#for an extra week and a half. after today. for no other reason | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ceilidho · 2 months ago

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fig. 3. heart in flames; baptism by fire | John Price x Reader

MASTERLIST · AO3

The universe hasn't seen fit to give Price a mate of his own. He'll have to take matters into his own hands.

or: the forced mating omegaverse au

tags: Size Difference, Size Kink, Omegaverse, Explicit Sexual Content, AFAB Reader, Stalking, Kidnapping, Heavy Noncon/Dubcon Elements

His appetite is an arsenal all on its own.

It’s always been bigger than him, barrel-chested. All consuming. It’s the reason that John is where he is today, always chasing down something larger than himself. Greedy for what he can’t have. Ambitious to a fault. Promotions and titles and commendations and accolades; they’re all wrapped up in his psychology, into whatever it is about him that wants without end. Without satisfaction.

It’s likely why he ends up being referred to an endocrinologist specializing in hormone disorders in alphas when an overproduction of androstenone turns his ruts violent. Over the years, they’ve been steadily getting worse, even with a partner to help see him through the worst of it, the overproduction of hormones making him a little too mindless, a little too frenzied.

“It’s not especially common for men your age, if I can be frank,” the doctor tells him, flipping through his chart. “Not uncommon, but low enough that I want to send you for a couple tests just to be safe. You’re still unmated?”

John nods. “That’s right.”

It’s not that the option hasn’t ever presented itself, but the timing has never felt right. Even marriage hadn’t sweetened the deal, and maybe that’s why he’s just north of forty-five and already divorced. The fault lies with him alone; he’s man enough to admit that. Maybe if he’d been more attentive, less likely to disappear for months at a time; if he’d swallowed his reluctance and just bit his omega instead of dragging his feet through his marriage like a prisoner marching to his own doom—maybe things might be different.

“Any plans to change that?”

“‘Fraid not.”

The truth of the matter is that, though he’s waited a lifetime for that special someone to cross his path, no one has ever come close to smelling right. Even his ex-wife had only come so close—good enough to turn his head, but not enough to keep him. Or maybe he hadn’t been enough to keep her. These days, it’s hard to say which feels more like the truth.

Sometimes John thinks that it’s simply not in the cards for him. That for whatever reason, destiny or God or the universe or whatever force that decides the fate of all things, has deemed him unfit for the other half of his soul.

It’s just that it’s been—

It’s been a long time without anyone to call his own.

The doctor scribbles something down in John’s chart. “Alright.”

With his rut coming up in just a few days, the timing couldn’t be better. It sizzles like a low grade fever under his skin. He works up a sweat more easily, even a couple flights of stairs leaving the pits of his shirt dark and damp. There’s a little extra padding around his midsection, a bit more bulk on his arms and thighs; his beard a little thicker than usual, forcing him to trim it twice a day to keep it from growing out of control. Even though it happens every year, it sneaks up on him, the added mass making him a bit lethargic in the weeks before his rut.

“We won’t have the results in time for your next scheduled rut, but I’d recommend asking a trusted partner to help you out. And wear protection. We have extra mouth guards and other paraphernalia if you need anything.”

John holds up a hand when the doctor goes to open a drawer. “I’ve got plenty at home. Appreciate the advice though. Any medication I should be taking?”

“I don’t want to start you on anything this close to your rut, but maybe after. I’ll have the front desk set up a follow up appointment for you for two weeks from now.”

He nods, making a mental note.

There are a couple girls he could call up on short notice, but the thought sits like a dull weight in his chest. The decades of casual heats and ruts have left him with little appetite for that sort of thing these days. What he wants—craves really, needs really—is something permanent, something meaningful. John’s been around the block enough to know that he’s looking for something more.

He’s had good ruts and bad ruts. Ruts spent in the warm embrace of another, filling up a soft, wet hole again and again until his spend leaked down their thighs, lost in a daze of pheromones and heat-slick. Ruts spent entombed in his own frustrated lust, mindlessly rutting into a cum-filled fleshlight to slake a thirst that never ebbs, only flows and rushes over the guardrails, dragging him further under.

This one might end up falling into the latter category.

“Right, well, thanks for stopping by, John. You have a good rest of your day, alright?”

“Same to you.”

His nostrils burn the second he walks back into the main corridor, which is teeming with activity, children climbing over their parents’ laps and people still waiting to see a doctor slumped over in their chairs. Two interns wheel a bed down the hall, forcing everyone to scoot to the side and cling to the wall to get out of the way. There’s always too many people in the hospital. Too many smells.

This close to his rut, everything reeks. Congealed sweat and antiseptic; plastic chairs that smell simultaneously of sick and Lysol wipes, confusing his nose. Stale body odour from those in the waiting room on their sixth hour of waiting on loved ones or on an available doctor. It’s a bludgeon to the senses, particularly when they’re more sensitive than usual.

An elevator takes him down to the first floor, which is even more chaotic than the one John was just on somehow. Patients and doctors spilling out of rooms, announcement after announcement blaring over the intercom, and always—always—the sharp scent of isopropyl, astringent against the inside of his nose.

“I don’t understand—did she leave?”

The voice catches him like a fish on a hook on his way towards the main entrance, beadhead soaring through the air and slipping under the surface of the water just as he’s angling to leave.

When John turns around, you’re standing by the front desk with your chin tucked into your chest. You make a pitiful sight like that, with your lips pursed and your eyebrows pinched, and you hold yourself almost delicately, hands gripping the edge of the desk to stabilize yourself.

He takes a deep inhale. Though admittedly he’s not close enough to get a good whiff, your scent is muted, likely dampened by the effects of several painkillers and the anesthetic still running through your system. The stench of pain is strong too, which accounts for the way you hold your body and move so gingerly, the brace on your arm a good indication.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. If she’s not here, she must have left. You could try calling her?” the nurse at the front desk says, almost apologetic. “We can’t let you leave without an escort to take you home.”

“Okay, um…” you whisper, and now your scent is pungent with panic, acerbic. “Let me call her and ask her to come back.”

The sound of your voice is stronger now that it’s had time to travel. Again he feels it pinch him like coming out of a dream.

It’s so unremarkable that John nearly carries on down the hall towards the entrance, nothing about the interaction sticking out.

Something keeps him rooted in place though. Intuition or a sixth sense or finely honed instincts. So instead of leaving, he turns around and walks right back to the front desk, stopping when he’s within arm’s length of you, eyes soaking up the sight of your tensed shoulders.

He doesn’t know the words are going to come out of his mouth until they do. “Lost your way home?”

When you turn your eyes up to look at him, he feels the breath get knocked out of him. Prettier than anything he’s ever seen, the lure at the end of a fishing line drawing him in.

And yet, for as pleasant as you smell, it’s nothing dissimilar to the countless omegas John has come across before. It evokes nothing primal—no deep-seated urge to sink his canines into a plump gland and bind you to him.

You simply smell nice.

It’s difficult to articulate the devastation that courses through him. He’d hoped against hope that it would happen, that someday he would turn a corner and his fated mate would be there, looking at him like what took you so long? But how long can a man be expected to wait? How many years of disappointment can he be expected to weather by himself, his hopes dashed repeatedly?

In less than a second, he makes a decision.

One too many times, he’s hoped for fate to intervene and reward him for his patience. It never has. That responsibility must fall on him.

There’s nothing new about trying to immanentize the eschaton, but John has faith in himself. If fate won’t do what must be done, then he will instead.

“Excuse me?” you ask. So polite.

“Heard you talking to the nurse about your ride home; sounds like you’re in a bit of a fix.”

“Yeah, I…um…” You seem torn on whether or not to keep up the conversation, likely finding his attention a bit intrusive, but gentility prevails in the end. Good. He was just starting to like you. “My friend was supposed to drive me home after surgery, but it looks like she might’ve bailed. She’s not answering my texts, but someone else said they saw her leave.”

“Sorry to hear that. Not fair, putting you in a spot like that.”

“I’m trying to give her the benefit of the doubt, but…uh…” You laugh, a touch derisively. “This is kind of screwing me over. I’m trying to get another friend to come pick me up, but it’s short notice and most people can’t just call out of work at the drop of a hat.”

There’s a vulnerable note in your voice almost masked by the touch of annoyance in your laugh but still plain for anyone attentive enough to hear. John is nothing but attentive.

“Don’t let her screw you over and get away with it,” he says, positioning himself on your side. “Short of someone dying, there’s no reason she should’ve left you on your own after an operation.”

“You’re probably right,” you murmur, too tired to put up a fight. “It just sucks. I wish she hadn’t told me yes in the first place—I could’ve asked someone else and given them more notice.”

“If you’re looking for a way home, I’d be happy to give you a lift.” John shrugs a shoulder when your lips open, the polite refusal already bubbling up your throat rebuffed by his next words. “I’m headed out now anyway. Just came to get some bloodwork done, nothing serious. Wouldn’t be an imposition at all.”

Your eyebrows pull together, teeth sinking into your bottom lip.

“I’m not sure if I should be accepting rides from strangers.”

There’s a teasing lilt there, but also an undercurrent that he’s become familiar with over the years. A tempered kind of caution. One that says the words with a smile but prepares to sprint the other way.

He smiles and holds out his hand. “I’m John.” When you take it, he knows he’s got you. “Not strangers anymore, are we?”

You answer that with a coy shake of your head, giving your name just as readily.

“So, how about it? Can I take you home?” John asks, repeating the invitation. His blood simmers when you take too long to answer.

“Ma’am,” the nurse suddenly interjects from the front desk, taking your attention away from him. It’s surprising how much that displeases him. “Have you gotten in touch with your friend yet or do we have to put you on the list for the drop-off service?”

John can see you warring with the options in your mind, eyes flitting between him and the nurse.

“Actually, I found a ride home. Can I sign out?”

“Mind if I ask what you were in for?”

The drive to your house is mostly uneventful. He plugs your address into the GPS and hits save when something outside the window catches your attention.

“It was just a little procedure.” His ensuing silence must make you nervous because you volunteer the reason for your stay after just a few short seconds. “Carpal tunnel release. My job involves a lot of typing, so I couldn’t keep putting it off; can’t wait to go back to living normally.”

He clocked the splint and the bandage around your hand and wrist when he approached you at the hospital, but it’s good to put a label on it. John makes a mental note to look up the post-op protocol for carpal tunnel surgery when the two of you get home. It’ll help him to better understand and address your needs in the coming days and weeks, and what he’ll need to watch out for when his rut finally sets in.

He’ll clue you in on all of that later when he’s had a chance to explain himself.

“Shame that your friend didn’t stick around to get you home. Probably still in a bit of pain, aren’t you?”

“Not yet. The painkillers they’ve got me on are really good.”

“Hm. I bet.”

You’re not that loopy despite being on painkillers though. More tired than anything.

“I probably could’ve planned this better. I didn’t even get groceries before leaving for surgery.”

“You want me to stop and pick you up a couple things?”

He can see you turn to look at him from the corner of his eye. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve got time. Do you know what you need?”

You rattle off the couple items that you need and John merges into the left lane while listening, heading towards the nearest grocery store.

He makes you stay in the car while he goes in to pick up a couple things, his number plugged into your phone in case you need him to rush back. The few items you rattle off aren’t sufficient enough for what you’ll need over the coming weeks, so John takes the liberty of purchasing a few extra things. Cured meats, fruit, a box of pastries for breakfast, and a couple frozen microwaveable meals. Baby wipes, lotion, and a multivitamin. All the essentials for a rut.

There are things back at his place that he’ll need for his rut, but he’ll ask Simon to pick those up whenever he has a chance. It’s why John gave him a spare key after all.

When he wheels the cart out of the store, he comes around by the back of the car, popping the trunk before you have a chance to see the sheer amount of bags in his cart. There will be a time later to talk you through what’s going to happen.

“Sorry if my list was complicated,” you apologize when he gets back into the front seat, the cart in the corral. It doesn’t change where things were already heading, but it makes him look at you a bit differently. There’s a sweetness to you, one he hadn’t noticed before.

He likes it though.

“Wasn’t complicated in the least,” John says, brushing off the apology. “Just took me a while to find everything. Didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

Your eyes crinkle when you smile. “I’m not in any hurry.”

John’s always liked docile things. Sweet, simpering things with nervous eyes and gentle demeanours.

Moreover—

what isn’t already tamed is his to break.

You’re a cagey thing as well though. At least, you get cagey when John gets out of the car and follows you up the front stairs on your porch instead of hovering a safe distance away. He keeps the subterfuge up by only carrying in the bags with the things you requested, leaving the rest in his car for now.

“I really appreciate all your help; I should be able to take it from here though,” you tell him at the door, the key still tucked in your hand. Your voice is infused with enough gratitude that a duller man might let it stroke their ego while you slipped inside and out of their grasp.

John smiles instead. “Wouldn’t be doing the right thing if I let you go without making sure you got to bed safe and sound. Open the door, sweetheart.”

He can see the hesitation on your face plain as day. Every instinct telling you not to let a man into your house, much less an alpha.

But inevitably you let him in.

Good girl.

The house is saturated with your scent. He has to take a deep inhale right off the bat, committing your scent to memory. Without the overwhelming stench of antiseptic and sickness from the hospital, your scent is cleaner, richer. Preserved in amber.

There’s something faint underlying your lived-in scent though. He can’t quite name it, but it sits on the tip of his tongue like a tune he’s heard before.

“Mind if I put these away for you?” John asks, lifting the grocery bags in his hands.

“Oh—yes, thank you. The kitchen’s that way.” You point towards the back of the house.

John carries the bags with just your groceries to the kitchen and unloads everything one by one into the fridge. The meager contents of your fridge speak to a frugal, solitary existence, and suddenly the faint smell permeating through your house has a name. Loneliness.

A man hasn’t been in here in quite some time, if ever. Every single inch of the house has been scrubbed with your scent, not a trace of any former occupant remaining. No roommate or close friend or boyfriend.

“Nice place you’ve got,” he comments when he walks back into the living room to find you fiddling around with the cushions on the couch, arranging them to make yourself a cozy spot to lie down.

You look up at the sound of his voice and smile, faintly flattered. “Thank you. I’ve only had it a year, but uh…I’ve been doing my best. Also—thanks again for driving me home. And stopping for groceries.” Your lips go round like you’ve remembered something. “I still have to pay you back by the way. Wait right here.”

“Let me go get the rest from the car first,” John says.

“There’s more?” you ask, surprised.

He nods. “I got you a couple extra things—on me. I hope that wasn’t too much of an overstep.”

You chew your lip but ultimately the uncertainty melts from your gaze the longer he stands there waiting for your approval. “…No, that’s…that’s fine. You didn’t have to, but thank you.”

His overstep is just a toe over the lip of the door, but it’s still a foot keeping the door from closing.

On his way back out to the car, John happens to glance down while passing the table in the entryway and finds, much to his delight, your phone resting casually beside the vanity tray. It sits there like you purposefully left it for him to take.

If not you, then fate.

With deft fingers practiced at lifting, he pockets your phone, and then heads back to the car for the rest of the groceries, whistling the whole way there and back.

You start to look at him a bit differently when he brings in the second round of groceries. The number of bags hanging from his forearms must strike you as odd, too many for what you asked him to pick up. John doesn’t bother making any excuses though.

He can see your trust wavering, pulled out from the water and left belly up in the air, gasping for breath. It wouldn’t be hard to fix it. It wouldn’t be hard to go about this the right way—leave you with your groceries and pain meds, tuck you into bed before seeing himself out, and then waiting a couple days to ask you out for coffee. To leave now would mend your trust entirely.

He considers it even, never one for turning down a potential strategy without considering its merit. But his alpha digs its heels in when he contemplates leaving, pushing every inch of its weight into rooting him in place.

It doesn’t want him to leave; and truth be told, John can’t bear the thought either.

The little trust you extended evaporates more and more as the minutes tick by and he shows no sign of leaving. You dance around it for a while, cautiously hopeful that he might be inadvertently overstaying his welcome, and John watches your descent into hopelessness from the corner of his eyes.

It’s only when he helps himself to a snack from the fridge and turns the television on that you break, sweat beading on your upper lip.

“John, I think maybe you s-should leave.”

The confidence you muster up to even just say that impresses him. It takes a lot out of you though, your body sagging when the words come out of your mouth, so much tension building up in your muscles that it literally weighs you down.

The hand with the remote drifts down to his side. “What do you mean, sweetheart?” John asks.

“Well, I’ve—I’ve got it from here.” You switch to a more diplomatic tone, likely wary of worsening the situation you’ve gotten yourself into. Aware that you’ve invited him into your house, that your safe space now has another resident. “I don’t need any more help.”

Though not as close to his rut as he will be in the coming days, the sentiment still makes him bristle. You don’t need any more help. Rich considering you let a strange alpha take you home not half an hour ago.

He places the remote down and advances on you briskly, all of a sudden, quick enough that you only notice when he’s right in front of you, surprise overriding your fight or flight response.

John cups the back of your neck with a big hand and tilts your head up until he can see the puffy, virgin mating gland sitting in the crook of your neck. Thumbs it too, ignoring the way your eyes go wide and horrified, and the way you try to wriggle out of his grasp until he tightens his hand around the nape of your neck.

“Of course you do, sweetheart. Can't have you wandering around like this—wrong person might try to take advantage.”

Fear makes your pupils dilate. It stinks too, the stench wafting off you. A bit of initial unpleasantness is expected though, and understandable. It’ll be a lot to help work you through the worst of it, but it’s nothing he hadn’t already internally committed to.

“You’re—you’re not going to leave?”

John shakes his head and smiles.

Smart girl that you are, you don’t jump to screaming and shouting. Not that the urge isn’t there building in your chest, but you know the odds are stacked against you. You’ve already let him in.

Your breathing picks up though, and your lip trembles. An anxious swallow follows, then another, throat too dry for you to speak.

“Why?”

“C’mere, sweetheart.” John takes you by the hand, careful to avoid the bandaged one, and pulls you to the couch, where he takes a seat. “We can only have a frank conversation about this if you promise to be polite and wait your turn to speak. Clear?”

Your lips twitch with displeasure but you nod.

“My rut’s coming up in a week.” He catches you before you spring back up to your feet, yanking you back down by your arm. “No, don’t try to run; this is happening, love. My rut’s coming up and I’m staying here for it, okay?”

“I can stay someplace else,” you offer weakly, voice breaking.

His smile verges on pitying. “No, sweetheart. You’re staying here with me for it.”

Your scent goes sour. Ammonium sulfide and allicin. His nose would wrinkle if he’d been expecting anything less than your reaction, but you conform, as always, beautifully to his expectations.

“You can’t…make me go through a rut with you.” Your throat constricts around the word rut.

“Yes, I can,” he says simply because that’s what it is. Simple.

In a world of people riddled with guilt complexes and victim mentalities, he stands alone. He has no qualms about taking what’s owed to him, or with shaping the world according to the version of it that lives in his head. That’s how history is made.

He can’t judge others for their nature the same way he can’t fault himself for his.

“I thought you said you were in the army.”

“I did.”

“Isn’t this…—this is against the law then, isn’t it?”

“You’re thinking of American law, sweetheart.” He doesn’t bring up any similar protection against forced billeting enshrined in English law. Best to not get lost in the weeds.

There’s a tick in your eyes that betrays you. John readies himself for a chase when your eyes glance over his shoulders towards the door, but you discard that plan as quickly as it entered your brain. Weighing the odds and finding them not in your favour.

“I have friends,” you blurt out. “Family. People check up on me.”

“That’s fine, love. When they do, you’re gonna tell them that you’re taking a week off to rest and you don’t want anyone coming by in the meantime.” When you don’t respond, clearly thinking something different, irritation flickers in his chest. “Wanna know why you’re going to do that?”

“…Why?”

“‘Cause you know this could go one of two ways. We could either have a nice time together and I’ll be on my way afterwards…or I could bite that little mating gland of yours now and we can take that option off the table.”

There’s no point in telling you that he’s already made up his mind about that part. The allure of hope is too tempting; he has to give you something to latch onto.

“Do we understand each other?” he asks.

Your initial hesitation tells him all he needs to know. This won’t be an easy conquest or a city handed over to spare its citizens pain—you won’t hesitate to put up a fight.

“Okay.”

John makes himself at home like a fox laying claim to a rabbit’s burrow.

Siege warfare. A lifetime in the military has made him well versed in poliorcetics. He knows of how the Romans once conquered the city of Fidene by launching false attacks from four different directions at four different times before breaching the city through a long tunnel that passed under its walls, and how Alexander captured the city of Tyre by building a kilometer-long causeway and besieging it for seven months.

Your phone was the first thing to go, confiscated lest you got any funny ideas about calling someone to rescue you. Not that you need rescuing; in the end, you’ll see that this was in your best interests too. The next thing to do is your laptop, tucked away out of reach until you’ve proved yourself to be trustworthy.

He cuts off all trade routes and replaces them with his own, Simon showing up at the door the following morning with supplies. When you spot a man at the door, you must think saviour before foe, because you pound on the window facing the porch. At least John had the foresight to lock you out of the foyer before he opened the front door.

Simon cocks an eyebrow. “Noisy mouse, ain’t she?”

He shrugs. “She’ll learn. You got everything I asked for?”

“Check ‘n tell me if I missed anything. I ��aven’t got time to get anything else today, but I can come back tomorrow.”

“Good man, Simon. Give me a minute, alright, lad?”

John gives the bag a cursory check, but just as he thought, Simon didn’t miss anything. He never does.

Simon helps him install an electronic lock on the front door from the inside before heading off to work and John spends the next ten minutes programming it while you stare through the foyer door helplessly. The back door gets the same treatment later on, effectively rendering you a prisoner in your own house.

Then he takes stock of the property.

You’ve made yourself a perfectly respectable home. It has all the charm of a simple family home, nothing like his ancestral estate on the Welsh border; there’s something real here, something designed with comfort in mind. You’ll have to live with summering there and wintering here in the city, but he won’t ask you to abandon the life you’ve made for yourself here. The stove’s at least thirty years old—one of those old brands made to last, likely passed down from a family member or bought secondhand.

But John takes stock of the layout of the house because the longer he’s there, the more his instincts tingle.

As well-decorated and maintained as your house is, it doesn’t feel ready for a rut. Too many hard edges and wide open spaces. Before humans became accustomed to single domiciles, instinct would’ve made them search far and wide for a burrow or cave comfortable enough to ride out their cycle.

Like nest building for omegas, den making is inherent to alphas. It’s programmed in his DNA. Even out in the wild, he’d know how to make one—know what materials to look for in the absence of soft pillows and sheets—and feel that same urge to make a space suitable for his mate.

Everything in its right place.

He starts by pulling the mattress off the bed frame and dragging it to the corner of the room. It makes your room feel like more of a den, a place to hunker down in, and that’s only reinforced when John pulls out every blanket and pillow from your linen closet and drapes them over the mattress. You don’t have blackout curtains, but he solves that by pinning a few sheets up on your blinds until barely any light passes through.

Preparing for a rut is a little like preparing for a storm. One has to batten down the hatches to ready themselves for the worst of it. He installs locks on the cutlery drawers and stows the knife block away in the highest cabinet, locking that as well. He thinks of the worst case scenarios and plans accordingly.

You don’t seem to appreciate his efforts though.

“Why are you—” you start and then abruptly stop, swallowing. “Please stop rearranging the furniture.”

John pauses, putting the couch down gently so as not to damage the floorboards or upset you with any sudden noise.

“Well, love, I’m not about to let you do all the backbreaking work, now am I?”

That response doesn’t seem to satisfy you, expression still twisted into a scowl. “Neither of us has to do any work. Why are you moving things around in the first place?”

“You really don’t get how these things are done, do you?”

Embarrassment makes you snappy. “No, and I don’t have to because it’s my fucking house either way. Stop moving my furniture.”

His eyes go half-lidded. Anger courses through his veins like floating down a lazy river. John has never liked being told what to do—it’s a personality quirk that’s been both a hindrance and a help to his career, but in his love life, he’s never allowed that sort of thing to fly. The dissolution of his first marriage speaks for itself.

