after Ben had explained the significance of the name to you, and so your daughter was named after her grandmother, though you both had ended up calling her Ellie for short most of the time. 

He gave his little girl a smile. “We’ve got the place to ourselves, kiddo. We can do whatever we want. What does my princess want to do, hmm?”

Ellie gurgled and he nodded as if he understood.

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking. Let your old man show you his movies so you can see when he was a star. Good thinking, babygirl.” He chuckled when she gurgled again and turned to head into the living room. 

Just then, he heard the sounds he had been hoping like hell that he wouldn’t hear until you were back. Ellie began to grunt, a few short farts sounded, and an almost undetectable thud was heard as shit landed in her diaper. Sure enough, a moment later, the smell wafted up and smacked him in the face. The smell was beyond terrible, something you had told him previously couldn’t be the case since it was known that the poop of breastfed babies didn’t smell as bad as other poop. He’d looked at you then with disbelief; how the hell did you not smell it when you were wiping the kid’s ass? Then again, thanks to his super-powered nose, you wouldn’t detect what he would. Like right now. It was fucking awful, like sour milk mixed with shit. Christ.

“Ugh.” He extended his arms and held Ellie out, away from him. He should’ve known this would fucking happen. It was just his luck. “You know, kid, for such a small thing, you sure shit a lot.” Ellie continued to make happy noises as if she hadn’t just taken a massive shit that was rapidly stinking up the room. Ben pulled her closer, his face screwed up in disgust as the smell got closer, too. “You are way too happy for someone who just shit their pants for the second time today.” 

He glanced around, almost as if you would somehow come flying around the corner to help, or Queen Lesbo might show up out of the blue or something. Nope, this was all on him. He remembered your words from earlier, how he needed to know how to care for Ellie which included shitty diaper changes, and he let out a huge defeated sigh. “Fuck.”

Ben cradled Ellie in the crook of his arm, relieved there were no damp spots on her back this time, and turned to make his way to her nursery. “You know something, kid, if the day should ever come that I’m in diapers, you better fucking change ‘em without any complaints. I don’t want to hear a damn word out of you then, got it?”

Ellie made more happy noises and he rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.” A small smile slipped onto his face and he lifted her up to his shoulder, kissing her cheek. “You’re lucky Daddy loves you, Princess.”

Almost as if she’d understood his words, she gave him a wide toothless smile, drooling onto his shirt. Instead of being disgusted, he chuckled and continued his trek. She’d unknowingly just given him a perfect excuse to change when you got home and entice you to get another shower in later. Thinking along that same line, feeling proud that this was now something he could do for you and for his daughter, something that would help you to feel better overall…well, he found now that he didn’t mind the idea of any shitty diaper changes all that much.

dividers by @firefly-graphics