#he was stuck in a rut about something and after this... let's say he gets new perspectives about it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

girlsworldillusion · 3 months ago

Text

When pretending doesn't matter anymore

Alpha!Aemond - Omega!Reader

Summary: An unexpected heat. An unclaimed Omega. An Alpha fighting for control. An intense combination of events that change your life completely.

Rated: Explicit (+18)

Ella's Notes: This story, as the summary says, explores a bit of the A/B/O dynamic. Which, of course, touches on subjects like heats and ruts, secondary designations, bonding bites, knots and the like. I tried to approach it in a simpler way, because I understand that this universe is very complex and goes beyond such things. Anyway, if this is something that sparks your interest, enjoy!! It was a challenge in some parts, but I'm pleased with the result. I hope you like it too.

(I left out a good portion of the dance events excluded in this story, since the goal was to focus on the Alpha and Omega dynamic. So it's very subjective whether there's a dance about to happen or not, and I'll leave that to your imagination.)

Happy reading!

Word count: 11k

Dividers: @saradika-graphics

English is not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes you may find.

You couldn’t remember ever feeling so immensely uncomfortable as you did now.

“No, no, no…This can’t be happening now.”

You felt heated and heavy in your body, as if you had been soaking in a steaming bath for too long. As if you had been lying too close to the scalding breath of your dragon’s flames. Your fever was getting worse. Your steps were starting to stagger slightly, sweat dripping down your forehead as you let yourself lean against the stone wall of the hallway for a moment.

There was no doubt what was happening, you had been in enough heat over the years to know when you were sinking into one. The thing was, you weren’t supposed to be in one, not for at least another whole month. In fact, up until a few minutes ago you had been stuck at a normal dinner with your family, listening to Aegon’s disgusting and disrespectful jokes and trying to calm the silent tension between Lucerys and Aemond. Nothing was different there. Everything was going as dull and tedious as ever.

That is, until Aemond reached out to grab a piece of bread from your side. And that simple, seemingly harmless gesture was the catalyst for everything that was deeply held inside you. The movement brought his side closer to yours, almost unnecessarily closer you would say, and you were about to voice that thought out loud to him when it hit you.

The scent.

You couldn’t say what was different, what made you so intimately aware of that smell, since you had been around the man since you were children. Maybe it was the unprecedented fact that you were sitting next to each other at the dinner table after the deliberate distance you had forced upon yourself and him over the past few years. Maybe he was about to come into a rut of his own and hadn’t even noticed yet. Or maybe Aemond had been drinking some tea or some herbal substance to suppress the worst of his own smell all this time and for the first time he was free of it...

The thing was, with that simple movement of picking up a damn piece of bread from the table, he had shoved into your nostrils a whiff of the most delicious scent you had ever smelled in your life.

Dragon scales, the burning flames of a fire, open parchments and green apples. The memory of childhood, of an old feeling. Familiar and comforting, soothing your inner omega, making you want to delve deeper into the scent and wrap yourself around him. But it also aroused you. His scent was undeniably masculine and Alpha, with a dangerous and dominating richness that made you want to submit - right there, at the dinner table, in front of the whole family.

The whole thing mixed together in a spiral of aromas that flowed straight into your lungs, pulling an absolutely embarrassing and undignified meow from your lips before you could even realize it. Judging by the annoying chatter that continued at the table, no one had noticed that sound, thankfully. No one except Aemond - who was right there next to you, unfortunately. He stared at your tense profile with a sharp gaze, his hand extended for the bread, but frozen in the air before he could reach it, not even disguising that his focus was now elsewhere.

Even staring fixedly at a bowl of sauce on the table as if it were the only thing in the world that mattered, you could clearly notice when he was about to say something and, at the same time as he parted his lips with a sigh, a strong and sudden tightening in your lower abdomen was present, the space between your legs contracting and relaxing to emit a pool of absolutely unexpected moisture on the delicate fabric of your underwear.

Your body's reaction horrified you so much that you immediately pushed your chair back, the loud creak of the wooden legs on the stone floor drawing the attention of the others at the table. You could only quickly mumble that you weren't feeling well, that you were going to get some sleep and asking please for no one to worry, before practically running out of the place, barely hearing your mother say that she would send someone to check on you later.

Which brings you to the present moment.

Emotions were already starting to get the better of you. The intensity of the sensations leaving you on the verge of tears, the sheer desperation born of falling into a heat without being in the least bit prepared for it making your fingers tremble.

Usually there would be a prelude, signs that would serve as a warning of the approaching heat, giving you time to properly prepare yourself for the intense days ahead. But this time you seemed to have skipped all the stages straight to the peak of the sensations, without warning and without preparation.

All you could do was force your staggering body through the hallways to your bedchamber, knowing there was no other alternative. The heat was here, whether you wanted it or not. And despite everything, this was one of those few moments when you felt grateful to have been born into such a noble house.

Omegas comprised the smallest part of the population, followed by Betas and Alphas. But although fewer in number, omegas were violently desired - especially by alphas. Their smaller, gentler build, delicate features, natural predisposition to submission and, of course, their heat, were just a few reasons why the rest of the population would go to great lengths to keep an omega for themselves. And you knew what happened to those poor omegas scattered throughout the streets of King's Landing and throughout the Seven Kingdoms, without any choice over their own desires, nothing more than slaves to their unfair biology.

There was no mercy when one of them went into heat, yearning intensely for the claim of an alpha - no matter who was. Which led to unwanted pregnancies, sexual slavery, omega trafficking and other heat-induced atrocities. The alphas, in turn, gave in to their most basic instincts when faced with such need, acting more like animals than humans. The brutal confrontation for the claim of an omega most often ended in blood and death - not only of alphas, but death of the omega in question many times, caught in the middle of such unbridled violence.

Despite being rare and desired for their instinctive subservience, omegas were constantly discriminated against, treated with disdain and irrelevance once they are claimed; as pariahs of society, nothing more than perfect breeding mares for the alphas. More than once you vehemently cursed the gods for making you one of them. The burden caused by your designation was almost unbearable. You would give anything to be a Beta; to fit into a standard of normality in the eyes of the people for once in your life. Wasn't it enough to suffer ridicule and discrimination for the questionable origin of your and your brothers birth? Did the gods still need to come and make you an miserable omega?

Ever since you had your first heat at fourteen, you had suffered this fate alone, since any omega of noble lineage could only be claimed when they were of suitable age to marry. Servants stocked your bedchamber with everything you might need in the days following the heat; the finest towels and blankets for your nest, personal beta guards posted day and night at your door for protection, servants discreetly entering to change your bath water and replenish your food and drink supplies. You had all the comfort and privacy that wealth could offer, but your body still yearned for an alpha — your omega begging for a knot, for large hands to hold you close, for sharp teeth to sink into your flesh to claim you as his. It was instinct, uncontrollable, a need so primal and overwhelming that you cried for days, sweating and writhing in the large, lonely bed as you screamed for an Alpha.

But when your heat was gone and this ordeal finally came to an end, you felt grateful to be safe within these walls, hidden from the violence of the alphas who would only desire you for your secondary designation.

And your foggy mind whispers it to you once more. Despite everything, you are safe. Just go to your chamber, make your nest at some point of relief and you will be fine. Like always.

And so you almost do - the large, ornate doors of your bedchamber visible at the end of the hallway, making you sigh in relief. Until a voice halts your final walk.

“Do you need help, Princess?”

The booming, recognizably Alpha voice makes you flinch where you stand, eyes widening as you turn to the source of the sound. Standing there is one of your Personal Guards, Ser Adrian Redfort.

“I-I’m fine, Ser.” You reply hoarsely, straightening your posture as best you can to support your false statement, your heart racing in your chest at being in front of an Alpha just as your heat begins to build.

“Are you sure?” he asked slowly, tilting his head slightly in curiosity — but also with something hard to describe shone there, something dark and shrewd. “You don’t look well.”

And by the gods, you really didn’t. Your face was flushed to the point where you could feel the heat radiating from your skin, a few loose strands of hair beginning to stick to the sides of your face from the sweat. Your intricate dress were wrinkled and uncomfortable on your body where it clung to your damp skin, and you were breathing hard, as if there wasn’t enough air in the castle.

“Yes, I-I’m sure!”

You had never been afraid of the man in front of you — he was one of your Personal Guards after all, someone who was there to protect you. And that was why he was never around when your heat gave signs, replaced by Beta Guards. For your safety. His being assigned to protect your chambers tonight was proof that this heat shouldn’t have happened now.

He sniffs you, a slow twitch of his nostrils that could have sent your entire world crashing down, growling low in his throat at whatever scent he can pick up coming from you. The alpha in front of you is tall, with a dark mess of curls on his head and equally dark eyes. The stubble on his tanned cheeks makes him look rough and sullen. His broad shoulders beneath his armor seem to swell even more under your shy scrutiny and his posture straightens to full height, a show of strength to win over a potential mate.

You weren’t afraid of him. Ser Adrian Redfort, despite his intimidating appearance, was a man of honor, you knew.

But not even the most honorable men were immune to the powerful pheromone an omega released during a heat. They were all alphas, after all, driven by the primal instinct to claim a small, unmated omega.

And when he stares into your eyes like that, his expression as intense as a forest fire, alpha pheromones seeping from his pores so suffocatingly that you might as well have a bag over your head, you feel like you’ve never in life truly experienced the instinctive compulsion to bow and submit to a male like you do now.

And that’s what you’re afraid of.

You’re afraid because you know it’s not you wanting it. It’s your instincts, your pheromones reacting to his and he reacting to yours in an endless loop, the stupid biological compulsion to let an alpha take over your body and use you as he best serves him. Be good, be good for the Alpha.

You know that very soon your mind will be so consumed with heat that you won’t have such qualms or uncertainties, you’ll want — no, you’ll need — an Alpha, and you’ll beg for it, no matter who it is. But there’s still some coherence and lucidity left in your mind, reeling as it is. And using that shadow of sanity, you shiver just thinking about Ser Adrian with you in your nest; his hands on your body, his teeth in your flesh, his knot deep in your cunt.

No, no. Wrong. It’s wrong.

“I could help with that, princess.”

He proposes and you both know very well what he’s referring to. The darkness in his gaze more prominent; a thin, golden ring at the edges — evidence that his alpha was taking control of his emotions.

It’s wrong, but still you feel more moisture forming between your legs, making a sticky mess on your inner thighs, reacting against your will to the alpha pheromones exuding from the man - and you almost sob, because it’s horrible. It’s horrible and no one talks about it; about how absolutely terrifying it is to have no control over your own body, even when you’re undeniably uncomfortable with a situation like that.

Your mother had raised you fierce and resilient, just like Daemon had when he came into your life as another father figure, but you still felt like a child after all, holding back tears and clenching your fists. Your only salvation was your stubborn nature and thirst to prove yourself, to prove that you were more than just a delicate and submissive omega.

Yes, a part of you was aroused to the point of being intoxicated by the sensation, but the more rational side, which was disappearing by the second, fought even harder, squirming and grunting, rebelling against your most basic instincts. Fearing the alpha more than you wanted his knot. The pungent smell of stress and heartbreak tangling deep in the air with the sweet scent of your heat.

This alpha was no good...not the right one.

"N-no, thank you," you reply, gathering all your willpower, desperately trying to think of a way out. You were trapped in an empty hallway, at the beginning of your heat, with a strong, intimidating alpha - it was not a good situation.

"Please," you find yourself arguing with him suddenly when he doesn't back down, your mouth moving before you can even think, "I know you're not that kind of alpha, Ser Adrian, it's just the pheromones getting the better of you, you'll regret it once your mind clears. I said no, please listen to me."

He steps forward anyway, invading your personal space. And as scared and aroused as you are (an honestly disturbing mix of emotions to have) you find yourself baring your teeth at him - a small growl building in your throat, standing up to the alpha who dared to disrespect your decision.

"Poor thing," Ser Adrian chuckles, the golden ring in his eyes growing more evident, your little, thoughtless act of confrontation only stirring the alpha inside him. "You don't know what you need, omega, not really. But I do."

The next thing you know, he’s advancing, so much so that you immediately back up against the wall in response, flattening your feverish, sweaty body against it as best you can to get away from him. A whimper leaves your lips as he reaches out, your body disgusted and craving the action in equal measure, making your eyes brim with tears. He’s going to touch you, he’s going to do it. He’s going to do it and still claim that you wanted it, because…well...you don’t want it, but you do too, don’t you?

A sound rings out behind the two of you.

“Get away from her, Ser Adrian.” You recognize Aemond’s voice quickly; a sharp, relieved sigh in response, your omega instantly perking up inside you. “Now.”

His voice is as calm and deep as ever, but you hear the warning there; the dark tone gnawing at the edges - a tone that promised danger if not heeded. It does something to you, fills your stomach with little butterflies - all fluttering their wings at once. A purr wanting to escape your throat. Safe, the Alpha will keep you safe. Finally.

Ser Adrian’s expression darkens as he senses your relief through the pheromones in the air, slowly turning his body to face the unwelcome presence. He shows no submission at all when he sees Aemond standing there, even though he knows he was his prince. You know he’s too far gone for that now. No hierarchy matters here. It's just two Alphas facing each other over an Omega.

He exchanges an intense look with Aemond, obviously communicating that you are worth the confrontation.

"What are you going to do?" Ser Adrian challenges, his hand slowly descending to rest on the hilt of the sword strapped to his waist. "I bet you don't have the guts, boy."

You swallow hard, trembling for Aemond, scared at the prospect of a fight. Your omega, once relieved, is now agonized at the thought of this Alpha getting hurt.

Aemond, for his part, remains seemingly unfazed by the older man's threat - in fact he smiles at the guard's words. A cold and sharp smile, disdainful really, tilting his head in mock consideration, his hands still casually clasped behind his back. "Do you really want to test that theory?"

Ser Adrian pulls his sword a little from where it is kept, offended by the younger Alpha's reaction, but he still doesn't remove the blade completely from his waist. Aemond, though he makes no move toward his own sword, stares at him with such acidity and defiance in his eye that it’s almost as if that was the only weapon he’d need tonight.

Alphas fighting over an omega in heat become wild, territorial, aggressive. Ser Adrian, from where you can see, is vibrating with tattered restraint, with the tension of a possible confrontation unfolding. He’s acting on instinct. But Aemond isn’t. Although there’s a hard shadow in his one good eye, a warning to his dark and unpredictable interior - he keeps himself perfectly in control. His hands are clasped behind his back, a provocative smile on his lips.

“She doesn’t smell like you,” the other Alpha growls through his teeth, straightening his shoulders, gripping the hilt of his sword tightly.

“Hn, maybe I’m a gentleman and I’m going slow so as not to scare her,” Aemond replied in affront, the corner of his lip still pulled back in a lazy smile. "A concern that has not crossed your mind, obviously."

The older Alpha grunts in displeasure in his throat, casting an appraising glance at you over his shoulder, his nostrils flaring to catch your scent. And if you had control of your legs, you would be long gone by now. But not only is your heat consuming your to worrying levels, but the overwhelming pheromones that both Alphas exude in this confrontation are strong enough to make you flinch in response, exhaling your own cornered and fearful scent into the air.

"Are you saying you are this Omega's Alpha?" Ser Adrian snorts in annoyance, turning his narrowed gaze to Aemond.

"Yes." He doesn't even hesitate before answering. "Do you have anything to say or...do...about it?"

The clean and immediate statement coupled with the unspoken challenge makes you gasp, your legs shaking and threatening to give way beneath you, the viscosity in your pussy increasing in response to that easy words.

Did...did he say he was your Alpha?

Could it be that you heard him correctly? Could it be that the only man you'd ever wanted to be courted by had felt the same way all this time?

A thought you'd never dared to voice out loud, knowing full well that doing so would be nothing short of a confession. And you definitely didn't feel ready to confess any tender feelings for Aemond yet. Despite what your stupid heart told, you knew what a conflicted person he was. His sarcastic and unpredictable personality, even his tendencies toward cold words and actions at times.

But he was also...he could also be...

The truth was, you knew how you felt about him. You knew it all too well.

And while you usually managed to keep your unwanted feelings well caged and hidden from outside knowledge, falling into a sudden and intense heat like this made it significantly harder to maintain this charade, especially when his scent hung imposingly and proudly over the other alpha, all possessive and icy intentions. And especially when he so easily claimed to be your alpha.

Amidst the surprise of the declaration, you almost forgot about the challenge between both men, only coming back to the present when Ser Adrian growls something between his teeth (something that sounds very much like a curse), shoving his sword back into its sheath with much more aggression than necessary. He straightens himself before the other alpha - but even so Aemond towers over him, with his imposing height. The older one reluctantly steps away with a murderous look at the prince, maintaining contact as long as he can - it was not in an alpha's nature to give in, especially in the presence of another. Which shows that, on some level, Ser Adrian was still there, clinging to the shreds of control he had left over his own primal instincts.

Aemond holds his gaze, but looks at you again as soon as the guard disappears around a bend in the hallway, his steps deliberately heavy and dissatisfied.

"Come," he says as he approaches where you're leaning against the wall, his cold, affronted expression giving way to one that's almost angry. You feel yourself wilt a little at the abrupt change, but try not to show it, for fear of upsetting the alpha even more. "Let me take you to your chamber, it's not safe to be out here with so many alphas around the castle, especially when you smell like that."

He takes a step closer and you meow in response, your body so fragile and small next to his, his scent invading your nose again. Green apples and parchment, dragon scales and fire. Your omega immediately purrs, wanting to snuggle into this Alpha, let him protect you and take care of your needs.

“Can you walk?” He asks slowly, looking much more tense with you than he had when he’d challenged an older, more experienced alpha, his jaw clenched and his violet gaze refusing to stay on yours.

You feel something ache in your chest, not understanding why he was suddenly being so distant, even though he’d proudly defended you not long ago.

“Y-yes, yes, I can.”

Your legs are definitely shaking, but you still force yourself to take the final steps to your chamber, your dress clinging to your body in the most uncomfortable way, your damp thighs rubbing against each other and creating a friction that makes your skin crawl all over.

Aemond stands rigidly beside you, walking at a respectful distance, looking like he’s barely breathing. Clearly wanting to avoid smelling you. But…but why? Doesn’t he like the way you smell? Don’t you please the Alpha?

You suddenly feel frantic, scared by the knowledge that you’ve lost him before you’ve even reached him.

This is something you could handle normally. Gods, you could handle worse than this, normally. You’ve been putting up with your conflicting feelings for him for years. The heat is just making you feel silly and sad and…pathetic…

But knowing this doesn’t make it any better. It doesn’t help. And before you can stop yourself from doing something stupid, your mouth is moving.