He lumbers around the couch towards you and you flinch, walking backwards in the opposite direction. He’s quick despite his size though, hand reaching up and cupping the back of your neck before you hit the wall behind you, and all you can do is stare up at him towering over you nervously.

“Careful, sweetheart,” John murmurs, holding you firmly enough by the back of your neck that you whimper, only one hand able to press against his chest in an effort to push him away. The other you cradle limply against your chest. “Keep running your mouth like that and I might need to find a better way to put it to use. Ever had your mouth knotted?”

Nothing headier than the idea of pushing to the back of his omega’s throat and letting his knot expand until it’s trapped behind your teeth, keeping you locked on his cock until it’s softened enough to pull out.

He stores the idea away for later. It wouldn’t do to knot your mouth for the first time during his rut when he doesn’t have the wherewithal to take it slow and keep you centred, but it’s an idea he’ll have to return to at a later date. When he has time to sit you on his lap and comfort you after something so intense instead of thinking only of his own urges.

Rut isn’t a completely mindless state of being. Even in the thrall of his rut, John will still have enough cognizance to make somewhat informed decisions. It would be dangerous if alphas were susceptible to any influence during such a vulnerable period. Anyone could take advantage of someone in that state.

There are some things that he doesn’t have complete control over. The closer John gets to the onset of his rut, the stronger the urge to scent his territory gets.

It starts off relatively innocuous. He touches things more. Grips the doorframe when he enters a room and brushes against the wall when he turns a corner. Anything to leave a trace of his scent behind. But as the days progress and the urge to mark what’s his grows to monstrous proportions, the manner in which he chooses to do so shifts in kind.

“Did you piss in the shower?” you seethe, fists clenched when you storm into the living room where John is seated at the couch watching Casablanca in black and white.

He grunts. Nods.

“You could’ve turned the water on to rinse it out,” you hiss. “Or used the toilet.”

“Not the point,” John says.

“There was a point to pissing in my shower?”

“Never spent a rut with anyone, have you?” That pleases the lazy beast inside of him, but he’s not in any mood to explain himself. That’s what books are for. He prefers to teach through example.

“What does it matter? That still doesn’t mean you can piss in my shower.”

He takes a swig from the bottle in his hand. “Then you won’t wanna go around the side of the house.”

The screech gets all tangled up at the back of your throat, only the memory from the last time you sassed him staying your tongue. John can only smile to himself as you storm out of the room.

For all your resistance, he knows you’re not entirely immune to his presence, same as how he can’t shake the gnawing need to bury himself in you as deep as he can get. He’s a prime specimen of alpha—all thick muscle and dark tufts of hair, belly spilling over the top of his jeans and new notch on his belt from the mass he’s tacked on the weeks leading up to his rut. He’s been around the block enough to know his appeal.

It’s why John doesn’t worry when you hiss and spit. Views the fuss you put up akin to foreplay, a little rough-housing before the situation gets serious.

There are tells after all. It’s the way you look at him when you think he’s not paying attention. Furtive glances from the corners of your eyes. Shifting your hips in your chair when he sits across from you at meal times and spreads his legs wide, knocking his knees against yours. Eyes going hazy and lingering on the bulging muscles of his arms when you watch him move the furniture around in your house.

He thinks sometimes about dragging you into bed early. Getting it out of the way now and getting you used to his touch before his rut sets in. It would be a kindness, in a way.

But he relishes getting to see you squirm, the pseudo-heat sinking in day by day and making you more persuasive, less likely to bolt when your hand finally heals. Your instincts will do half the work for him. All he has to do is wait.

Besides, the greater the effort, the sweeter the reward.

Midway through the week, when his rut is close enough to be a thorn in his side but not close enough to have earned him the right to refuse to come in, Laswell has him come in for some inane reason.

John still doesn’t trust you enough to leave you alone though, so he calls Simon and asks him to babysit you for a couple hours. Not a half hour later, the man’s on his doorstep, hands by his sides and expression deadpan. Even out of the service, he’s still a good soldier.

It’s what makes Simon his favourite sometimes, though he’d never tell a soul. John knows it’s not right to play favourites with his men, but in the privacy of his own mind, he can face reality.

“I won’t be gone long, sweetheart, but Simon’s gonna watch you while I’m out. You gonna be on your best behaviour for him?”

Your eyes cut to Simon and they look dangerous. Calculating. His lips almost twitch in amusement under his mustache.

“Sure,” you say instead of arguing. It’s more of a red flag than if you had.

The five hours he spends away from you are excruciating, and his temper suffers for it. These days, at his own insistence he’s been relegated to something of a desk job, but that still comes with its fair share of responsibility. There are certain strategic meetings that he can’t simply decline to attend, and though the hours pass by fast enough, he can still feel your presence like an itch at the back of his head that he can’t seem to scratch.

When he gets home, the itch finally dissipates.

“How was she?” John asks.

“Biter.” Simon holds up a forearm where your bite mark sits livid red against his pale skin. The imprint is deep, nearly piercing right through flesh near the canines.

John whistles. “She did a number on you.”

Simon shrugs, unbothered. “Left the door unlocked and she tried to run. Fast on her feet.” Never did have his head on straight, that one. John feels no pity for the omega that’ll be his one day, but he has some sympathy.

He won’t discipline you just yet. That’ll be a project for another day—after you’re mated and hitched—and he can take his time training you. For now it’s enough that you’re still tucked away inside the den, not quick enough to outrun his lieutenant.

Simon leaves with a few crisp bills folded in his back pocket and John claps his shoulder on the way out.

The time is coming though. Every day pulls the sun thick off the horizon, the water dragging back from the shore. Soon, there will be a wave.

John knows his rut has started when he wakes up one morning as grumpy as a bear fresh out of hibernation.

The first thing he hears is the sound of his stomach growling. Food. His first conscious thought. His stomach aches something fierce, like he hasn’t eaten in quite some time, even though John vaguely recalls eating supper the night before (though for the life of him he can’t remember what).

His mind processes all of the information around him slowly and sluggishly, not in a hurry to make sense of anything. His vision still works perfectly fine, but his brain takes awhile to register what his eyes are seeing. Only base impulses make any sense. He sniffs the air to help guide him towards a food source.

Something warm-smelling comes slinking out of the bathroom quietly. His head snaps in its direction and it freezes in its tracks. Prey.

He sniffs again. No, not prey. Something different.

Standing up feels strange, like he’s out of his body. It’s too big somehow. Heavier than he remembers it being. The thing trembling by the doorway doesn’t move as he lumbers over, smart enough to know not to run. He wouldn’t be able to stop himself from chasing it down if it tried to get away, prey or not.

It flinches when he drops his head, the bridge of his nose brushing against its temple. His scent’s all over this one. He must have come or pissed on it at one point, marking it as his own. His scent clings to its skin, buried deeper than the epidermis.

It shifts to one foot.

“Don’t…move…” he growls, tensing up. It tenses up too, breathing out short, shaky breaths.

“J-John?” it says, voice like a bell in his head. It knows his name.

“Hungry,” he says instead of asking how it knows who he is.

“I…I can make you breakfast.”

He herds it away from the bathroom door instead of answering, staring it down as it walks backwards down the hall and into the room that smells strongest of food.

The house smells of him only vaguely. It smells mainly of the thing he herds into the kitchen, warm and spicy like cinnamon or cloves. There’s a faint trace of his scent though, as if he’s been here for enough time that it isn’t wholly foreign. His hackles raise at the thought of not being in his own territory though.

But this must also be his. If you’re his, then your den must, in turn, belong to him.

You scurry around the kitchen gathering all of the ingredients for breakfast while he stares from his chair, eyes tracking your every move. Part of him waits for you to try and bolt, on edge when you open the fridge and the sound makes his ears twitch. His muscles sit bunched under his skin, ready to pounce and chase.

When you put the plate down in front of him, you make as if to take a step back, clearly meaning to give him some space. That won’t do. A firm hand on your forearm rectifies that; he pulls you down onto his lap before you’ve had a chance to register what’s happening.

“Whoa,” you gasp, all turned around.

The first piece of bacon he tries to pick up slips from his fingers. The next one he manages to pick up goes straight to your lips. “Eat.”

“I’m not—”

“Eat.”

Your cheeks bulge around the mouthful of bacon and eggs when he lifts another bite to your mouth. You chew quickly, swallowing before it’s fully chewed, nervous that his loose hold on his temper might slip. Only after you’ve had a couple filling bites does John allow himself to eat as well.

Some of his sense of self comes back with time. The pieces start coming back together. Your name, where he is, what you’re doing here. It comes back as his belly fills.

His nature doesn’t allow him to feel pity, but you should at least know what’s ahead of you.

“It’s starting today,” he tells you, breaking the silence. You go stiff in his arms and then swallow the mouthful of food you’d been chewing.

“Today?” you repeat, your voice slightly hoarse.

“Rut.”

The word hangs in the air between him and you. John can almost hear your heart start to double in rhythm.

You nod and whisper, “Okay.”

The thing behind his eyes stares you down. It watches you chew and swallow your food until there’s nothing left on the plate, until your lips are tacky with grease and you have to suck your teeth to dislodge the trapped bits.

With his belly full, other needs take precedence.

It starts with him pressing his nose to the crown of your head, gliding it down to your temple and sucking in lungfuls of your scent the whole way, imbibing your scent. Spicy and musky; still pungent with sweat from the night before since you haven’t had a chance to shower yet, nothing to distract from your true scent. It makes his cock throb against his thigh.

He drags his nose down your temple to your cheek, nuzzling against the side of your head. Rumbling when you go still, turning your head away from him when he tries to go for your lips, denying him again.

It agitates him.

“Kiss me,” John growls. Demanding, not asking.

He pinches your cheeks with his grip and twists your head towards him. The little resistance you offer flickers briefly before being snuffed out when he slots his lips against yours.

What starts soft turns feverish in a matter of moments. Lips gliding and tongues twisting; the bridge of his nose pressed uncomfortably against yours, the whole kiss a mess of ache and teeth and hungry, greedy need. Spittle drips down your chin and you whine into his mouth when his beard scratches at the sensitive skin around your mouth.

Need prickles at the base of his spine. For days now, he’s kept his hunger contained when all it wanted was to run rampant. He’s been so good to you—given you days to ready yourself for what was inevitably to come. He never tried to conceal the reason behind his presence in your house.

And now it’s all coming to a head.

John slides you off his lap and down onto the floor under the table, planting his feet on the ground and lifting his hips to pull his sweats down, letting his cock flop out against his belly, heavy with blood.

“John, do I have to…?” you whimper, trailing off like even saying it out loud might jinx you.

“Want your mouth on my knot,” he says bluntly.

Your eyes are sparkly with tears when he looks down, big and wide and helpless and it somehow just makes him even harder. When you sniffle, a bead of precum dribbles down his shaft.

“Get it nice and wet,” John grunts, pushing your face into his dick. “It’s going inside you soon enough.”

“Please—” you whisper.

“It can go in dry too,” he warns.

Your tongue pokes out of your mouth reluctantly, face all scrunched up and petulant, but eventually you do as you’re told. Shy, kittenish licks around the base of his cock, right over his knot. Lazy pleasure ripples up his spine, each drag of your tongue over his soft knot making his vision go blurry and his breath get heavier. Practically panting by the time you kiss a particularly sensitive spot on the underside of his knot.

“My hand’s getting tired, sweetheart—mind taking over?”

He doesn’t wait for you to answer, letting go of his cock so that it droops, batting your nose on the way down. The affronted look on your face nearly makes him snort.

Your fingers curl around his cock, lifting it up. It looks brutish in your hand, ruddy and thick, precum leaking from the flushed head and dripping onto your head. If he were a decent man, he’d peel your hand off his cock and replace it with his own, get himself off with a rough, dirty tug instead of leaving that responsibility to you. Spoil you instead with gentle love making, all sweet talk and slow thrusts, decadent, languid kisses pulling your attention away from where it hurts.

But John isn’t a decent man. Not even a good man.

He lets you lick and kiss it all over until his knot is wet with spit. Every so often your teeth graze his knot, forcing a violent shudder up his spine, and he snarls down at you, teeth bared to get the message across. Don’t push too far.

He’s indulgent to a point.

“Suck it too,” he rasps. The hand on the back of your head tightens, angling your face until your lips are stretched around his rapidly filling knot and you have no choice but to gently suck the puffed skin of his knot, your nose pressed against the thatch of hair at the base of his cock.

His cock aches the longer you kneel there mouthing at his knot. It’d be nice to paint your face with cum—your tongue to start and then your cheeks and chin. A little on your forehead too just to mark you as his. He’s close enough to the edge that it wouldn’t take more than a few well-placed sucks, but his knot is already big enough. Any more and he won’t be able to fit it in you at all, at least not for another hour or so.

He clamps his hand around the back of your neck and pulls you off, a string of spit still connecting your lips to his knot. “That’s enough.”

You frown, bottom lip jutting out. “You didn’t like it?”

That soothes the tension in his shoulders a little, makes his lips twitch under his mustache.

“‘Course I liked it, sweetheart.” The weeping tip of his cock is enough evidence of that.

“Why—why’d you stop me then?”

“I’m gonna come soon, honey, and I’d like the first time to be inside you.”

Your eyes go wide. “Oh.”

It’s a challenge getting you onto your hands and knees after that, divesting you of your clothes too. He very nearly has to wrestle you down to the ground, but exerting even the slightest amount of force makes you instantly acquiesce, likely realizing that you won’t stand a chance fighting him. He shushes you when you choke back a sob, kissing the back of your neck soothingly.

At least, he hopes it soothes you.

John runs a hand over your rump and between your legs, finding your center damp and hot to the touch.

“Well, that’s a bit more inviting,” he says approvingly. “Been wet this whole time, sweetheart?”

You shake your head desperately, shoulders hitching with your quiet sobs. When he dips two fingers into your hole though, it’s soaked. Squelches when he pulls his fingers out and thrusts them back in.

If he didn’t have more pressing concerns, he’d be tempted to turn over onto his back and tug you down onto his face. That thought lingers for a moment and then takes root.

“Hold on, love—gotta do this first.”

The mattress springs back when he drops down onto his back. Your back arches when John grabs you by the hips and drags you over his mouth, your knees planted on either side of his head, one higher up than the other from being dragged down the bed.

“Wait, you never said—”

The crack across your ass interrupts you. He flexes his hand and then palms that same ass cheek, rubbing over the hurt. If you swear at him, it doesn’t register because his eyes are locked on the slice of heaven between your thighs, transfixed by your dew-slicked lips parting for his gaze.

“That’s better,” John murmurs, then digs his fingers into your hips and pulls you down onto his face.

The smell of your sex is drugging, mind-numbing. Musky and warm and fragrant. The hood of your clit is drawn back to expose the swollen bud and it calls to his tongue, a call which he answers in kind, gliding the flat of his tongue over it and smiling to himself when it twitches.

It satisfies every carnal urge breathing fire and brimstone in the back of his mind. His tongue saws up the seam of your cunt, parting the soft, delicate petals before drawing one into his mouth, humming around the mouthful. The vibrations must feel good because your whole body jolts in his arms.

When he sucks your clit into his mouth, you nearly wrench yourself right off his face, hands clawing at the bedsheets. Firm hands dig into the flesh of your backside and pull you back down though.

“Mm…you gonna cum, sweetheart?” he rumbles into your pussy, his words muffled.

“I—I’m gonna—oh…oh…—”

Music to his ears. He can tell it’s right around the corner when your breathing goes staccato and your thighs squeeze around his head, forcing him to move one of his hands to keep your legs spread. He can feel your hole clench around his tongue, hips jerking sharply.

He loves watching a pretty girl come. Loves feeling it on his tongue even more. It doesn’t take much to work you up to it either, likely on a hair trigger since he bolted the doors to your house shut and made himself at home.

Your upper body collapses onto the bed when you come, hips undulating over his tongue subconsciously, like you can’t help but chase your release. And who is he to deny you when you’ve been such a sweet girl?

John scoots down the bed to slide out from under you and sits up, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing your juices from his mouth to his cheek, drops clinging to the bristles of his beard. Trapped there, he’ll smell it for days.

Good. Better for him if he can.

Taking his place behind you again, he reaches down between his legs and lines his cock up with one hand, the other holding your hip steady before pressing in one inch at a time, a smooth, slow glide to the halfway mark. You squeeze him like a vice, pussy all clenched up like a fist, too wound up and stressed to relax enough to take him to the root. Even coming has barely loosened you up.

He topples over you until his chest is pressed to your back. The skin on your back is sticky with sweat, a tremor running through you and making you shake.

“Easy, sweetheart,” John murmurs into the side of your head, planting a kiss there for good measure. The skin over your knuckles pulls tight when you fist the sheet beneath you. “Can you relax for me?”

“N-no?” It’s said like a question, like you’re looking to him for reassurance, like you need your alpha to help you relax, to loosen you up.

It’s why he feels no guilt for the situation that you’re in. Trapped under your alpha, about to take his dick to the root. What would you have done if he hadn’t been around to take you home? Any matter of tragedy could have befallen you.

“I’ve got you.” Talking both to you and himself.

There’s nowhere for you to go but further up the bed when John forces the rest of his cock into you, gaining more ground with every thrust. That’s how soldiers make strides in new land, conquering new territory with every advance. Rigor and momentum.

The flesh of your ass ripples with every thrust, hips clapping against your cheeks. He drives into you with a single minded intensity, grunting through each thrust. Reason falls to the wayside. All that matters is knotting and breeding the omega under him.

Your cries echo through the bedroom in bright, clean bursts.

He feels virile, potent; it’s his alpha running hot in his veins and his body thick with muscle and the way you all but disappear underneath him, just a sweet and soft omega for him to use and breed. Back arched just enough to let him sink in as deep as he can get.

“John—” you wheeze. “T-too deep. It’s—unf, it’s, ah…it’s too deep.”

“Full, honey?” he grunts.

“Y-yeah,” you respond, whimpering through the word.

“I know, baby,” he says consolingly, contradicting his own sympathetic tone when his next stroke nudges against the seal of your womb. “Not very nice of me, is it?”

“Noooo,” you moan.

“Yeah, not very nice.” His laugh is breathless, mean. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

Coherency is a luxury that slips from his fingers as quickly as it came. Like a shroud falling over him, it cuts him off from everything but what he touches. Even your mating gland is forgotten in his fervour, its siren song going mute against the backdrop of the blood pounding in his ears.

His knot pops quick. Half a dozen more thrusts in and he feels it thicken and swell until he suddenly can’t pull out. It punches the breath out of him, making him bear down on you, trapping you both on his knot and under his weight.

“Oh—oh—oh—” you gasp, overwhelmed.

He hooks his chin over your shoulder and plants his hands on top of yours, twining your fingers together, an intimacy so staggering that he can feel it thrum through your body, your frame trembling underneath him.

Knot thoroughly plugged inside of you, he can only grind his hips forward, nudging that same tender spot over and over until your pussy draws up nice and tight around him, dragged unwillingly to another orgasm. He sees stars when your channel squeezes around his cock, milking him for all he’s worth.

Overwhelmed, your heart rate spikes and your scent intensifies, permeating the room and lodging itself into the deepest recesses of his being. Your hands claw up the mattress, ripping the sheet off the left corner, and you yelp when you realize that you can’t pull off his knot, truly trapped.

John’s hindbrain interprets your squirming as trying to get away and he reacts instinctively, forcing you down to the mattress until your arms collapse under you and pinning you there with his body.

“Where d’ya think you’re going?” he growls, mouth pressed to your ear.

You shudder, walls tensing up around his knot and making him spurt another wad of cum into you.

“Oh god,” you whisper, grunting softly when he forces more of his weight onto you, the mattress depressing under your combined weight.

Sticky, tacky skin. Laboured breaths. Dark. Tunnel vision. Everything narrows to a single point. In the crook of your neck, your mating gland pulses. He presses his tongue to your neck and drags it through a trail of salty sweat.

The vice grip around his knot has him swimming in and out of consciousness, vicious instincts clawing up his throat. It thins the barrier between him and his alpha, one no longer distinct from the other.

“Are you—are you going to bite me?” you ask through panted breaths.

His alpha considers it. That’s what he is now, at least. Its consciousness has usurped his, or moulded with his, or risen to the ranks of human. It tilts its head through him though, two beasts sharing a body and an appetite.

It runs its tongue over its lips. He does the same.

“Not yet.”

Voracious.

No matter how many times he cums or makes you cum, it’s never enough.

He still has to rest though. Much to his consternation, the body demands it, so he falls asleep with you resting against his chest or under the crook of his arm with your fist curled over his belly, and wakes to the damp clutch of your centre pressed against his thigh from when you rolled over in the middle of the night. Then wakes you up by grinding your hips down against the hard line of his thigh, sweet talking you through an orgasm that leaves you thick-tongued and cross-eyed.

Days pass that way. Blunt fingers; rake of tongue. Skimming his mouth over the valley of your tits and down the channel between your legs, gorging himself on the slick dripping from your pulsing hole. Scraped a bit raw from his beard, so he’s careful now; spreads your folds with his fingers before thrusting his tongue all the way in.

He comes back to himself every now and then, some memories easier to recall than others:

Your cheek smushed against the shower wall, hands clawing at the tile while he drives into you from behind, rivulets of water running down your body.

The feeling of your throat flexing around his shaft, your eyes watering when your nose nearly grazes his pubes. Pulling you off his cock to let you breathe and leaning down to press his forehead to yours.

Pinching your cheeks to open your mouth after cumming in order to watch it melt on your tongue.

Indulging in kisses messier than sex itself, lips going swollen and numb, eyes so masted that they’re barely even open. Each glide of your lips liquid and svelte.

Always wanting more and more and more.

Heavy footsteps following you into the kitchen as you scurry around looking for something to eat, wary glances thrown over your shoulder to keep track of him. Always keeping him in your line of sight. Smart girl; clever enough to know not to turn your back to a predator.

Occasionally, he loses track of you as a person again, thinking of you like an extension of himself instead. Your name disappears into the recesses of his mind, replaced by concepts like omega, mine, pup—

You cover his mouth with your hands to muffle his words and he bites your fingers one by one until you pull them away.

And it keeps—

going and going and going and going

—thoughts shaking loose from his head, one by one; hours disappearing into thin air, nothing real except the omega on the end of his knot. When it whimpers, his chest puffs out and his breathing goes laboured, his only concrete thought to fill it with more of his cum, make sure that it takes.

It will, if John gets his way.

And he always does.

Another season over, this one different from the rest.

You’re still in bed when he surfaces from his rut, low back cracking and popping when he sits up. His muscles will ache for days after this, the aftermath of any good rut lingering in the body longer than the rut itself.

John scrubs a hand down his face and cracks his jaw open for a good yawn, stretching everything out. When he looks down by his side, he finds you curled into yourself, cheek resting against the back of your hand, sleeping soundly.

You’re so tuckered out that your toes don’t twitch even when he drags his finger down the line of your back, stopping at your sacrum. The slope of your ass underneath the bed sheet is tempting, inviting him to part your legs and settle himself between them again, but he’s put you through enough over the past few days.

Later, he’ll want to check between your legs and see how much of his cum is still painted between your thighs. Either way, he’ll have to run you a bath with Epsom salt for you to soak in.

That’ll have to wait until after breakfast though.

Right on cue though, his stomach growls. No amount of preparation for a rut is ever enough—not once has he ever come out of one feeling refreshed. It’s always aching joints and empty stomachs and bruises where bruises usually shouldn’t be. His age only makes it all the more noticeable.

His future ruts won’t always be this way. Not when his hormones are tempered by his omega’s corresponding heat. In the future, proximity and cohabitation will align your heat and his rut cycles, making the whole ordeal far more pleasant. One to stabilize the other. You’ll put in for leave at the same time and slip into it quietly, like slipping into a gentle, welcoming stream.

That’s a thought for another time though. For now, John pulls himself out of bed and saunters towards the bathroom, intent on running a quick shower before fixing himself something to eat.

He takes a brisk shower under cold water, scrubbing his chest and letting the soap run down his legs for no longer than ten minutes before shutting off the water. It’s a shame that it washes your scent off of him, but he’ll rectify that later when you’re up.

The smell of bacon frying in the pan permeates the kitchen, the sound of it as emblematic of morning time as birds singing in the trees or the soft sound of the radio on in another room. A cool breeze spills in through the cracked open window.

It’s nearly time, but not quite.

He waited because he wanted this to be deliberate. Intentional, as everything he does always is.

It wouldn’t have been as meaningful in the throes of his rut. Easily chalked up to instinct or error, rather than seen as intended from the very beginning.

An hour or so later, you start to stir. Though his instincts aren’t as sharp as they were in the midst of his rut, he can still hear the bed creak in the other room.

The bedroom is bathed in light when he returns. In the center of the bed, you’ve turned over onto your back, the light cascading over you making you look almost angelic. His heart throbs in his chest.

One day, he might even love you.

“You awake?” John asks, resting his knee against the edge of the bed and slowly climbing over you. When you blink a couple times and nod, he leans down to draw you into a slow, drugging kiss.

The taste of your mouth is familiar now; he’s tasted it so many times over the past few days that it’s etched into his memory now.

“Hm? Yeah,” you sigh, then meet his eyes. You must register something there because you pause, squinting up at him. “Are you… Is it over?”

John nods. It’s easier to just say yes than qualify that the rut hormones haven’t fully left his system yet, still present though in much smaller quantities. He’ll still be quick to anger for the next few days, in no shape to return to work just yet, but eventually his system will flush those lingering traces of rut and he’ll be back to his normal self.

You smile, relieved. “Okay…that's uh, that’s good. Do you…do you mind if I rest a bit longer before I leave?”

“‘Course, sweetheart.”

He palms the side of your face, brushing the wispy baby hairs out of the way. All his life and he’s never seen something prettier than you.

“In fact,” John murmurs, canines aching when he runs his tongue over them. “You can stay as long as you’d like.”

You must catch the double meaning in his words because your eyes go sharp. “Huh?”

His eyes flicker down to your neck and it hits you like a battering ram.

It’s too late though. He gathers your wrists in his palm when you try to bat at his face, immediately going into struggle mode, and pins them down over your head with ease. With his other hand, he holds you by the neck and turns your head to one side, exposing the delicate skin of your neck.

“John—wait, no, no—waitwaitwait, please—you said—”

Legs kicking out, back nearly arching off the bed, you put every last bit of your fight into trying to throw him off, only for him to force you back down, barely a grunt passing his lips. Then he ducks his head into the crook of your neck.

“John—John, please!”

John bites down.

Under his teeth, your gland splits.

The moment of connection is just as divine as he imagined. When your gland breaks under his teeth and your blood oxidizes in his mouth, his world reconfigures itself around this new reality, one where you flow through his veins like blood and swim through his mind like thought.

He sees now what he missed before. All this time, he’s assumed that fate has railed against him, intent on him remaining alone.

What he understands now is that—

(you whimper under him and arch up into his body, saliva gurgling in your throat)

—fate has always been on his side.

After Ragnarok, the earth will once again bob out of the saltwater, dregs of ancestral seafoam lapping at the sides.

(he gnaws at the Yggdrasil’s roots)

In this life, nothing has ever been handed to him because he has needed to fight for it. Of course fate would have taken that into consideration when creating his mate. Baptism by fire. He never would’ve been satisfied with simply being handed his intended mate. He needed to leave the imprint of himself like chiselling into stone. Maker of his own fate.

When he pulls back, teeth unlatching from your shoulder and blood leaking from the wound, you stare up at him through misty, filmy eyes, tears scorching hot lines down your cheeks.

He can appreciate the shock this must come as. You thought you’d get off scot-free after all—just a few days of being fucked and knotted and then sent on your way—not kept like bounty from a sacked city. You are a prize though. His hard earned prize.

His moral compass doesn’t allow him to see this as a pillaging. Not when his actions are led by his heart.

You raise a shaky hand to cover the wound on your shoulder, wincing when your fingers brush the raw skin there, coming back saturated in blood. “You—you bit me.”

John hums. “It’s alright, sweetheart; it’s over now. Nothing to worry about anymore.”

“You said—you promised you wouldn’t,” you bleat.

He shakes his head, voice still soft when he responds. “Never said I wouldn’t, sweetheart.”

“You said you’d leave. You promised you’d leave.”

“Aw, honey, you wouldn’t do that to an old man, would you?” He lies down beside you, pulling on your heartstrings like a marionette. Plenty have called him a decent soldier, but no one has ever called him a good person. “Why make me leave when you could have someone in your corner instead?”

Tears like diamonds on your cheeks. You’re the most beautiful creature that John has ever laid eyes on; there’s no wonder why he had to make you his. Had he turned around in that hospital and walked out that door after hearing your voice, life would have been less complicated but it would have been dull, colourless. He would have woken up today with his mind at ease, but his heart would have been empty.

Now though—

“We’ll be good for each other,” John says, moving his hand over your throat, loose fingers simply resting there. Just enough to feel the thrum of your pulse under his palm. “I’ll prove it to you.”

He feels you swallow beneath his palm. It is easy to see why you might doubt his words.

But in the back of his mind, his alpha purrs, satisfied for once in its life, and when he tightens his fingers around your throat, you go still, all of your trust gathering there in the palm of his hand. He can live with that.

So long as he has you, he can live with anything.

#ceil writing #cod x reader #price x reader #john price/reader #price/reader #john price x reader #john price x you #captain price x reader #captain price x you

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xanneeeyyyy · 4 months ago

Text

Pt. 2 Is It Too Late For Us?

Pairings: Katsuki Bakugou x Female Reader

Synopsis: Katsuki Bakugou was the one who let you go—only to realize too late that some mistakes can’t be undone.

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Alternate Ending

Pro-Hero Dynamight was never the type to get distracted.

Patrolling the city was routine by now—watch, observe, handle trouble when needed. It was supposed to be just another night, another shift alongside Kirishima, walking the familiar streets as civilians passed them by.

And then he saw you.

It hit him like a punch to the gut.

You were walking just a few feet away, head tilted back in laughter, eyes sparkling under the glow of the city lights. But it wasn’t just you. Some extra was beside you—close, too close.

Katsuki’s steps faltered for half a second. His breath hitched.

No way.

He should’ve looked away. He should’ve kept walking, should’ve ignored the sharp pang in his chest. But his gaze stayed locked on you, taking in every little detail—your smile, the way your hand lightly brushed against the guy’s arm, the effortless way you leaned into him.

Like you trusted him. Like you cared for him.

His jaw clenched.

That smile used to be his.

“Oi, Bakugou,” Kirishima’s voice broke through his thoughts. A nudge to his side, concerned. “You good, man? You kinda spaced out there.”

Katsuki snapped out of it, inhaling sharply. His grip tightened around the gloves of his hero costume.

“Tch. Don’t mind me,” he muttered, voice gruff. “I’m fine.”

Liar

But even as he forced himself to keep walking, his head turned involuntarily, eyes trailing after you. Watching as you disappeared down the street with that guy. His stomach twisted, something heavy pressing against his ribs.

You looked happy. Really happy.

And it wasn’t because of him.

A fish out of water, huh?

What a fitting metaphor.

The days blurred into weeks, and somehow, fate kept throwing them into each other’s orbit.

You never spoke, never even got close enough to, but Katsuki always saw you—across the street, in passing crowds, at a distance that felt both too far and painfully close.

But today was different.

You were alone.

Sitting on a park bench, staring off into the distance. No fucking extra by your side. No easy laughter or soft smiles. Just you, lost in thought.

He hesitated.

He should walk away. Pretend he hadn’t seen you. But his feet moved before his brain could stop them. Before he knew it, he was standing in front of you.

"Can I?" His voice wasn’t as firm as he wanted it to be.

You blinked up at him, startled. And for a moment, their eyes met. Then you looked away.

"...Sure."

He sat down, leaving just enough space between them. The silence stretched, filled only by the distant laughter of children and the rustling of leaves in the breeze.

He wasn’t sure how long they sat like that before he spoke.

"How are you?,” His voice was quieter than he intended.

You gave him a small, almost absentminded smile. "I’m good."

He knew that smile. It was the same one you used when you were hurting but didn’t want anyone to worry.

He swallowed. "How 'bout you?"

Her gaze flickered to him, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. "Same as you too,"

Liar.

A heavy exhale left him before he admitted, "I'm glad you're talking to me again."

You hesitated, then let out a soft chuckle. "There was never a reason for me not to,"

But before he could fully take in your words, his chest tightened, and the question he’d been trying to ignore for months slipped past his lips.

His voice dropped lower, rawer. "Y’know, about what happened four mon—"

"Bakugou," she cut him off gently. Her voice wasn’t cold, wasn’t angry—just calm. Resigned. "It’s okay,"

He stared at you, feeling something in him sink.

"It’s all in the past now."

"I mean it," you continued, voice soft but steady. "I’m not mad. I don’t hate you. You don’t have to explain anything."

Katsuki stared at you, something heavy settling in his chest. "But—"

"I’ve moved on," you cut him off gently. "You should too"

His fingers curled into fists. "You’re just gonna act like it didn’t matter? Like—"

"Of course it mattered," you interrupted again, your voice barely above a whisper. "But what good does talking about it do now?"

He swallowed hard, looking away.

You stood up, brushing off your clothes like this was just another ordinary conversation. Like this didn’t feel like a knife twisting deeper into his chest.

"I should get going," you said, offering him one last sweet smile. "Take care, Bakugou"

And then you walked away.

His body felt cemented to the bench.

It’s okay.

It’s all in the past now.

Then why the hell did it still feel like he was the only one who couldn't move on?

Why can't he still accept the fact that they're gone?

"I CAN'T FUCKING UNDERSTAND!"

The sharp crack of glass meeting wood echoed through the dimly lit bar as Katsuki slammed his beer bottle down. His grip was tight, knuckles white with frustration. Across from him, Kirishima watched, exhaling heavily as he debated between knocking some sense into his best friend or just letting him self-destruct.

In the end, his patience won.

"Bakugou," Kirishima started, voice firm but calm. "Weren't you the one who broke up with her? The one who cut off all contact? The one who turned cold? Who backed away first? Hell, you even changed your damn number."

He met Bakugou’s glare head-on. "Now, tell me—are you even asking the right question?"

Katsuki's jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists. "What the fuck are you trying to say?" He exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck in irritation. "I’m sick of your damn mind games, shitty hair."

Kirishima scoffed, shaking his head. "You." He pointed at him. "Why are you so affected? What do you want? For her to be miserable? For her to crawl back to you, crying over something you ended?" His voice was steady but edged with frustration.

"She loved you. You loved her. You fell out of love—or at least that’s what you told yourself. You left. She moved on. That’s it, Bakubro. That’s the story."

But the weight of those words felt unbearable. Katsuki swallowed, his throat dry, the ache in his chest growing heavier. His voice wavered, quieter this time.

"Then why… does our ending look like this?"

His fingers twitched as he stared down at the table, his pride and pain warring inside him.

"Wouldn't there be… a part two?"

Silence stretched between them. Kirishima’s expression softened, his frustration fading into something more understanding.

"Bakugou..." Kirishima calmly said. "I'm not the one that you should ask."

Katsuki stared blankly at the condensation dripping from his beer bottle, his grip loosening as Kirishima’s words sank in.

"That’s not a question I can answer for you."

Then who the hell could?

His chest felt too tight, like he couldn’t breathe.

“Tch.” He scoffed, pushing the bottle aside. “Fuck this.”

Kirishima sighed, leaning forward. “Bakugou—”

“Shut up.” Katsuki stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. His movements were stiff, tense, like he was barely holding himself together. “I need some fucking air.”

Kirishima didn’t stop him. He just watched as his best friend stormed out of the bar, shoulders stiff, jaw clenched, and heart heavier than he’d ever admit.

The night air was cold against his flushed skin, but Katsuki barely felt it. His mind was spinning, replaying everything over and over again.

Your smile.

The way you laughed with that extra.

That guy—whoever the fuck he was—walking beside you like he belonged there.

He ran a hand through his hair, gripping it tight, frustration bubbling up inside him like an explosion waiting to happen.

"Why does it fucking hurt?" He muttered to himself, voice hoarse.

He was the one who let her go.

He was the one who walked away.

So why did it feel like she was the one who left him behind?

Before he even realized it, his feet were already moving, his body acting on instinct. He wasn’t thinking—he just needed to do something.

He needed to see her.

Even if it was a mistake.

Even if it was already too late.

A/N: I hope you enjoy this new update! Let me know your thoughts in the comments. Also, thank you for all the love and support—it truly warms my heart to see you reading my work.

#bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo mha #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki x y/n #mha bakugou #katsuki bakugo x female reader #mha x reader #sad ending (?)#happy ending (?)#light angst #katsuki #katsuki bakugou

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whimsyfinny · 4 months ago

Text

Sunshine & Smoke

Chapter 1

Pairing:Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader

Summary: Sam and Dean have been following their father’s trail even after he’s gone, following leads from his journal and tying some loose ends. When they read of an unusual store he used to visit in the town they happen to be passing through, they can’t help but take a look - meeting (Y/), an omega on the edge, and when Dean saves her from a shitty situation, life could talk a turn in a whole different direction.

A/B/O dynamics, eventual smut

Warnings: language, violence, attempted assault

Chapter Word Count:

—-MDNI—-

A/N: FIRST OF ALL IM SO SORRY. I know it’s been months since I’ve posted anything, but tbh there is a reason and you’ll find out soon enough aha. SECOND OF ALL this is my first a/b/o fic! It won’t be a long one, tbh I intended for this to be a one shot but it would have been waaaaay too long haha. Anyway I hope you like it! It’s only been proof read by moi so please let me know of any errors!

Photos from Pinterest

—��————————————————————

Shit. Shit.

“Fuck!”

I threw the empty pill bottle across my bathroom, watching as it ricocheted off the confined tiled walls before landing pitifully at my feet. Empty.

Again.

It seemed as though I was going through these scent blockers and heat suppressants faster than normal, which didn’t sit right. I only take one of each a day. Right? Thinking as hard as I could, my mind wandered back to the half dozen late shifts I’d stayed and worked over the last month. I would take an extra blocker a couple of hours before I was set to walk home after closing - normally around midnight. That’s almost an extra weeks worth of pills I’d used… Shit.

“No use fretting over it now,” I muttered to myself as I hastily applied my mascara, almost blinded by the harsh white light framing the bathroom mirror. I took a step back as I finished acknowledging that my hair wasn’t going to play ball today and to just roll with the shitty cards the universe had dealt me. With already slightly smudged make up, I huffed in annoyance before I strode into my bedroom and threw on the outfit I’d laid out for myself. I poked my fingers through my tights three times, pulled the button off my shorts, stabbed myself with the safety pin I had used to replace said button, and got a white deodorant stain on the side of my black tank top. Luckily my flannel hid the stain and my boots went on without incident, allowing me to leave my apartment with an almost level head. I just had to pray to anything or anyone that would listen that I would make it to work unscathed.

And that I didn’t catch the attention of any dickhead alphas.

Deans POV

“Hey Sammy, I remember dad saying something about a Hunters store around here,” I said over the music, one hand tapping the wheel and the other hanging out the window. The sun was out for once, and with it being late spring, the temperature was comfortable enough to drive slow with the windows down. The scent of food and freshness wafted on the warm breeze as I looked around, hoping my memory was serving me right.

“Yeah I think you’re right Dean,” Sam said, flicking through the pages of dads journal until he found what he was looking for. “‘Deadmans’ Emporium’, he wrote that it poses as a holistic store but doubles as a Hunters shop. He mentions a password though to get access.”

“A password? Seriously? Did he write the magic word down?” I shook my head - these people should know a freakin’ Hunter when they see one. I continued to look out the window as I heard the turning of pages, listening as Sam searched for an answer. I took a deep breath, guessing dad didn’t write it down. Fucking typical. As I inhaled, the most delicious smell filled my senses - it was almost mouth watering, and I could practically feel the saliva pooling over my tongue.

“Shit, do you smell that? There must be a pie shop around here,” I pulled over and parked against the curb before Sam had a chance to say anything. Just as I was about to get out, he sighed.

“Dean I don’t smell anything, you’re thinking through your stomach again.”

I sniffed the air again, practically tasting the apple and cinnamon as we both stepped out of the car, the metal doors creaking before they were slammed shut.

“Dude, are you getting sick? You seriously can’t smell that?” I frowned at him as we both stood on the sidewalk, my gaze travelling up and down the rows of shops and cafes; not spotting a single bakery or pie store.

Well that's fucking weird.

I took a step back, the scent felt closer than before and with my stomach distracting me, I didn't see the person walking behind me until I'd bumped into them.

“What the fuck - watch where you're going!”

A sharp yet feminine voice cut through the air, and I turned to face her just in time to see her rip off her headphones. Before I could even get a word out, an unmistakable scent of anger and apprehension surrounded me, almost blotting out the heavenly smell from before. There was no mistaking it; she was an omega. And a grumpy one at that.

“Sorry, I didn’t see you there - no need to bite my head off, geez,” I held my hands up in mock surrender, the bitterness of her frustration fading from my senses. She clicked her tongue against her teeth before shoving her headphones back on.

“Alphas,” was all she muttered before storming away.

I lowered my hands as Sam tentatively came to stand beside me, as though he was wary that the feisty omega would suddenly race back and punch him.

“What was that all about?” He breathed, as he watched after her.

I shrugged.

“Fuck if I know. She definitely wasn’t on scent blockers, that’s for sure. Could sense her bad mood a mile off.” I couldn't help but glance around a little more, hoping to catch sight of that hidden pie shop that was so clearly evading us. Upon realising that it was nowhere to be found and the previously lingering scent had now diminished with the breeze, I gave up on those efforts and went back to the task at hand: finding that Hunter store.

Y/Ns POV

The shop was the same as it was every day; with boxes and baskets of hundreds of different crystals and rocks and charms stacked neatly against the walls. Incense lined one of the walls in varying types, colours and quantities, whilst all manner of candles cluttered a table in the middle of the room. Suncatchers hung in the open window, splattering rainbows onto every surface as wind chimes sung in the soft breeze. Everything from body jewellery to oil burners was available for purchase.

“You look like a ray of fucking sunshine,” my beta colleague, May, chirped from behind the counter as she shuffled her tarot deck, long nails and rings clacking together.

“Thanks, that makes me feel loads better,” I rolled my eyes at her, quickly dumping my backpack and headphones in my locker out back before returning to her at the main desk. “I ran out of scent blockers and heat suppressants this morning and I haven't had a heat for a while. I'm just on edge, I guess, knowing it could arrive any day now.”

Her expression softened as I sat on an old bar stool beside her, leaning across the counter.

“You want me to give you something herbal for it?”

I couldn't stop my nose from scrunching.

“That stuff literally tastes like dirt. Plus it's bitter.”

May grinned.

“It's not supposed to taste good, you know that right? It's medicine. Medicine never tastes good.”

“Yeah well, I'd rather wait for more pills thanks. I felt like I was burping up mud for a week the last time you gave me that goop.”

“Suit yourself,” she said, returning to shuffling her cards.

No more than half an hour had ticked by when the bell jingled and the door to the shop opened. I’d been organising the body jewellery display when I looked up to greet them, a forced smile on my lips.

“Good morning! Welcome to Deadman’s.”

“Hi- oh, Sammy, look who it is - it’s little miss sunshine.”

The moment he opened his mouth to talk, I remembered him straight away from this morning. How could I forget the alpha who stood on my foot and brushed his arm against mine, leaving behind an annoyingly pleasant scent behind - something akin to woodsmoke and fresh leather. It took a lot of deep breathing during the rest of my walk and ten minutes standing next to the burning sandalwood as soon as I arrived to get rid of it. I couldn’t help but huff and roll my eyes, glancing over at May who was laying a complex spread of tarot and oracle cards combined, looking for any sort of assistance from her. Yet, unsurprisingly, she looked at the two men and nodded, throwing me a wink and a thumbs-up. Not what I needed.

“What can I say,” I said eventually in a dull tone, crossing my arms, “I’m always so thrilled when an oblivious alpha stands on my foot.”

The taller of the two chuckled slightly before shrugging, knowing that I was likely completely in my right to feel defensive from the get-go here. The broader one simply widened his eyes and scratched the back of his neck, looking more apologetic than before.

“Yeah,” he looked me dead in the eye, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to - I was looking for pie.”

“Pie?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, pie,” he said again, without any further elaboration.

“Ooh!” May suddenly perked up, clapping her hands as her bracelets jingled loudly, “apparently (Y/n) smel-”

“Ok!” I practically jumped in front of her, cutting her off abruptly and saving myself from any possible embarrassment that she might spew about me. I glanced towards the door where the two men were still standing, watching us with slight amusement.

“Anyway,” I started, smoothing the invisible wrinkles from my tank top, “Is there anything we can help you gents with today?”

They seemed to both suddenly remember why they were here and stepped further into the shop, clearing their throats as their boots thudded against the exposed floorboards.

“Uh, yeah, we’re looking for a shop that sells what might be considered unusual or… occult… items, and we’ve been led to this place by our dad. Apparently he used to be a regular here.”

May and I shared another look, this time one of caution as she stopped what she was doing and I placed the box of body jewellery down on top of the display cabinet.

“Huh,” I bit my lip as I watched the two strange men shift under our sudden scrutinous gazes. With my arms now folded across my chest, I shifted my weight from one leg to the other, letting the silence hang for a second. “So… who’s your daddy dearest?”

“Oh uh, his name was John. John Winchester,” the tallest one spoke, a sudden sadness on his features, vanishing as soon as it appeared.

The air suddenly felt cold in my lungs. He said ‘was’. John Winchester ’was’ their father. John.

“John’s your dad?” My voice cracked slightly, hoping I didn’t hear them correctly.

“Why did you say ‘was’? What do you mean ‘was’?” May was suddenly on her feet behind the front desk, a look of panic shining in her wide eyes.

The two men looked at each other briefly before the broader alpha spoke this time.

“He died, a few months back,” his voice was gruff with bottled up grief. I could tell just from one look at him that this was a man who didn’t talk about his feelings, who didn’t shed tears in his sorrow, regardless of how smothering it was. And I know first hand just how suffocating that sadness could be. He swallowed an invisible lump in his throat just as May let out a quiet sob as my chest suddenly felt tighter than before.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” I all but whispered, smothering my own sadness. “So that means that you boys are Dean and Sam,” I looked between them as May brushed past me into the back of the store, unable to control her tears. They shared a look of surprise.

“Your dad spoke about you a lot, you know,” I unfolded my arms from my chest and relaxed my stance a little, stepping around them slowly until I reached the front door which I locked with a loud CLICK. They both looked at me quizzically.

“He did?” The tallest one, who I assumed to be Sam, asked with a questionable tone and raised brows. I smiled, yet the sadness stopped it from reaching my eyes.

“Yeah,” I started walking towards the back of the store where May had gone, gesturing for the boys to follow. “I could tell he was proud of you and what you did. To be honest, we should have realised something was up when he didn’t stop by.”

“He came by often?” The infuriatingly pleasant scented one, who must have been Dean, asked, his attention piquing.

“Yeah, you didn’t know?” I pushed open a heavily decorated wooden door, the fabric of the tapestries pinned to its surface were soft to the touch. He huffed.

“No, we didn’t,” Deans tone was abrupt, so I felt it best to leave the conversation at that. Of course, these guys have lost their father and the last thing that they probably want is some stranger barging in on their business.

“Well,” I started, adding one last final detail before diverting the conversation away, “he always phoned ahead to order certain supplies-”

“Supplies?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, nothing ever too major, normally it was simple things like herbs and specialist bullets, or the occasional talisman or lore book. He was supposed to make a collection a few weeks ago actually; an order for a bunch of books and new rosaries. We should have known something was up when he didn’t show, considering he normally arrives like clockwork armed with breakfast and coffee.” I couldn't stop my lip from twitching in a fleeting fond smile, before quickly dropping it and wringing my fingers awkwardly. The room was quickly becoming pungent with the smell of grief and sadness, the scent bitter on my senses as I tried to figure out who it was coming from; or if it was simply from the both of them.