“Why did you say that?” You ask as he opens the door to your chamber for you to enter, staggering and panting, nearly tripping until you fall onto the ornate sofa to catch your breath as if you had run all the way across the Red Keep to get here.

“What?” He asks vaguely, glancing discreetly into your chamber, but not entering it. Looking at your space. Where the things that please your omega are. No alpha has ever had such a view. But he can, you decide. You want him to look.

“Why did you say you were my Alpha?”

For a few seconds, all you can hear is the rapid beating of your heart and your breathing. He had left you in your chamber as he promised, and you began to fear that he would simply ignore the question and leave now.

“I don’t know,” he finally answers, interrupting his checking of the environment to look at you; though his gaze is vacant and distant, as if he is trying hard to just pretend to look at you. "I thought that would drive him away without the need for a physical confrontation. You wouldn't have been satisfied with such aggression, I imagine."

You bite your lip to contain a moan as you feel a strong wave of cramps in your lower abdomen, your head swimming in the rising heat, as if reacting instinctively to those words. He worried about you, about what would leave you unsatisfied.

And later, you would tell yourself that the next question was solely guided by your messy, chaotic hormones, by his enchanting scent filling your sensitive nose. Anything to exclude your conscious guilt.

"What if it were true?"

Aemond blinks, finally looking at you. For real this time. "If it were true what?"

You take a deep breath, your heart beating so fast you can feel it straining against your ribcage.

"That you're my Alpha." You mumble, cursing your own mouth as soon as the words come out. But it was too late and he had already heard each one of them. "What if...what if you really were?"

For a long moment he says nothing, just stands there, stoic and magnificent in his white hair flowing over his shoulders, dark clothes and hands behind his body, staring at you with an almost alarmed expression. And you are so nervous, so messed up with all these intense emotions and this miserable heat burning your body that you find yourself mumbling to fill the maddening silence he maintains, your hands fidgeting as you gesture them in the air.

"Y-you could come in. You could stay here, with me, if...if you wish, of course. I really-"

Aemond shakes his head suddenly once, his gaze darkening at you.

"That's not a good idea."

The way he says it, so firm and direct, his expression hardening into something determined, makes you shut up immediately. The saliva in your mouth is suddenly too thick, your heartbeat painful.

“Oh.”

The rejection stabs you like a sharp dagger, piercing your chest through to the other side in one fell swoop, and you feel like crying. Your bottom lip trembles, and you stare at the opposite wall, nodding weakly. Honestly, how many more ways did the gods plan to humiliate you?

All those years of hardening your feelings for him, keeping yourself away to keep them from growing any further. And you were doing well. Everything was going well. But then, the one time you let yourself harbor a small flame of hope, he rejects you so easily that you wish you could eat the words back, pretend it never happened.

“Right, yeah,” you mumble, limiting yourself to a few words in case you start sobbing out loud. “I understand. You don’t…” You sigh, hurt in a way that only an omega rejected right during their heat, the most vulnerable moment, could sound. Stupid, stupid hormones, you hate feeling this way. “You don’t want me. It’s okay.”

“Wait — what? You think it’s because I don’t want —” Aemond breathes out an incredulous laugh, finally pulling his hands from behind his back to rub them down his face, frustration clear in each of his sharp lines, making your omega shrink even further inside you. Alpha is dissatisfied, help him, calm him down. Despite your increasingly stronger instincts, you manage to stay in the same place, with your shoulders slumped and your breathing anxiously in your chest. "Of course I want you. You have no fucking idea, Y/N, I swear. But this..." he points to your body, to your disheveled condition and watery eyes, "...this is just the heat. You don't really want me to come in there with you. It's just the heat and when it passes, you'll regret this request."

You sigh shakily at his statement, at the restraint he's showing even as he lowers his clenched fists to his sides; jaw tense, preventing himself from breathing too deeply and taking in more of your scent. The intensity in his gaze making your heart race as he stares at you, his brow furrowed in an unreadable expression.

It all makes sense now.

So that's it, huh? He was trying to stay away because he thinks you only want him because of the heat. He thinks you would regret this. He thinks you only want him because he is an unbonded alpha who conveniently happens to be here at this moment.

God heavens, you wish that was all it was.

"It's not just the heat."

You whisper to the imposing room and he sighs deeply.

"Y/N..."

"Let me speak, please."

He holds your gaze firmly and dominantly, almost making you tilt your head down in a natural response of submission, but to your relief he ends up giving in after a few seconds with a stiff nod of his chin.

You wet your lips. "Yeah, I'm going into a sudden heat and I might be partially driven by instincts here..." You mumble weakly, the heat making your body shiver and your mind swim, but you fight to keep yourself together as much as you can in order to convey to him what you really need.

"But Aemond, I shouldn't even be having a heat right now, I'm nowhere near my normal cycle. Y-you, oh fuck -" you gasp in pain as an intense cramp makes you curl up completely over your own body on the sofa. Aemond instinctively reaches out to help, but stops when you hold up an open, shaking palm to him. "N-no, wait. I need to finish saying this." He doesn't look pleased, but he does as you say, waiting impatiently as you shift back into a sitting position, breathing slowly through your teeth to try and calm yourself.

“Do you know what sent me into this sudden heat in the first place?” You ask quietly when you’ve finally gathered yourself enough, your watery eyes glaring at the man in front of you, begging him to hear what you really mean.

“What?” He asks back, holding your gaze with just as much intensity.

You take a breath. “It was you. It was your scent, Aemond.” Your brows furrow at him, trying to hide the shiver that shakes your body as another painful cramp wracks through you. “I-I’m surrounded by unbound alphas here at the Red Keep; Aegon, a few Gold Cloaks, the Kingsguard, my Personal Guards, a few nobles from the court. Every day I see them and interact with them and yet none of them have ever sent me into an uncycled heat. Never. Only you.”

His gaze is dark and heated, a stormy violet, his expression tense and expectant.

"B-but even if my omega didn't feel that way, even if you weren't an alpha...heavens, you could be a beta and I'd still want that, with you." Your mouth is worryingly dry, which you find to be a fair contradiction to how absolutely soaked the middle of your legs is. "Because I've always liked you. Ever since we were children and you would teach me Valyrian late into the night in the library, hidden from our parents and the guards, far better than any Maester could. Or when I claimed a dragon and you were so genuinely happy for me, even though you didn't have your own dragon then. And when everyone laughed at me at court? They made jokes about my birth, but you always defended and protected me - even if you happily let my brothers be fed to the wolves." You smile shakily with the little self-control you have left, which elicits a small snort of disdain from him. "Y-you've taken care of me and protected me all along the way and I've always felt safe with you. And that had nothing to do with your designation."

Aemond exhales heavily, a husky and unmistakably masculine sound, his alpha clearly pleased to hear that you felt safe with him. A shiver runs through your body in response to that primal sound, your belly tightening and you want nothing more than to beg him to take you, or to leave altogether and let you take care of yourself - alone and apart, as you always have, but this time suffering from the rejection of the only alpha you've ever truly wanted.

Still, you force yourself to continue.

"B-but then you introduced as an Alpha and I as an Omega and everything changed. I pulled away because you didn't seem like the same Aemond I knew. You had changed. You were quieter, more mysterious, darker. You didn't invite me to go to the library or to fly with you and Vhagar. You pushed me away. I-I didn't know how to deal with it, it felt like a wall had been built between us and I didn't know how to deal with it...walking away was the easiest way, I guess. But I never, I swear I never forgot...I just-"

You didn't realize you had started to cry. Then everything you had said just hit you like a punch in the stomach. How exposed you had left yourself to him, open and raw as a nerve. But there was no going back.

"If you don't want me, that's okay. I-I'll deal with it. But I need you to know that it's not just the heat, Aemond."

You end with an almost anguished sound, another storm of emotions rising up inside your chest, too strong to be repressed. Your hands release their grip on the upholstery to move restlessly up to the scent glands on your neck, scratching and clawing at the sensitive, pulsing skin with a degree of desperation that only makes your true feelings clear. Everything hurts, everything burns, everything screams for relief, for large hands and sharp teeth. The Alpha's scent so close, yet so far away...

You're going crazy as he remains silent and it's almost like torture, his presence becoming both a delight and a punishment for your omega. The next wave of heat hits so intense that it makes every hair on your body stand on, a shock of cold and extreme heat on your flushed skin. You bite your lip hard to stop from moaning, legs squeezing together to ease the aching throb in your clit - the torturous emptiness of having nothing inside your body when it's all it's needs.

"P-please, if you don't...if it's not what you want...leave me alone. I need to be alone now Aemond-"

“I always know when your heat is here —” he cuts you off in a calm voice, his nostrils flaring slightly as he inhales deeply; a husky, appreciative sound vibrating in his throat as he allows himself to feel you properly for the first time all night. He enters your chamber with careful steps after that, but it’s the sight of his hand splayed on the wood of the door that makes you feel like you could faint right there; thick veins beneath pale skin, fingers long and elegant, adorned with thin, regal rings. You hold your gaze there as he gently pushes the wood shut with an audible click that makes you shiver in response, heart thundering in your chest.

He’s here, in your place. Just the two of you. The Alpha is here.

“No matter how much your mother, your maids, and the Guards do their best to hide you in this secluded chamber, I can always tell when you’re in heat. Even from across the Red Keep I can still smell you — warm, buttery, sweet as vanilla and cinnamon; like something that just come out of the oven, familiar and comforting like home. Like you belong to me —”

Aemond’s bright gaze is fixed on yours, watching you with predatory focus, like a carnivore about to sink its teeth into the tender flesh of a poor deer. Your chest tightens. Instantly, it’s as if an imaginary rug has been pulled out from under you and you’re weightless, even sitting as you are. The moment stretches between you like caramel, tantalizing and promisingly sweet. You arch your back and undulate your hips against the soft upholstery, as if that will soothe the itch. Instead, it spreads across your abdomen like a cloud of fire. You shiver and moan.

“I hear you crying, screaming as your heat is at in peak, begging for a knot. The whole damn Red Keep can hear it, sweetheart.” You’re panting and very, very aware of the slick slide of your poor cunt sandwiched between your thighs as you moves in restless undulations, of the blood roaring in your ears, and of the hungry look in Aemond’s eye, whose pupil is so dilated that his eye, once a pale shade of violet, is almost entirely black. He breathes very slowly, savoring the increasingly intense pheromones you exude. "Aegon usually runs to a brothel whenever you're in heat, as do most of the castle's Alpha Guards. But not me. I stay here...smelling your disturbing scent, enduring the miserable torture of hearing every muffled sound - fucking my cock between my fingers as I imagine doing this, giving in to your tearful plea. You have no fucking idea how many times I've had to stop myself from walking through these doors and giving you what you so desperately beg for, pup."

"Alpha," you sigh, cry. You've never called him that — or any other man directly — but the familiarity and naturalness tastes like molasses on your tongue now, and you repeat it helplessly. "Alpha…"

You could hear his harsh breathing, see his hands tightening into fists. He tried to hold back, but all you could think about was having him buried inside you. Having him rock his hips against you. "You were right, all this time. Ever since we received our designations I feel like something in me has changed. Sometimes it's like I have no control over this new side of me..."

Your breath hitches in your chest and you unconsciously lean into him, breathing him in. "W-what side?"

He sighs; hoarse, troubled. "This side that desperately wants to bend you and fill you until you're leaking with my seed, until the only scent that comes from you is mine...only mine. To sink my teeth into your soft flesh to claim you, to make everyone know who you belong to. It's maddening. It's dark. I'm constantly consumed by primal desires that scare even myself."

"Aemond," you beg, savoring the name, rolling it across your tongue like caramel.

He crouches on the floor, right in front of you, letting your heights equalize for the first time, both hands resting on your knee. You moan at that, tilting your head closer to him to breathe him in, letting the strong, warm, and safe scent of this alpha wash over you.

Your stomach tightens and you grip his arm tightly, bracing yourself, gasping as your inner muscles flex and spasm. Aemond strokes your knees with his thumbs as you shiver. The weight of his hand on you is equal parts comforting and tempting.

You were in the prime of your life and you were going to die.

There was no other explanation for the way your heart was beating fast, like a rabbit’s, at the way he lingered on your skin — at the way Aemond remained still and stared at you, in a way that, frankly, would have been quite flattering if it weren’t for the way his nostrils kept flaring.

“I’m sorry for putting you through this,” you truly did, but you also felt like you couldn’t take it anymore, “but I want you so much, Aemond. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“Don’t be. I want you too,” he growled, leaning down to whisper against your ear, his nose gently brushing the curve of your neck. "So fucking much."

Submission was instantaneous then, without the slightest hint of reluctance or rebellion. Your neck tilts back, throat exposed to the alpha, letting him nuzzle your scent gland and inhale deeply, whimpering happily at having him there, his warm, familiar scent enveloping you safely. Omega condescending. But it’s more than that. Omega eager, the scent of your heat intensifying, overflowing between your thighs, which open instinctively as he encloses you with his hands braced on the sofa, and your happy little cry turns into a needy mewl.

His nose slowly moves up to caress your face, gently nudging the curve of your cheekbone. “Can I kiss you? Fuck, I’ve been wanting to kiss you for years.”

You nod enthusiastically against him before he even finishes the question, your eyes closing as his sweet, warm breath blows across your lips. You’ve dreamed of kissing him too, ever since you could remember.

The first touch of his lips against yours was like coming home, so right and so familiar that it almost scared you, if only the heat haze wasn’t disorienting your mind.

You wanted to enjoy it more, to take it slow, but by all the gods, the level of desperation in your body was unhealthy.

Your lips open like a flower beneath the alpha, hands gripping those long, silky silver strands, pulling him closer and closer. Feeling his jaw move rhythmically beneath your fingers as he opens and closes his mouth to lick your tongue, catching your bottom lip between his teeth in a teasing bite. Your legs swing to wrap around his waist, pressing inch by delicious inch of your bodies together. You moan into his mouth, feeling your pussy rub indiscreetly against the hard planes of his stomach, blood rushing to your groin as sticky moisture flows dramatically from your intimacy.

Aemond was perfect, you swore the alpha tasted like chocolate and wine on your tongue, that he felt like heaven against your fingertips. You could smell the arousal in the air, the way he growled into your wet kisses, and the way his large hand clenched in the fabric of your dress on your thigh.

He nestles his hands between your ass and the upholstery, helping your hips sway against his body, not wanting to let you go. His gorgeous, dilated gaze flickers to you as he breaks the kiss, gently kissing your tear-stained cheek.

“Sweetheart…tell me you accept my claim,” he demands in an eager tone, tracing the soft skin of your jaw with his lips to brush the nape of your neck again, where your swollen scent gland burns and throbs. The gentle pressure of his lips there has you squirming, practically melting into his strong hands. “I need you to understand what I’m asking. Please, focus on me, omega.”

You nod, tears weighing down your lashes. “I do, I do. It’s always been just you. Please, Aemond!”

He pulls back at this, a sheen of sweat breaking out on his pale skin as his breathing becomes shallower. His scent seems to increase, overwhelming every inch of your chamber with his pheromones. Running the tip of his tongue over his upper teeth, you see a glint of his slightly elongated incisors. The golden ring at the rim of his eye. His body, no doubt, reacting to the omega’s pheromones, pushing him into his own rut. You feel like you can vibe to this, the omega pleased to know he has this effect on the alpha.

“A-alpha, it hurts,” you whisper.

“Shhh, I got you, love,” he soothes you, though he’s losing control himself, gently nuzzling your noses together. “Put your arms around my neck. That’s it, good girl.”

He stands with you wrapped around him, carrying you toward the four-poster bed. The thin silk of your skirts soaks where his forearm braces your thighs.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so wet.” Aemond barely holds back a rough groan as his lips come close to your ear, clearly enjoying the way your body is already ready for him. His knot. You whimper, licking the salt from his throat and moaning. You try to straddle his waist once more, try to lower yourself and bend over, feel the thick, hard line of his cock, the bulge of the knot you know is already forming.

You barely realize you’re being placed on the bed. You barely notice his fingers undoing the knots of your corset and pulling the delicate fabric of your dress off your body. You barely notice the gentle words he whispers in your ear, the praises for your omega. The haze of heat takes over your mind and leaves you adrift, confused, needy. It's all a blur of desperate pleas and crying.

It's only when his body, naked and as absurdly heated as yours, lies on top of you that some coherence returns. The sensation of his feverish skin on yours makes you shiver all over, your cheeks burning - although you can't tell if it's just from the heat or the embarrassment of feeling him like this.

He looms large over you, as alphas tend to be, but in a way that makes you feel secure rather than intimidated. His lean, elegant muscles tense endlessly beneath his soft skin, the flames of the fireplace bathing his pale, sweaty complexion in a beautiful orange glow. The tips of his hair slide hypnotically over your skin, sending shivers down your spine with each contact.

"There she is..." he shivers with satisfaction when he feels the heat allow some of your consciousness to return, his hand wrapping around the delicate curve of your jaw to drag you into a feral kiss while he presses your body against his as if he would die without it. Rut, your confused mind answers. He is falling too. And yet, you were still empty and needy.

"N-no nest...there is no nest, Alpha...I couldn't make it...I didn't know, I d-didn't have time - please, I'm so sorry -" You stammer between gasps and sobs on your lips, your omega dissatisfied with not having a nest where the Alpha could curl up comfortably with you, let his knot sink in and keep you warm and safe throughout your heat.

"You're such a good omega, worrying about this..." he mumbles, kissing your chin and jaw, his hands fidgeting at your sides. "But it's okay, love. Your heat will last for days and I'm not going anywhere. We'll have time. We'll use the breaks between heat waves and I'm sure you'll make the most comfortable, cozy nest for us. I can't wait to see it, omega. Promise you'll make a good nest for your Alpha?"

"Yes, yes! I'll make the best nest, alpha..."

"Yeah you will, my good girl..."

When his mouth reaches your glans on your neck again, you know it's red and raised, waiting for him to touch it.

"Stay still baby," he whispers and you're not sure if he's talking to you or to himself.

His first lick against that spot hits you right in the heart. Your breath is ragged with each press of his tongue, and you can’t help the small purr that escapes your chest. When he growls in response to the sound, vibrations coursing through your glans, your hands grip his broad shoulders in desperation.

“Please, gods, please—alpha, please!” Your skin is feverish and taut, tight as a coiled spring, and you need…more. Your hips roll upward, and at the feel of him hard and solid and huge against your core, you almost come right there. Your wrists move, one behind his ear and the other toward the top of his shoulder, and you rub them subtly against his skin, the only thought in your head is for him to smell like you.