I wiped my hands on my tights and cleared my throat before leading them further into the back of the shop. We passed through our combined staff and locker room, Sam having to duck under the occasional low-hanging dream catcher before approaching a large steel door adorned with half a dozen locks of varying sizes and painted with a handful of different sigils. I’d already entered the room earlier in the day, so all it took was for me to slide one large bolt across for the thing to swing open.

“Well that’s not creepy as shit,” I heard Dean mutter under his breath as the two peered into the pitch black room. I couldn’t help but chuckle, striding past them and into the looming shadows that reached every corner. Even when I flicked on the light, illuminating rows and rows of shelves housing meticulously labelled boxes, the air still felt heavy and thick as though we were deep underground in a cave or cellar- not a mere backroom.

“Wow, it’s like an evidence lock up in here,” Sam said quietly, his eyes surveying the area before stepping in.

“Yeah,” I breathed, walking over to a particular box on the far side of the room labelled in big black letters; “WINCHESTER”. “Keeping some of the items that we do under lock and key definitely requires the same level of organisation - if not more.” I pulled the box off the shelf, the weight of it taking me by surprise as it almost slipped from my grip. Before I even had a chance to catch it, Dean was at my side, sliding his arms round the box and bearing most of the weight in an instant. The gasp that flew from my lips when his rough fingers grazed mine was involuntary, and I made the mistake of looking up at him to thank him. His eyes, the same green as a forest at dawn pierced into my own and that familiar scent of woodsmoke and leather wrapped around me, catching me off guard. I quickly pulled away, unable to stop the heat from creeping up my neck and across my cheeks. He looked as though he was about to say something when his voice seemed to catch in his throat, his eyes widening as they flitted about my features.

“Y-you - it was you-” he stuttered, his chest rising and falling a little faster than before.

“What-”

“Dean what are you-” Sam had started to interject with concern before Dean cut him off.

“Pie,” he said abruptly.

“What are you on about?”

“You’re the pie,” he snapped his head around to look at Sam, “She’s the pie- from earlier,” the tone of his voice was a flurry of emotions and I couldn’t seem to pinpoint a single one to latch onto. Sam simply stood up straight and tilted his head, a look of curiosity finding his features and a small smile on his lips.

“Huh, how about that,” was all he said before May burst into the room, her jingling jewellery always reminding me of a cat with a bell on its collar. Her face was flushed and blotchy, eyes puffy and nose a little pink. She was clearly devastated to hear about John. They’d always had good conversations when he arrived an he had always treated us like good friends or family.

“What's going on in here?” She asked, and I was surprised to not hear a tremble in her voice.

“Well,” Sam began before myself or Dean could even open our mouths, “Dean says that (Y/n) smells like pie.”

“Huh,” May huffed, her expression now almost identical to that of Sam's from before. “How about that.”

The afternoon had passed by without further incident. We introduced ourselves properly and they did the same, even showing us some of their dads journal from where he’d written about us on occasion after his visits. The brothers had collected the items their father had ordered, as well as purchased a few things of their own before giving their thanks and heading out. Evening had rolled around and the sky was flushed with pinks and oranges as the sun began to dip behind the buildings. I peered between the suncatchers out of the front window, apprehension starting to bubble. It would be dark within the hour and I still had to walk home. No scent blockers to mask the fact that I was an omega with an impending heat - the whole ordeal with Deans blissful scent filling my head earlier hadn't helped in the slightest, and I'd felt warm ever since. The walk to my apartment wasn't long, but it was long enough for something to go horribly wrong.

“Want me to walk home with you?” May offered politely as she switched the lights off, draping her bag over her shoulder, her whimsical outfit glowing in the last rainbows from the suncatchers. I shook my head, knowing she needed to get home.

“It's ok, I'll power walk like a bitch and get home in 5 minutes,” I grinned, offering an ounce of confidence. She didn't seem convinced, yet she didn't argue.

“Just text me when you get home, ok?”

“Of course,” I reassured her as we both stepped outside, locked the store, and went our separate ways.

Despite my headphones being comfortably on my head, I played no music. As a result it only made the thud thud thud of my boots on the pavement more deafening as I hurried home, eager to avoid hungry eyes. The air was beginning to chill, yet it acted more like a cooling balm for the heat that had started to prickle under my skin. At this point, it was hard to tell if my exertion or my heat was to blame for that, and now was seriously not the time to find out.

Every shadow painted on concrete surfaces by the setting sun set me on edge, every flutter of a birds wings made my heart palpitate, and every person I passed nearly stopped me in my tracks. I did my best not to pay attention, but I couldn't help but feel the gazes from heads turned when my scent reached them, often bringing them to a halt.

Halfway. I was almost halfway home when the one sound I didn't want to hear sounded loud and clear, sinking to the pit of my stomach with dread - heavy footsteps racing up behind me. One pair at first, but another quickly joined, though a little further away. With the fear of what could possibly happen to me looming just on the horizon, I broke into a run without even looking back, making it no more than a few strides before a hand wrapped around my wrist in a painful grip and spun me around. At first I was petrified - frozen stiff by this aggressive, unknown alpha that had decided to try his luck. I didn’t recognise him, but he didn’t look like anything out of the ordinary - just an average guy on the outside. Though the slightly crazed glint in his eye along with his almost sour scent and the way he licked his lips was enough to make my stomach churn and skin crawl. I squeezed my eyes shut as he yanked me closer to him, my headphones clattering to the ground when something else happened. A silver lining to my impending doom. A figure, tall and dark and moving fast on long strides appeared behind my attacker, standing almost a whole head above him and with an expression that could make death itself quiver in his boots.

Dean

Barely having a chance to process anything that was unfurling in front of me, Dean had yanked the Alpha back by his shoulders with a grip strong enough to make the first crunch. The second crunch was one of high impact; a blunt force colliding with a jaw, possibly dislocating it and splattering teeth and blood across the pavement. And the third crunch was more of a sickening thud as a limp body hit the floor. I stood frozen to the spot, my mind unable to keep up with everything unfurling in front of me. Though I jumped into action as soon as I saw Dean reach from the attackers limp body, wearing a face of fury, his fist still clenched.

“Dean- Dean you don't- you'll kill him,” I panicked, not knowing what he was fully capable of as an alpha. Knowing he was John Winchester's son, I would assume he was capable of terrible things, even if they were heroic at heart. Reaching for him, I wrapped my fingers around his arm. He was without his leather jacket now, despite night drawing in, and I was surprised to feel how hot his skin was beneath this flannel. It almost made me flinch, if it wasn't for the fact that I had to do something now before this stranger became flesh coloured jelly on the sidewalk. It didn’t help the situation that passersby were all beginning to stop and watch the scene unfold.

“Dean,” I pleaded, using both hands now to try and pull him away. He growled, a sound that almost made my heart dance.

“This scumbag was about to fucking run off with you,” he turned to me, eyes wide.

“I know, and he didn't - you saved me, Dean, he can't hurt me now. But we need to go, I need to get ho-”

“I should make sure he's dead,” he made to step forward again, but then something unusual happened. I did something that I've never done before, and in all honesty it was as though I had no control over the words that left my lips.

“Alpha,” my voice was firm yet pleading as I tightened my grip on his arm. He froze. “Please. Please Alpha, we need to go.”

He faced me, eyes still wide, but the murderous rage was quickly dissipating. Silence hung between us for a few breaths before he sighed and relaxed enough for me to relinquish my grip on him.

“Ok,” he said, “but we’re making sure you get there safely.”

Taglist: @roseblue373 @hobby27 @calibootsgirl @suckitands33 @jackles010378 @lyarr24 @autistic-gothic @wattpaduser200 @spndeanwinchesterlvr @mxtansy @livya99 @magssteenkamp @redmaro86 @slut-for-evans-stan @spookyysinsanity @localjisung @king-of-milf-lovers @xshortputax @jerksbitch @multifandoms-saidwhat @deans-baby-momma @writersxxx

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean winchester smut #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean x female!reader #dean winchester x reader smut #dean winchester x you smut #alpha!dean winchester x omega!reader #a/b/o #a/b/o dynamics #alpha!dean #omegaverse #omega!reader

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er-osion · 6 months ago

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Mastermind

pairing: Kaz Brekker x gn!Reader

summary: inspired by Taylor Swift’s song Mastermind. Reader becomes a bartender at the Crow Club and tries winning over Kaz’s affection

word count: 1.6k

warnings: none, fluff

you can see the full taylor swift song-fic masterlist here

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Looking for a job in the Barrel can be a terrifying ordeal. The bosses, pay, workplace, and work itself is often not anyone’s first choice. Thankfully for you, the decision on where to work became easy the day you stepped into the Crow Club and got a look at the infamous Dirtyhands himself. You decided then and there that you had to work in this establishment and get to know the Bastard of the Barrel better.

For some reason you craved his attention, you wanted him to notice you and your skills. Sure, maybe harboring a giant crush on the Barrel’s most brutal crime lord wasn’t the best idea, but it sure made the game of catching his attention more fun. But you knew this wasn’t going to be some quick ordeal, no, you were prepared to play the long game. Like a chess master, you maneuvered yourself slowly but surely over the years to become someone Kaz always noticed and relied on, even if he didn’t realize it. You proved your mettle rather quickly, and were promoted to bar manager in the first year you worked at the club. From then on out, your master plan of getting Kaz to fall for you was rather smooth sailing as you now had more reason to talk to him.

Over time, you got to know things about him like his favorite drinks, favorite foods, schedule, moods, etc. And you used this to your advantage.

After about a year and a half of working at the Crow Club, you started bringing Kaz weekly treats up to his office during the slow hours of the day. At first, the cane-wielding boy tried to discourage your efforts, but you were undeterred and eventually it became a sort of ritual that the both of you subconsciously relied on to get through the day. Instead of making one of the other bartenders bring up the papers on backstock, sales, and whatnot, you took them up to Kaz yourself. The first few weeks he let you set the papers down on his desk and leave without a word, but eventually, he began asking you to read the key points or important information out loud to him. Sometime later, Kaz then began asking your opinion on new drinks or food to be added to the menu, seasonal specials, and other strategies that could boost club patronage. You knew you had gotten your in once this happened, as you realized Kaz seemed to hold your thoughts relating to the business in high regard.

When Kaz came down from his office to observe the club, you always made sure to put yourself in the most visible spots. You purposefully avoided making eye contact with him, wanting him to seek you out. It worked. Kaz couldn’t help but search for your figure first and foremost whenever he came down to observe the club floor. You got to your shift extra early so you’d be there when Kaz walked in, your face being the first thing he’d see every time he came to the club.

Kaz never realized how much he’d come to depend on your presence. You had slowly but surely worn him down so his eyes were always searching for you and his mind always wandering to you. Kaz began to anticipate with great pleasure, your weekly treats and reports to his office. Kaz began having to suppress a smile every time you waved at him when he walked into the club at the start of the workday. Like a bee to honey, you’d caught him in your trap before he’d ever gotten a clue.

One day however, you got sick. A normal seasonal cold, but you were far too ill to go to work. Your biggest grievance? Not being able to sneak glances at the gorgeous boy you call your boss. You sent a message to Kaz directly, letting him know you wouldn’t be in today. Kaz hadn’t opened the message at first. It had been put upside down on his desk so he hadn’t seen the address and thus elected to ignore it for some time in favor of paperwork. His mind however, was in no place to work. His thoughts felt abnormally jumbled today. He wasn’t able to keep a coherent train of thought and his focus was just terrible. Something felt so painfully off. The clock hit 2:30 and his brown eyes habitually dragged to the corner of his desk where he’d usually find your little treat, only, nothing was there. Then it hit him like a rock. You. He hadn’t seen you at all today. No greeting wave. No presence on the floor. And no little treat for him.

Something in his chest stirred uncomfortably. Why should it matter anyway? He asked himself. It’s not like he depended on your presence or anything to get through the workday. Kaz shook his head, trying to rid himself of thoughts of you and refocus on his work. This proved impossible. Even though the thing making him so antsy had been identified, Dirtyhands couldn’t be settled. Why weren’t you here? What was keeping you from work? From him.

But he knew you weren’t the type to just not show up to work unannounced. So Kaz Brekker began frantically searching his desk for any sort of note from you, which is when he came across your message from hours ago. Kaz wanted to smack himself for being dumb enough to ignore the small slip of paper as he read the brief details of your illness from your familiar scrawl. Without even thinking, Kaz rose from his chair and shoved on his coat and hat and barged out of the door. He only got full control of his mind back once he found himself ordering a bowl of soup from a nearby shop. His instincts, for reasons unknown to him, had somehow carried him in the direction of your apartment. After paying the old lady for the soup, Kaz came to the rational decision that it was too late to turn back now and thus continued his walk to your apartment.

Meanwhile, you were cuddled up in bed in a cocoon of blankets and misery. Your body ached while you sat envying your days of health. Your train of feverish thought was abruptly interrupted by a sharp knock at your door. Confused but curious, you lethargically dragged yourself from your bed and over to the door. The last thing you expected to see when you opened your door, was Kaz Brekker standing outside with a to-go bowl of soup, trying to look put-together and not at all frazzled.

You blinked at each other for a moment before your voice scratched out, “Mr. Brekker?”

Kaz inwardly winced at your sick-sounding voice. “You said you were sick.”

You looked at him, waiting for him to continue but he just looked at you, seemingly as confused as you were. “I am.” You confirmed slowly.

“I’ve brought some soup, supposed to help with a quick recovery.” Kaz finally finished as he lifted his arm holding the bag containing your soup. You smiled unashamedly.

“Thanks, I appreciate it, Mr. Brekker.”

“Kaz is fine.”. He said without thinking. Your heart stuttered and you couldn’t contain the way your smile twisted up into a grin. You raised an eyebrow silently questioning and teasing him for the sudden title change. “Well, we’re good enough acquaintances for soup deliveries so we’re good enough to be on a first name basis.”. Kaz justified quickly, feeling both foolish and proud of his somewhat weak answer.

You felt giddy. You hadn’t expected him to allow for the dropping of titles so fast in your relationship, you were planning for another several months. Seems like this long game may not be so long after all.

“Sorry I couldn’t make it in today.” You felt the need to apologize, for, you really did feel bad about missing work.

Kaz gave a small shrug and rolled his eyes, “It’s not like you can really control it. Just don’t be an idiot and do anything to make it worse.” He paused, thinking over his next words, “Just make a speedy recovery, the club needs its manager back as soon as possible.” Kaz chose not to add the part where he needs you back as soon as possible, but something told you the sentiment was there. You carefully took the soup from Kaz’s gloved grip and the man was both thankful and disappointed that your fingers didn’t brush his with the action.

The two of you stood there, slightly awkwardly, staring at each other unsure of what to say but not wanting whatever this was to end. Then your illness reminded you of its existence and you turned around to double over in a coughing fit. Kaz flinched and took an instinctive step back while you were turned around. When you’d recovered and turned once more to face him, you broke the silence.

“Thanks again for this, Kaz, it’s nice to know that someone is looking out for me, somewhere.”. You spoke with sincerity. Kaz’s stomach annoyingly erupted into butterflies as he heard the pleasant way his name rolled off of your tongue.

“Let’s be clear, I’m not ‘looking out for you’, I’m ensuring my best employee can return to work as soon as possible to keep my business running smoothly.” Kaz said didactically with a frown.

“Right.” You said in a mix of a chuckle and a scoff, your eyes teasing. Kaz nodded stiffly at you and then turned on his heels and walked away. You watched him retreat until you could no longer see him, reentering your apartment with a satisfied smile.

Kaz came to the realization as he was walking back to the club, that his sanity was completely dependent on you. He doesn’t know how you did it, doesn’t know what games you played, only that you must be some strategic genius, a mastermind to have gotten the Bastard of the Barrel to fall head over heels for you.

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@coldmermaidhologram thanks for reminding me to add this song to the masterlist and sorry it’s a little short, hope you enjoyed :)

#kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker #kaz brekker x you #x reader #x you #six of crows x reader #six of crows #kaz brekker fic #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz brekker song fic #taylor swift song fic

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ghasel · 25 days ago

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💞 tarot pick a pile - Meet Your Soulmate 💌

[image description: the three piles, each with their respecive number]

Hi! If you don't know me, I'm Ghasel, a witch who does tarot and past lives readings!

This is my weekly half and half reading, which means that the first part will be in this post for free and the second part will be on my patreon for the members (a membership is 2$ and you get one extended or extra reading per week, basically 0.50$ per reading!). As always, though, if you do not wish to spend money, this free reading is accessible as a standalone too!

Today we are meeting one of your soulmates! Our soulmates, or soul family members, can have all the types of relationships with us, so don't think only romantic! In this free reading we will meet your soulmate and see who and how they are, then on patreon we will receive a message from them to you!

Reminder: whatever the cards and your soulmates say, you're not forced to do anything. The responsibility and the freedom for your choices are always 100% yours!

How to use this reading: pick the pile that attracts you/resonates with you/calls for you, then scroll down and read the respective reading!

Where to find me: my kofi my patreon my instagram DM always open for chats and readings!

pile 1

[image description: a tarot, a zodiac oracle and a crystal cards shown and three other tarot cards covered; on these there's the text "unveil this cards and receive the message from your soulmate on my patreon!"]

9 of wands in reverse → your soulmate is someone who knows how to work hard, but is not really interested in working to perfect one specific thing and they rather explore and see more different things - knowing more in quantity rather than going deep in one thing; they may have developed this attitude after they spent quite a lot having no other chance than working hard and continuously, so now they have devoted themselves to see and explore what they couldn't explore once; a jack of all trades master of none, but who knows that sometimes doing something different not only can open your mind and deepen your knowledge, but is also a privilege, because you have the conditions to do such

jupiter (18)→ this is the card of expansion, of knowledge and wanting to discover more, of curiosity and of learning about new things for no reason other than they exist; your soulmate seems a wise soul, someone who learned something - on the personal or human level - while discovering and exploring more; it makes me think about visiting a foreign country and learn a philosophy that makes you think about your own life too;nowadays your soulmate has very clear ideas about their thoughts and beliefs but at the same time part of this ideas are to believe that you can always change your mind - they're sure, but they also keep their mind open for anything new they may learn and may add to their personal baggage

rose quartz (48) → your soulmate is a lover, but for life; they love life and love and want to enjoy it and they may be a firm believer of the fact that we're born to be happy and fullfilled; they always strive for more - exploring more, learning more - but at the same time it's not like they're unhappy with what they have and have explored right now; they have a genuine curiosity for learning and exploring, they don't do that to day they know more than others, but because it's genuinely what they like to do, so they keep doing it whenever possible; they may be one of those people who make friends after like one day in a new place; possibly very community oriented;

READ NOW THEIR MESSAGE FOR YOU!

pile 2

7 of coins in reverse → they were a guardian of something, not in the sense of keeping something at bay but in the sense of keeping something safe; they may have been a patrolling soldier or a high priest/priestess who took care of the communication with nature and spirits for their group; they may also be a very old soul, someone who has learned a lot and is now more aware than sometimes we're scared of things that aren't really scary or dangerous; they know the feeling of being nervous so well and they may have experienced the nerve wrecking experience of wanting to do something, but being scared/nervous because it wasn't what everyone did and wanted for them; at the same time I feel that they were lucky and they had a lifetime in which people around them understood them - they weren't like them, but loved them enough to want them to live as and for themselves (especially a female figure, perhaps a mother); they may have been one of the few people to leave their birth community to go somewhere else

the moon (14) → this card makes me think that this soulmate is presenting themselves as a woman, but it's not necessary; they are someone who knows their shit, they reflect a lot, but even more, they interrogate themselves and are very introspective; they know that to go on in the best and easiest way they need to be balanced with themselves and this means facing every issue and every doubt as soon as they arise; this soulmate may also be very prone to psychic abilities or generally speaking to magic and witchcraft; i don't feel that they are a witch, i feel that they're more someone who has the same knowledges witches and spiritual practitioners have, but isn't walking the path of a witch; they have the knowledge, but they don't call/feel themselves a witch, because their dream and path is something different

spessartine garnet (53) → they are an unicum; as true as it is that no human (or soul) is an island, your soulmate knows themselved intimately and in the detail; they have a clear concept about who they are and what they want and everything they do is according and for it; their soul may really be older than most - so they have had more experience - or they had one specific lifetime in which they have been this type of person - and this is how they're coming through now

p.s. i asked the pendulum if this soulmate is a spirit guide of yours and said no, but i think it's very possible that they're coming through as the person they have been in a specific past life - perhaps with you, perhaps without you

READ NOW THEIR MESSAGE FOR YOU!

pile 3

7 of wands → they value knowledge, but at the same time they're not too strict on what they know and what they don't; they forgive themselves if they are not aware of something and they think that the most important thing is to act according to your values once you know; they may be a heavy researcher, someone with their nose always stuck in a book (or in a wikipedia loophole), and they probably are the type of person who learns for fun, the curious type that goes on a tangent about something that they will never need to know in their concrete life; they also are a bright person, someone whose curiosity has not been minimized by the idea that some things are "childlike": they do what they want, they learn what they want and they probably live their life in their own, unique way; there's the energy of a jester, in a sense, doing in adulthood something that some think it's childish - I don't think they were a jester, tho

libra (7) → they care about justice and even if people around them may not realize, they do have a strict personal moral and ethical code; they seem to be doing things randomly, but actually everything has a meaning - and sure, sometimes the meaning is only bc they're curious, but that's still a reason! They seem to be completely careless, but actually they put thought in what they do and they avoid doing what goes against their values and their morals; they may actually happen to have a stronger sense of justice than most people

euclase (23) → they are a strong soul; again, it may not seem at all, but they are a more well rounded person than many people who look like they have their shit together, but actually are just going with the flow without thinking for themselves; this soulmate has a bit of shakesperean fool energy, they're the ones who can tell the truth to the king, meaning that they are known as someone different, so they can be completely and authentically themselves with no issues because people expect it from them; they may also be wiser than they seem and they may use sometimes their reputation as someone unserious to … make things go exactly like they want

READ NOW THEIR MESSAGE FOR YOU!

#tarot #tarotblr #tarot reader #tarot reading #soulmate #soulmate reading #soulmate tarot reading #tarot pick a pile #tarot pick a card #tarot pac #pac reading #pick a pile reading #pick a card reading #pick a pile #pick a card #pac #tarot pac reading #tarot pick a pile reading #tarot pick a card reading

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wlntrsldler · 22 days ago

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poisoned mercury | the black dog

set in an alternate universe where luke and five star's relationship didn't make it past camp half blood.

luke and five star make their way back to each other in any and every universe.

series masterlist | smau masterlist | alternate universe masterlist

“hey,” luke said, appearing from behind the wall. you turned around at the sound of his voice, a bit startled as if you didn’t expect to see him there. in truth, you hadn’t expected to see him there. outside of awkward run-ins with the band at random recording studios when you'd visit your dad or short glances at each other every time chris would drop clarisse off at the dorms during their off-weeks, you hadn't interacted with luke castellan.

you gave him a curt nod, “hey.”

he watched as you stuffed your belongings– a shirt, an extra hoodie, a cap– into a bag, haphazardly, which was so unlike you.

you were meticulous in everything you did. each game, your moves were calculated, always thinking of game play that was two steps ahead of everybody. he knew because he watched every game he could. your room was always pristine. in camp half blood, you had a system for everything you owned. in college, during those rare moments clarisse let him in your shared dorm (she only let luke in when she knew you were gone), your side of the room was always tidy-- blankets folded neatly at the foot of your bed, pillows fluffed to perfection, sweaters hung neatly on the hooks.

it was odd to him to watch you shove clothes into your bag like this. it made him wonder what other parts of you had changed, what other parts of you he didn't know anymore.

your shoulders were tense, locked in a tight position, a sign that you were unhappy with your performance at today’s practice session. if things were different, he'd walk over to you like he had done a million times before and run his hands down your back– slowly, as if he was undoing the knots in your muscles with the touch of his fingertips.

“i didn’t come here to watch you lose, you know,” he said, crossing his arms across his chest as he leaned against the wall.

“huh,” you scoffed, glancing at him over your shoulder, “that's funny because i didn’t think you came here to watch me at all.”

“oh, don’t give me that,” he spat, taking three steps towards you. “that’s hardly fair, don’t you think?”

“you wanna know what i think?” you asked, zipping up your bag and slinging one strap over your left shoulder. you were fully facing him now. “i think that it’s really fucked up that you decided to watch this weekend in the first place.”

“chris was coming to support clar. he asked us to come with him. what was i supposed to do? say no?”

“yeah, you could’ve.”

“that's not fair, five star, and you know it,” he sighed, "like it or not, i'm friends with clar and she's dating chris who you know is like a brother to me. of course i'd be here."

you laughed sarcastically, “my point stands. you didn't come here to watch me."

"i can never win with you, can i?" his tongue poked the inside of his cheek. "what do you want me to say? do you want me to say that i said yes to chris because i wanted to see you? because i always want to see you?"

"i just want you to tell the truth for once," you shrugged, turning your head to the side as you began to feel tears prick your eyes. it's been a long day. you kept missing the goal each time you tried and the big game is tomorrow. after losing in the semi-finals last year, all you wanted to do was raise the biggest trophy over your head again.

"the truth?" now it was luke's turn to laugh. "that's rich coming from you."

you wiped your eyes with the sleeves of your shirt, "what's that supposed to mean?"

maybe luke was just too far gone at this point because the bite in your voice reminded him of your voice when he first met you. here you were chewing him out and for some ungodly reason, there was fondness blooming in his chest because this was still something he remembers about you. maybe you hadn't changed as much as he thought.

luke shook his head, "it's been a year and i still don't know why you ended things, five star."

"i already told you, luke."

"you didn't though," he replied, taking a tentative step towards you. "and i've given you time and space because i know you like to handle things alone, but i didn't expect days turning into weeks into months and now we're here. it's been a year and i still don't know why things ended between us."

"i told you it just wasn't working out."

"but why?" luke pushed. he bit his tongue for 1 year, 2 months and 23 days. and now that he was in front of you, alone with you, he couldn't keep his mouth shut any longer. he needed to know. he rubbed his face with his palm, "look, i know the timing isn't ideal. i know you have the championship game tomorrow and this conversation is the last thing that you want to have, but fucking hell, five star. put me out of my misery and just tell me you don't love me at all so i can at least stop hoping that you still do."

you looked down at your feet, blades of grass still clinging on your now green-stained socks from when you stumbled on the field once or twice during your personal practice session. your bottom lip wobbled, "i-i need to get some rest. i can't be sleep deprived for tomorrow."

luke blinked. maybe this was it. he took a step back, angling his body in a way that opened up some space for you to see the door out of the locker rooms, an exit in more ways than one. "alright. good luck."

"thank you," your grip on the strap of your bag loosened as you walked past him, the familiar scent of him sending a chill down your spine. "and thank you for being here, whether you're here for me or not."

i'm always here for you, he wanted to say, but he let the words die on his tongue. he watched you reach the door of the locker room before he spoke again, "you're favoring your left leg when you go for a goal."

"what?'" you turned around, eyebrows furrowed.

"you favor your left leg when you go for a goal and it messes with your balance. you lose a little bit of momentum with your aim, makes the goalie see which direction you're shooting from from a mile away," he explained, standing still in the same spot you left him in. "that's why your attempt didn't go in during the shoot out against stanford two weeks ago. she could see where you were aiming. any other time, they wouldn't have had the chance to block you."

you thought back to that game. unc still won, 4-3, at the shoot out, with your attempt being the only one blocked. you'd been dwelling on the mistake since. a soft laugh escaped your lips, not condescending or mean. "you know everything about field hockey now?"

"no," luke cracked a smile. the real one that you fell in love with under the camp half blood sun. "just know you enough i think."

the cold metal of the door stung your skin as you twisted it open. before you left the locker room, you looked at luke, unsurprised when you saw that his eyes never left you. with a shaky breath, you whispered, "i still do."

it took a second for him to understand what you meant, but when he did, his eyes softened. he could've ran up to you then and kissed you the way he's been dreaming of for over a year now. he could've wrapped you up in his arms and held you close until the smell of your skin was imprinted on his. but he knew there was tomorrow to think about and he wasn't selfish enough to make it about him.

"me too," he settled, "see you tomorrow, five star."

#frances writes #poisoned mercury #poisoned mercury chats #luke fic #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan #luke pjo #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x y/n

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runninriot · 26 days ago

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Blue Straps on Black Lace

written for the @steddiebingo prompt: birthday sex

rated: E | wc: 2.840 | tags: Dom Steve Harrington, Sub Eddie Munson, Established Relationship, Lingerie, Blindfolds, Teasing | complete fic and tag list on ao3

A thick cloud of steamy heat follows Steve’s dripping form when he pulls back the curtain and steps out of the shower to grab a towel.

He took his time in there, standing under the warm spray, testing his own patience, touching the needy parts of his body to the mental image of his boyfriend lying on their bed in the other room, waiting for him.

He didn’t necessarily need to hype himself up, that was just for fun. He’s always ready for him, ready to give Eddie whatever he wants. Tonight especially, because he’s been excited for this for weeks. Spent hours daydreaming about Eddie’s reaction, how sweet he’ll be when Steve reveals what he’s been planning in secret to make tonight a bit more... extra.

And it’s not that every night with Eddie isn’t special, it is. But today is his birthday, and even though he doesn’t expect anything, Steve couldn’t not get him a little gift. Nothing big, nothing he can go and show off to their friends or put up on his shelf like the silly figurines he likes to collect. No, this is something just for them. Something that is as much a gift to Steve as it is to Eddie – he’s not ashamed to admit that he didn’t choose this completely selfless.

Once he’s dry and his skin has soaked up the last remains of lotion to make it extra soft, Steve grabs the little bag he’d kept hidden in the back of the cabinet, out of Eddie’s sight, and pulls out its contents.

He smiles to himself as he lets his fingers glide over the satin straps of the harness, admiring the shimmering blue that’ll go so perfectly with the simple but beautiful black lace thong he bought for this special occasion.

Eddie is going to lose his mind, not only because of the vision – Steve has a little more in mind than simply presenting his boyfriend a pretty view. Won’t make it too easy for him because that’s not how they love.

He’ll make Eddie work for it.

Maybe even beg.

Tears are optional but appreciated, always. Because Eddie looks so pretty when he’s crying for the good kind of reasons. When he’s a pleading, weeping mess. His rosy cheeks dampened with visible desperation, dripping with desire for everything Steve offers – or better yet, denies.

His sweet, perfect boy, who deserves everything and more. Deserves to be loved and cherished in all the ways he craves, needs.

Just thinking about it makes Steve’s half hard cock twitch in anticipation, sensitive to the lacy fabric rubbing against his skin where it sits like a second skin. The harness is next, straps adjusted to fit his form, sitting low on his hipbones, crisscrossing around his middle – front and back – down where they sit tight around his upper thighs.

It makes him stop and stare at himself for a moment, admiring his own body with a sense of cocky pride, eyes flitting between reality and the mirror version of it.

He looks hot. Hotter than he’d imagined he would. Sure, it’s not first time he’s wearing a naughty little accessory, but this one is different from the sturdy leather he sometimes wears when they’re going out clubbing. This one is so delicate, the silky, shiny blue standing out against dark hairs and tan skin, offering an obscenely beautiful vision where they run along the base of his cock, accentuating the shape and size that’s barely hidden underneath the sheer lace.

Not to speak about how fucking good the harness makes his ass look, enhancing his curves, digging just right into his flesh in the crease of his thigh when he moves.

It’s a shame, really, to cover all that with boring old sweatpants. But it’s a birthday gift, after all, and he wants Eddie to have something to unwrap.

-----

continue reading here

#eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steddie fic #steddiebingo2025

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outsideratheart · 1 year ago

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Time Has No Concept (Ingrid Engen x reader)

It may not have officially been winter but that didn’t stop the -5 degrees feel any warmer. You always said you liked the cold weather or at least you weren’t bothered by it. Today was a true test of that.

Walking out for the pitch inspection you only have one thing on your mind or more specifically one person.

“It hasn’t even been a week” Keira tries to tease you but fails because you don’t bite.

“I don’t care. I spend every day with her in Barcelona so when we’re apart a day is like a week.”

It was true. It didn’t take much for you to miss Ingrid. You moved to Barcelona after the euros and quickly became friends with Ingrid. It stayed like that way until you won the Champions league. It was a night to be remember for more reason than one.

Lucy and Keira agreed to go with you to Ingrid as she was with Caro and Ada.

“Tell me why you, a Norwegian native, are wearing more layers than me?”

“Because I’m not a human heater” Ingrid opens your arms and makes herself comfy.

“Hello my love” you look down at her, fully disregarding the company around you.

“Are you nervous?” Ingrid asks as she sees a crack in your confident persona.

On game days you were serious, locked in and there was little anybody could do to steer you from this mindset. Ingrid however had the unexplainable ability to see through it and as she stands on the pitch in your arms she sees her girlfriend, not the England captain.

“About the game, of course not” you wink playfully “about what comes after, a little bit. I just want to make a good impression”

“Pull back your shots and maybe you will”

Ingrid knew you would never do as she asked so isn’t surprised when she gets a scoff as her reply. The two of you stay together in each others arms for a few more minutes as you involve yourselves in the conversation between Lucy and Ada.

It was very well known that you hated wearing base layers but it was advised to put one on gor the game given that it might snow was forecast. That didn’t stop you from removing the thermal layer within the first ten minutes when you saw their goalkeeper go down. At half time most of them put a second base layer on and an extra pair of gloves whereas you opted for a cup of tea instead.

The post match team huddle was one of the quickest in team history and the lap around the pitch that followed matched it. Only one or two England players remained on the pitch to thank the fans, you were one of them. Once the last photo was taken your attention shifted to a different kind of fan.

There she stood talking animatedly with two people who you recognised from the time Ingrid FaceTimed home whilst staying at your apartment.

“Y/N!” The younger boy, Ingrid’s nephew you think, shouts.

“Look at you” Ingrid cannot believe you are standing next to her in the now -8 degrees, maybe even colder, in only shorts and a shirt. No base layers, no gloves, no coat “You’re going to get a cold”

“You forget that I don’t get sick, it’s my superpower. Besides, I’ll have you to keep me warm” you are millimetres away from kissing her when you are interrupted.

“Y/N, please can I have your shirt?”

“No”

“Yes”

Much to Ingrid’s dismay you give her nephew your shirt. He takes his coat off and quickly puts your shirt on over Ingrid’s. The smile on his face rivals the Cheshire cat’s and you whisper in your girlfriend’s ear that the look on his face makes it worth it.

Ingrid holds her jacket open and pulls you close as you chat away to her brother about the game, happy with the fact that the two of you get along well and that you will have a familiar face when you meet everybody else a little bit later. It is only when she feels you shivering against her does she politely end the conversation so that you can go inside the stadium.

“Shower, please. No ice baths. We can go on a recovery walk tomorrow” your girlfriend knew your post match routine well at this point but prayed that tonight you would stray without any arguments.

“Yes ma’am” you salute her before doing as your told.

Almost two hours later you were pulling up to Ingrid’s parents house. Ingrid seemed confident that her family would like you. The way she grabbed your hand and led you into her childhood home did ease the nerves building inside you.

Luckily for you, Ingrid’s nephew is the first to see you and pulls you over to show you his Legos. You can’t believe that you are using a child as a shield against her family.

The protection doesn’t last long because your girlfriend soon calls you over to her parents. You had practiced this speech plenty of times in the mirror.

Mr and Mrs Engen, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Y/N Y/L/N.

Yet when you get within a meters distance of them you freeze. These are two of the most important people in your girlfriend’s life and making a good impression on them is a must.

They stare at you for what feels like an eternity and you can also feel Ingrid’s eyes on you too. Another thing you notice in the corner of your eye is the smirk that is tugging at her lips.

“You were right. In person she isn’t anything like she is on the pitch” her father says.

Still you are frozen. Do you slip the player switch on and play the confidence card? No, that might be too much and they’d know it’s an act.

“Hyggelig å møte deg” you hold your hand out for both her father and her mother.

Their eyes widen and you don’t know if it’s in shock or horror. Your girlfriend’s silence didn’t help either.

“I said nice to meet you, right?”

Ingrid leans in and kisses your check.

“Elskling, it was perfect” Ingrid compliments you.

“She is right. The pronunciation was very good”

“Ingrid didn’t say you knew Norwegian” her father adds.

“Our team mate Caroline has been teaching me after training”

Ingrid knew you had been having lessons with Caro, you had told her that much. She just assumed it was Spanish because of how quickly you picked up the native language of your new club. Never in a million years did she think you’d be learning her language.

The four of you talk for a little while. You get to know Ingrid’s parents and they ask all sorts of questions. They are mainly football and life in Barcelona related. You don’t get the hurt my daughter and I’ll kill you speech but you suspect they are waiting until you’re alone for that.

After the introductions you retake your place on the floor with Ingrid’s nephew. His company you found a lot less intimidating. Her parent’s are sat on the sofa behind you watching the tv with some of Ingrid’s other relatives but you aren’t bothered by their presence.

“Y/N” Ingrid shouts from the kitchen where she is helping her brother with the food.

“Yes, my love” you reply.

Ingrid’s parents share a look that you don’t see. Was the nickname you had given their daughter part of your English charm or were you really in love with her.

“So you love our daughter?” Ingrid’s father asks rather boldly.

“Pappa!” Ingrid comes to your rescue just in time.

The three important words had not been said but the feeling was there.

“I do” when you stand to your feet you feel betrayed by your body and mouth.

“You do?” Ingrid face is the picture of shocked.

“I do” you whisper softly “I think I’ve know for a while. Everything was made clear in the summer. I was heartbroken but you took me in your arms and held me until I was whole again”

There it was. The admission that you, for some unknown reason, had been scared to make.

Ingrid didn’t care that her family was surrounding her. She kissed you with the same passion as the kisses you share at home. It may not be an intense kiss but it is enough to convey her feelings.

“I love you, I really do”

What comes over you, you have no idea but you lean back in for another kiss, a peck. The public display of affection does earn a fake gagging sound by her brother before he announces dinner is ready and served. You do have to hold back a laugh when he goes the extra lengths to let everyone know he did it without his sister’s help.

Later that night you get another hot shower to warm you up. Maybe your girlfriend was right about you getting sick.

The two of you lay in Ingrid’s teenage room.

“Did you really mean what you said earlier?” Your girlfriend asks you.

“What did I say earlier?”

Hearing this Ingrid sits up and slaps you on the chest. The impact send you into a coughing fit.

“Don’t play with me. Also, you’re getting sick. Take these”

You are handed two tablets which you take happily despite your stubbornness.

“I meant it but I thought it was too soon and I didn’t want to scare you away. How was I suppose to tell you I love you after only being dating for a month, in fact we weren’t even dating, not officially”

“You knew after a month?”

“You think it’s too much. You see, this is why I didn’t want to tell you”

Your brain went into overdrive as you began overthinking your decision.

“It’s not too much Y/N. I met you a year ago yet I feel like I’ve known you a lot longer. I would shock myself at how easy I would open up to you. When it comes to you it’s like time has no concept”

Nobody has ever spoken about you in that way. You were never anyone’s person until you met Ingrid.

“Jeg elsker deg” Ingrid pecks you on the lips “Jeg elsker deg”

When you fall asleep that night you do so with a huge smile on your face and a sense of calmness that you very rarely feel.

The next morning Ingrid wakes up to the sound of you coughing, or more accurately barking, in the bathroom.

“I’m sick” you admit when you see Ingrid standing behind you in the mirror.

“Come on I’ll make you some broth that will have you feeling good as new in no time”

“You don’t have to. I’ve taken some more medicine, I’m ok”

“I know I don’t have to. I want to and it’s what I do for the people I love”

#Ingrid Engen x reader #Ingrid Engen one shot #Ingrid Engen imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso one shot #barcelona femeni x reader #barcelona femeni imagine #barcelona femeni one shot #norwnt x reader #norwnt imagine #norwnt one shot

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wooskirbyplushie · 3 months ago

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Late Night Love ~ J.WY

✰ Husband!Jung Wooyoung x Reader

✰ Synopsis: Wooyoung comes home late and decides to show you how much he missed you. Honestly just a little bit of fluff for the soul

✰ Word Count: 1k

✰ Warnings: Some suggestive content, kissing, mentions of drinking (wine but drink responsibly), reader is female, mentions of kids

✰ a/n: Hey hey, long time no see (literally like three or four weeks.) Um life has been kicking my ass :3 I've been planning a billion different new ideas that I randomly come up with, but none of them are done... (cough cough, our little secret pt2.) But besides that ! This is just another drabble that has been in my drafts for almost a year now.

And as always, my masterlists are down below!

Ateez Masterlist | Seventeen Masterlist

it wasn’t rare for you to go to sleep without seeing your husband. if anything, it was more than normal for you to go to sleep and be woken up by wooyoung coming home in the wee hours of the morning after a long day of rehearsals, and today was no different.

you had managed to wrangle the kids to eat, shower, and get changed into their pajamas at a reasonable time; convincing them to go to sleep early with an extra scoop of ice cream. once they were tucked into bed, the kids pleaded to call wooyoung to say goodnight with puppy eyes, and you of course obliged.

when the final goodnights were said, you took the opportunity to have some alone time, starting with a very necessary 30 minute shower and face mask. it had been forever since the last time you had a moment to truly take care of yourself considering how crazy your schedule was between the kids and running back and forth to the office for work.

after the shower, you moisturized and decided to cozy up in bed with one of the many books you had bought but had yet to touch. lighting a candle on the nightstand to add to the mood, you got in a comfortable reading position in hopes of not falling victim to the usual dozing off mid sentence scheme. after about 45 minutes, you felt your eyelids start to droop, notifying you that maybe it was time to call it a night. looking at the clock to your right you saw it was only a little bit after 2 am. still no sign of your husband, but you were too tired to wait up for him. you settled into bed and in mere minutes you were snoring ever so slightly.

by the time wooyoung came home, it was a bit after 3 am and you were completely knocked out. he tried his best to not make any noise while putting his stuff away in the closet, tip toeing over to the bed to give you a light kiss on your temple, you stirring ever so slightly, before going to shower and get ready for bed himself. he carefully closed the connecting bathroom door and turned on the shower as quietly as possible.

after his shower, wooyoung just threw on a pair of sweatpants and closed the bathroom door before making his way over to the bed. you had changed positions at this point, facing away from his side of the bed, making it easier for him to cuddle you to sleep. at least that’s what he had planned originally. he slipped under the covers next to you, wrapping his arm around your torso; causing you to start to wake up out of your sleep.

wooyoung kissed the crook of your neck gently and peeked to see if his actions fully woke you up yet. but no, you were still sleep. smirking to himself, he leaned down and gave you another kiss. and another. and one more until the pecks turned into him obviously trying to leave a hickey on your neck. you shook your head and blinked a few times to wake up before turning your head and making partial eye contact with woo. it was dark so you could only imagine you were looking at his eyes but you honestly weren’t sure.

“you just can’t let me sleep huh?” you joked before turning your body to face your other half. he chuckled in return, pulling you closer in his embrace. “well i tried to but when i got in bed i realized how much i missed you today.” woo responded whilst leaving a kiss on your forehead. you smiled and gave him a kiss on the lips in return. you wrapped your arms around him slightly before retracting them. “woo where is your shirt.”

“i get hot when i sleep cmonnnn” he whined in response. “plus you were gonna take it off anyway” he smirked. even thought you couldn’t see it, you could hear it in his voice, so you hit his shoulder in response. “oh stop being cheeky. if that was the case why wear pants??” you joked while pulling on the strings of his sweatpants.

wooyoung just laid there for a second as if he was genuinely contemplating why he wore pants in the first place. rolling your eyes at his actions, you attempted to roll over to go back to sleep but woo grabbed you causing you to shriek when he did. he placed you on his lap in a way that you would be straddling him, his hands holding your waist in place and his hips adjusting underneath you.

“woo i’m not playing with you right now i’m tired” you whined while hitting his chest. sitting up a bit so he wasn’t flat on his back, woo gave you another peck on the lips.

“don’t worry baby i’ll do all the work.”

you looked over at the clock. 4 am. you let out a sigh before looking back at wooyoung. “you have 2 hours before the kids have to get up for school.”

“trust me baby i only need 1 and a half. and i’ll take care of the kids in the morning ok?” he reached up to cup your face while you contemplated his offer. “you better be up no later than 6:45.” you responded, slowly giving in to temptation; a pool of arousal building in the seat off your pajama shorts from the compromising position your husband had you in.

“i’ll be up by 6:44:59.” woo teased before pulling you into a deep, passionate kiss.

you felt dizzy from how good it felt to have your lips on his after a long day, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

god you missed this…

#ateez fic #jung wooyoung #wooyoung ateez #wooyoung fic #ateez #ateez fanfic #wooyoung drabbles #kim hongjoong #yeosang #yunho #jongho #choi san #song mingi #park seonghwa

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soupslice · 5 months ago

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Blue light

(Internetcafe!joost x f!reader)

Summary: Joost makes a move on the pretty girl at the internet café.

Tags: fluff, a bit angsty maybe, teasing, mutual longing, a little suggestive in the end but nothing crazy, joost tries to act tough but is actually a softie lol

Wc: about 1,800

If you are a minor or uncomfy with rpf please dni!!

───── ⋆⋅☆📺☆⋅⋆ ─────

You swing open the door to the city’s only internet café.

Open 24/7, and a great place to hide away from the cold on a day like this. An even better place to joke around and relax after a long day of studying. The café is pretty busy today. You’re met with the chatter of the people already there, laughing and bickering as they’re playing games together, emailing each other memes. The room is dim, bathing in a warm yellowish light. Despite the old state the place is in, you find it weirdly cozy. Not like you haven’t been there before. The fans usual humming next to the water dispenser. Service posters and ‘no smoking’ signs are plastered on the walls.

The culprit is the only person who seemingly isn’t having a good time, the receptionist, Joost, smoking a cigarette behind his desk at the far back. He also happens to be the main reason you come by every week. The never-faltering scowl plastered on his face, clacking away on his keyboard. You wonder what keeps him so busy all day, except cleaning up after customers of course. Maybe he is just playing tetris all day. But you did once catch him snacking on an onion. Strange guy, really.

Despite his rather annoyed attitude, you find Joost embarrassingly attractive. Looking up at you with smudged eyeliner around his blueberry like eyes whenever you speak to him. Most other conversations he has during the day are cut short, not really feeling like talking to anyone.

You make your way through the rows of desks until you reach Joosts. Feeling a jolt in your stomach when you lay eyes on him. He doesn’t want to admit it , but he was hoping you would come by today. It’s Wednesday already, so the fact that you was not here yesterday is out of the ordinary.

It takes Joost longer than usual to respond when you start talking to him. Cigarette smoke lingering in the air around his desk. But when you mention the note on the window outside his head immediately perks up. The ‘We’re hiring!’ flyer exactly what the blond hoped you would bring up. Relieved that you’re the one asking and not any of the others who spend their time at the cafe. He removes one of his wired earphones and looks at you with faux nonchalance. “You just seem so busy all day, might be easier if we were two. I also come here like multiple times a week, so why not?” you blabber on, almost nervously. He nods at you while he puts out his cigarette on the porcelain ashtray he keeps on the counter. Spending a bunch of extra time with him at the café could be fun, you really like the place anyway.

You get a bit intimidated as his blue eyes pierce right through you, even though you saw him peeking at you when you walked through the door. He could fit an entire ocean in there if he really tried. The beauty mark beneath his lips that you love so much catches your eye, but only for a what must be half a second. You swear that you can see a grin tugging on the corners of his mouth before he finally speaks. His accent seeping through most words. “My shift ends at 8, stay for a while and we’ll discuss it then ja?”

“Why so late?” You almost chuckle. “I mean I can wait, but haven’t you been here since this morning?” you add. To which Joost just shrugs and hums an “i don’t know, I don’t really mind it,”and looks back at his screen again.

“Oookay, allergic to sunligt much,” you retort jokingly right as you turn to take a seat at a computer. He scoffs at that, a small smile on his lips. Little did you know he actually might be.