“Alpha, please—” That needy plea seems to be enough to rob Aemond of what little control he has left. He wraps those soft lips around the glans and sucks hard, making your eyes roll to the back of your head, your entire body trembling and flushing with heat.

“Omega,” he growls into your drooling skin, his primal instincts kicking in harder than a sword blow, thrusting his wet cock into your belly. “Tell me what you need.”

You barely blink before begging. “Fill me, please.” Your fingers tangle in the leather of his eye patch, pulling it away so you can take in the full extent of your alpha’s immaculate beauty as he takes you. The turquoise stone glows for only a few seconds before you sink your fingers into his silky hair, guiding his mouth back to yours, pulling him in for another heated, hurried kiss.

And with that touch of his lips, you both lose yourselves. With a guttural sound that goes straight between your legs, Aemond is everywhere.

A large hand is on your neck, his thumb pressing against your chin, opening your mouth for him as his tongue meets yours. Using his other hand, you feel the gentle pressure of a finger against your swollen, throbbing clit, eliciting a cry from your mouth clamped to his. You’re lifting your hips, stroking your own tongue against his as he rolls your clit on his thumb, his cock sliding against your hip again and again, leaving your skin wet with pre-cum.

It’s all a cacophony of sensations, too much and not enough. It’s magnificent, but not what you need.

What you need is him, right now.

Gods, you wanted to enjoy this moment, this first time, savor every touch, every new sensation, every taste and smell, but you both knew that you were at the height of this unexpected heat. Anything other than him inside you at this moment would only be torture for your body and your needs. You sob with desire on his lips, tears streaming down your face as your arousal reaches a level beyond painful; unbearable.

He pulls his face away from yours.

Pupil dilated and his tongue darting out to wet those sinful lips, flushed and swollen from your kisses.

Hungry.

He looks hungry.

"Y/N," he says breathlessly, dropping the designations for a moment, even giving up his own rut-driven instincts, to call you by name, and your eyes widen in response, pupils dilated like an endless abyss. "Do you want my knot? Is that what you need right now, baby?" You hold his gaze with a lucidity that no longer exists, but unconsciously understanding the seriousness of this moment.

"Please, please, I'm going to go crazy if you don't do this. I need it, Aemond. Now."

His growl vibrates in his chest and through yours, making you moan in response and wrap your legs around his waist. Your pussy is absolutely soaked with your own arousal. You had never produced so much fluids before, even during your heats. On the other hand, you had never had an alpha promise to give you his knot before.

Something itches in your mind, driving you to present yourself to him now, whispering for you to turn your body and let him take you from behind, this position would be better - more chances of a successful knot. Instinct, obviously, since you wouldn’t have any previous experience to draw on. And you almost do, placing your hands on his shoulders to push him away. The turn, however, is interrupted by large hands on the sides of your waist, firm but still gentle as he keep you lying with him between your legs.

You frown at him in confusion.

“Please, no. Not this time.” He whispers feverishly, leaning his sweaty forehead against yours, breath puffing across your parted lips. “I know instinct tells you otherwise, just as they are telling me, but I want to see your face. I need to see your eyes as I take you for the first time, sweetheart.”

It’s not an order. Not exactly. It’s more of a request than anything else. But you obey anyway, captivated by his need to have you in this way, for his strength in resisting his own Alpha's demands and take you the way he, the men, wants.

Warming up to the desperate cadence of your low mewls, he lines his hardened member up toward your center, your omega more than ready for this. The tip pokes a few times into your soaked folds, seeking warmth as he settles himself.

It’s an almost sacred moment, even in the haze of heat.

The chamber goes silent as he enters you for the first time, thrusting inside, slowly and steady, one hand coming up to the side of your face, the other gripping your hip possessively, his gaze locked on yours. Your hearts beat in sync, the fierce need to be joined to each other growing like a wildfire. The head of his cock barely enters before the world simply stops. He begins to rock his hips, slowly at first, so slowly that it’s almost provocative, but it’s delicious and cathartic, and you never want it to end.

Besides his hungry gaze on yours, the second thing your drunken brain registers is that it doesn’t hurt.

First time penetration should hurt, right? You’ve never had sex before, obviously, but you know that the first time should be uncomfortable, at the least. However, your body accepts him with easy submission, with your own abundant sticky wetness easing the way, and all you can feel is the same relief that his arms offer, the smell of him. You moan between teeth, satisfied, and reach out to grip his arm as he thrusts into you, feeling the muscles ripple under your touch. He groans your name once more and his erection pulses against your walls.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he demands. “Tell me you’ve kept that perfect pussy for me all this time.”

Of course you were his. The fact hadn’t always pleased you, but you’d known that since you were children and running through the halls of the Red Keep. You always knew you were made for him, and you held on to that bitter dream even when you tried to pull away from him. So it was only natural to let your animal instinct take over, exposing the truth as if it were the only thing that mattered.

“I’m yours, Aemond. I’ve always been yours.” You whisper, wrapping your arms around his neck to keep him close. "Only yours."

“F-fuck,” he stutters, your pussy greedy and desperate as it molds itself to accommodate him. “You’re going so well for me, pup. Such a good little omega.”

His lips press against your cheek as he pants, struggling to hold himself together as he feels the full length of his cock inside your folds. And you sense that this is your weakness. Green apples and parchment, flames and dragon scales. He’s warm and comforting, fitting between your legs like he belongs there, like you’re his home. It’s divine how you mold yourself to accommodate him. Easy, as if it were a normal thing, and you had done this together a thousand times before.

Aemond takes a deep, shuddering breath.

And then he begins to thrust. Slowly.

You were soaked and desperate, but Aemond was an Alpha and, well, you were a virgin just a few minutes ago. His restraint was understandable. But you wanted more, needed everything he could give you...

You didn’t realize you were speaking out loud until he answered. “I’ll give you. Fuck, I’ll give you anything you want, baby. I’m yours.” His voice took on a deep, husky tone that sent goosebumps across your skin. “But I need to make sure you’re ready first.”

You whimper. “I can take it,” you promise. “Come on, Alpha. Make me yours!”

Aemond’s large body trembled with the restraint of going slow, his muscles contracting restlessly beneath your fingers. At your words, he groans and suddenly thrusts deep. The air rushes from your lungs, and you dig your nails into his back, gripping tightly as your body struggles to adjust to the massive intrusion.

He pulls back to get a better look at your face, to make sure you’re not uncomfortable. And by the gods, you’re not. Your omega rolls over and shows the belly, satisfied and purring, vibrating with joy at finally having his alpha take you. His thrusts don’t stop, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Fuck, fuck, you’re so beautiful, omega, so fucking beautiful. So good for me, pup.”

Your eyelids flutter with the long, delicious drag as he pulls out, pussy clenching his cock like it doesn’t want to let go, and the emptiness he leaves hurts, no matter how quickly he pulls away. Then he thrusts back in and you breathe once more.

“Yes!” you cry out, wrapping your arms and legs around him, clinging to his lean but strong body. “More, Alpha. Please!”

Aemond curses and then sets a steady, pulsing rhythm in his hips. Each entry was slow, each thrust back hard and intense. He fucked you like he flying on Vhagar’s back: confident and assertive, teetering on the edge of control but never losing it. The extent of his control was crystal clear as he breathed into your lips, his gaze keeping yours, his forehead sweaty and his eyebrows furrowed, even as you shuddered and moaned and clawed at his back.

You were wetter than you’d ever been, drops running down between your thighs to soak the sheets. The sounds of your joining were loud and filthy, filling your chamber with moans and growls, the wet, rhythmic slapping of skin on skin, and the harder he went, the more animalistic you both became. You were soon moaning and sobbing with every thrust, while he grunts and growls in your face.

When he swallowed hard, his gaze was, without any choice, drawn to his throat; the Adam’s apple bobbing, the veins high in his neck, his scent glands. He nods at your gaze, and you’re suddenly overcome with the need to touch him — to taste him.

You lean forward and place your mouth over his gland, alternating your tongue and lips between sucking and licking the heated skin, panting into his skin in time with his thrusts. He groans, broken and hoarse, his hips slowing to fuck you less hard, more slowly.

“Y/N, fuck, I need—”

He’s worryingly heated against you, his own rut peaking, silver strands of hair sticking to his sweaty face.

“Me too, Aemond...I need it so bad it hurts,” you cry, pressing your face against his scent gland, breathing hard. He nods, settling into a rhythm that, while less frenetic than it was a moment ago, is brutal in its intensity. Your thighs tremble around his waist, though Aemond is definitely the one doing the heavy lifting. His knot nudges against your pussy, pressing, clamping, and pushing against your entrance with each thrust.

“I can feel you getting close,” he whispers in your ear. “Do you want to come in my knot, pup?”

Your head falls back and you moan loudly as he hits you again, and again, hard and stand, and you’re right on the edge — close enough that you can feel your orgasm building in your lower back, threatening to overtake you at any second.

Yes, yes, yes, your omega cries out in response to his question. It’s all you want, all you need. To come with the Alpha’s knot inside you.

“Yes,” you sob. “Please!”

As his knot begins to force itself inside you, everything becomes shockingly clear. You know, without a shadow of a doubt, that you were made for this. To take his knot, to sit on it, to come and clench around him until he paints your insides with his seed.

“Oh, good girl, almost there—” His voice grows lower, rougher, darker. “Yeah, that’s it, spread those pretty legs a little wider and let me—fuck, yeah, that’s it, puppy—”

Your purpose is singular now, as his knot stretches your entrance. He forces your opening almost to the point of pain, even as wet and stretched as it already is, but biology is on your side. You strain for his next thrust, and with a searing ecstasy, you feel his knot push a little deeper inside you.

The next movement, like everything else tonight, is guided only by instinct and basic need. You hold the back of his neck, guiding his lips to the junction of your neck and shoulder, tears streaming down the sides of your face until its soak the sheets.

"P-please, make me yours, Alpha. In every way."

Aemond sighs longly on your skin, leaving wet kisses there, his breath warm and tense. His body is so intimately attached to yours that each thrust makes your breasts drag against the hard planes of his chest, teasing your sensitive nipples. Each undulation of his hips rubs your throbbing clit against the trimmed hair of his pelvis. It is torture, the most delicious torture.

"You're going to fucking kill me, love." He half smiles half growls, gently nipping at your shoulder, just a shadow of what you really wanted from him there. You grip him tighter, frowning as you mewl dissatisfiedly through your teeth.

He silences your mumbled protests with whispers of your name and designation, intoned in an encouraging tone against your skin as he guides you closer and closer, and you feel your thighs tremble around his hips as you prepare to be pulled under. Your toes clench, body ready to jump into the waters that threaten to drown you, all you need to do is let yourself sink. Let your body surrender to what you were designed to do.

“Come for me, Y/N,” he growls into your shoulder, the vibrations coursing through your body, his fingers digging into your hips, leaving marks on your skin that your omega accepts with pleasure. “Come for your Alpha and then I'll give you my knot, I swear.”

And with that encouragement, you submit completely. The command to surrender to the pleasure was all your body needed. A primal scream rips from your throat, and your body shudders beneath his. Your pussy clench around his cock, desperate and needy for what only he could give you. And it’s nothing like cumming with your own fingers.

Aemond, feeling your walls tighten around him, thrusts harder; a long groan through his teeth before biting down hard on your shoulder, his sharp incisors tearing the skin until you’re screaming. Despite the shock of pain, your fingers dig into the back of his neck, pushing his face into the bite, wanting more. He growls at this, thrusting his hips forward one last time, burying his cock deep as his knot finally expands inside your pussy, locking him in place and joining you together.

Your spine arches, your breasts pushing against his chest with a long, broken groan that seems to escape straight from your core, your body clenching around his cock before contracting almost painfully. Aemond grunts, nearly falling on top of you as he shoots inside your pussy, filling your insides with his cum.

Entire galaxies shimmer behind your eyes as a second orgasm rips through you, just by the sensation of it being his, irrefutably. And you cling to your Alpha as he graces you with slow, shallow thrusts, his seed filling you beyond your limit. You can almost feel it filling your womb, spilling from your core and dripping down from where your bodies join to coat the sheets beneath you.

He licks your raw flesh when he releases you, whispering praise as he wipes away the blood dripping down your skin, and the throbbing in his cock begins to slow.

But though your orgasms are over for now, you know you’ll stay glued together until his knot comes undone. Your arms tighten around his shoulders until he sags, letting the weight of his body collapse onto yours, and you savor the comfort of being smothered by him. Your omega purrs, rubbing your cheek against his sweaty shoulder, trying to cover yourself with as much of his musk as possible.

The chamber is silent, except for both heavy breathings and the crackling of the fireplace.

It takes you a moment to recover. Your mind is drunk but relaxed, satisfied. And then a hand slides down your arm, broad and warm and absolutely everything you need. He takes your hand in his, so small and fragile in comparison, noting how both are trembling before lowering his lips and placing a kiss on your knuckles.

Your eyes open into lazy slits at the feeling and it’s only after what feels like an eternity that you realize it’s raining; thunder rumbles around the castle as flashes of light illuminate your chamber through the windows. But you don’t feel afraid. Because inside you are warm and safe beneath your Alpha. You both gasp together as he locks his gaze with yours, his lips swollen and a little red with your blood. An unspoken question flashes across his expression, the tops of his cheeks flushed and his skin sweaty, his gaze beginning to return to its usual violet hue. You smile in response, something vague and lazy, but enough to show that everything is okay.

With a relieved nod, Aemond can’t help but gently stroke the damp hair stuck to your sweaty, flushed face, slipping an arm under your back to cradle your head with his other hand. “Good?” he asks, his voice hoarse and rough, punctuated by another small burst of semen that makes you shiver and laugh softly.

“You’re big,” you say, flexing slowly with a fragile sigh, eliciting a breathy laugh from him as well - his head turning in a weak reprimand, as if he doesn’t surprise with your cheeky response at a time like this.

When he rolls to the side, you hum happily as feel him wrap your body around him to bring you with him, still intimately embraced and joined by the knot. He lies on his side, arranging one of your legs over his hip, your head hidden in the crook of his neck. Both of you bracing yourself for the time it would take for his knot to deflate.

You feel completely exhausted, sated now that you’ve received what you needed from the Alpha. Your mind is clearer and more aware, finally letting the extent of what you’ve just done sink into your bones. But you know it won’t last long, another wave will soon arrive, your heat had only just begun and the days ahead would demand a lot from both of you.

“Shhh, just sleep, pup. I’ll be here when you wake up.” Aemond whispers into your hair as he feels your restlessness begin, a large, warm hand slowly running up and down the curve of your back and thigh in a soothing gesture, the other arm stretched out beneath your head to serve as a pillow. “I’ll take care of you from now on. Trust me.”

With those words your eyelids begin to grow heavy, the almost painful stretch of Aemond’s knot, still deeply trapped inside you, fading into a comfortable tingle. And with a sigh of relief, you allow yourself to snuggle closer to his body, his familiar scent now ingrained in every inch of your body, feeling protected and cared for - without any doubt that he would keep his promise. The soft throb of his bonding bite on your shoulder confirming it.

He is yours now. And you are his.

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #hotd #hotd season 2 #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen smut #prince aemond #aemond smut #alpha beta omega #alpha aemond targaryen #omega reader #alpha aemond #hotd aemond #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x reader #dance of the dragons

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lovelivision · 11 months ago

Text

CLOTHED?!

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: 【𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞】 fushiguro toji/reader, geto suguru/reader, gojo satoru/reader, kamo choso/reader

𝐖𝐂: 4.8k

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: they all have their own reasons for not undressing completely, just how crazy will they drive you in their pursuit to have you cumming in your clothes?

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ only, smut, swearing, dirty talk, teasing, dry humping, thigh riding, cunnilingus, afab!reader, no pronouns or y/n used, pet names used: doll, baby, sweetheart, i think that's all !! <3

𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 ★

This all started because he believed something and you didn’t, now you’re sat on him, fully clothed, struggling to comprehend just how your few words worked him up so much to the point that it feels like he’s torturing you over them. A punishment, that you feel, you do not deserve.

All you had said was that you don’t think it’s possible for you to finish fully clothed and he took that as a personal challenge and a slight against his ability to please you, which, you never meant it as.

What you meant doesn’t change the facts of your situation though, he’s got you teary eyed and shaking on his lap. Clothed erection rutting up against your core, hands digging into your hips to drag you back and forth over him. So determined in how he’s devotedly humping up into you.

So badly you want for him to forget about the thing you said, you just want him to fuck you but he’s not going to, and you can tell that just by the look on his face alone. “Toji, please just – hah – forget what I said,” your voice shakes slightly.

Almost baring his teeth when he snaps back, “Trying to prove you wrong, doll.”

“But it would feel so much better if you – hnn – would just–”

He grunts at you, hips jerking up, “I’ll make you feel so much better once you cum in your pants.”

“I don’t think I–”

Predicting what you were going to say, “–You can, I’ll make sure of it,” his hands gripping you so firm you think he might leave bruises behind.

Toji’s so hard, straining against his pants, desperate to fuck you, to feel some kind of release but you said something that he disagrees with, and now he’s going to show you that you can cum for him no matter how clothed you are.

Panties so slick and sticky, stuck to your cunt, leaking into your pants, you’re going insane. Right on the edge of cumming but not feeling like it’s enough, wanting for him to just stuff you full at this point. Foggy brain not understanding why he’s so bent out of shape over this, it would feel so much better if he would just fuck you.

The friction against your core not enough, his cock splits your folds, grinding you down into him. The pleasure better, hands grabbing at his shoulders, fisting his shirt, gasping at how the head of his clothed cock hits your clit.

“Toji,” you whine at him.

“Right there, huh?” He huffs, doubling his efforts.

Dripping into your panties and shorts embarrassingly, soaking them, so incredibly damp. Something that he doesn’t miss, not if his smirk and visibly inflating ego are anything to go by.

Your eyes are large as you plead with him, “Please, just fuck me.”

His smile is dark, evil, taunting, “I will…after you’ve cum for me.”

Your hips stutter on him, grinding down harder, your own determination to cum like this growing, if it means finally getting fucked full then you will finish for him, fully clothed.

“Suddenly feeling motivated, doll?” His chuckle feels demeaning.

“Shuddup,” you mean for it to have more bite when you say it, but you sound pathetic and needy.

He bites his lower lip at the way you circle your hips, “Pretty cute how desperate you’ve gotten.”

“Be nicer,” trying to chastise him while humping his clothed cock isn’t all that effective.

Laughing heartily at your poor excuse of admonishment, “You should be nicer to me, you know I could always be meaner.” As if to illustrate his point, he lets go of your hips, no longer assisting you.