You sit down at a computer pretty far into the café. Joost to your right. Even though you come here often; his company, although quiet, could never tire you. Seeing him annoyed and busy in his usual element is also pretty funny to you. However done he may feel he is never hesitant to help anyone who needs it though. You may or may not have asked him for help when you did in fact know how to fix whatever problem the computer was having. Feeling his hand on the armrest of your chair as he leans over the desk does something to you. His arm just slightly touching your shoulder. So close that you can feel the slight hint of aftershave hidden beneath the smell of the cigarettes he smokes. His touch sends shockwaves through you. Wondering how his hands would feel wrapped around your waist. His lips nipping at your neck.

You think you’re being smooth. But Joost knows. Way more than you could possibly think he does actually. He can see your eyes widen at the small expanse of his tummy that reveals itself when he stretches. Notice the blush that creeps up your cheeks whenever he stands in front of you like a tower. It amuses him how much he’s got you wrapped around his finger. When you leave it somehow gets even harder for him to focus. His mind lingering on the smell of your perfume, your laugh echoing in his head. The way you smile at him with a glint in your eye, secretly admiring each other before looking away yet again.

After a while Joost gets curious about what you’re up to. He can no longer hear the soundtrack of your favourite video game, ‘no one lives forever’, blend in with the hum of computers and the chatter still present in the café. It’s so cute the way your brows knit while moving the mouse around the screen. Something having clearly caught your attention. His curiosity gets the better of him and he gets up without you noticing, almost like he wasn’t there at all. You are way too focused on the ms-paint window currently open on your desktop. Joost grabs a black plastic bag and routinely starts walking around to pick up trash and other stuff left behind on the desks. Some old gum (ew), soda cans and all that.

He eventually closes in on you and takes a peek at your screen, squinting since he is not wearing his glasses. His cheeks grow warm as he scans the brush strokes that covers the digital canvas. A portrait of him on the page, a camel, and… onions?? He contemplates saying something, but quickly realises that it would look a bit weird to the other customers still around. Settling for walking back to his desk instead.

When 19.30 rolls around the blond calls out to you, putting the magazine he was reading down on his desk. “I’m basically done for today, come to the back.” Joost says and waves you over to him. You reach over to the power button before you follow him inside. There’s a staff only sign on the door. A few desks and shelves upon shelves with CDs and extra hardware parts decorate the space. You notice a bag of funyuns lying around on a table. As well as Joosts ipod and some pocket money. The setting almost matches the café, you think.

“So,” he starts, leaning on one of the desks. A new cigarette hanging from between his lips.

“You want me to hire you?” He asks. You actually want him to do a lot more to you than that. But this is a good approach nonetheless.

“Yeah, It’s no secret that i like the place. And i could probably use the extra money as well,” you argue. One of your hands instinctively starts playing with your necklace.

Still leaning back, Joost takes a drag and exhales before standing up completely. Right in front of you. He is dangerously close now. Just the simple motion of him standing up makes your head spin. He is so much taller, not looking entirely at you.

After months of dancing around each other, months of yearning and pretending not to mind it, months of Joost not daring to make a move on you, he finally, FINALLY, lets himself give in. Lowering his voice a few notches before he asks; “Is that really the only reason, schatje?” with a smirk that decorates his pretty lips. He’s not hiding his gaze anymore, drinking in the sight of your red cheeks and half open jaw as the question lingers between you.

Of course it was not your only reason. His intimidating figure is making you hot all over, and he wears a face like he knows it, too. The expression completely different from the irked scowl he usually defaults to while at his desk. You have never seen him smile like this before. Confidence high on his bloodstream and it’s the most gorgeous he has ever looked.

Unbelievable. Unfathomable. It feels insane what is happening to you right now. A reoccurring fantasy that has somehow trickled into reality. The thought of his delicious weight pressed on top of you making you toss and turn in the middle of the night. Again and again. You feel stupid for being so struck, for letting him have this effect on you. His mere proximity rendering you so obviously wordless that you almost want to scurry away and hide.

When you don’t respond, you actually see his smile falter a bit, afraid he might have overstepped. Theres a sharp jab in his stomach at the thought. Maybe he just ruined exactly everything. He wonders if you can hear the heavy thud of his heart. “I don’t know Joost, should I come back next week and find out?” You respond after what feels like a lifetime. You’re finally able to grasp onto some sort of composure at your words.

“Sounds good, we are officially coworkers then!” He exclaims with a chuckle. A bit taken aback himself, but so relieved. It clears the tension a bit, but for now you don’t quite care. Having gotten the confirmation that he wants exactly the same thing as you do. Joost takes your hand in his and shakes it dramatically as you start laughing as well.

After chatting for a while longer, you both realise that it’s getting late. The manager is now the one behind the desk to take the night shift. You wave Joost goodbye outside the café door as both of you head your separate ways. So close yet so far away. If only you could have said what you wanted to, anything! Anything to pull him in by the collar and press your lips to his. Anything to wake up to his blond tousle of hair next to you every morning, see the sun coat his bare chest. It’s a thought that should feel too intimate for a guy you only see a few times a week. But it just feels so right.

You already know that you will not be able to sleep tonight.

───── ⋆⋅☆📺☆⋅⋆ ─────

a/n: I have a few more things in mind for these two (obviously) so this is pt 1/2! Also this is my first published fic!! Who cheered!? Anyway thank u for reading, constructive feedback very much appreciated lol :,)

AND DONT WORRY VAMPIRE JOOST WILL MAKE AN APPEARANCE IN PART 2 TRUSTT

#joost klein #joost klein x reader #rpf #internetcafe!joost #my shaylaaaa #fluff

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toxictigertonic · 8 months ago

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Happy Halloween!! I was going to post this earlier today, but the past two weeks have been wack so I'm writing this the day of lol.

COYLE

- Hates Halloween bc crime increases Halloween night and he's sick of dealing with property damage calls. Though, he does like enforcing the law, so he does get a little enjoyment out if it.

- He'd walk into a Halloween party for a noise complaint and get mistaken for a male stripper 😔

- Finds people dressing up as a cop insulting. Little kids could get away with it, but adults? That's impersonating an officer, bucko!

- If someone asked if he was dressed as a cop he'd actually lose his shit and get into a screaming match with them. The disrespect!

- Not the biggest fan of candy, but he'd be the guy that actually enjoys candy corn. The monster /j

- A little old lady would offer him candy and he'd accept it with a smile, then immediately try to pass it off to someone else.

- He would NOT pass out candy. Fucker hands out apples and shit bc he likes to see the disappointment in children's eyes.

- Says some absolutely WILD shit to anyone in a sexy costume. Man or woman, doesn't matter, he's pointing out how you look in a very uncomfortable way.

- Kids would manage to prank his ass and handcuff him to something for the rest of the night. Good luck responding to calls, jackass.

MOTHER GOOSEBERRY

- She loves Halloween, Futterman hates it with a passion for obvious reasons.

- She's cooing over the children's costumes. She'd give extra cute outfits extra candy (if Futterman let her hand out candy)

- Futterman makes her hand out apples and floss and toothbrushes and she feels a little bad seeing the children get sad. The babies deserve a little treat :(

- She'd secretly hide a piece of candy under the apple and dump it into the kid's hand with a not so secret wink.

- Futterman lectures small children who have big bags of candy and makes them cry. You're gonna get cavities!!

- In particular, if he sees taffy or candy corn or anything that's pure sticky sugar he loses his fucking mind. Screaming about plaque and tartar while the kids run away.

- Gooseberry is dressed up as a big friendly witch! Her pointy hat and heeled boots make her even taller and the children are in awe of this big friend. Futterman is her familiar. He's not impressed.

- If Futterman had a choice he'd be a weregoose. He's frightening children in more ways than one.

- I can guarantee she didn't get to go trick or treating as a kid. She should be allowed to trick or treat as an adult without Futterman giving her shit.

FRANCO

- Another child who didn't get to go trick or treating. Got to see other children receive candy but his dad 1. Didn't care enough to take him trick or treating, and 2. Knew it was far too dangerous to be out and about with his status as mob boss.

- This translates to a desperate need for him to go trick or treating. But, he'd be really iffy on wearing a costume. On one hand, he wants to really experience what he missed out on! On the other hand, he feels like he'd be mocked and that he doesn't need a costume, he just deserves candy.

- A little old lady would pinch his cheek and call his costume cute and he wouldn't be sure if he should cry or get pissed off.

- The amount of candy this man would devour would be terrifying for anyone to witness. Candy after candy, chocolate after chocolate, his tummy would hurt so bad by the end.

- He's NOT picky, either. Have a candy you don't like? Pass it to him, he'll scarf it down without even thinking about it. A couple of the sticky ones make his teeth hurt, though.

- The sugar crash afterwards would be legendary. He's face down on the carpet, half dead, shaking from the low blood sugar, with a puddle of drool under him. Someone clean him up and put him to bed.

- Costume wise, I can either see him going as an imp (the poster and bc he's my evil little guy) OR a unicorn bc of the line he has with Coyle. Pacifier comes with both outfits whether you like it or not.

- If you offer him some shit like popcorn balls or non candy when he comes to your door (or point out that he's an adult), he's pulling out Lupara. Don't test him, he's rabid.

- He'd be so excited if he could go trick or treating with Gooseberry. He'd hold her hand and feel like the most special little guy. One hand in hers, one hand on his pumpkin pail, paci in his mouth, he's happy as can be.

I love Halloween so much, everyone have a great night and enjoy some candy and the Geister event!

@thehalloweenspooks @millie-milkshake (thank you both for asking teehee)

#leland coyle #mother gooseberry #phyllis futterman #doctor futterman #franco barbi #il bambino #outlast trials #outlast #outlast trials asks

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xesiarah · 1 year ago

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“˚₊‧ UNLUCKY ENCOUNTER ‧₊˚ ”

Yan!Loser oc x Reader

Synopsis — some call it a coincidence, some say it's fate, but I say it's absolute utter fucking, bullshit.

—

"I'm sorry."

The other line hangs up, the irrational telephone beep ringing against your ear as you genuinely start feeling the symptoms of hysteria bubbling up your chest and clamming up your breathing. At this point you definitely wouldn't say no to a fucking lobotomy.

This week has been feeling like the universe is actively trying to kill you off, like as if already getting coffee spilled on you wasn't bad enough; You, in this modern age and time having to use the telephone because your phone was snatched, along with your favorite handbag, containing the newly expensive perfume you brought still half full, and then just now your partner of 2 years breaks up with you after you asked them for help because you tripped on a rock, resulting on a sprained ankle and having to distressingly limp all the way to the phone booth.

Coincidence? Yeah, I think not. Just before this hell week was 3 days after your best friend ditched you for her new boyfriend, 4 days after you fucked up an important exam, and A WEEK after you befriended that jackass freak at school. Losing a few people here and there was to be expected but, c'mon! Isn't this just a new form of torture? You're sure that he was the one that caused all this, who else is to blame!? Maybe the rumor that said he must have all that hair to hide the dent he got when he was dropped as a baby was true, I mean. He probably performed some dark sorcery on you for whatever reason.. or maybe he's a sick masochist that fucks over people who don't treat him like an accused witch during the Salem Witch Trials. — Seriously, it was as if the universe's will to make that mfs life a living hell has rubbed off on you. But you know what, yeah.. It's fine, you can live with this.

Or not. Your alarm blaring for you to awaken gladly disturbs your nightmarish slumber, this is the 3rd time. The THIRD TIME! You've dreamt about him. — of that freak that brought you to your misery, who knows, what if dreaming about him more then once was some sort of bad omen? The 3rd time being on the first day of the week nonetheless. Of course the birds are extra chirper, you thought that maybe they're basking on your torment, if they were, you hope stray bullets manages to shoot all of them dead because we aren't having that kind of bullshit today. — You have finally devised a plan to avoid Satan's reincarnate for the rest of the school year as if they were carrying a covid variant. Finally getting that horrendous goblin off your back would feel like it's the second coming of Christ, and you're not about to let any twinks get in the way of living your life free from any agony inducing minger either.

You manage to find the will to exist. Entering the gates of your school muttering prayers to God, and whatever other deity that’s listening, to please not let you set sights of his probably-smells-like-cheese, greasy ass hair, the overgrown bangs covering ⅔ of his hazel eyes that always seemed to bother you, he even has those weird Incel glasses on.. maybe that one rumor that said he had some sort of eye fungus just makes this all more oddly debatable. You wander through the empty hallways, not seeing a single student kinda unsettles you. — makes sense though, It's pretty early, and you've never seen him around this time so, the coast is clear, for now, or so you thought. — You were approaching the rows of vending machines all pushed up against the back of the building when you caught a glimpse of a silhouette you're all too familiar with, he seems to be sketching something, not that you totally cared for whatever it was. You shrug, but when you were about to turn to leave he gets up and walks towards the boys bathroom, leaving his precious notebook unattended, out in the open, where anyone could take a peak... Just a little peak, alright? You tiptoed, walking towards it in longer strides to minimize your footsteps, upon getting closer, you notice the front page already wide open, as if he purposely left it like that, — that should've been the first red flag. Because inspecting it a little further made your jaw slack, the thing he was sketching.. was you. "What the fuck, I look amazing." You mutter, it's a little creepy but you're flattered with the way he straight up beautified you, admiring it for a little longer then you should've had was a mistake though, because just when you took your eyes off of the notebook, you see him literally lurking and hiding behind the bathroom's entrance. He's wide-eyed, and a huge creepy grin plastered on his face. — Genuinely scaring the flattery out of you and making you bolt straight to the opposite direction on instinct, the way he looked at you literally triggered your flight or fight. The sound of your fast footsteps filled the hallways, your heart going pitter-patter, quite literally about to burst out your chest. Fuck. Just your luck. Guess this won't be an easy day to get through.

Morning lectures are finally over. Which means you can finally celebrate the fact that you pushed through and made it to lunchtime! It was still agonizing nonetheless, waiting around corners to let him pass kind of felt like you're stalking him, can't say that you didn't get any weird looks either. The worse part was definitely him searching and skimming through the halls, asking everyone for your whereabouts, half of them made themselves look busy so he wouldn't approach them, and the other half straight up ran the opposite direction as if he threatened to bite their toes or something. Weirdly enough, most of them ended up slipping on wet floor, which just further gives in to your suspicion of him practicing dark sorcery. Anyways, you're proud of the little progress you made, and that's all that matters for now.

—

Lucian sits alone, his table is tucked away in the very corners of the cafeteria, no one even daring to glance at his direction, he used to typically eat in the bathrooms but nobody wants him in their presence to the point that they all stand up and leave when he approaches a table. — there's just this weird air surrounding the dude that automatically repels people away, and no it's not body oder dammit! He just gets greasy fast, and probably for threatening to unalive a teacher but that isn't important! The love of his life is avoiding him! He chews on his fingernails as he ponders, possible reasons fill his head, and they aren't very good ones. — Did someone make you do this? Is there someone else...? That surely can't be. That's just cheating isn't it? You love him after all! He saw the glint in your eyes when you looked at the portrait he drew of you. He could even show you his shrine! Made just for you, containing such precious things you lost! — His excessive chewing of his fingernails grow desperate to the point of drawing blood, he grimaces at the sight of crimson streaks, wiping it on the sleeves of his hoodie. — it just can't be. Why would you do him wrongly like this? You smiled at him, you laughed with him instead of AT him, you sat together.. So why!? Are you gonna leave him like his mother did..? Was that all a joke to you..? He just couldn't accept this, you aren't that kind of person! You know what, he finally snaps. he just has to hear an answer from you. — "He's right behind me, isn't he?" The person right Infront of you nods, and immediately scurries away. At this point you're frozen in place, what the fuck do you do? Just make a run for it? "Can we please talk..?" He speaks behind you, his hand is on your shoulder. You swallow, the remaining bits of your conscience crumbling as you fucking make a run for it, aggressive footsteps follow behind and you realize HE'S CHASING AFTER YOU. You have never let out such a gut wrenching scream than what you just did in this exact moment. — You hide behind a wall, thinking you've lost him. Not until a hand grabs onto your arm.

—

He caught you. He has you pinned against the wall, not in a shoujo cutsy romantic way, he looks as if he's a starved vampire about to chomp on your neck, and not in a good way. Just no fucking way this scrawny mf outran you. Another 'unfortunately' for you too, the Gods did not answer your prayers. You're trapped in between the arms of the man you swore to avoid like the plague for the rest of the school year, this was definitely not on your 2024 bingo list. You didn't even last till' the end of the day and that lowkey hurts your pride. — But holy smokes, they say that you experience something new everyday, and this is the first time you've seen him up close, messy bedroom hair, teary eyes that looked like he hasn't slept since the first star wars movie came out. Wowza. If he actually made an effort, or if he didn't have such unsettling vibes, you can't lie, he'd be a revelation hottie. — ... Shit. Not the time to be thinking about his potential glow up. — Poor guy, watching him trying to maintain eye contact but just failing horribly is kinda cute.

......

The fuck? Your face scrunches up just after you snap back out of, whatever that was. Seriously.. say WHAT now? That was a demon possession right there, you need to stop acting as if his existence didn't just cause your downfall unprovoked. "You're avoiding me.." His voice disrupts the silent war you were having with yourself. It sounded meek, he genuinely looked like a shivering wet dog, with those.. tears boiling up his eyes, and.. quivering lips. Fuck. What if you'd just slide down his arms and escape? Hell no, if someone walked in they'd think you were giving him a blowjob and that's honestly worse then whatever's going on right now. "A-Answer me!" He yells(?) hesitantly, the dude genuinely looks like he's about to burst into tears any minute, you're surprised how he somehow grew the balls to yell at you though. "Okay, dude I'm sorry..?" — It's sad how he goes ballistic over a 'friendship' that lasted a week, but he did show you the list of student names he wanted to glock, and you listened to some of his nerdy ramblings, so you guess he did cherish your short time together even if you gave him absolutely zero fucks. — he goes completely quiet for a minute before he finally bursts out crying, fat tears are running through his acne filled face as he drops to the ground. "I really just wanted a someone-" He says in-between hiccups, he's crying as if you killed his mom or something. You decided to just wait it out until he grew tired but his wails started growing louder till' you were forced to crouch down and comfort him. "H-hey, uhm.." Fuck. Screw it. You know what, Who cares if your life starts crashing down, it already was unsalvageable from the very beginning anyway. Everyone needs a friend and you're too nice for this. You finally give in, breathing in a sigh of defeat. "How can I fix this?" His cries shimmer down and you swear to fucking God you think you just saw him flash a smirk. This bitch looks like he's bout to spit out the most outta pocket bullshit. — and he indeed did not disappoint. The two unexpected words coming out of his mouth just further inspires you to jump off a bridge. "d-date.. me."

......

Maybe hiring a hitman on yourself wouldn't be so bad.

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere loser x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #yandere imagines #yandere original character

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musubi-sama · 1 year ago

Text

“Classmates”

You are officially Shoko Ieri’s girlfriend, but why are you being followed and gently threatened by two tall, disgustingly handsome men?

CW: afab!reader x shoko ieri, modern au, mild stalking, the boys being intimidating, toys, cunnilingus, shower sex, lady love, mild plot

AN: This is baby’s first fan fic, my first piece of fiction and self-indulgent prose. The world needs more yuri/sapphic/lady stories and I hope I can do it a modicum of justice. I will probably write out the two flashback references as additional chapters once I figure out what I want to do with them.

WC: 4.9k

Next chapter —

“Let’s continue that little thread from last night after classes today?” she responds before pulling away and heading off to the lecture hall. “I’ll make sure to take ‘extra meticulous’ notes for you!” Your girlfriend puts extra emphasis and holds up sassy airquotes (even gives a little sideways nudge with her hip) because she’s notoriously a poor lecture student and you pay attention almost too much and too well, taking notes furiously from your front and center seat.

You give her a cute giggle and wave as she walks away; you’re heading off to meet with your adviser to discuss a research opportunity. While you walk across the quad into the neighboring dining hall to grab your usual Starbucks order (iced caramel machiatto).

Meanwhile, a pair of tall, offensively handsome men doing what would otherwise be a scene from a spy movie, fold the top half of a newspaper down and watch you and Shoko embrace and go your separate ways.

“Suguru, who the hell was that talking to Sho?” the white-haired, ethereally blue eyed man says a bit too loudly to his dark-haired, enigmatically purple eyed friend. The pair sit on the bench gawking, although the dark haired man winces at the volume of his friend.

“You’re going to give us away, shush, Satoru! I don’t know who she is or what that was about but let’s follow her” Suguru gets up and beckons in your general direction “and see where she goes” Satoru gets up and they both follow you at a safe distance, catching up with you as you are waiting for your order at Starbucks. Satoru perks up and nudges Suguru in the side with a cheeky smile when he hears the barista announce your order. “She can’t be that bad, she’s got a sweet tooth!”

“Let’s see where she goes from here.” Suguru pinches his chin as he watches you from across the cafe. You navigate around a few tables to reach the exit and head off to your meeting. While waiting for the elevator to the fifth floor, you catch a flash of messy-but-styled white hair from around the corner, but chalk it up to sleep deprivation and stress.

You make it to your adviser and he walks you through a few research opportunities, but the drawback is that you will need to take a year between finishing your primary in-classroom education and your clinical rotations. And the one that you like the most is across the country. Great timing, just after you finally get a girlfriend and think you may have your little life settled into a comfortable routine. Maybe you wait a few weeks to discuss this with Shoko. But maybe she would want you to bring it up sooner, it’s not like you haven’t known her for four years already. The responsible partner would talk about it soon. But you’ve never been too keen on bringing up tough subjects in a reasonable or quick manner, opting to mull quietly, by yourself, not wanting to bother other people or respond to negative feedback.

As you’re arguing with yourself, you take the elevator back down the ground floor and head outside to hole up in the library until Shoko is out of the morning’s lectures.

Except you don’t notice the two tall handsome boys following you from the lobby across the quad. They take notice of your internal conflicts written across your face and lack of spatial awareness to surround you and you bump into a dense, immovable statue. Fortunately for you, it’s not an actual statue, but a person, so there is a softness in the knock and a pair of arms quickly wrap around you to make sure you don’t fall. Two sets of arms, actually.

“Ah, Iamsosorry” You attempt to stammer out as you are brought out of your internal arguments. You look up to see long, feathered jet-black hair, reaching past the shoulders, but pulled partially up into a bun. Face framed by bangs hanging on one side. Piercing, focused, concerned violet eyes, and a soft smile. Your first impression is that he is cat-like. He catches you off-guard but you feel safe. As you step back to give him space and continue to your destination, your back bumps into an equally statuesque figure. But he’s the polar opposite when you tilt your head back and look up at him. A shock of white hair, dark round sunglasses, giant smile bearing all his teeth, ocean blue eyes piercing you. It’s unsettling how it feels like he’s reading every thought you’re having right now, in the past, and the future. “Oh, excuse me…” you mumble but it just trails off.

“Oh hello there.” Suguru places his hands on your shoulders to steady you. It feels nice, reassuring, considering you just knocked around some coastal rocks. “My name is Suguru Geto and this is Satoru Gojo. We just happened to see you walking across campus and you seemed distracted. Wouldn’t want you walking into anyone and causing a disturbance. Present company excluded, of course.”

“Yeah, what’s a girl like you doing so distracted?” You’re caught off guard by the brazen question. And confused by the implications. What kind of girl do they think you are?

“Sorry, I really just want to go to the library. I’m meeting my girlfriend soon.” You try to side-step the pair and they move in tandem to block your path. Ah, you start to feel the familiar anxiety of being pestered by someone who can’t understand that ‘no’ is a full and complete statement. What you fail to notice, is the shock that zipped through the boys’ expressions.

“I am sorry for the brashness of my companion” Suguru tilts his head up to give Satoru a piercing stare before his gaze softens again and he looks back at you. You feel as if you’re the only person in the entire world as he looks down. Completely taken by his gaze, feeling his arms re-settle on your forearms for a moment before dropping to his sides, giving you space with the lack of physical touch. “But we saw you with a friend of ours and we were just concerned for her. She always introduces anyone beyond a mere acquaintance to us, and we are only looking out for her best interests.” Satoru uses this opportunity to step around to your front, hands in his pockets. Although he still has a mischievous grin on his face.