A sad noise leaves you at the loss of his hands, struggling to get the same kind of pleasure from this without his help. Your fingers digging into his shirt, brows scrunching as you try to make up for the loss of him. Wet cunt grinding down, not quite getting the same kind of pleasure, back to desperately wanting for him to fuck you open.

“I’m sorry,” you rush out, hoping he’ll show mercy.

“What was that, doll?” He asks, feigning like he couldn’t hear you perfectly well.

Shooting him a teary-eyed glare, you repeat, “I’m sorry, just please– help.”

His smile is self-satisfied at your pleading, cooing at you, “You sure you want the help of this mean man?”

“Mhm,” nodding your head vehemently at him, wanting nothing more than that.

Huffing a breath of amusement at your eagerness, “Should’ve said I wasn’t mean there.”

“Toji!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he dismisses, pulling you down with a strong hand on the back of your neck. Lips colliding with his, sloppy and messy, all teeth and tongues.

Once he has his lips on yours, he moves his hand back to your hips, stroking them lower to your thighs just to pull them apart further on top of him. His clothed cock splitting your folds more like this, your pussy twitching and drooling into your panties.

He groans against your mouth, “I bet you’re so fuckin wet,” he pants against you, growing just as frustrated as you, if not more, “Gotta cum soon, doll. Can’t handle much more of this.”

He could always just stop this and fuck you but he’s stubborn and you know better than to try and convince him of this, especially now, when you’re getting so close to finishing.

“Promise to fuck me after?” Feeling worried he might go back on his word and torture you some more.

“Hah– I’m not depriving myself of your creamy little cunt, doll. Stuffing you full right after you’ve cum is one of my favourite pastimes,” he licks at your lower lip before nipping it.

Your arms wrap around him completely, face nuzzling into his neck, focusing on how you’re moving against him. Starting to stutter against your will, his large hands helping you along, supplying you with the friction he had robbed you of only a few moments ago.

His huffed breaths tickling your ear, having turned his head towards you, to continue talking to you, keep spouting filth at you. Too aware of how much his voice gets you off, “C’mon, doll, know you’re so close, cum in your panties for me, hmm?”

Only able to whimper against him in response, no words forming as you continue to rut into him. Pussy hole clenching pathetically around nothing, begging to be filled, getting closer to your end. It’s almost embarrassing that he’s able to have you falling apart despite the fact you’re both fully clothed.

“Be good and cum for me, wanna fuck you into next week,” he groans out when you press down into him with more pressure, his words getting to you more than you’d ever admit.

“Toji –hnn– I’m soo–”

His voice is lilted, excited, “Yeahh that’s it, doing so good for me– fuck.”

You shake on top of him, clit hitting his cock just right, whimpered whines leaving you as you huff against the skin of his neck. Tears welling in your eyes, nails digging into him slightly. The groan he lets out swiftly followed by your name has you cumming for him, in your clothes, fully dressed.

He talks you through it, hands stroking at your back, amused by how you twitch from your aftershocks. After a beat of silence, and your breathing evens out, he speaks lowly into your ear, “Told ya so.”

𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 ★

Your panties are soaked through, almost completely wet as you slide back and forth on Geto’s jean clad thigh. He’s not even touching you, refusing to help, only sitting back and enjoying the view of you humping down into him like a bitch in heat.

Enjoying the frustrated pout settling on your features, playing dumb when he asks, “What’s wrong?”

“Not enough,” you huff back.

“Sure it is,” he hums, hand moving only to tickle up the length of your inner thigh, “Look at the mess you’re leaving behind, ruining my pants.”

Your skin flares at his comment, all too aware of the dark and damp spot you’re leaking into his jeans. Not appreciating his comment, only serving to embarrass you, feeling self-conscious with how you’re rubbing your pussy into his thigh.

He must notice, smile kind when he says, “Don’t be embarrassed, it’s cute how worked up you are just for my thigh, think you could cum like this?”

Shaking your head at him, “No –hng–” moaning when he bounces his leg up, jostling you on his thigh suddenly.

“I think you can,” his lips curling into a deceivingly innocent grin, “Go on, keep going,” nodding downwards at his leg, encouraging you to continue your movements.

Sticky folds splitting obscenely to rut down into him, panties moulding to your pussy lips, leaving nothing to the imagination. Slick beading through the material of your underwear, repeated back and forth of your hips spreading it all over him.

A completely lewd display, one that Geto is appreciating deeply, his cock painfully erect at how your eyes are all bleary and unfocused. Simultaneously embarrassed about how you’re humping his leg and so desperate to cum that you’re not stopping your movements.

Small whines and whimpers leaving you, despite the fact that you’re biting your lower lip in an attempt to stop them. Geto’s fingers twitch with the need to touch you, feeling an itch to help you, get you off faster but stopping himself, enjoying the struggle you’re facing a bit too much.

“Sugu, I just want you,” sounding pathetic even to yourself, begging him for help? For his cock? Either? Both?

Tutting at you with faux sympathy, “I’m right here, baby,” smirking at how your brows upturn and you huff at him.

“I want – hah – want you to touch me, please,” eyes big and pitifully wet.

“Always so pretty when you beg,” his hand reaches for your face and wipes away the tears you hadn’t realised you’d shed.

Spreading your legs slightly, continuing to grind down onto his thigh, wishing he would at least take off his pants so you can feel every ridge and dip of his muscles. Slippery in how you rock back and forth, clit catching with your grinding, gasped moans leaving you with it.

He observes, “Getting desperate?”

“Please just touch me, I don’t care where, just touch me please, Sugu,” practically sobbing at him, feeling so completely deprived of him by now.

His outside demeanour stays unchanged, forever amused by how desperate you are for him to touch you but his cock twitches in his pants and is leaking profusely. So fucking hard and ready to fuck you, loving how you plead and beg for him.

Wanting nothing more than to fuck inside you, feel the way your tight cunt sucks him in, drooling all over him but he’s gonna have you finishing like this first. Thinking to himself that you’ll probably make a great face when you cum in your panties for him.

He obliges you slightly though, hands moving to your hips, forcing you down on his thigh harder. Giving you a more consistent pace to get off to, relief flooding you at how much better it feels to have him set the rhythm, you could almost cry at how good it feels.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” it’s repeated over and over, so grateful for his help.

“So polite when you get what you want,” he muses, eyes fixated on the way you’re seemingly growing slicker. God, by the time he’s inside you, you’re going to be beyond dripping, the realisation thrilling him.

Panties borderline see through with how you’re coating them, his large hands gripping your thighs harshly, spreading them open even more. He wants to see how you rub your pretty little cunt down into him, needs to see.

Aching in his pants for you, close to giving up and bullying his thick cock inside you, voice strained when he asks, “Getting close?”

“Mhm,” you mumble back, hole fluttering on nothing at the sound of his wrecked voice.

His leg starts bouncing again, adding more stimulation for you to get off to. Almost screaming at the abrupt change, hands digging into his shoulders, mouth gaping open as moans and whines push their way out of you.

Tears streaming down your face again as you twitch down into him, “Sugu– it feels – ah –” Not able to properly verbalise just how good he’s making you feel.

“If it feels so good,” his hands forcing you down and circling your hips, feeling the way he almost starts salivating at the wet sounds your slutty pussy makes for him, “Cum for me,” almost spitting out the rest of his sentence.

His eyes glazing over, mirroring your own, so fucking horny he’s going to go insane. Poor cock feeling neglected, getting consumed in his own thoughts, thoughts about your cunt and how divinely you take him.

“I– I’m gonna–” panting with the effort it takes to talk when your brain is so foggy.

Extremities thrumming with the build up of your orgasm, head feeling heavy as you struggle to hold it up straight. Letting it loll to the front, chin on your chest as you cum all over Geto’s leg. Gushing inside your panties and soaking his thigh, cum seeping into the material, matching the small wet spot on his pants by the tip of his dick.

“Ffffuck– that’s it, so fucking perfect for me,” praise falling from his lips easily as he watches your body twitch and jerk on top of him.

Once you’ve come down some, he has you standing between his spread legs, your hands resting on his shoulders still to keep yourself on your feet. His hands tug your panties down, watching the way your cum connects to your cunt with sticky strings, low growl stuck in his throat at how creamy your pussy is.

“That’s what I like to see,” he hums, smile evil as he continues to pull them down and off you.

“Sugu.”

“Hmm?”

“You’ll fuck me now, right?” You ask, hoping desperately that he will, not realising that it might just kill him if he doesn’t stuff you full.

“Ah, on one condition,” smile growing as he says, “Open your mouth.” His hand holding your panties shoving them into your mouth, “Since you wanna get stuffed full so bad,” he hums.

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 ★

What’s gotten Gojo so worked up, you couldn’t say, all you know is that it’s hard to think. Feeling breathless at the way he’s lapping at your clothed cunt, hands pulling at the material on your hips to have them melding to you.

Your legs thrown haphazardly over his shoulders, his faze nuzzling into your pussy, licking and sucking at the material of your panties. His saliva soaking them just as much as your slick is, lolling his tongue out and letting it rest against your cunt. His dazed eyes and small sounds of pleasure having you twitch down onto him, pussy gliding along his tongue.

Using him to get yourself off, he’s letting you use him to get yourself off, head nodding slightly with your movements, tongue sliding through your folds. His eyes sparkling as he watches you grow desperate for him, thumbs parting your pussy lips. Tongue fucking deeper, almost dipping into your hole, stopped by the resistance of your panties.

Your voice calls out for him, “‘Toru, please just take them off–”

“No.” His mouth parting from you only to spit out that singular answer, not interested in taking off your underwear in the slightest. Apparently too pleased with himself and this situation.

Huffing out at him, frustrated by his answer, “Please, need more.”

“I need you to let me lick at your pussy like this, I like the way you’re coating them,” he hums, licking at the length of your pussy, hands now holding you still by your thighs, taking back the small amount of control he allowed you, “Want you to cream them.”

“Why?” Eyes wet when you ask him why he’s suddenly so desperate to have you cumming in your panties for him.

“Wanna see what will happen,” he shrugs easily.

Feeling yourself bristle at his answer, basically torturing you just because he wants to see what will happen.

“That – and I’m enjoying this,” he smiles, tongue hanging from his mouth, letting his saliva drip down onto your covered pussy, you’ve got him salivating for you and he’s not even put his tongue on you properly, “Aren’t you?”

His eyes on you are intent and bordering on desperate, so hazy, consumed by lust as he stares at you, letting his tongue continue to drool down onto your panties. Panties that are completely soaked by now, you can’t even tell who more from at this point, only really aware of how wet they are, to the point they feel like a second skin.

He chuckles when you don’t answer, too dazed in how you watch him, his tongue licking his lower lip, mouth down turning into a mocking pout, “You not enjoying yourself, sweetheart?”

“No,” your frown must feel meaner than it really is because Gojo’s eyes only sparkle with delight.

Smirking before lowering his head, “I guess I’ll just have to fix that then.”

Mouth back on you in full force, making out with your clothed cunt with so much vigour he’s making wet sloppy sounds, the noises make you grow hot, feeling embarrassed at just how messy it all sounds. It’s even messier than it sounds, your pussy leaking into his mouth and down your inner thighs.

Shamelessly, he presses his face right into your cunt, inhaling deeply, the action has your skin flaring. Hands instinctually moving to his head, attempting to push him away but he’s immovable, steadfast in how he’s sniffing the panties you’re still wearing.

“Gojo!”

“Don’t be embarrassed, love everything about your pussy,” he’s nuzzling into your cunt more, opening his mouth to press his tongue against your hole, letting your slick bead through the fabric onto it.

Groaning when he swallows, “Smell so good, taste so good,” his eyes lazily look up to you, “Feel so good, so soft, sweetheart… you know that?”

Teary eyed when you shake your head no at him, feeling so embarrassingly overwhelmed. It’s like he’s drunk but nothing has happened for him to lose it to this point, “Are you okay?” Your hand runs softly through his hair.

“I’m perfect,” he assures, smile intoxicated as he goes back to mumbling about your cunt, “So soft, so wet, you gonna let me suck at your pussy over your panties?”

“Are you sure you’re–”

“–If you’re so worried about me, jus let me have my way with you,” his words slurring slightly.

He realises that he must seem different from usual but really, he’s just having trouble holding back right now. You were wearing such a cute pair of panties, wandering around his apartment in them and his shirt. Who can blame him for how he’s acting? When you looked like that? He’s just a little drunk on your pussy and he doesn’t feel the slightest bit embarrassed about it, not when you’re this wet for him.

Your hand tugs at his hair, pulling his gaze back to yours, it had dipped to stare greedily at your cunt, “Then take off–”

He singsongs at you, “Nope.” Blowing cool air against your core to tease you, it causes you to involuntarily twitch for him, “So needy, lemme play with you like this a little more, hmm?”

“Wouldn’t it be better if–”

“Nooo,” he drags it out, as if it were obvious, “After, I promise after you cum in your panties, I will tongue fuck you so good you’ll see stars but for now, be good and let me do this for you.” He presses wet kisses into your thighs, voice pleading as he repeats over and over, “Please, please, please please please.”

“Just, make me cum, please,” you’re starting to feel neglected.

“Of course I will, what do you take me for?” His brows scrunch at you, considering arguing with you about when he’s not had you finishing for him but too keen to put his mouth back on you to talk anymore.

The only time he’s content to be silent is when his tongue is busy lapping at you like a starved man and even then, he’s far from silent, tongue making obscene noises as he licks at you, moans and whines leaving him against his will. Enjoying himself too much to register or even really care that he sounds so pathetically wrecked just from this much.

Hips grinding down into the bed, too needy to hold himself back, cock so hard and ignored. Leaking profusely into his pants, needing the small relief badly, happy he’s too consumed in your cunt to think about his dick too much, otherwise he’d be stuffing you full before he gets what he wants.

Grip lessening on you, hanging his tongue to let you grind into it again, loving the way you get so eager to cum, chasing your own high and using him to get there. Smiling lazily at how your hips rise and fall, rubbing your pussy down onto him, head tipped back, struggling to keep your whines at bay.

Excitement running through his body down to his stiff cock when you twitch and moan for him in a way that tells him you’re getting so close to cumming. His hands hold your thighs tightly as he assists your movements, encouraging you to be rougher, to use him more.

“‘Toru – hah – I’m gonna – hnn –”

“Mhm,” he hums his acknowledgement, all too ready for you to cum.

Eyes shutting tight against the force of your orgasm, toes curling, thighs attempting to close around his head, but Gojo holds you so embarrassingly open. When your movements twitch and stutter, losing their pace, he pins you down into the bed and keeps licking at you. Depraved in how he’s lapping at you, losing his fucking mind at how you’ve creamed your panties for him.

Tingling felt throughout all your limbs, feeling overstimulated as he doesn’t stop his movements, jerking away from him and pushing at his head, whining, “It’s too much, ‘Toru.”

“Sorry, ‘m sorry,” his hand rips your panties from you, tongue fucking into your pussy hole suddenly, drinking down your cum, desperate for more. It doesn’t seem like he’ll be done anytime soon.

𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 ★

Choso has you on your back for him, legs spread wide, his clothed dick grinding down into your panty clad core. What had started as an innocent kiss, turned into a heated make out session and then into shedding of pants while he humped into your cunt.

So desperate in his movements, cock rubbing through your folds, spreading your pussy lips obscenely. Slick pooling into your panties, he’s much the same, his cock head weeping into his underwear, dark spot at the tip.

His mouth is still firmly planted against yours, kissing you so dizzyingly, sucking your tongue into his mouth. Only ever parting from you long enough to huff out and catch his breath, pressing out compliments through clenched teeth.

“Feels so good, so pretty,” his words murmured, mouth brushing against yours, lips back on yours before you can even think to reply.

He’s holding back for you, you had wanted to take the relationship slower than your previous ones, which included waiting for sex but as the tip of his cock presses at your clothed hole, your resolve cracks and you want to tell him it’s okay.

You don’t get a chance to say anything though, his mouth needily kissing you into submission, almost tearing up at how it feels to have his lips on yours. Hands gripping at his shirt, his own on your thigh, on your hips, your stomach, boobs, anywhere he can reach, he’s touching and groping.

So overwhelming in how he’s touching you, your cunt so slick and ready to take him, legs tightening around his waist and pulling him down into you more. Grinding up into him, so fucking horny and ready to beg for more, Choso whines into your mouth at how you rut up into him.

Breaking the kiss to moan into the delicate skin of your neck, huffing as his hips fuck frantically down into you, meeting your need tenfold. Borderline whimpering at how damp you feel through all the layers.

He’s dizzied, from the thought of how your tight, wet heat will envelop his cock, sucking him in greedily. Losing his sanity as he humps at you, feeling juvenile but wanting nothing more than to respect your wishes and also get you off, he can do both, he can make you cum for him like this without fucking you full.

“Choso – hnn –”

Ah, your wrecked voice has him twitching pathetically against you, hips coming down more forcefully into yours. His breaths panting against your skin, struggling to focus on anything but how good this feels, how much better it could feel.

“– Mmph – Choso,” you call for him again, needing his attention.

His movements don’t stop, not even for a moment, too fucking lost in the pleasure to even think of stopping, “Hmm, you okay?” His hand gently holds your face, his own moving back to look you in the eyes, to check on you.

Nodding your head at him, “I’m fine, want more.”

“No,” he shakes his head at you.

“But–”

“Only saying that now – hah –” his eyes nearly roll to the back of his head at the thought of actually fucking you, “Only saying that because you’re horny – hnn –”

“Nooo – mmph – ‘m saying it because I mean it.”

“Ask me again after you’ve cum,” he noses at the side of your face.

His voice and steadfastness regarding this topic has your pussy clenching pathetically around nothing, eager to be stuffed full of him. Hoping to change his mind, “Cho, please,” eyes big and wet when you plead with him.

“No,” he huffs out, finding it harder and harder to resist you.

“Wanna be stuffed full, Cho – hnn – wanna feel you inside me, so bad,” babbling to him in your want.

Moaning at your words, “I want that too.”

“Then–”

“Nope,” his mouth back on yours to shut you up for a moment, tongue sliding into the kiss. He can’t have you keep begging him like that, he’ll give you what you want but you made the decision to wait for sex before you were so fucking desperate for him to fuck you, so you’ll have to wait.

You’re clawing at him frantically, hips messy in their movements, only seeking pleasure, offering no rhyme or reason to how you achieve it. Drooling into your panties for him, to have him shoving you down his fat cock, taking it all, the idea of it all has you drunk. You’d be embarrassed by how needy you are for his dick if you weren’t so aroused, so preoccupied with how good he’s making you feel.

When he parts the kiss, your mouths are connected by a string of saliva, kiss so messy and fuelled purely by lust. His eyes so dazed as they look down at you, almost unseeing, brows scrunched as his cock jerks against your cunt.

You go to speak, to beg him again, but his hand reaches up to cover your mouth, clamping down, “Can’t keep begging me, I’ll give in, I’ll give you anything you want – fuck – feels so fucking good and I’m not even – hah – not even inside you, can’t even feel how soft you are, how tight, wet – fuck.”

He bites his lip to stop his mouth, dick releasing thick globs of precum at the way you’re almost crying for him, eyes pathetic as you look up at him from underneath his large hand.

“Look so pretty right now,” he compliments, eyes adoring as he does.

You moan back at him, pleading with him through your eyes, his hips stutter and he groans out. His hand leaves you, only so he can use both of them to tug your panties up, spreading your folds open in a lewd display, his cock rubbing against you insistently. Shocked whimpers leaving you at the sudden change in friction, feeling it so much more.

“Cho!”

“I know – fuck – I know,” his head looks down to how your pussy lips bulge around your panties, losing his fucking mind at the sight of it. If he just gave into your begging, your lips could be bulging around his dick.

Shiver running down his spine, eyes flicking back to yours, “You need to cum.”

“What–”

“Right now.”

It feels like he doubles his efforts, grinding down into you with a new kind of need. Your eyes glazing over, fucked out over his clothed cock, body shaking as your high approaches so much faster. The work up having gotten to you, so fucking close to cumming from this.

His mouth back on you, kissing you breathless, hips moving against you almost like he’s fucking you. Hands everywhere, groping, pulling, his whimpers filling your ears, you wonder how he’d sound while actually fucking you.

Cumming suddenly for him, clawing at his back, legs kicking where they’re wrapped around him, cunt pulsing around nothing. Tears slipping from your waterline, mind hazy and foggy, orgasm wracking through you so deliciously.

Choso’s hips stutter against you, nipping at your lower lip before pulling away, whines leaving him as he continues to overstimulate the both of you, refusing to stop until you whimper and push at him.

Looking down to where his pelvis rests against yours, you can see the dark patch at the front of his boxers. His cum leaking into his underwear, the sight has your tummy doing flips and Choso’s skin tinting a deeper pink.

“Can you fuck me now?” You ask simply, still desperate for him.

𝐀/𝐍: i got a bit carried away with this... i think if i hadn't stopped myself gojo's would have been obscenely long 😳 thank you for reading !! ‧₊˚✩彡

[⚠︎] — 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: do not reupload / repost / translate / plagiarise my works © all works are the intellectual property of lovelivision

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specialgradefckr · 6 months ago

Text

tw: explicit content. satoru/reader. dark dark DARK, bad end au, sorcerer breeding programs, consent is not a thing for sorcerers, all sorts of bad shit.

ultra dark dystopian au where the public knows what cursed spirits are and jujutsu society isn't controlled by the higher ups.

it's controlled by the government.

sorcerers are national assets. tools, property, born and raised to be weapons against cursed spirits.

they're taken from their mothers at birth. indoctrinated and trained in facilities until they're old enough to be sent out to kill curses. they start somewhere around 13. most of them don't reach adulthood.

with attrition rates so high, where are they getting all this fodder?

special grades like satoru gojo don't spend most of their time out in the field.

as soon as he was of age he's sent to a suitable mate. breeding stock like him should create more sorcerers.

for what? to be killed?

the questions come to his mind every now and then, but he knows they're useless. he doesn't think much about why things are the way they are.

he's a weapon. he's been a weapon his entire life. this is what he's good at. what he's meant for.

however he feels about his life, satoru gojo was born and bred for sorcery, in every universe. he loves it. what do the details matter?

things aren't so different for satoru in this au. he wakes up, kills curses, creates new sorcerers, gets maybe 3 hours of sleep and does it again.

he doesn't get to pick who or when he's bred with. he's a stud. his partners are broodmares. sorcerers who managed to survive the meat grinder of exorcism.

when satoru gojo meets you, he doesn't know you. doesn't even know your name.

he doesn't need that to get you pregnant. he's sent to a room, locked in there with you, crystal-clear instructions on what you're meant to do.

it isn't his first time doing this. it's not your first time either, he's sure.

it's not romantic. it's not even sexy. it's quiet, practical, and methodical -

but oh. oh, does it feel good.

he doesn't know if it's just your body, or if this is something you actively do but it feels like you're clenching around him, like your cunt is embracing him and refusing to let go.

you're touchy, too. touching his face, his hair, his body. satoru is used to roving eyes (he's instructed never to say no; after all, what if a woman who fucked him bore a sorcerer child?) and hands.

but your hands aren't greedy. they're tender. gentle caresses like the sigh you make when he buries himself to the hilt inside you.

he nearly jerks at the feeling of your lips on his neck. kisses littered up to the underside of his jaw, featherlight fleeting. ghostly, even.

when he's rutting into you, quick, efficient motions to get him closer to the edge, you meet his ice-blue gaze and press your lips to his -

it's the first time he's been kissed on the lips.

he remembers your eyes watering the first time he penetrated you. next time, he makes a point to whet his fingertips, rub over your clit, kiss your breasts, your neck, until you're dripping over him.

he doesn't know why. it's unnecessary effort. all he has to do is release inside you.

but he supposes if you're both stuck here for a while, it might as well be... nice.

and it is nice. this time he feels one of your hands grasp his, a strange feeling churning in his gut as you guide his hand to your clit.

with just a few careful swipes, timed to the rhythm of your hips bucking into him, the sonnet of your little gasps and moans, he watches you start to shiver and quake.

you clench around him and something inside him lights up, tugging, bright and hot and bursting along with his climax.

it's never been like this before, never been this good. you squeeze around him like you're milking him, panting with your mouth slack and opened wide, eyes glossy and dilated.

irrationally, he leans in to cover your mouth with his, lap at your tongue, steal away your desperate breaths and feel you moan and squirm beneath him.

when he moves to pull out, your arms dart around him, holding him close. like you don't want him to leave.

and even though it's never been like this, even though he's never tried this hard or liked it this much, satoru still thinks this is the strangest part.

laying there, bodies entwined, chests rising and falling as you fall asleep against one another.

it's warm. it's hot and sweaty and full of the stench of sex and bodily fluids, and it should be disgusting, but it's not.

maybe he's just too tired to care. when his six eyes finally close, the darkness that embraces him is warm, enticing, and absolute.

he can only just make out your heartbeat within it.

there's a few days of that, until your fertile period is over and you part, without words.

in fact he can't recall if he even spoke to you. you might not even know his name, though he's rather infamous, and with his hair and eyes he's hard to mistake.

satoru thinks about you sometimes. in the dead quiet of the night when his brain refuses to stop churning. in the midst of battle.

in the beds of the others he's meant to breed, cooling bodies laying against him as he brings himself to climax inside them and then pulls away.

it doesn't even feel that good anymore. not now that he'd had it with you.

sometimes he wishes he'd never had you. most times, he wants you there with him.

none of it matters. he knows that. he kills curses, he mates with fellow sorcerers. they're walking wombs, and he's a sperm donor. an impersonal exchange.

the worst is when he's summoned to fight a curse that seems just a little too low grade for him.

usually because the sorcerers originally dispatched failed.

in jujutsu sorcery, failure is death.

but high-level sorcerers like him aren't usually dispatched against lower level curses. it's almost invariably weaker sorcerers - younger ones.

it takes him an instant to exorcise it. seconds, really.

how many people died trying to do what was second nature to him?

how many of them were children?

it's his fault, in the end. for not being able to be everywhere at once. having to breed more to replace the sorcerers that wouldn't have been lost if he didn't have to spend so much time breeding.

the system churns through sorcerers like a meat grinder. anyone who comes out alive is squeezed for raw material, to make more of them.

an unending marathon. all that's waiting for them on the other side is death, death or being reduced to breeding stock.

he wonders what happens to female sorcerers who can't be bred anymore. are they just worked until they die?

do they ever get to see their children?

it's been years. if he'd gotten you pregnant then his children might be old enough to be sent out by now. if he has any children.

at the rate they've been having him fuck, he must have at least a few.

where are they? where are you? useless questions.

there's only been one fellow sorcerer he was able to keep track of throughout the years, and he...

well. he won't be seeing him again.

but he does see you again. years later.

do you remember him? he remembers you. how many others have you been bred with? was there a dark, long-haired sorcerer among them?

someone with sharp violet eyes and a warm smile and large hands? did you have any children by him?

is there anything left of his friend in this world?

the questions bubble in his chest, staining the back of his throat like bile.

if he asked, he's sure you would answer. you smile when you see him.

but instead he buries himself inside you, in your arms, your tight embrace. this is the only time he gets to feel good.

is this the only time you get to feel good, too? during this week of your fertile window, when they send you in to anonymous sorcerers to get fucked pregnant?

breeding stock, he remembers. what will be done with you when you can no longer bear children? what do you have to look forward to?

satoru wants to ask. did you have any children by him? did any of them survive?

but instead he buries himself in you to the hilt. until you keen and stretch underneath him.

even if he did ask, you wouldn't know.

you hold him too tightly for a brood mare, for an encounter that will only last as long as your fertile window.

do you yearn for these moments, too? do you miss him, do you want to see him again?

did you bear his children? did you want to show them to him when they were born? did you want him there?

did you - you're looking up at him hopefully, arms that hold him close, it's time to leave now and your eyes are wet and empty and your shoulders drop as you lay back on the bed limply -

geto was right.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #satoru gojo #satoru gojo smut #gojo x reader #x reader #tw: extremely dark themes #tw: not technically noncon/dubcon but very close #dark au #god what would you call this. jujutsu sorcery bad ending? dystopian au?#tw: pregnancy #tw: child endangerment #really it's just not great for all the children here

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cosmonauter · 9 months ago

Text

best friend james without boundaries again!!

mdni, this has smut in it, i hope you guys enjoy it :))

sleepovers with james are the best thing on this planet, especially if you haven't seen eachother the whole day. meeting up with him after a stressful day, filled with studying and reading about different potion ingredients, is always such a relaxing feeling.

the way he whines about missing you, and thinking of hugging and touching you the whole day.

the way he cradles you to his broad and strong chest, thick arms wrapping around you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

the way he begs you to sleep in his bed tonight, because he had "such a bad day without you, i need you tonight, love, i can't sleep without you!".

so of course, as his best friend, it is your duty to make him feel better, and try your best at making him forget about the bad day he was having.

you're lying in his bed, wearing only his shirt and boxers, humming a tune that got stuck in your head, while sirius and peter are palying chess on the opposite side of the room.

"don't you think it's a little weird, sleeping in prongs' clothes and letting him kiss and touch you like he's your boyfriend? not that i'm judging, but i've just been wondering", sirius interrupts your little tune.

you sigh, tired of answering this question every day, "no sirius, why would it be weird? jamie and i just understand eachother and we don't get weird about cuddling and hugging eachother. that's just our love language!"

"alright, if you say so..", sirius shakes his head, as if he's disappointed. maybe he made a wrong move against peter?

suddenly the door to the restroom opens, and out steps james in his low-hanging pants, that make his v-line visible. he's still wet from his shower, his abs and chest glittering from the light reflecting of the little water drops.

he swiftly moves towards his bed, tugging the blanket up and getting under it, immediately pulling you to himself.

"jamie, you're still drenched!", you squeek out.

he smiles at you and apologises, "sorry love, didn't mean to get you wet."

sirius coughs and remus' eyes widen behind his book. " oh my god, you guys are such perverts!", you exclaim, "jamie, close the curtains, i don't want to see them anymore!"

james chuckles as he's closing the bed, laughing at the gobsmacked looks on his mates faces, "good night, boys."

you wake up to james moving against your back, " jamie?"

he mumbles your name, while rubbing up against you. suddenly you notice, that a very particular part of him was indeed in dire need of attention. you call out his name again, and start turning around to shake him awake.

as you finally manage to wake him up, his eyes widen and you can immediately see the shame and apologies swimming in his eyes, "jamie, don't even worry about it! we're best friends, if you need something, i'm happy to help you!"

"are you sure? i don't want you to feel uncomfortable or anything", he frowns at you.

"i've never been surer, really, don't worry about it!"

james never really expected to be in this situation. of course he thought about it and hoped sometimes, but he never dreamed that one day, he would get to do this.

you're lying on you back, his shirt and boxers nowhere in sight, letting him rub your chest and nipples with one hand, while holding himself up slightly with the other.

"oh my god, this feels so good", he moans out, rutting his swollen cock against your bare body.

goosebumps cover your whole body, and james wants to kiss every inch of you, mark you as his, and make you forget about any other male in your life besides him.

"you make me crazy. i'm going crazy because of you, fuck", he mutters into your neck, continuing to play with your nipples, squeezing and pulling them.

you moan out his name, and james thinks that nothing on this world will ever sound that good again. "you're so good, love. you're the best friend anyone could ever ask for, oh love, i- fuuck, i am so fucking lucky."

one of your hands runs down your body, nearing his dick. you wrap it around him, and james almost loses his control. the way your hand looks so small around his tip makes him nearly cum.

"come on, jamie.. you're doing so good, you're such a good boy, thank you so much."

james blushes and hides his face in your neck. whining, he pulls some of your skin in his mouth and starts sucking.

"jamie, stop! everyone will see, they're going to know what you did to me!"

"oh fuck, i want them to know. i want everyone to know you're mine. shit, tell me you're mine", james whimpers and starts rutting against you even faster.

you moan out and he thinks, that after this night he will not be able to live his life normally anymore. "i'm yours jamie, of course i am."

james can't hold back anymore, he really tries, but he just can't. " i'm cumming, oh fuck, i'm cumming." rope after rope of his cum cover your lower body, some of it landing on your pussy.

he looks at you with wide eyes and and apologises, promising you that he's "going to eat you out so good, just wait a moment. thank you, love, thank you so much", kissing your face and lips like he can't get enough of it. and he really can't, he's obsessed with you beneath him.

his lips start wandering from your collarbone downwards, and he feels you bucking up into him.

smirking against your skin, he starts leaving little bites here and licking over your body there.

finally arriving at your cunt, he places a little kiss right at the center of it and inhales. it smells so incredibly addicting, and james is sure, that nothing could pull him away from you at this moment.

he feels blessed, he feels so good in a way he has never felt like before. he thinks this is what going mad feels like.

"sweetheart, why have you been hiding this from me? i could have had this so long ago", he moans against your pussy starting to lick into you.

this is definitely what going crazy feels like. james feels crazy, he's going crazy.

he can't describe how he's feeling right now, every little emotion inside of him mixing together, making him incapable of forming together a sentence.

"oh my god, you, you taste so good, oh fuck", james is eating you out, like it's his last meal, moaning against you and grinding into the bed.

slowly, he drags a hand up and starts teasing your little hole with one of his fingers. "baby, i'm gonna stick my finger inside, okay? i really wanna stick it inside, please baby? let me put my finger inside you?"

he's whining, he knows that he sounds really pathetic right now, but it's you, and you are his exception for everything. you are the only one allowed to see him in this postion. no one else, ever.

your legs start shaking and you clench your pussy, as he finally puts his fingers to good use. james keeps kissing and sucking on your clit, enjoying the taste of you a to concerning amount.

he knows you're about to cum, he doesn't know how, but he feels it inside of him, like a ticking time bomb.

"come on, my love. grind it out on me, yes, just like that. feels so good, fuck, i could do this all night."

as you moan and cum on his mouth, james realizes that he will never get enough of you, now that he was finally allowed to taste you.

as you finally catch your breath again, james looks up at you with a face of worship.

"you taste so good, i'm genuinely addicted to you now." he huffs against your pussy, starting to give it little kisses here and there.

he licks your oversensitive flesh, as you whine about it being "too soon, jamie, my pussy feels so sensitive, please be careful."

"just one more time, darling, i just need one more taste", as he starts up again, your poor little pussy twitching against his lips.

i hope you liked it!! if you have any tips, please don't hesitate to help me out!!

also this is my first time writing smut, so please tell me how you liked it :))

#best friend james potter #marauders x reader #marauders #marauder era #james potter x reader #james potter smut #james potter fluff #james potter

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0mg-bird · 7 months ago

Note

bombshell of the bau was soo good, I need more of those two pls!!!

Aghhhhhh thanks! Okay, upon popular demand, here’s a part two.

Bombshell Of The BAU~ Part II

Spencer Reid x Fem!Agent Reader

Summary: With all the attention you get, it’s hard to hide something as scandalous as what you and Spencer have going on. Often times, it comes down to stolen moments and too close calls.

But you don’t expect the team to find out the way they do.

Warnings: Tehehehehe. Okay, 18+ content, suggestive material, smut, MDNI, um they’re so cute! Morgan being a c!ck block on like too many occasions, slight voyeurism kinda?? Exhibitionism kinda? Two second mention of Reid’s addiction. Reader gets hurt by UbSub but she’s fine. Idk, enjoy.

“You sure you don’t want a drink?” Emily asks as she walks with you down the hallway.

You pull the clip from your hair so it softly falls down around your face. A sigh leaves your pouty lips that are long gone of lipstick.

“After the day I had? I’d much rather take a very long shower, order room service on Hotch’s dime and watch Sex and The City.”

Emily laughs. “That sounds pretty perfect to me. Hey, did Morgan really make you crawl up in that attic?”

A shiver runs through you. “I don’t want to relive that trauma.” You claim.

She rubs your arm affectionately. “Well, you try your best to recover.”

“I’m a fighter, I’ll be okay.” You say dramatically, flicking your hair out of your face.

Emily drops you off at your door. “Call me if you need anything.” She says.

“Aw, sugar, I can always count on you.” You place a kiss on her cheek, the way you always do as a goodbye to your female agent friends.

You dig the room key from your pocket and press it into the slot. Though, you don’t push the door open, you instead look to the elevator where Emily disappears in, headed down to the lobby where most of the team resides.

When the coast is clear, you briskly turn further down the hall, passing multiple doors until you come to stand at the right one. Sparing another glance over your shoulder, you raise your knuckle to the wood.

The door opens after two knocks, and that arm raised in the air is grabbed and tugged, making you fall swiftly into the room.

You let out a soft giggle, though it’s cut off by an equally smiley kiss.

The door clicks shut behind you as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Spence.” You sigh dreamily against him. “Long time, no see, handsome.”

He pulls back to look down at you, that lopsided smile you love so much, playing on his lips.

“I saw you this morning at the station.” He reminds, letting his hands roam up your sides to hold your face.