“Er, what? I am sure that any one I am friends with surely doesn’t require a white knight or dark stallion to protect her honor.” You attempt to cut the conversation short.

“You’re right. You’re absolutely correct, dear. How about we get to know you over dinner? Our treat for being so forward. Tomorrow, pick you up at 7:00? I know a place that does great bananas foster with homemade caramel” Satoru winks, and you realize you’re still holding your coffee. You’re clutching it now, hoping he didn’t see that you asked for extra caramel drizzle in your coffee today. You’re a people pleaser, so you just quickly agree to the plans. You ask for their LineID and as you’re walking away, you get two messages immediately:

Can’t wait to see you, sweets! Looking forward to dinner and getting to know you.

Finally making it to the library, feeling buzzed, and not from the sugar or caffeine. But you manage to find some shred of focus for the next two hours. Your phone buzzes and you start to pack up your books and laptop. You respond to Shoko’s message that she’s out of class and heading to the dining hall with a quick “Yay, save me a seat!” message even though you know you don’t have to ask.

“How was the Pharmacology lecture?” You ask, while attempting to unhinge your jaw around a particularly ambitious forkful of salad. Your girlfriend just smiles at you over her soup.

“Hm, well you know how engaging Dr. Smith is at his age. I made sure to get an audio recording of the lectures and of course the slide notes include the markups from in-class.”

“Aww, thank you! You’re the best.”

Shoko gives you a fond smile as you both settle back into eating lunch. You continue chatting about classes, you feel confident over your polite dodging of any real answer to how your adviser meeting went “Ah, well, I am waiting for him to email me with some details on a couple research opportunities.” Shoko seems satisfied, or at least doesn’t have any follow up questions to your response. You don’t feel comfortable about lying to your best friend, your girlfriend, but you didn’t really tell her lies. Just, not the whole truth. You’ll tell her, soon. You promised yourself. That was the decision you had settled on right as you bumped into-

“Hey, I wanted to talk to you about something. I have two friends I’ve known since forever and I want to introduce you to them. I have kept you from them until now because they can be somewhat, very, incredibly, protective of me and intrusive to anyone who gets close. But they are good people, even if I have to kick their asses when they pull their little “baby Shoko” stunts.” Shoko puts her hands on yours and looks straight at you, although struggles to keep eye contact when she mentions her friends’ not-so-kind traits.

You consider her question and do not want to respond too quickly or eagerly, but you have wanted to build some new relationships before your life gets too much more hectic with clerkships, graduation, and intern year on the horizon. And if these new friends are already friends with Shoko, then it’s even easier because you would want any new friends to be comfortable with both of you. You may only be newly dating, but you’ve already fallen for Shoko quite hard and want to settle down. Or something like that? You haven’t taken a breath to really figure your brain out.

“Oh, well, why don’t we get drinks and see how things go? I like the idea of making new friends, let’s give it a try!” You try to hold back your over-eagerness, but you let slip big excited eyes and slotting your fingers into Shoko’s hands and squeezing. A small squeal may have also escaped your lips, you’re bad a poker. And Shoko loves it. She gives you a soft smile, leans over to drop a peck on your cheek. The rest of lunch passes with easy conversation. You head off to your afternoon lectures and study sessions together.

After classes finished, you both headed back to Shoko’s apartment. Even before you started dating, you spent most of your free time at her place. It was closer, bigger, quieter, and nicer than your apartment. You grab a pair of beers from the fridge after you finished cleaning up from dinner and walk over to the couch. Shoko turned on Netflix and started the nightly ritual of scrolling new and recently updated shows to see what caught either of your interests before settling on one of the six shows you’re already in the middle of watching. You sit sideways and hand over one of the beers, laying your legs across your girlfriend’s lap. She settles on watching the next episode of your shared guilty pleasure, Doctor X. During the opening credits, your phone buzzes several times with messages on Line.

“Ugh, what is it now? I should’ve left it in the bedroom” you grumble as you lean over to the table and pick up your phone that has now buzzed four times. You see a newly familiar name pop up and scowl.

“What’s wrong, love?” Shoko perks up and looks over to you as you start to read the messages, more coming in while you’re reading.

“I literally ran into a pair of criminally attractive guys. Boys, really. They did that High School-Hollywood thing of boxing me in, making me look up, and then not taking no for an answer. I agreed to get dinner with them tomorrow just so they’d leave me alone and go away.” You flash her the phone with the messages. Her usually subtle expression shifted much more dramatically when she saw who you were talking about.

“Wait. You ran into, literally? Gojo and Geto? Tall, one with white hair sticking up in stupid directions and acting with way too much bravado, the other with big ear gauges and an air of incredible self-confidence? Today? Where? When?” She stops her idle massaging of your legs and turns towards you, taking your phone to read more carefully what they had sent:

Heyyyyyy. Wear something cute? Do you like Mediterranean? :)

“Yyyyeah that matches the pair. Why, do you know them? Have they bothered you on campus before?”

Shoko snickers softly. “You could say that. Remember the pair of friends I wanted you to meet? Looks like they found you first.”

“Oh.” You look down at your hands for a moment and then suddenly you remember what Suguru said to you “we saw you with a friend of ours and we were just concerned for her…” “Oh, wait a second. You’re the friend they were talking about!” And you relay the conversation you had with Suguru and Satoru to Shoko who just shakes her head and sucks her teeth.

“Yeah, those bastards. I told them to wait till this weekend, I had news for them and someone to meet. But they just HAD to get impatient.”

“I will call off dinner! Can I have my phone back, please?” you reach out your hand to begin composing a polite response to the nuisance pair.

“No, don’t. Just have them come over first. And then they can take BOTH of us to dinner.”

As soon as you send off your address, you put your phone down. Shoko’s ministrations on your legs intensifies subtly, but clearly with an agenda. You lean back against the arm of the couch as Shoko slowly massages her hands up your legs, focusing on the softer flesh on the insides of your thighs. You part your legs for her slightly as she gets closer to your clothed core.

The days have been long and you’ve hardly had time for yourself or your relationship since you’ve put official titles on it. You shift yourself so you’re now straddling Shoko. You reach your hands around her neck, threading your hands under her long, wheat-colored brown hair. When you met her, her hair was only touching her shoulders, but now it’s reaching far down her back. Her lips are so soft and inviting, a gentle sheen of spit covering them. Your eyes rake over her face, taking in every facial micromovement. You admire her lone freckle below her eye, something you’ve always found cute.

You lean in, lips parting slightly as her eyes glance up at you, pupils darkening in desire. As your tongues slipped past each other, they danced delicately but with increasing urgency as your lips press harder and Shoko takes a brief opening to nip at your lower lip, drawing out a soft moan from you. Your hands hold her neck tighter, one slipping up through her hair, giving it a light tug. Her hands start sliding back in between your legs, the side of her pinky finger lightly grazing your center which elicits a small grind from you. As your kiss slowly turns more frantic, trading breaks for air with trails of urgency on each others jawline, Shoko reaches under your shirt to gently wrap her hands under your voluminous tits. Still seated in a soft bralette, your nipples begin to harden as her hands slowly squeeze and make their way into the bralette and find your nipples with a soft squeeze.

You drop your hands to your sides and toss your head back at the sharp, but pleasurable sensations and start to roll your hips in Shoko’s lap, looking for some friction and relief for the growing tension. You whimper as the pinching and squeezing intensifies, tilting your head back up and you are met with eyes filled with pure lust. “I told you I wanted to continue from last night” Shoko growls. You just respond with a low moan. Shoko then uses her forearms to slide your shirt up and over your head, taking your bralette with it.

Now, your fully exposed chest and abdomen, your nipples clearly taut in response to the pleasure being shown to them. Shoko then leans down to one, taking it in her mouth with a light suck. Keeping her hand squeezing the other, she lightly bites down, rolling the puckered nipple in her teeth, sliding her slick tongue across. She releases it with a pop, letting it and your breast drop and give a little lewd jiggle. She repeats the process on your other nipple. You are still wantonly grinding your hips in her lap, keening against her touch.

As your body continues to relax, your brain slowly shutting off the noise and entering that cozy, listful, lustful subspace headspace, your hands claw at your girlfriends’ shirt and pull it off of her during a brief moment when her lips aren’t attached to your body. The moment her skin is exposed, you bring yourself vertical and then over, pressing your breasts into hers, enjoying the soft and supple squeezes from your body weight onto Shoko. You reach in to grasp the sides of your shared mass of tits, squeezing and pushing them together.

You are in a daze, skin on fire, as you are drunk from your beer and the lust spreading through your veins. You always knew you were bisexual, although you couldn’t put a fine point on it until you met Shoko while at your lab’s new grad student orientation 3 and a half years ago. You moved across the country for grad school, knowing you’d need to start over again and find new (local) friends. You were taking in the space when you turned around and saw Shoko Ieri walk in the room, immediately disorienting you and a sudden warmth spreading into your center. You couldn’t look her in the eye for the entire first month.

“What do you want to do tonight?” Shoko brings you out of your daze as she wraps her hand around the back of your neck. “Want to start with that new toy I picked up recently?”

“O-oh, yeah, I haven’t tried something like that before!” You start to untangle yourself from Shoko and roll off the couch. You’re chased by Shoko into the bedroom as she reaches out to pinch at your sweatpants-covered ass, you making sure she can still catch you. There’s fun in the chase, but so is there in getting caught. You leap at the bed, spin around and sit on your legs patiently while Shoko disappears into her closet. She returns quickly, now in nothing but a lace thong and brandishing a modest, slightly curved silicone dildo in her hands, twirling her hair with her other hand. You bounce a bit in anticipation, soft tits still jiggling as you stop moving. You move to remove your sweatpants, but are cut off.

“Ah ah ah, hands off. Why are you trying to deny me the fun? I said we are going to continue from yesterday. Which means it’s my turn to return the favor.”

“We don’t need to keep a running tally for equitability sake!” you whine, sticking your lip out in an over-exaggerated pout.

“You’re right, but since this is celebrating us putting some structure and a title to” she waves her hand between the two of you “this, I want to finish what you started. Now, lay back, please.” You settle on the duvet, heart racing, feeling giddy. Last night you off-handedly said ‘I love you’ over dinner at home. It came out of nowhere, but you were just chatting and catching up from the day over a bowl of spaghetti, and it just fell out of your mouth while Shoko nearly choked mid-slurp.

Shoko sets the toy down on the bed and climbs up the bed, caging you in. As she reaches your middle, she sits back on her heels and tugs at your pants. She loved how you always returned to your own apartment or hers and would immediately change into comfortable room wear, shedding the stuffy denim and wired bras for soft cottons and gentle elastics. Pulling your hair back to keep it out of your face, it certainly made easier to grab in the heat of sex and teasing. After she removed your pants and panties, reveling at your exposed frame, Shoko admired your neatly trimmed hair framing your glistening pussy. “Mine.”

Soft kisses with small nibbles sprinkled in begin to chase up the inside of your legs, feet planted on the bed. As the kisses intensify, your knees fall further apart. Your hands come up to your hair as you lace your fingers through to ground yourself. Gently, two fingers spread your folds open and you let out a small gasp. “Mmm I just love to tease your pussy.” One slender finger slides in, your soft walls pulling it in deeper until your girlfriend’s middle finger is sheathed up to the knuckle. She flips her palm upwards and curls the finger inside of you while bringing her thumb to rest on your hardening clitoris. Your hips begin to buck at the movements, moans increasing. Slowly sliding her finger out, pressure still on your clit, Shoko adds a second finger and begins to rub circles with her thumb and thrusting her fingers in and out. She looks up from her ministrations to watch your face go through a million small emotions in pleasure. “That’s it, love. Let me hear you, don’t hold back.” You unwind on her hand, fluttering around her fingers, riding out your high with loud moans and grinding hips.

As you come back down, Shoko reaches over to the toy, aligning the flat, angled tip with your hole, pulling out her fingers. “Ready?” she whispers, but with an edge of gravel on her voice. She also grabs a small remote that you didn’t initially see and reaches up to place it in your hands. “I also got a treat for you. Feel free to press the buttons as you want and see what happens”

Slowly, Shoko presses the toy into your soaked pussy, as the tip disappears in, she turns it on to the lowest vibration setting. You give a sharp inhale as you push your head back further into the pillows. You recollect yourself as the toy makes its way further into you, and bring your hand up to see what this remote is. Just two buttons, marked by a plus and minus sign. You touch the plus button and suddenly a sultry and surprised “Ahhh mmmmm” Shoko whines from between your legs. Her progress to slide in the toy momentarily halted as she adjusted to the vibrating inside of her. She regains composure as she seats the toy fully inside you and rotates it around until you slam your eyes shut and cry out in pure pleasure. “Ah ha, found it. So hot.” Shoko bought a g-spot vibrator and adjusted it till she found the right spot inside of you.

Squirming somewhat, Shoko slowly moves the vibrator around, placing her free hand on your abdomen with pressure against you. Your hips begin to gyrate and roll with increased intensity every time the head of the toy makes contact with the spongy sensitive bundle of nerves inside your walls. “Sho—Shooookoooo ple- FUCK please~” you preen and attempt to stammer out some words. You increase the intensity on the remote.

“Ye-s, l-ove? You’re doing so, so, hnf, well, better than the fantasies I had all day of this- of this mooooment.” Shoko showers you with praise, stuttered by her own building pleasure, knowing exactly what is to come next.

“Ahhh, Sho—Shoko, I’m-com-” You attempt to tell her what you’re feeling as the pressure in your abdomen has reached a fever pitch, ready to incinerate you at the lightest touch. Shoko steadies the vibrator right on the nerves and brings her thumb up to apply pressure to your clit and lowers her body to get closer to your core. “Give it all to me.” At that moment you scream obscenities as your body releases the built-up pressure and you squirt directly into Shoko’s waiting mouth. Helping you ride out your pleasure pushed Shoko over the edge, too, as she rolls her hips along with the waves of her own orgasm. As your body begins to slow it’s movements, she turns off the vibrator and removes it from you. She also reaches down to her own bullet vibrator and removes it, still shaking as you’re too high on your own pleasure to find the remote.

Shoko sits up and wipes your slick from her face, reaching a hand up to you to clean off. “Good girl.” You whimper at the affirmation, pulling on her wrist to bring her up to you, her body draped on yours. When you finish lapping up the wetness on her hand, you twist your head over and your mouths meet in lazy but passionate kissing. Tongues lazily exploring each other, gratitude shared between the two of you.

“Shower?” You nod, slowly rolling yourself over, legs finding the ground albeit a bit shakily. Shoko steps out ahead, sliding into the en suite ahead of you to warm up the shower and grab towels. You stand in front of the mirror admiring your body, re-adjusting your hair and pulling the strays that have fallen out back up. You step in to the shower, bottoms of your feet chilled on the hard tile floor, but skin warmed by the scaldingly hot shower.

“Ahhhh, perfect” You reach out to rest your hands on Shoko’s waist as you both take a moment to relax in the warmth of each other and the water.

“Yeah, you are, love.” You giggle at the admiration. Shoko’s hands come up to gently massage your breasts, lightly pinching your nipples. She closes the gap between you and nudges her leg in between yours, rubbing her thigh against your sensitive folds. You let out a soft moan, feeling sensitive and on-edge already, after just a moment. “I’m not done with you yet.”

You continue to grind on her thigh as she holds pressure against your heat. Your hands slide up to Shoko’s chin, cupping her face and you dive in for a kiss. Your lips are urgent and needy as you moan into her mouth, biting her lips with every wave of building pressure. After several minutes, Shoko breaks the kiss, pulling away and you whine as her leg also pulls back. She begins kissing down the column of your neck, down the center of your clevage, past your navel, sinking to her knees to worship at your altar.

Wordlessly, Shoko nudges your legs further apart, guiding you so you are now leaning against the cold wall of the shower. Placing her hands on the front of your thighs, she slides them up to your folds and with her thumbs, spreads your pussy open, exposing your wet core to the warm shower air. She leans in to take a soft lick, savoring the first taste. You lean back on the wall for support, hands threading through Shoko’s hair.

“God you taste amazing. I can’t get enough of you.” Shoko uses her nose to rub against your oversensitive clit, reaching her tongue inside your sensitive cunt, applying light suction as she goes. Drinking up every drop your body offers, you can feel her moans reaching deep within you. Moving between deep licks inside your pussy to abusing your clit with the tip and flat of her tongue, you can feel the coil again twisting inside of you. With your moans completely unrestrained, you use your grip on her head to keep her pinned against your center.

“Baby, love, god” Shoko praises you at each short breath she takes. You don’t even have a moment to tell her as suddenly the coil snaps and you silently scream as she eagerly accepts the orgasm she pulled from your body. Her hands wrapping around your hips, holding you close as you buck against her touch. Once you have stopped moving so harshly, she stands up and your lips crash together one more time, you licking your wetness off her face, her embracing and holding you.

“I’ve never felt so relaxed with someone, Sho. You’re my best friend, my love, I can’t see a future without you.” Your mouth is moving faster than your brain, letting your admissions tumble out. A common occurrence for you recently. Shoko just smiles and you wash each other clean, taking time to massage tender areas, and scrub the rough ones. After you step out of the shower, you both go through your nightly skin care and pre-bed routines. Passing products between each other, prepping and moving as one practiced unit.

Now laying in bed, you are in the crook of your girlfriends’ arm while you both scroll on your phones. Eventually putting them down and rolling into a more comfortable sleeping position (as cute as cuddling is, you both know that it’s not comfortable for sleeping all night. No one likes numb limbs!). You both drift off to sleep, feeling happy and content with each other.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #shoko smut #shoko ieiri #jjk shoko #shoko x reader #shoko x you #bisexual #jen の writing #jen の stories #“classmates”

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onlyjaeyun · 2 years ago

Text

𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍 – 𝟒𝟐

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐘𝐓𝐖𝐎: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦

⤲ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

⤲ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞!𝐀𝐔, 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝!𝐀𝐔, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭

⤲ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟕𝐤

⤲ 𝐜𝐰: 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐬, 𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭: 𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐜𝐯𝐦𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭, 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐛!𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠

Growing up there's only ever been one person in your life who you've never felt uncomfortable with: your older brother.

You can't remember a single time where things had gotten so awkward, weird or tense between the two of you to the point where the silence put you in a position of discomfort.

Until now.

In the past twentyfour hours, Sunghoon has only said two handful of words to you directly, something you're also not quite used to, yet it's the way his usually so calm and gentle gaze has turned stone cold and distant, which has been keeping you on the edge.

You've tried to initiate conversations by showing him things you thought he'd be interested in or bringing up old memroies feom your childhood, only to be met with complete silence and barely any eye contact.

For some reason, you're pretty sure your brother has somehow found out about your relationship, yet on the other side no matter what you think of, nothing makes sense to you, since you both had been extra careful to not be seen in public, so careful to the point where you barely talked to each other whenever you happened to be anywhere outside of your apartment.

However, everything about Sunghoon's behavior points to it and as you both finally make it out of Seoul's airport and into the fresh air, you've just come to accept his silence and the tension it comes with.

Every now and then you lift your head to look at him, yet your brother seems completely zoned out, his eyes staring at something in the distant, delicate face halfway hidden by a black face mask, while the other half is covered by a pair of sunglasses and his baseball hat.

You've never seen him like this and the worry has already taken complete control over your system, so much it actually feels like every breath you inhale has turned into a challenge and the heaviness on your chest is basically about to suffocate you.

The ride to his girlfriend's apartment is already doomed to be even worse than the one from a about a week ago and for the first time since you've started dating Heeseung, you actually dread seeing him. Not because you don't want to see him but because you're pretty sure his presence is gonna make the tension even less bearable.

By the time you two come to stand at the parking lot of the airport, Heeseung has already spotted you and as he turns on the engine of his car, his heartbeat feels heavy, yet seems to thrum in his throat at highspeed at the same time.

Never once in his life has he felt as nervous and anxious as he does right now, the lack of knowledge of what's going to happen and how life is going to be like after today slowly eating its way through his skin and right into his head.

He's tried his best to avoid every kind of thought about Sunghoon's possible reaction, but now that the day has actually arrived, he physically can't think about anything else.

The fact his anxiety has taken over every bit of his body to the point where the excitement about finally seeing you again has gone completely lost worries him; it's never gotten this bad and Heeseung genuinely doesn't know how to handle everything that's been going on in his body.

With every single step you feel like your heart is about to jump out of your throat and for some reason you can't get yourself to say anything, even as you watch your boyfriend get out of his car to help you two with your luggage.

To your surprise, your brother actually pulls his mask down to his chin, quietly thanking his best friend before he opens the door to the passenger seat, leaving you both absolutely no choice but to look at each other in complete silence.

Every now and then Heeseung tries his best to start a conversation the way you've been doing it before you gave up, until Sunghoon calmly leans his head back and some of the tension slowly starts leaving the small space of your boyfriend's car.

You try to distract yourself by texting your best friends, the girls wishing you good luck and Jungwon giving you his best words of affirmation to calm your racing mind, yet none of it seems to help.

And in that moment you finally put a name to the weird feeling in your stomach: helplessness.

You've been feeling absolutely helpless and lost ever since your brother has stopped talking to you and the longer you think about it, the more the realisation hits you, the thicker the veil of tears blurring your vision becomes.

You quickly take a deep breath, feeling glad and relieved as your eyes finally recognize the familiar streets of Ning's apartment building and for the first time in what feels like an eternity, you can't wait for this night to just be over.

Neither one of you says a single word up until you step foot into the young student's apartment, a place you had quickly found comfort in as every little detail reminds you of her warm heart and kind soul.

But even Ning's apartment seems to be filled with tension, the owner's big, usually so happy and excited eyes filled with worry and concern in a way that sends shivers down your spine and if it wasn't for the way she pulls you into her gentle arms, you would have probably left already, just to escape this gut wrenchingly tense atmosphere.

Heeseung and you both thank Ning with a tight lipped smile before you sit down on complete opposites sides of her dark couch, attentively observing your brother who has yet to take off his jacket.

By the time Sunghoon reaches for his face mask, your eyes curiously roam his face, only to take notice of his flushed, tear stained cheeks.

And even before he could utter a single word, the realisation hits you at full force.

"Bae Sumin."

Sunghoon's voice is shaky and hoarse, his eyes glossy and slightly reddened, the sight easily breaking your heart into thousands of pieces before your mind can even question the name he had decided to say as his first two words in almost twenty hours.

"I had to find out that you've been screwing behind my back through Bae fucking Sumin?"

His words are harsh and filled with wrath, disappointment and genuine confusion. And they don't fail to leave you absolutely speechless.

You can't get yourself to physically react; your whole body completely frozen as you try to process what's actually going on, it's actually the burning trail of wetness on your cheeks which pulls you back into reality.

"Say something", Sunghoon suddenly yells and the unexpected high volume of his voice makes you flinch.

"One of you. Fucking say something."

Neither one of you dares to look anywhere but your brother and as your eyes take in the sight of your usually so energetic and lively sibling oozing nothing but exhaustion and sadness, you can't hold back the soft sob from bubbling up your throat.

Heeseung on the other hand is still in utter shock.

His whole body has gone into standby and for a moment he's pretty sure he's about to pass out because of how heavy his heart feels.

All of a sudden memories of all the times his best friend, his soultwin, the one man who's been by his side through it all, had broken down in front of him as the burden on his tiny shoulders had become too much.

"Please, tell me that fucking bitch is lying", your brother pleads, his voice breaking at the end of his sentence and that's the moment where it becomes too much and the shame finally overwhelms you, "please tell me the two most important people in my life have not been lying straight into my fucking face for fucking weeks."

Silence.

His heartbreaking plea follows nothing but absolute silence.

"Wow", Sunghoon suddenly scoffs, tears streaming down his flushed cheeks as he throws his head back with a soft sob and quickly covers his face with his hands.

And as you finally get yourself to shift your gaze to look at your boyfriend, you quickly regret your decision as the sight of a pale Heeseung just adds onto the pain in your chest.

You can actually watch the way he's slowly zoning out to stop his brain from completely destroying his soul and save him from this pain, only to fail miserably.

"We've been meaning to tell you, Hoonie", you whisper and lower your head, swallowing the knot in your throat in hopes of making the process of breathing just a little bit easier.

"Yeah? Have you? When was that supposed to happen? At your fucking wedding day?"

Yet again the sudden raise of his voice startles you and for the first time in months you feel all those memories from your childhood coming back.

"N-No, we've just been waiting for the right mo-", "Shut the fuck up."

It's this particular outburst which manages to brutally pull Heeseung back into the moment and when his brain processes what had just happened, he feels a wave of shock break down over him, knocking every single breath out of his lungs.

If there's one thing Sunghoon has always been adamant about, it's to never, ever raise his voice at you, his precious sister. Not after you both grew up in a household where yelling and screaming had become normality. Not after your parents had refused to talk to you in a proper manner and always opted for the loudness of their words instead of the meaning.

"I can't fucking stand either one of you right now", he spits and runs both of his hands over his face, harshly wiping away his tears and you both watch the way his anger fades into disappointment, you feel yourself silently choking on your tears.

"Sunghoon, please–", "I told you to shut the fuck up. Take your fucking boyfriend and leave. Leave now, Y/N or I'm going hurt your feelings. And his."

His words are anything but a request, an actual threat which has your blood run cold and with big, tear filled eyes you look at Heeseung, who has already gotten onto his feet.

"Stop looking at me like that, Lee Heeseung", your brother suddenly spits, irritated as well as furious by your boyfriend's gaze and for a moment you're genuinely afraid he might actually get physical, "or I'm actually going to punch you in the face."

"You've been fucking my sister and didn't even have the fucking balls to tell me", Hoon presses through gritted teeth and at the way his hands are balled into tight fists you can tell just how much he's holding himself back.

"No", Heeseung finally says and to your surprise his voice is stable and strong, despite the thick tears running down his cheeks.

"What the fuck do you mean 'no'? So you haven't been screwing my little sister?"

"No, I haven't been screwing her behind your back. I've been in love with your sister for over a decade. All I did was finally act on it."

You simply can't hide the shock on your face.

You don't know what exactly you had expected from your boyfriend, especially considering his most recent mental state, but this was definitely not on the list.

Everything suddenly feels like a fever dream and you're convinced you're going to wake up every second now.

"Oh, fuck off", your brother just scoffs and rolls his eyes, "this is not about how much you love her and we both know it."

"Okay, so it's about us not telling you, right? Have you ever thought about why we chose not to tell you about it?"

A beat of silence follows Heeseung's words, which he gladly takes as an approval to continue.

"You knew what she means to me, yet you still made me promise and choose between the two of you in one of our most vulnerable moments. Yes, not telling you wasn't right, yet we never willingly decided this."

"Are you blaming me for your lack of guts, Heeseung? Are you being fucking serious right now?"

Sunghoon seems shocked and genuinely confused, his thick brows furrowed and lips pressed into a thin line as your boyfriend takes two whole steps closer to stand right in front of him.

"You're my fucking brother", Heeseung suddenly throws back at him and you can tell how badly he wants to burst into tears, yet manages to stay calm just enough, "I'd fucking die for you. If you asked me to go and jump off of a fucking bridge right now, I'd do it without hesitation. You saved my life and nothing I will ever do will be enough to show you my gratitude."

A shaky sigh falls past his lips as he lowers his gaze, the exhaustion and tiredness of the last few days finally catching up on him and a weird sense of pride floads your system.

"I was the one who couldn't tell you because yes, I didn't have the fucking balls to tell you that I broke the promise I gave all these years ago, Sunghoon. I –", Heeseung inhales slowly, greedily sucking in every bit of oxygen he can get to ease the racing of his heart in his tight chest, "I didn't tell you because I couldn't – can't bear the thought of losing my dearest friend."

And as those words leave his lips, you finally let out the breath you didn't know you were holding in, only to choke on it at the sight of your tall brother suddenly bursting into tears.

"Why didn't you just t-talk to me, Heeseung? Why? Did you really think I'd make you choose between us, break up with her and breakk her heart when you're the only man on this planet who's worthy of her in every way possible? The only fucking human being I ever trusted when it came to her, her safety and happiness?"

Heeseung physically can't get himself to look at his best friend as he realises his mistake, too hurt and broken by his own decisions and thoughts, his lack of trust and faith in his closest friend and only person who has never left his side.

"I – was just so scared of losing you, Hoonie", your boyfriend whispers and looks away, his gentle cries quickly turning into wholehearted sobs as he breaks down and you can't do anything about it.

"So you decided to go and do it all behind my fucking back?"

Those words elicit yet another loud cry from your boyfriend and you hate how helpless you feel, knowing you could just go up to him and take him into your arms, yet refusing as you force yourself to give them the space they need.

This isn't about you. This is about them and their bond, their friendship and their communication.

"I'm sorry", Heeseung breathes and for a moment you're actually scared that things might never go back to how they used to be just a day ago, the one worry behind all of your boyfriend's sleepless nights.

"You broke my fucking heart", Sunghoon says and finally averts his gaze to meet yours, didappointment and pain lingering in the usual softness of his brown eyes, "and I really can't look at you two right now. Please just leave."

"Hoonie...", yet again your brother refuses to give you the privilege of finishing your sentence.

"Please, Y/N", his voice is a mere whisper and the way he can barely get himself to say your name easily shatters your already broken heart into yet another set of million pieces, "don't make me turn into my biggest nightmare. Please."

All you can do is nod in defeat, the mental, physical and emotional exhaustion too overwhelming to leave room for any discussion and with a soft sigh you finally stand up and actually approach your boyfriend.

Heeseung wordlessly turns away from your brother, his head still lowered and when you realise he also refuses to look at you, your heart tightens in your chest and subconsciously you take his face into your hands and almost force him to meet your gaze.

You don't say anything. The words lingering on the tip of your tongue but not a single one making it over the edge and into a proper sentence.

"Time", Sunghoon suddenly sighs and has both of your gazes shift to him, "I just need time."

And that's the last thing he says before he makes his way past his teary eyed girlfriend standing in the doorframe, his disappearance following the sound of a door falling shut behind him and for some reason you actually feel like breathing has actually become easier again.

"Did you two hear that?" Ning's soft voice sends chills down your body and yet again, you can't get yourself to verbally respond to her.

"Everything's going to be okay. Please just give him the time and space he needs, okay?"

And for some reason you don't have it in you to doubt her words of reassurance as your brother's demand keeps replaying in your head.

Your brother's girlfriend pulls you into a tight hug and whispers just the right amount of reassuring words into your ear before she wipes your tears away, gives your boyfriend an encouraging pat on the back and then goes to literally pick up the pieces you two had broken.

Heeseung doesn't say anything to you and for a moment you can't help but wonder if your presence is too much for him, only for your chest to fill with warmth when he reaches for your hand and then goes to help you with your coat.

The drive to your apartment is just as quiet, the silence making it feel like the past hour never happened and to your surprise, neither one of you has shed another tear after walking through the door.

You don't know why, yet the more you think about the expression on your brother's face as he asked for time, the more hope fills your chest. Sunghoon has always been easy to read for the both of you and you can tell that Heeseung seems to have similar thoughts, since a weird, unexpected calmness seems to linger in his body you can't quite put a name on.

Yet you're still pretty sure he's going to drop you off as the lack of verbal communication between the two of you does nothing to ease the anxious thoughts on your mind. You'd never blame your boyfriend for needing some time to himself away from you after being the reason for the roughest patch he had ever experienced with his closest friend.

As soon as Heeseung's car comes to a stop in front of your apartment building, you lift your head and quietly thank him, trying your best to shoot him a soft smile, only for your bottom lipp to give away how heartbroken you are, making you get out as quick as possible.

You don't hear your boyfriend's confused questions about your behavior, all you can focus on is to open the back of his car, take your suitcase and finally get into the comfort of your own four walls to break down the way you've been dying to do for the past hour.

Heeseung just watches the way you nervously fiddle with your luggage, his brows furrowed in confusion until he spots two tears finding their way down your cheeks and it's then that he realises what your brain has made you believe.

Within a moment Seung comes to stand next to you, easily hovering over your frame as he reaches for your suitcase and closes the trunk of his car, but doesn't let go of it just yet.

"Baby, look at me, please", he whispers softly, his words surprising you and with wide, teary eyes you look up at him and realise just how much you've missed him these past few days.

"Did you really think I was going to just drop you off? We haven't seen each other in three days and you came back to...this. I'd be a fucking loser if I let you sleep by yourself tonight."

You're not quite sure if it's the general exhaustion after these past few days, probably even weeks and months at this point, or if it's particularly because of tonight but without even missing a beat you throw yourself into the arms of your boyfriend and bury your face in his chest with a soft sob of relief.

Heeseung sighs, your little noises of pain and exhaustion sending chills down his body, tightening his chest as he pulls you closer to his body to make you feel as safe and protected as possible.

He knows you're blaming yourself for the current situation between him and your brother, when there's nobody to blame at all. Mistakes and wrong decisions were made, lack of communication and so many more factors which have played into tonight's event, but most importantly all of them were human things to do, something Heeseung has finally come to accept.

Usually he'd be blaming himself as well, yet this time his brain seems to go easy on him, even if his heart still hurts the more he thinks about the look of betrayal and disappointment on his best friend's face, he doesn't feel as devastated and lost as he had expected himself to.

For the first time in his life he's actually quite sure things are going to be okay, even if it might take some time.

None of this makes any of it easier, to say the least, but definitely more bearable.

By the time you finally walk into your own home, a wave of relief washes over you and without giving it another thought you shed yourself of your outerwear after turning on the heater. Heeseung carefully watches you, his eyes never once leaving your frame and you hate how that's all you need to feel your skin heating up, your brain already slut shaming you for making such a normal thing so sexual.

So, with a soft sigh you turn away and slowly walk into your bedroom, the sight finally giving you the comfort you've been craving for the past few days.

"Do you wanna talk about tonight?"

Heeseung's sudden question startles you and with furrowed brows you turn around and meet his soft gaze, loving the way his bambi eyes are still glossy and teary from earlier. In moments like these everything else becomes irrelevant, nothing but the love of your life matters and you can't help but feel genuinely proud of him when you remember all the things he had said to your brother.

"Only if you want to", you reply calmly and cock your head to the side with a gentle smile, the tension between the two of you sending chills iver your body and you're genuinely confused why your body would opt for such sensual reactions in response to emotions as heavy as the ones you're currently experiencing.

"I know I'm going to have a panic attack if I think about it too much so I think it's better if we just head to sleep, sweet girl", Heeseung whispers and gives you a soft kiss on the forehead his big hands gently caressing your arms before he takes your face into his hands and greedily lets his eyes roam your soft features.

"You're the most beautiful human being I've ever laid my eyes on", he suddenly says and leaves you absolutely speechless, the genuine honesty in the soft brown of his eyes easing the tension in your muscles.

"And I know it won't always be easy and all happy tears, but I promise I'm going to try my best to become the man you deserve", Heeseung just continues as he notices the way your lips part in surprise, something he's come to love ever since the first time he left you at a lack of words, "and no matter how many times I joke about it, I'm always completely serious when I talk about making you my wife one day. You're the light of my life and until the day you tell me to go, I'm going to give my everything to make you happy."

"Seungie...", your voice breaks, hot tears streaming down your cheeks as you notice the thick veil blurring his own vision, yet he doesn't let you speak just yet. A soft shake of his head stopping the words from rolling off your tongue.

"I'm bound to make mistakes and hurt your feelings, I just hope you know I'd never, ever do it intentionally and ask you to be understanding. Your heart is so pure, so soft and so gentle, I have yet to figure out how to handle it but again, not a day will go by where I won't do everything in my power to make you feel as loved and appreciated, adored and desired as you deserve."

And as his words fill every bit of your heart with the sweetness of comfort, warmth and the feeling of security, you simply can't hold yourself back anymore.

Before either one of you can say another word, you throw your arms around his neck and pull him as close to your body as possible, the lack of personal space exactly what you've been craving for the past two weeks.

Because despite handling Heeseung's physical distance and reluctance better than expected, you couldn't help but feel rejected, your brain punishing you for all the times you had dared to unintentionally tiptoe on the line of his personal comfort as he was trying his best to maintain his mental stability, so hearing him still be as in love and devoted to you as he was in the beginning definitely gives you the reassurance you've subconsciously been longing for.

You two still cuddled and held each other, a few kisses here and there right before Heeseung fell asleep in your arms after a long day, yet the sudden switch in tension between the two of you had you worried. Not because you couldn't live without it but because the fear of not being enough for him anymore had quickly managed to consume you.

After your little conversation about it all yesterday, you felt a lot lighter already, yet these words and the feeling of his body so close to yours was exactly what you needed.

"Thank you, Seungie", you whisper against the soft skin of his neck, embracing the strong hold of his arms around your body, "thank you so much."

You have no idea how long the two of you just stand there holding into each other, yet once you slowly pull away, you notice the sleepiness in his reddened eyes, his habit of blinking just a little too often giving away just how tired he is and that's when you realise it's probably been a good three nights since your boyfriend has had a proper night time sleep.

"How about you go and wash up, my love? I'll just give Jungwon a quick call and then get myself bed ready."

Heeseung just nods, yet looks at you for a little longer than necessary and as he studies your facial expressions, there seems to be this certain emotion lingering in your gentle gaze, he struggles to read and name. But before your boyfriend can even realise that it's the desire you're trying to hide, you give him a quick kiss on the cheek and pull away, leaving him in your bedroom as you basically throw yourself onto your balcony to get some of much needed air for your deprived lungs.

You feel like a psychopathic nymphomaniac for actually thinking about sex on a day like this, only an hour after one of the most heartbreaking things you all have experienced and that's why you're just going to wait until Heeseung's firmly asleep to take care of this stupid problem.

Part of your brains hoped that you two could use physical intimacy as a way to comfort each other but the longer you think about it, the heavier you want to cry because you simply can't believe your brain would do this to you.

With a soft sigh you dial your best friend's number, knowing the sound of his voice is going to do wonders to your messy brain and heavy heart and as soon as Jungwon picks up your call, you get comfortable on one of the little chairs on your balcony and just start crying.

Telling your best friend everything about your brother and his reaction feels relieving as it gives you the opportunity to reflect on your own feelings, rather than the need to focus on everyone else's the way you usually do and you physically can't get a single word out for a good minute, until you finally manage to catch your breath and just continue.

Jungwon doesn't say anything, just hums in approval every time you make a brief pause to gather your throughts to let you know he's actively listening, yet refusing to speak as he doesn't want you to hear the breaking of his own voice in response to your heartbreaking evening.

You don't realise how long you're talking to your best friend, your tears long dried down as you feel the coldness of the night finally overwhelm you as you thank Wonie for everything and promising to keep him updated before finally making your way back into the warmth of your apartment and straight into your bathroom.

As soon as you step into your bedroom, finally all washed up and ready to head to sleep, you're met with the sight of your boyfriend comfortably seated with his back against the headboard, glasses on his nose, strong torso exposed to your hungry eyes and just as you're about to lower your gaze just a little further, the sudden sound of his soft sob pulls you back into reality. You try your best to hide the shame and embarrassment as Heeseung does his best to do the same with his tears from you and with a soft pout on your lips you quickly get onto the other side of the bed and kneel right next to him, pulling your boyfriend into your arms and loving the way he finds instant comfort in your hold.

"I'm sorry", he whispers and wraps his arms around your waist, pushing face deeper into your neck to hide his embarrassment, "it kinda just hit me."

"It's okay, Baby, you can cry as much as you need to", you reply calmly and gently play with his slightly wet strands of hair, the smell of your bodywash and shampoo hitting your nose, making you smile softly, "what can I do to make you feel better hm? Do you want me to run you a bath and wash your back or just hold you? We could watch a movie and have some tea if you feel like it."

"Can you just sit in my lap for a little bit? I wanna hold you as close as possible", Heeseung whispers and lifts his head to look up at you, his cheeks and the tip of his pretty nose flushed, eyes red and glossy, a sight so beautiful you feel bad for thinking such thoughts in a moment this vulnerable but without hesitation you nod softly.

In no time you find yourself comfortably seated in his lap, his face yet again buried in your neck, strong arms firmly wrapped around your body and you love the way you can feel the warmth of his body through the thin fabric of your camisole.

You quickly lose track of time as you hold the love of your life in your arms and listen to his soft cries and sobs, knowing how many emotions and thoughts he's battling right now yet having absolutely no way to help with them.

With one of your hands gently caressing his back as the other plays woth his hair, you try your best to stay strong for the both of you, too physically tired and mentally exhausted to handle your own sadness anymore.

By the time a wave of sleepiness hits you, Heeseung's cries have slowly died down and from the way his hands are gently roaming your body you can tell he's about to lay on his back and finally give you both the rest you oh so desperately need.

Yet, what you don't expect is the sudden feeling of his hands finding a rather firm grip on your hips as a deep growl makes its way out of his sore throat.

"I feel like a fucking animal", he suddenly says and with your brows furrowed in confusion you pull away just enough to meet his gaze.

"Wha-", "I feel like a fucking animal because for some stupid reason my brain has decided to distract me with thoughts of your moans and the way you always look so pretty when you cum around my cock. I'm so sorry, Baby."

His words hit you like a fist straight in the face and none of that previous sleepiness is anywhere to be found.

With wide eyes and parted lips, you try your best to hide the way your body is currently drowning in your arousal in response to his boldness, not realising your lack of a verbal answer has your boyfriend on the edge.

"I'm sorry, princess, you don't deserve this", he whispers and basically forces himself to pull his hands away, yet you're faster and quickly reach for his wrists to keep them exactly where they are.

"No", you breathe and slowly start rocking your hips against his semi hard cock, your thin panties as well as his boxer briefs doing absolutely nothing as the heat from both of you meets each other through the fabric, "please, just keep going."

"But–", and this time you're the one to cut him off as you almost forcefully press your lips against his, capturing them in a hungry kiss, the one you've been daydreaming about for who knows how long at this point.

Heeseung doesn't hesitate as he kisses you back. Hunger, want and animalistic desire oozing from every single one of his touches as he grabs a fistful of your ass and grinds your hips harder against his own.

You can barely keep your moans and whimpers back as you try to keep up with him, the kiss quickly becoming rather messy and sloppy to the point where you slowly start losing yourself in the sweet taste of his saliva coating the muscle of your tongue and your whole mouth.

"That's my good girl", Heeseung grunts and kisses his way to your jaw and down your neck, sucking the soft skin into his mouth as he finally allows himself to indulge in your dweet noises and rhe feeling of your wet panties against his rock hard cock.

"I can't wait any longer, Seungie", you whimper and throw your head back as waves of pleasure rock through your body with every single touch against your sensitive clit.

"I promise I'll let you eat me out for as long as you want after this, just please", you beg softly, "let me sit on your cock first."

"F-Fuck." The profanity is drowned by the deep grunt that follows and Heeseung feels like he's actually about to cum in his boxers from your words alone.

With his brain clouded by pleasure and the deep urge to satisfy you, Heeseung just reaches for the drawer of your nightstand, only for you to stop him with glossy eyes and swollen lips from all the abuse of your own teeth.

"Just this once", your voice is a mere whisper, your request bold and dangerous, tiptoeing on the edge of a line you both promised not to cross, "I want you to fuck me raw just this once, please."

"Baby...", Heeseung has never ever wanted anything as bad as to just fuck you raw and stuff you to the brim with his cum but it's too risky, you're not on the pill and the possible consequences of a lust filled decision manage to hold him back.

"I'll just take a plan B", you quickly say and reach down between your bodies to finally pull his cock out from the little slip in his boxer briefs, stroking his length with skilled flicks of your wrist before pulling your own panties to the side and calmly grinding yourself against him.

Heeseung can feel every bit of responsibility and rational thinking leave his body as soon as he feels the wetness of your cunt against his bare cock, a feeling so delicious, so sweet and surreal, yet so dangerous it has him choke on his own spit.

"Or you could just pull out and cum in my mouth", you suddenly suggest and never in his life has he seen a sight so innocent yet lewd, your words building a complete contrast to the softness in your wide eyes and with his gaze firmly locked in yours, all he can do is nod.

"Lay back, Seungie", you say and place your hands flat against his soft chest, your fingers gently grazing the soft metal in his nipples and your cunt clenching in response to his breathy whimpers, "let me do the work, yeah? I just want you to enjoy yourself and forget."

And who on this sweet earth could ever reject an offer this sweet?

Without hesitation, Heeseung just does as he's told, his big hands finding home on your hips as he lifts his head just enough to eatch the way you're calmly lining the tip of his cock up with your wet entrance right before you start sinking down on his hard length in the slowest, most agonising pace ever.

Your high pitched moans meet his deep grunts in the thick air of your bedroom and with each inch, you feel your eyes rolling further into the back of your head; the lack of barrier between his cock and your tight cunt leaving you absolutely breathless.

You have no idea how long it actually takes you to take all of him, yet by the time you're comfortably seated on his cock, you can already taste your sweet relief on the tip of your tongue.

"Fuck, princess", Heeseung grunts and reaches for your pretty tits, kneading and groping the flesh before he pulls on your sensitive nipples and tries his best to move his hips, "fuck me. Go ahead, pretty girl, make me proud."

And that's the only thing you need to hear for your hips to start moving slowly. It doesn't take long until you're nothing but a whimpering mess, the feeling of being filled to the brim sending you into the best corners of your sweet pleasure and every time your eyes find their way back to your boyfriend's face, your cunt starts spasming around his cock.

But who could blame you when you've got a completely fucked out Lee Heeseung at your mercy; pretty lips swollen and parted, grunts and moans slowly turning into whimpers as he tries his best to handle the feeling of your spongy walls hugging his hock in just the right ways, bambi eyes constantly rolling back and yet filled with nothibg but love and adoration whenever he looks at you.

"I'm so close already, Baby", he whimpers and throws his head back into your pillow, his grip tightening on your hips as he meets your gentle thrusts with his own, chasing his high in the most breathtaking way possible and without missing a beat, you let your hand slide down your body to find your clit and rub harsh circles into the sensitive bundle of nerves.

The urge to cum with him suddenly overwhelms you and as the coil in your lower stomach starts tightening more and more, you watch the way Heeseung's eyes widen in panic and before you can do anything, your boyfriend lifts you off of his cock and lets out a loud moan as he cums all over your as well as his own stomach.

You don't even realise that you stopped the movements of your fingers, the sudden emptiness leaving you absolutely speechless and Heeseung would be dammed if he left his precious girl in a state like that.

So with a soft hiss and a few words of praise, Heeseung moves you to rest against his cock before he slowly starts guiding your hips against his length, making sure to have his sensitive tip hit your pretty clit with every single movement.

You cum all over the length of his cum within just a minute, your sweet relief hitting you out of nowhere and drowning you in its waves.

With a soft whimper of his name you finally break down and bury your face in his hot neck, your whole body shaking from the intensity of your orgasm the way you've been craving it for longer than you'd ever admit.

"I love you so much, princess", Heeseung whispers against your temple, littering your cheeks and shoulders in soft kisses as his hands caress your back softly, "my first and only love."

After a much needed bath you find yourself firmly nestled in your boyfriend's strong arms, an embrace which has never failed to provide you with the comforting feelings of security and protection and as you both finally calm down from the overwhelming rollercoaster of emotions, Heeseung can't help but lose himself in his thoughts again. Yet this time they don't break but heal his heart because he falls asleep with you in his arms and the mental image of your future together, thoughts and wishes he'd forever protect with everything he has.

And as he slowly slips into the peaceful state of sleep, he knows everything is going to be okay as long as you're by his side.

← 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 — 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 →

(A/N: And it finally happened. Sunghoon finally knows. I really hope I could live up to your expectations with this ngl I'm SO nervous 😭 I actually dont know what to say exceot tysm for all the love and support. I can't wait to read your guys' thoughts and feelings about this chapter and am sending everyone so much love and kisses. reblogs and feedback is always appreciated!!!🥺💗🧸)

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