He’s learned how to be comfortable in his actions, knowing now that you aren’t going to push him away when he reaches out. For three months, the two of you have been hiding this well kept secret, and maybe it was wrong to keep something like this from the team but…

Both you and Spencer agree that it’s nice, having something to yourselves.

So that’s why the two of you steal away any moments you can, like being on the same hotel floor after solving a case.

You give a pout. “But I’ve been stuck with Morgan all day. He was so cruel to me.”

Spencer matches your rutted lower lip. “Oh, he was cruel, huh? How was he cruel, angel?”

You love it when he calls you that.

Your hand slips into the hair on the back of his head, it’s definitely gotten a little longer.

“Made me follow him all around town, boosted me up into an icky crawl space to search for evidence.” You explain, trying to kick your heels off.

“Oh, you poor thing.” Spencer jokes, his thumb rubbing your cheek.

“It was a miserable, miserable day.” You sigh, dropping a few inches in height once your shoes are off. “But I’m here now and let me tell you, I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

Spencer gets that slight blush he always does. “Have you?”

“Mhm.” You nod, pulling him down for another searing kiss.

Instantly, lips are parting and he’s tasting that unique-to-you taste of your tongue. Maybe it’s a placebo effect, but after awhile, he’s addicted to that sweet flavor that lingers on your lips.

You sigh and melt into him, ready to forget about all the work the two of you went through today. Taking your hand, you grasp one of his and bring it down to your belt. He gets the hint, then quickly tries to get you out of the clothes you can’t bear to be in any longer than you need to be.

While you pull his tie loose, he pulls the concealed carry holster from where it was tucked inside your waist band. He sets it on the nearby table, then pulls your shoulder holster off. You chuckle against him as you pull his own fire arm off and join it with the other two.

“So many guns.” You comment.

Without a risk in the way, he untucks your blouse. “Occupational hazard.” He adds.

Slowly, articles of clothing are making a home on the floor, and once you’re down to your underwear, you’re falling onto the bed with a laugh.

“You’re on my hair.” You wince.

“Sorry.” He adjusts, gripping your waist as he flips the two of you over.

Knees on either side of his hips, you’re free to do the thing you’ve been thinking about all day. Your favorite thing is the little gasp Spencer gives you when you first create a dizzying friction against him. You absorb it with your mouth on his, hands on his cheeks, manicured nails slightly pressing into his skin. You still haven’t figured out what flips inside of you, or what it is exactly that he does that makes your brain think ‘I want to eat him’.

“What time are we flying out tomorrow?” You ask, placing his hands on your hips.

His fingers flex into your skin, and drags you against his lap.

“7:00.” He answers, knowing how much you hate early mornings, and long flights home.

“I have a bone to pick with that Hotchner guy, I think he’s out to get me.” You huff. “He ships us out when the sun comes up, he puts me with Morgan all day, and he never lets me hang around when you’re doing paperwork in the briefing room.”

Spencer, much more brave now, trails his lips down your jaw and neck.

“That’s because you’re distracting.” He states.

You gasp. “I am helpful!”

“Helpful when you have your hand between my legs under the table?”

You giggle. “I’m helpful in more ways than one, baby, and you are no better than me.”

With a slight disbelief of his eye, he pulls away from tracing your pulse with the tip of his tongue, and shakes his head at you.

“How am I no better?”

You slightly tug at the ends of his hair. “Spence, you almost got us caught when you shoved me into the conference room on your lunch break and Emily was looking all over for me.”

He smirks, feeling all too proud of himself for that bold move. “It was my lunch break…I was having lunch.”

Ever since Spencer learned how much he enjoys his face between your thighs, it’s like he’s a junky all over again and can only go so long without making you fall apart for him. You remember thinking that there was no possible way the two of you could get away with it as he pushed your skirt up and sat you on the edge of the table, kneeling before you. You also remember thinking this was one of the hottest things he has ever done.

In the beginning, you were worried that he thought you only wanted sex. The sex, it’s great, it’s …well, it’s wow. But being with Spencer means laughing more than you ever have, spending days off together, holding his hand in public and going to as many bookstores as he likes. It’s all so much more than you ever had before.

At work, it’s the same as it’s always been, you shamelessly flirt and Spencer, being the victim of your sultry ploys, keeps stumbling his words and hardly ever raises red flags.

Sure, the team noticed that he’s a little more out of his shell, has more confidence about him, but they just think he started believing all those compliments you tell him. In all actuality, he just feels proud that he has someone like you in his life, whose socks end up in his laundry and who leaves lipstick stains on the collars of his shirts.

Fingers trace up your spine, raising goosebumps on your skin as they aim for the clasp of your bra. He’s getting pretty good at undoing the hooks.

But just before he can try to beat his time, a knock comes from the door.

The two of you pause, your lips pull back, your fingers leave his hair.

“What do we do?” You whisper.

Panting slightly from the lack of oxygen he receives when your tongue is slotted to his, he just shrugs. “Maybe they’ll go away.”

Just like that, your hips continue their motion and he’s going to free your chest.

Another knock.

“Reid, it’s Morgan.” The voice comes.

Spencer lets out a rather irritated huff, his eyes shut as he swallows hard, willing the man to just go away.

“Reid! Open the door.”

Nope, he’s not leaving.

“Son of a bitch.” He grunts.

“Oh, watch that dirty mouth, Doctor.” You tease as he pulls you off his lap.

He stands, running through mathematical formulas to try and calm down in his boxers. He scoops up a sweatshirt that lays on the back of the desk chair and pulls it on. In a panic, you roll off the bed and hide behind it on the floor, trying to be as quiet as possible.

“Reid-”

Spencer pulls the door open. “What?” He snaps.

Derek is surprised by his bluntness, but he takes in his disheveled appearance and is more confused.

“What were you doing?” He asks.

“R-reading.”

Derek looks at his bare legs. “Without pants on?”

Go away, go away, go away.

Spencer breathes out. “I was about to take a shower. Now, what’s up?”

Morgan folds his arms over his chest. “Everybody is downstairs, don’t be a loner up here.”

Spencer shakes his head. “I’m pretty tired so uh, I’m gonna turn in.”

Morgan looks at him for a moment too long. “You sure you’re okay? You seem…flushed.”

“I’m fine, Morgan, really.” He reassures.

Laying face down on the carpet for a few minutes while the two men hash out whatever it is Morgan needed to, you come to the realization that you’re actually exhausted. By the time Spencer finally gets Derek to leave, you’re sitting yourself back up on the bed with a frown.

“What is it?” His brows furrow as he sees your expression.

Never have you ever had a partner so attentive, so loving in every touch they gave you. But Spencer runs his fingers through your hair as you tell him how you long for sleep, and he reassures you that it was okay you weren’t in the mood anymore.

He brought your bag from your room to his, though you truly just fell asleep in a t shirt and panties.

In the morning, you pretend you were in your room the entire night, and you meet the team in the lobby, fresh faced and ready to fly home.

“What’s your plans for this weekend?” Morgan asks after discussing with Emily what she’ll be doing.

You, who is currently taking up too much space on the couch, look over at the pair and shrug.

“I’ll have you know I have a very hot date with my bathtub when I get home and a very big plan to clean my apartment.”

That was all a lie.

You’d be over at Spencer’s this weekend, you’d be spending all your time with him, acting like a normal couple in public, having dinner and he’d get flustered when you’d kiss him in public.

But the team can’t know that.

Spencer comes back from the back of the jet, only to see his spot on the couch has been taken by your legs. He stares at you for a moment.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you want to sit here?” You innocently question.

“Yeah, I’d prefer to.” He nods, watching you smirk.

“All you have to do is ask nicely.”

“Please?”

You sit upright, planting your feet on the ground. “Always so eager to beg.”

Emily laughs, Spencer goes red in the face.

To them, it’s exactly how it always has been between the two of you.

He sits beside you, not too close, but your fingers twitch to reach over and touch him. Your nails go to your mouth instead to keep them busy.

Without truly paying attention, Spencer reaches over and tugs your hand away from your mouth and instead hands you a sucker he pulled from his bag.

It’s such a domestic act that though there’s nothing too suggestive about it, Emily notices. She clocks the behavior as something a little odd. Sure, you and Reid have always been close but since when has he carried around things for you?

Truly, you should’ve known that Emily would be the first to suspect something, but you continued on blissfully, believing that the team was so caught up in everything else that they wouldn’t catch what was happening right under their noses.

“The station was able to get us last minute rooms but there’s only four available, some of us are going to have to double up.” Hotch says nearly a month later on a case in a small Texas town you were only supposed to be in for the day.

But when the case turned into something far more complicated than anticipated, the team opted to stay for a bit longer.

The team shares a few looks as Hotch holds the motel room keys in his hand, all knowing that he wasn’t about to bunk in with Rossi anytime soon.

“I’m not sleeping with Reid.” Morgan declares as he begins to feel like it’s going to be assumed. “Make the girls share a room.”

All three of you begin to protest, knowing you’re fine with sharing but not fine with Morgan making that decision for you.

He holds his hands up in surrender.

JJ, always such a leader, looks to you. “If you and Prentiss want to share, I’ll bunk with Reid.” She sighs.

Spencer starts feeling like he’s a child again, watching his parents talk about custody, knowing one parent truly doesn’t want him.

The suggestion, though innocent, has your nails pressing into your palms. It’s a terrible idea in your mind, because here is a chance to stay with your golden boy for the night and it’s getting taken away.

“I’ll stay with Spencer, I don’t mind. Is that okay with you, Spence?” You turn to look up at him, innocent smile, sultry eyes.

“Oh, uh, yeah, sure. Fine- it’s fine with me…I’ll take the floor.” He stutters awkwardly, sealing the deal with a cricked smile that’s very Spencer Reid.

Hotch narrows his eye as he hands you a room key. “Keep the flirting to a minimum.”

“How can I when he just makes it so easy?” You joke, taking the key.

As you grab your bag, Morgan begins to uncontrollably laugh.

“Go easy on him.” He jokes. “He’s a romantic.”

“Morgan.” Reid sighs, following behind you.

“You have a fun sleepover! Hey, you still got that whistle? Yell fire if she gets to be too much!”

I glanced back at Morgan, shaking your head before looking to Spencer. “Come on, lover boy, I don’t bite.”

“Yes you do.” He mutters.

“Only sometimes.”

Hotch prays he’s not going to get an email from HR. He’s already hearing it from Strauss, a meeting needs to be set up for inappropriate conduct between coworkers, and everyone knows Garcia and Morgan aren’t the only ones to blame, not when you’re addressing Spencer as ‘handsome genius’ in work emails.

The door clicks shut and you turn the lock, letting out a sigh and taking in the modest room, everything decorated in a dated western fashion.

“Were you serious about taking the floor?” You ask, causing him to look back over to you.

“If you want me to, yes.”

Bless him and his gentleman qualities, it has you wanting to jump him in the most passionate way.

“Now, why would I want you to be down there when I’ll be up in the mattress all alone? Here I thought you had a high IQ.” You tease, opening your go bag. “You mind if I shower? You could join me if you want.”

The offer is tempting.

“I better stay here in case someone comes knocking, might be a little suspicious if we’re both dripping wet at the same time.” He says, feeling proud that he still can think logically, though it’s far too hard when you’re around.

A smirk pulls at your soft lips. “I thought I was the only one who knew anything about being dripping wet.”

Spencer becomes flush, his cheeks burning as he says your name, prompting you to stop your explicit behavior.

“Sorry, baby, it’s just so easy.” You come to kiss his jaw before finding your way to the bathroom.

The shower is warm and the low light in the bathroom is soothing, you rinse clean and shampoo your hair, making the steam smell like your scent. Spencer browses the minimal television selection, then fights his urge to unmake the bed because he knows you’ll want to adjust the blanket and sheets a certain way.

“The water pressure is surprisingly good.” You say after about fifteen minutes, coming out, releasing that waft of steam.

Toweling your hair, you come back to your bag to find your various travel lotions, though you don’t get very far because Spencer is looking at you like you just hung the moon.

“What?” You ask, slightly adjusting your robe with an unsure smile.

He smiles softly. “I just…it’s unfair how beautiful you are in every form.”

Your heart swoons like it always does when he’s around.

“You have no room to talk, mister.” You remind, abandoning the skin care and come to stand between his knees that he parts for you.

Your finger traces the line of his jaw as his hands gently place on the backs of your thighs.

“You’re so sexy with your hair pushed back like this. Did you start wearing it like this because you knew it would drive me crazy?” You ask coyly, half teasing, running your fingers through it.

“It’s getting long.” He says.

“Nonsense, I love it.”

“You love everything.”

“I love you.”

The two of you pause. Those are three words you haven’t exactly expressed often. It’s been said, in a ramble from Spencer where it just came out and you had beamed up at him like you’ve won a prize.

Now, you say it with certainty, and he wants to hear it again.

“I love you.” You say with more intensity, leaning down to where you have his face in your hands, holding him there as you kiss him.

“I love you too.” He mumbles against your lips.

You don’t pull away when he slowly reaches for the tie of the silky robe, you’d never reject him.

He’s already lost his shoes and socks, his tie and the top buttons of his shirt, but he loses more as you help him. Further up on the bed, you let the open robe fall off your shoulders, not feeling bashful as he studies you with his eyes.

Spencer could never look at you in anything other way than adoration.

“Hotch is dumb.” You decide in his lap, placing his hands on your hips.

“We’re taking advantage of the situation.” Spencer declares, face falling to your shoulder as you sink further down onto him.

“I feel no remorse.” You breathe.

This isn’t the first time you’ve had sex, the first time was a long time coming and it was perfect. So gentle and warm and everything the two of you craved. You laid in his sheets and traced the freckles on his skin and it’s a moment you think of often because you often don’t get them.

Now, you have a moment and are seizing it.

“You okay?” You ask with the drag of your hips.

“You’re heavenly.” Spencer proclaims, tasting the clean skin of your neck.

“Spence.” You gasp, getting the hang of a rhythm. “Fuck.” The word leaves your lips as soon as he thrusts up into you.

You and Spencer have always worked well together so this is no different.

It’s addictive, the feeling stirring in you, the shear pleasure washing over him. He knows a thing or two about addiction and he can confidently say that you make him feel far better than any needle in the vein did.

At some point, with your hands in his hair, mouth hot against his, and his grip moving you how he wants…

Your phone rings.

At first, you do your best to ignore it, but it continues in an annoying fashion.

“No.” You plead, trying to chase that oncoming feeling.

“Who is it?” Spencer breathes heavy as you reach for the device.

“Emily.”

His head falls in defeat, movements slowing, prompting you to answer.

You do your best to not sound aggravated as Emily asks if she can bring dinner by, but the idea of a burger does sound nice.

“Yeah, we could eat.” You state, free hand over Spencer’s mouth to keep him quiet as your slow movements continue.

“Let me know if you need anything else.” Emily states in a kind yet suspicious tone.

“Will do, thanks Em.”

You throw the phone away, overwhelmed and determined to reach the high that was slowly slipping away.

“I hate our team sometimes.” You determine, frustrated that you lost momentum.

Not so gently, Spencer adjusts you to be on the mattress, taking over when you threaten to call off the entire idea because there was a stumble in the step.

“They should just know not to call on the off chance two coworkers are breaking HR rules.” He jokes, entering you without hesitation, making you gasp out.

The roll of his hips is slowly bringing you back to the precipice at a dangerously fast rate, leaving your legs to shake a touch.

“Emily is going to be here soon.” You stress, digging your skull into the pillow.

“We’ll be done before then.” He assures, reaching his hand down to rub his thumb against your clit in a hot friction.

“Emily could stand here and watch for all I care.” You state, pleading for a release. “I just- I need it, baby, please.”

“I know, I know, angel, you’re going to get it.”

How could a man be so soft when he’s doing such dirty things to you? It’s a mystery you’ll never quite understand, but Spencer has always been a wonder, so this is to be expected. He’s coaxing you to the finish, letting you suck on his shoulder to keep your noises down.

And when it happens after the build up of waiting for weeks, it hits like a tidal wave, leaving you speechless, open mouth gasping silently for air. Spencer is shuddering and pressing his face into that space between your jaw and collar bone.

You half expect a phone call, some kind of urgent message that will ruin this moment but nothing comes. It’s just you and Spencer.

At some point after getting cleaned up, you lay side by side, limbs tangled. Your eyes threaten to shut at the way he traces the shape of your face.

“Sometimes I’m just waiting to wake from this dream.” He whispers, tucking hair behind your ear.

You hum. “It’s not a dream, that’s what makes this so great.”

He shifts slightly, tilting his head down to brush his nose to yours. “Sometimes I think it is, because in what reality am I really the person you choose?”

You don’t like that, it obvious on your face. “I’d choose you in every universe, even if you don’t choose me.” You say sternly, a hand pushing his hair back.

He likes when you’re genuine. Well, you’re always genuine, but you also always have a face on, one of coyness and humor. When you’re like this, emotionally bare, he likes you the most.

“I’d never not choose you.” He states before turning to kiss your wrist.

You want to comment about how romantic he is without trying, but Emily knocks like you knew she would.

The two of you spring up, thankful you’re already dressed. You take a calming breath as you head to the door, and Spencer quickly tries to straighten the wrinkled sheets.

Emily isn’t dumb, she knows something is different, but she truly doesn’t suspect anything yet, which is questionable because she has a perfect view of signs that indicate adult activities when she comes in to deliver the burgers.

She goes and tells JJ that the two of you act different, a little more guilty, but Emily doesn’t know for sure until a completely different scenario comes about.

Two weeks later, when you’re sent into a living nightmare. Hotch makes the call to send you into the Unsub’s house alone first, you do it without hesitation because that is just how you do your job when it comes to the life or death of three missing children.

“House is clear, I’m going down to the basement.” You say into the com on your vest, confirming your safety to the team.

But you speak too soon, the Unsub does something the profile was wrong about. Hotch sent you in there because he suspected the man to be submissive to confident women of higher standard.

Though you were cautious, you weren’t expecting the Unsub to attack you at first chance.

You do your best to fight back and get the kids free, but you’re completely blindsided. Who knows what would have happened if SWAT and the team didn’t storm in when they did.

When you sit in the back of the ambulance, in shock, a paramedic cleaning up the gash on your forehead, Spencer is there with concern and comfort.

“The kids?” You ask.

“They’re safe, they’re going to be okay.” He reassured, holding your hand between both of his.

“I didn’t…I should’ve-“

“Shh.” He frowns. “You did good, angel, everything’s alright. Do you feel okay?”

Your brows draw and you shake your head. “I don’t feel well. Do I look well?”

“You have a concussion, sweetheart.” He says, gently pushing your hair back behind your ear.

“Am I still gorgeous?” You ask in a dreamy voice.

“You’re always gorgeous.” He assures, cradling your cheek. “You’re just gorgeous with a head injury that you’re going to go to the hospital to get it looked at.”

Your eyes shut as you hum, the warmth of his palm runs through you. The two of you embrace gently, completely forgetting how casual you are supposed to be appearing.

The team sees it now, of course they do.

You’ll have to explain the secret you’ve been hiding from them later, but now you’re just listening to Spencer’s voice murmur to you, wrapped in his FBI jacket, fighting the urge to adjust his hair.

#criminal minds #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid hurt/comfort

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livesincerely · 2 months ago

Text

Later, Buck will swear up and down that this all could’ve been avoided if Eddie had just opened his mouth at any point and said something.

“It was pretty fucking obvious, tonto,” Eddie grumbles, an arm slung over his waist and his nose nestled against the curve of Buck’s throat⁠—where it’s been for the majority of the last thirty-six hours. “You’re just oblivious. Or blind. Or⁠—”

“Shut up,” Buck says, pulling him closer.

But to recap, Buck’s just arrived at the firehouse for his shift and the knowledge that Eddie won’t be joining him already has him grumpy and irritable—like an itch between his shoulder blades that he can’t quite scratch.

He’s really not looking forward to whichever floater he’s stuck with this time. The last guy that’d come in couldn’t coil his ropes or roll a hose for love or money, and he’d spent most of the shift cleaning up after him. So it’s a genuine surprise and delight to find Eddie sitting in the locker room when he walks in, already in his uniform.

“Hey!” Buck greets, feeling himself perk up like a freshly-watered plant. “What’re you doing here? I thought your leave started today?”

“Bobby called,” Eddie says, double knotting the laces on his boots. He’s forgone the gel today and a swoopy piece of hair falls over his forehead. Buck’s heart jolts in his chest. “Whittler’s partner went into labor just after midnight, and Ginsburg’s still in Cabo until Tuesday, so he asked if I could push it back a day.”

“Bad luck,” Buck sympathizes, digging through his locker. He’s almost positive he’s got a spare uniform buried in here somewhere… yep, there it is. He muffles a yawn against the back of his hand, then tugs the t-shirt he’s wearing over his head. “You gonna be okay out there? I know how you get.”

He senses more than sees the face Eddie makes at that.

“Yeah, well, it is what it is,” he says. “Thankfully I’d already made arrangements for Chris—he’s at Pepa’s until it’s over, and Carla’s helping coordinate his schedule. I’ve got some supplies left over from last time, but if I can’t make it to the store before it hits, I’ll just get groceries delivered.”

Now it’s Buck’s turn to make a face.

“No, you won’t, don’t lie,” he chides as he does up the buttons on his shirt. “Text me a list, I’ll drop off some stuff for you.”

Eddie huffs out a breath. “I’m pretty sure I can manage an Instacart order, Buck.”

“You can but you won’t,” Buck counters. “Pre-rut Eddie gets territorial when the mailman comes by, you’re definitely not gonna eat anything delivered by a stranger.”

Which is absolutely true, by the way. It’s honestly kind of adorable how worked up he gets: all grouchy and growly, stomping around with that little furrow between his brows.

“I can⁠—”

“Eddie,” Buck says, glancing over his shoulder and fixing him with his sternest look. Eddie’s nostrils flare, his spine straightening like he’s about to jump to his feet and stand at attention. “Come on, man, don’t be stubborn. Let me help you.”

He fastens his nametag to his chest, does one last spot check on his hair, and shuts his locker with a click.

“Maybe if you’re really nice to me, I’ll even swing by that place over on Lawrence with those egg rolls you love⁠—”

And anything else he’d been about to say is lost because when Buck turns around, it’s to find Eddie standing right behind him. Like, literally right behind him⁠—How the fuck did he sneak up on him?—a fierce glint in those warm brown eyes.

Before he can do anything other than blink stupidly at him, Eddie pushes him up against his own locker: a full body press, chest to hip to thigh. He nuzzles in close, rubbing a stubbled cheek all over Buck’s throat.

“E-Eddie?” Buck stammers, his voice cracking right down the middle. His skin is buzzing with static—like someone’s overloaded the circuit breaker for his heart, sending pulse after pulse of electricity through his veins. “What’re you doing?”

Eddie laughs, the vibrations rumbling through his chest and into Buck’s, oh god. “Take a wild guess.”

“Are you scent marking me?”

“Pre-rut Eddie gets territorial,” Eddie says, echoing his earlier words, curling a hand around Buck’s hip. “What makes you think you’re an exception to the rule?”

“Um.” Buck has no idea what’s going on right now. Unsure of what else to do with his hands, he ends up settling them gingerly on Eddie’s back. “I’m… not?”

“Exactly,” Eddie says, like they’ve come to some kind of agreement. He cranes up until he can tuck himself into the space under Buck’s jaw and inhales with a deep, contented sigh. “Why aren’t you wearing your blockers? I could smell you coming the moment you walked into the vehicle bay.”

“I am wearing blockers,” Buck tells him, trying hard not to do something utterly mortifying like whimper or beg or pass the fuck out. Every one of his instincts is screaming at him to bare his throat to the attention, his head swimming with yes, yes, good, please, alpha, yes. “And, uh, actually, did you know that an alpha’s olfactory senses can become up to eighty percent stronger in the three days leading up to their rut? It’s to help them stay in tune with the needs of their pack and mate throughout their cycle.”

“Yeah,” Eddie muses, and he reaches up and undoes the top two buttons on Buck’s shirt, pulling his collar open and nosing at the newly-exposed skin. Buck chokes back a whine by the skin of his teeth, his knees threatening to buckle out from underneath him. “That tracks.”

He nuzzles even closer, then says, “God knows I need every advantage I can get⁠—keeping you is a full-time job.”

Buck’s mouth is painfully dry.

“You mean, uh⁠—” When did it get so fucking hot? “You mean k-keeping up with me?”

He can feel the shape of Eddie’s smirk against his throat. “Sure, that too.”

#911 abc #buddie #buddie fic #the burning up variations #*editor's note #*the writing desk #bits & bobs #feat. alpha!Eddie and omega!Buck #did another round of edits on this so here it is again! im very excited for this one

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anantaru · 1 year ago

Note

how would anemo boys act with someone who’s generally really quiet and just doesn’t make much noise? especially in bed 😏

including. scaramouche, kazuha

synopsis. you're hiding your moans from him

cw. [ex]plicit, lots of teasing, rough syx, fingering, scara doubts himself a little we love to see it, dom kazuha, fem! reader

— ꒰ SCARAMOUCHE ꒱

"huh, why aren't you saying anything?" scaramouche asks, staring at you while playfully blending in a few grinding movements on your cunt in hopes you'd just moan his name.

you see to scaramouche, to even get one single sentence out had been really fucking hard, so how come you're having no trouble keeping yourself silent?

all night, he was very sensitive, hissing through each thrust and alternating between rough, rushed ruts and deep, precise grinds that it was slowly getting to him.

"—fuck, j-just something," he mumbles through a tensed jaw, peering down at your perfectly arched body as you teasingly avert your gaze from his, pretending as if the desperate part of him wasn't turning you on a tenfold.

your boyfriend hesitatingly brings a hand to your cheek, "say something, come on," and lets go off a moan, deepening the sealed connection on your cunt and turning his hips slower, making you dart your eyes into the back off your skull when he buries inches after inches in you.

you grin in return, hoping you could at least put up with this game a little longer.

but your cunt was struggling viciously, being so adaptable with how quick scaramouche could change his movements that it left you short on breath— it's all rigid and solid at first, later he stretches you out piercingly fast, until your pussy was twitching on repeat.

your breath gets stuck in your throat as he snaps his cock in before you feel him twitch in you, the very moment you made a slight noise of surprise, "you're not answering my question," scaramouche hisses at you, having his hand stroke your cheek while he makes you take his cock well and nicely.

but whatever, right? it doesn't matter to scaramouche if you're being loud or dead silent— although pondering about the situation at hand, he's been so patient waiting for your flowery whines to bubble from your throat, to your tongue until he listens to them, biding his time and allowing himself to fuck you like he thought you enjoyed it.

what if you didn't enjoy it? everything happened so quickly and he found himself doubting his skills, it makes him go slow and rapid all at once.

to hear you was something he didn't deserve then.

but how much he wanted to hear you say he was doing a good job was ridiculous. as much as it was desperate.

you hum affirmatively in response, your mouth softly attached to his jaw before you rock your hips upwards in a repeated sequence, an electric-bolt snapping in your heat as you moan into his lips— granted, it wasn't the loudest noise you could push out, yet it was a genuine one, to the point where your head spins when you're moaning again, only emphasizing how deeply you were feeling his length pleasure you.

that alone brought scaramouche back to reality.

slick drips from your hole and he knows by the flinch of your touch that you're close. he was breathing heftily against your glossy lips as if it's a relief to have you sing for him now, his cock throbbing hard until he's spasming.

his face silently travels from your eyes to your tits flinging up and down with his shallow thrusts racing through your velvet walls, "I love everything about this," he whispers, slightly flustered, droplets of sweat slithering down his forehead, "you love it too, hm?"

scaramouche needs to know. he lays open mouthed kisses on your cheek and jaw, smearing his saliva over the heated skin.

your moans were euphonious, bird sweet and soothing to his ears, a perfect composition indeed.

"v-very," you cup his cheeks proudly, arching your back into his body as his cock drags across your searing walls,

you go on, pulling your hips up to meet his so he could slip into you deeper, watching how his mouth parts and brows knit together,

"you're doing s-so good, always,"

— ꒰ KAZUHA ꒱

"oh? doing this on purpose, aren't you?" kazuha grunts at the clench you have around his shaft, but then he smirks after you denied his questioning on your noises, or well, the sheer lack of them.

have you gone silent? or do you not like the way he stretches your pussy anymore?

the slow pumps on your cunt had always been precise. kazuha knows you like the back of his hand, in fact, he gets turned on in accessory to displayed a sort of filthy and twisted expression on his darling face, morphing his demeanor on his weighty thrusts on your pussy, so you could see and feel what you're doing to him.

he managed to not only target the places that made your mind rewire, but kazuha would also find new spots you never knew could be stimulated in that way.

"no matter," the man gasps at the rolls through your walls, his thrusts shocking each and every nerve in his body, "i'll just have to get them out of you somehow,"

he adds before pulling his body up so he could prance one hand down the area between your breasts, smothering over the sweat-stricken skin so softly until he reaches your stomach, teasingly pressing down as he cocks a brow.

you can feel how hard he was slotted in your cunt, and when kazuha pushes down on your stomach you thought your little game would end right there. little do you realize that this wasn't his original intention and that he's planned something a whole lot delicious.

he slides a thumb to your clit, leisurely and without a hurry, his erection barely moving now but twitching ever so often as he slowly digs through the delicate skin that was protecting the pearl, rubbing your clit softly to hopefully bring your mewls and whines to the surface.

a searing warmth runs hot in your cunt as your back arches when kazuha alternates between toying with your clit and pumping you of his cock again, slowly dragging his erection against your velvety walls with all he's got.

realize this now— it's that one special way he did it, moving his shaft in a slowed motion so your body could react on how full you've been getting with each inch slotted inside.

your head was above the clouds now, serving to diminish your previous attempts to fool your boyfriend. you needed this so badly right now, you wanted kazuha to make you cum so badly that you're beginning to gasp loudly, so loud in fact that it almost overturned the fast thuds of your heart.

opening your dazed eyes, you needed kazuha to listen and watch you, watch everything he made your body do— how he's bringing his cock in you easily, how he slowly pumps in your hole and meshes his shaft with your arousal, his erection aching, hot, slowly and teasingly spreading you apart.

a whimper slips through your lips when kazuha slants forward, swirling his tongue in your mouth but keeping things slow.

your body shivers under the lewd wetness of sweaty skin on skin rubbing against each other as it provided you with strong, electrifying tremors when your legs begin to clench around his hips, your pussy full of his cock.

"told you so," he hints at his previous declaration as your body combusts in a matter of seconds, your cunt pulsing at his words when your arousal slides over his length with pre dripping from his tip.

"not fair," you whine as he laughs breathily, nibbling on your jawline, the softness of his lips painted with the vivid hues of passion.

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #scaramouche x reader #kazuha x reader #scaramouche smut #kazuha smut #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #kazuha x you #scaramouche x you #genshin drabbles #genshin impact drabbles

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hornyfor-redacted-onmain · 25 days ago

Text

Secret Secret - Chapter 9

OT8 Straykids x reader, ABO AU

Masterlist | Next Part

He was looking pale though.

It took an embarrassingly long time for you to even think of calling for help. For the first 5 minutes, you switched from pressing the emergency button to checking in with Minho, glancing back at him to make sure he was still conscious. Although he was looking a little groggy, he confirmed he was still awake by meeting your gaze every time.

You sighed. “I don’t think this is working.”

“Have you tried calling for help?”

He said it so nonchalantly that you almost snapped at him. What did he think you were doing? But then you realized that he wasn’t talking about the emergency button in the elevator, but actually calling someone. On the phone.

You pulled out your phone and confirmed that you had signal.

Then you wondered who exactly you were supposed to call. The hotel? No, you didn’t have their number. A manager? It was the middle of the night, your scent blockers were wearing off, and you were stuck in the elevator with a member of the group you were working for. There was no way that would look good.

There was only one reasonable choice, and Miho knew it too.

“I assume you have Chan’s number,” He said, titling his head.

You didn’t give him the satisfaction of answering him, turning around as you dialed the number in hopes of giving yourself some semblance of privacy.

Chan picked up after only 2 rings. “Hello?”

You didn’t even know what to say. What could you say? He said your name in confusion, sounding as tired as you felt. You immediately felt bad.

“I didn’t wake you up, did I?” You wondered.

“No, I was working on something,” he mumbled. “Are you okay?”

“I’m stuck in the elevator,” You said.

There was a moment of silence.

“What?”

“The elevator. It’s broken. And … I’m stuck. I tried pressing the emergency button, but I don’t think it’s working. I mean, I don’t hear anybody coming to help, and maybe if you could just … I don’t know. Get help?”

“Yeah, I’ll head to the front desk.”

“Don’t take the elevator,” You joked.

He chuckled. “I hope you’re not claustrophobic.”

“Thankfully I’m not.”

You could hear the sound of someone saying something on the other side of the phone, and then a door closing. You bit your lip, glancing back behind you for another split second, but he was still staring at you.

He could probably hear every word even with you speaking low considering the enhanced senses he would be experiencing right now.

“Chan?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not alone in here.”

“Oh?” There was a moment when you could hear the stairwell doors squeak open. “This late?”

You glanced back again. “It’s Minho.”

“Minho?” His voice echoed. He sounded almost amused.

“He’s in rut.”

You could practically hear the record scratch as if you were in a movie. The footsteps on the other end of the phone suddenly came to a stop.

“And I think my scent blockers are starting to wear off,” You whispered, even though you had a feeling it would do nothing to keep Minho from hearing you.

More silence, and then softly you heard him swear.

The footsteps continued, faster than before.

“If Minho’s in rut, I have to tell my manager,” He said, and your chest got tight with worry. “It can wait until the morning though. The less people that know about this, the better.”

“They’ll find out he was stuck in the elevator. There’s no way the hotel staff won’t blab.”

“And they’ll ask me why I didn’t tell them, and I’ll make something up.”

“Chan, I’m not going to let you get in trouble just to protect me,” You said softly, pressing your forehead against the cool metal of the elevator.

“I’m not going to get in trouble. Have a little faith in me,” he said, voice slightly breathless. I could almost imagine him smiling, and his face in my mind caused me to smile in return.

“Always,” I whispered with a little laugh.

There was the sound of a door opening, and then the echo of his footsteps faded away. “I’m at the front desk now. I’ll call you back in a second.”

“Okay.”

He whispered your name and you let out a hum to show you were still listening.

“You can trust him,” was all he said before hanging up.

You stared at your phone even after hanging up, your forehead still resting against the elevator wall. The scent of alpha was starting to fill the small space around you, and it was making your head a little fuzzy, your omega metaphorically perking their ears up in interest. You mentally smacked it back down with your finger raised in warning.

Now was not the time.

From behind you, Minho spoke up. “Omega or Alpha?”

You nearly groaned in frustration.

Of course he had realized. It would have been hard not to in this situation, especially after your conversation with Chan. No beta would be this worried about scent blockers wearing off.

When you turned around, Minho was unsurprisingly already looking at you. He looked tired, head titled back against the wall so that he was staring at you from the bottom of his eyes. You slid down the wall in your own corner, legs stretching out in front of you until your feet were almost touching.

“What gave it away?” You wondered.

Realistically, there weren’t a lot of options.

“I’ve never seen a beta so worried about their scent blockers before,” he starts, giving you a weary smile. “You also seem far too calm to not have experienced someone in heat or rut before. Most betas would think I’d be dangerous.”

You laughed. “I’m more worried about you hurting yourself right now. How are you feeling?”

He let out a hum, eyes narrowing in thought. “I think I’m fine so far. It’s still pretty early.”

You weren’t sure about that, but you trusted his judgment. There was a moment of lull in the conversation, where both of you just sat with your own realizations. You could start to make out the faint smell of Vanilla as your scent blocker wore off.

Well, cat was out of the bag.

“Omega,” You finally said, and Minho startled.

“Huh?”

“I’m an omega,” You admitted, biting your lip. “Pretending to be a beta for obvious reasons.”

You hoped those reasons would be obvious to him too. You weren’t in the mood to have to explain his company’s hiring practices, or argue about whether or not it was right, or needed, or whatever else.

Minho seemed to understand. Or maybe he was just too tired to ask. He looked worse for wear, and when he didn’t react in any way other than to nod slowly, you started to worry. He didn’t react even as you crawled forward, placing the back of your hand against his forehead.

He was burning hot.

“Shit, Minho. You have a fever.”

“s’okay,” He slurred. “Normal.”

You frowned. Fevers were normal for some people, but you didn’t like the way he was out of it. Worried, you pulled out your phone and dialed Chan’s number.

He answered immediately. “Hold on, give me a second.”

There was a conversation happening on the other end, but you could only make out Chan’s voice. He seemed to be asking a question of time, and you assumed he was asking how long it would take to get you out of the elevator. For Minho’s sake, you hoped it wouldn’t be long.

“Chan?”

There were a few more words exchanged, and then a swish of air. “Hey, sorry. I was just getting some confirmation.”

“Did you let them know?”

He answered slowly. “Yeah. About that.” Your stomach twisted in worry. “There was an accident on the highway a few hours ago. It was pretty bad, apparently. The firefighters won’t be able to get here for at least another hour.”

You let out a sigh. “Fuck. And the hotel doesn’t have like, a key or something?”

“There was an error. It looks like the elevator is jammed, and they can’t get it working. The firefighters are our best bet right now.”

Minho let out a soft groan.

“Minho isn’t doing so great. He’s got a fever, and he looks out of it,” You said, softly pushing back his sweaty bangs from his forehead.

Chan groaned himself. “The fever’s normal, but Minho’s always a little bit more sensitive during his rut. He needs something to ground him.”

“Like an omega’s scent?”

“No, sweetheart. I can’t ask that of you,” Chan said immediately.

“He already knows I’m an omega,” I reassured him. “And I don’t want him to spend the next hour in pain.”

Another sigh, and then Chan said your name softly. “Thank you, really. I promise you, he won’t tell anyone.”

“He better not. I’ve already got you and Felix trying to court me, I don’t need another.”

Minho snorted. “Of course Felix is already trying to court you. Makes sense why he’s been talking about you so much.”

You pressed a finger to his lips. “Hush, you.”

“I’ll let you know when the firefighters are here,” Chan said softly. “Take care of him, please.”

Minho opened his mouth against your finger, hot breath washing over your skin. He was breathing hard, eyes half lidded as he looked up at you from where you were kneeling next to him. Even sweaty and pale, he looked like a vision straight out of your wet dreams.

You swallowed hard. “I think it’s me you need to be worried about.”

“Are you okay?” Chan said worriedly.

“I’m fine,” You reassured him. “We’re both fine. Don’t worry.”

You hung up before you could get him asking questions, trying to reassure yourself that you would be fine. It was just an alpha. You’ve dealt with plenty of those before. Even ones in rut. You thought back to Sooyoung, her heavy baked bread scent and her flushed skin, the way you once had to scent her to get her to calm down after a particularly bad drop.

“You going to save me, princess?” Minho slurred, eyes fluttering as he titled to the side.

You snorted. “Okay, careful. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

You brought your wrist up to your mouth, softly sucking the skin right over your scent gland. The bitter taste of scent blocker hit your tongue, and you wrinkled your nose as you licked it off, Minho watching you with rapt attention. You pulled away after you were sure you got it all, wiping your wrist off on your shirt.

“Okay, deep breathe Minho,” You warned him, pushing out as much of your scent as you could.

He grabbed your wrist when you presented it to him, his body almost instantly relaxing as the scent of omega began to wash over him. He let out a soft hum, eyes closing.

You sat back on your heels to get more comfortable. It would take a few minutes for your scent to fully pull him out of his drop.

Minho suddenly pulled on your arm, and you let out a squeak as you were thrown off balance, your only free hand grasping at the railing above you to keep yourself from hitting the ground. With your other arm still in Minho’s grasp, your shoulder crashed into the wall next to him and your wrist was pulled into an uncomfortable position.

You let out a cry of pain, and Minho dropped your arm in confusion.

It stung a little from where it had twisted, but it stopped hurting the moment you settled, your entire upper body somehow now pressed up against Minho himself.

“Sorry,” he muttered, blinking rapidly. He was probably still mostly out of it, but there was enough awareness in his eyes now for you to know he meant the apology.

“It’s okay,” You muttered, trying to push yourself back up onto your knees.

Minho shifted at the same time, arms coming up to help you back up into a sitting position, and you began to slide forward. Instinctually you pulled your leg towards you to help balance your body, and you missed accidentally kneeing him by a few inches. He flinched, and you pulled your leg away from his privates with a laugh, settling them on the other side instead.

“Sorry,” You chuckled, settling down.

Your position was much closer now, with you essentially straddling Minho’s knees, but when you offered up your wrist again, he didn’t refuse it. His nose pressed against your scent gland softly, his cheek then rubbing against it as he essentially scented himself with your vanilla mix. He let out a soft chuff, his own scent growing heavier in the air.

It took nearly 5 minutes for him to finally pull away. His face had more color, and you could feel through your curled fingers that his cheeks were a lot less warm than they had been before. He gave your position a confused look, slowly letting your wrist go and leaning back.

“Did I drop?” He muttered?

You nodded slowly.

“How much do you remember?”

Minho looked to the side. “You were talking with Chan, I think.”

“Hmm. It’s going to be a while, at least an hour.”

“Oh.”

He breathed in, brows furrowing. “You’re an omega.”

“Yes.”

You eyed him carefully, but he didn’t show any signs of being upset. Instead, he titled his head, blinking his eyes slowly.

“I thought for sure you’d be an alpha.”

“What?”

He lifted his gaze to meet yours, his face carefully blank. “That first day we met.” You stared at him in confusion. “You were afraid.” You nodded. “Your scent didn’t change.”

You blinked. Once. Then twice. “Oh. My. God. You’ve known since then!?”

Minho’s lips twitched. “I figured you had to be either an Alpha or an Omega. No beta would have to hide their scent like that.”

You let out a laugh in disbelief. “I can’t believe it. You never said anything.”

“It wasn’t my secret to share.”

He shrugged as if it was obvious, and you couldn’t help but feel a wave of affection at how simple it seemed in his eyes. Your vanilla scent grew stronger, and the way it mixed with Minho’s maple syrup made you slightly dizzy.

You yawned. It was close to 2am at this point, and way past your bedtime.

Minho’s finger softly swiped up your arm, settling against your shoulder. “You should get some sleep. It’s going to be a while.”

“You’re in rut, and you’re worried about me?”

“I usually sleep most of my rut off anyways,” Minho said, closing his eyes. “No point in both of us being exhausted.”

“An elevator isn’t exactly the most comfortable.”

He smirked. Only cracking open one eye, Minho gently cupped the back of your head and pulled you forward until you were resting against him. Your hands pressed against the back of the elevator, but after a second, you slowly wrapped your arms around his waist and found it was much more comfortable. Without hesitation, a warm hand rubbed small circles against your back.

“See? Comfortable,” he mumbled.

You laughed. “Yeah, I guess. Are you okay?”

With your cheek resting against his shoulder, he was easily able to shift his face until it settled near your neck. You didn’t even need to think about releasing a calming scent, sure that your omega was content enough in that moment to do all the work for you. Minho let out a soft sigh, and you could feel it in your chest with how close you were.

“I’m fine,” He assured you, and you allowed your eyes to close.

You were asleep in seconds.

-0-0-

You weren’t sure what time it was when you woke back up. You weren’t even sure you were really awake.

Your eyelids felt heavy, and you didn’t want to open them even as you registered the soft sound of voices speaking. All you could smell was pancakes, buttery soft pancakes lathered in maple syrup, the scent so heavy you could taste it on your tongue.

You licked your lips in search of the taste you were convinced you would find, but were met with skin.

Oh. Your face was pressed against something.

You lifted your head slightly, nose brushing up against skin, and suddenly the scent was stronger, and your head grew dizzy.

“Yeah, I got it. 10 minutes. No … yes, Hyung, I’m fine.” The voice was somewhere above you, but your head felt too heavy to lift completely. Instead, you dropped it back against the shoulder you had been leaning on and allowed your body to relax. “Yes, they’re fine too. Okay … yeah, bye.”

Your omega liked the sound of the voice. The rumble of their chest could be felt against your own, body pressed up against them so close it was almost as if you had become one. You just wanted to go back to sleep, but the body shifted.

You were suddenly all too aware of the weight pressing between your legs.

Even as the voice said your name, you focused instead on the ache that bloomed from your chest – a need to be closer to the source of comfort. You wanted to feel every inch of their body, to feel their scent in your throat, to sink your teeth into their skin and mark them as yours. Your skin was tingling under their touch, even as they shook your eyes back open.

“Hey, you have to- shit.”

Minho, your brain supplied to you. You were looking at Minho, his wide eyes framed by long lashes, pink lips parted slightly, the slight curl in his hair that stuck to his forehead. His cheeks and ears were red. He looked cute, your omega purred.

Or maybe that was you.

He said your name again, and you just blinked at him slowly, slipping forward-

“Omega.”

You paused, the hands on your waist preventing you from moving closer. You weren’t sure what happened next, between all the heavy scents and the ache in your neck, but you suddenly found yourself walking. You paused, brain trying to figure out how you had gotten out of the elevator. You remembered a flash of heavy doors opening, a group of firefighters, and Felix’s soft eyes as he pulled you close.

“Felix?” The omega let out a soft hum from next to you, and you turned to him in confusion. “Where’s Minho?”

“He’s okay,” Felix assured you. “Come one, last step.”

You blinked down at your feet, surprised to find yourself in the stairwell. A soft blue jacket that smelled like cinnamon was wrapped around your shoulders, and your fingers ran across the bumpy edges of the zipper.

“Where are we going?”

“To get you cleaned up,” he answered, opening the doors to the stairwell with his shoulder, hands reaching out to you like he was afraid you would trip without his assistance.

You did feel dizzy.

“I can get cleaned up in my room,” You tried to argue, brain supplying that you needed to get back to your own room.

You couldn’t remember why. There was something important you seemed to be forgetting. You also didn’t remember if Felix answered you, because then you were awake again, lifting your face from the soft silk of a couch pillow, and clarity seemed to hit you like a wrecking ball. You immediately covered your face and groaned.

You had a drop.

The fuzzy memories alone made that clear, but the headache and close presence of your omega solidified your worries.

It wasn’t often you had a drop. They usually happened during a heat, but you knew there was a possibility of a drop occurring during an intense moment or experience - In this case, your omega must have been affected by Minho more than you thought. Your chest still felt heavy, and Minho’s scent had lingered through the night (morning?). Either way, you were doing your best to work through it.

You moved to get up, when the soft grip of a hand suddenly tightened against your ankle.

Felix stared at you softly from where he was resting against the end of the couch you were on. You blinked at him in confusion, and you vaguely remembered him helping you out of the elevator.

“Lix?” You had to clear your throat after speaking.

He got up slowly with a finger to his mouth, casting a look behind him as he did. You followed his gaze, able to make out two bodies on the large bed. You could vaguely guess that one was Minho, and based on the scents in the room, the other had to be Chan. But the lighting in the room was dark enough you couldn’t make out who was who.

Felix walked back over with a bottle of water, and you took the offered drink gratefully. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I had a drop,” You whispered once you had gotten a few sips of water in. You looked down at the cap as you closed the bottle again. “How long was I out?”

“2 hours.”

You nodded, looking around the room again. “Who’s room are we in?”

“It’s a rut room the hotel provided. We – Chan and I, I mean – were hoping you could take a shower and get some more scent blocker on before you headed to bed. But then I realized you were in drop, and I thought it would be better to wait until you weren’t so out of it.”

It was a nice sentiment.

It was still early enough that you could get in a shower and head back up to your room with little questions. Maybe your roommate would just assume you had woken up early? Maybe they were still asleep.

“I’ve got some clothes you can change into, if you want.” It was a suggestion, but you both knew that your own clothes smelt too heavily of alpha in rut to not garner attention. With a knowing smile, Felix offered, “There’s a laundry room down here. I can wash them for you and bring them back up later.”

“That would be awesome, thank you.”

Your shower was quick. You did your best to scrub off as much of both Minho’s scent, and your own, before you toweled down as quickly as you could and began to apply your scent blockers. You found that Felix had also left you some concealer to hide the marks against your neck, and you were embarrassed to realize just how far you had gone last night. You applied the concealer generously.

It couldn’t have been more than 15 minutes by the time you emerged from the bathroom, freshly cleaned and wearing an all-black ensemble that was only slightly big on you, but somehow something had happened in that time frame.

Felix was pacing when you walked out.

You had a bad feeling. “What happened?”

A quick glance around didn’t show anything out of the ordinary. Chan and Minho were still asleep, the light from the bathroom finally allowing you to make out Minho as the one sprawled out on his stomach. You adverted your eyes from Chan when you realized he wasn’t wearing a shirt.

Felix leaned against the desk. “It was Hannie. He wanted to see Minho, but-“

“But I was here,” You finished, nodding your head in understanding. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’ll call him a few minutes after you leave, he’ll be fine.”

The way he said it wasn’t very reassuring, a frown still pulling at Felix’s lips. You wanted to press your fingers against the edges and smooth the unease away from his face, but you settled for resting your hand against his shoulder, watching as your fellow omega drooped in response.

“What is it?”

Felix shook his head.

“I had to lie to him,” he whispered, tilting his head back as he bit his lip. “I told him Minho didn’t want to see anyone right now, because it was the only way he would leave. Minho … he can’t spend his rut without Han. Never has.”

You were sure that would sting. To have someone suddenly pull away with no warning, especially when you can’t even be mad at them for it – Jisung wasn’t an omega, but even beta’s could feel rejected. You wondered if that’s was what the young rapper was feeling right now.

“He’ll understand,” You reassured him, mostly trying to reassure yourself.

But neither of you were feeling very sure. You thanked Felix for his help, for keeping your secret, but you wondered if he resented you. You remembered the sharp scent of burnt cinnamon when he had his fight with Chan, and as the stairwell door creaked behind you and the sound of muffled cries grew quiet, you wondered if Jisung would have a similar fight with Minho. You took the steps slowly, quietly, trying hard to listen to the shuffling above you.

You had never asked, because it didn’t feel like it was your place to, but the way Jisung desperately tried to muffle his cries behind his hand, body trembling where it was curled up in the corner of the landing, made you sure that Minho had to be his Mate. No other type of rejection could possibly hurt that much.

He stared at you with wide red rimmed eyes, body trembling from the force he was using to keep his sobs in, and you knew he had to feel ashamed, but you also knew how hard it was to stop the tears when they were coming out that strong. He wasn’t wearing scent blockers. He was probably assuming he wouldn’t need them, if he was helping his alpha out with his rut. You couldn’t remember what his scent had been before, but now it felt like a storm, where every sob felt like a blast of thunder going off above you.

You were on your knees in front of him in a blink, pressing your hands over his wrists. Jisung shut his eyes, and this time the sob he let out turned into a whine, his head dropping in embarrassment. He was struggling to breathe, and unlike before, you didn’t have any help to calm him down. There was only one person who could do that right now, and he smelt too much like vanilla, your scent lingering from the night before.

Jisung thought his alpha didn’t want him, and it was all your fault.

“Oh, sweetheart. I’m so sorry,” You whispered, even as Jisung shook his head. “I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

You could feel the guilt building up inside of you. Felix’s face, cheeks covered in tears. Jisung’s wide red eyes. Hyunjin’s far away glares. You were tearing this pack apart one by one, and they were letting you because … what. Because Chan wanted to court you? Because you asked them to keep a secret? Your career couldn’t possibly be worth hurting these boys, making them question themselves. They had been a pack far longer than you had been a translator – no dream was worth this much pain.

Jisung didn’t pull away when you wrapped your arms around his body, allowing him to hide his wet face in your shoulder.

“I’m so sorry.”

He managed to get in a few gulping breaths, but they immediately turned into even more sobs.

“Minho doesn’t hate you, I promise,” you whispered, because you could imagine what his brain was telling him. The way his anxiety would twist the rejection into cold harsh words. “He loves you, and he wants you there. He’s not pushing you away.”

Jisung’s next breath was shaky. “W-what?”

“Felix turned you away be-“ You paused, staring intently at the wall. You refused to pull away from Jisung, unable to look him in the eyes. “because he had to. He made me a promise.”

“I don’-“ Jisung took a gasping breath. “I don’t understand.”

“I’ll explain everything, I promise,” You told him.

You made the decision then and there. This couldn’t keep happening – not because of you. Not because of your fears. You felt like you were at the top of the rollercoaster, about to plunge into empty air, stomach dropping in your stomach.

It felt wrong, but you knew it was right.

“Do you have a phone?”

Jisung finally pulled away, his cheeks hot and wet, nose sniffing as he fumbled around in his pockets. He handed It to you without any question, even though you knew he had plenty. He stared at you like you were something new, something strange, something …. You pulled your gaze away before you allowed yourself to really think about the way he looked at you.

It wasn’t hard to find the groupchat. It took even less to send the message, turning the phone off and handing it back off.

Jisung stared at his phone in confusion.

“Go, Jisung,” You told him, nodding your head towards the door you had come in. Jisung had barely made it half a floor up before he had broken down, and it would take him less than a minute to be back at the door. “Go be with Minho.”

“Why?”

You titled your head in confusion. You thought the beta would be running at the chance to be with his alpha. But he was still staring at you in the special way, and you didn’t know what to do about it. You needed to get going, you only gave yourself 15 minutes to climb up the 7 stories you needed to get to the boy’s floor, and even less to think about what you were going to say.

What were you supposed to say?

“Why do you call me Jisung? Everyone else calls me Hannie,” Jisung finally asked, and you blinked.

“Oh. I’m sorry, I can call you Han if you prefer-“

“It’s okay. I don’t mind, I just don’t understand … why.” He stared at the phone you had handed him, fingers turning the device over in his hands.

You licked your lips, and slowly stood up. “If I’m being honest, I forgot your last name. All I could remember was Jisung.”

He nodded his head dumbly. You looked up to the stairs you would need to walk up (-why did it have to be the elevator that broke, why couldn’t there be more than one elevator on this side of the hotel, why did the boys need so much privacy, why, why, why-) and contemplated just leaving the beta.

Did he not understand what you had told him? Did he still doubt Minho wanted him?

“Why would Felix lie to me,” Jisung finally whispered, and you immediately felt the pang of guilt again.

“Because he made a promise to me.”

“But why?”

You didn’t know how to explain. If anything, you had been hoping the beta would take his questions up with Minho and Chan and Felix – you were hoping he would have left by now. You didn’t understand why he was still here, and why he was looking at you.

You had 10 minutes. You would have to sprint up the stairs. You were going to make a horrible last impression, especially to a pack you had begun to think of fondly.

Would they think badly of you once they knew the truth?

“Felix doesn’t keep secrets. Not from us. Not … not from me.”

“I asked him to.”

Jisung looked up then, his face suddenly much more serious than you had ever seen. “And he listened. For him to trust you like that, to keep your secret from us,”

You swallowed, looking away.

That look on his face-

“He must really like you, huh?”

You shook your head. “I have to go.”

“Chan, Felix – they would have told us if they were going to court someone. They wouldn’t bring a new member into this pack without at least letting us know-“

“They’re not bringing me into the pack!” You yelled.

Jisung stared at you with wide eyes again, his cheeks puffed up in surprise. “Oh.”

“Go, Seungie. Minho needs you,” You whispered.

And he finally reacted the way you expected him to. His face contorted through different emotions, but then he slowly pulled himself to his feet and took off down the stairs without saying another word. You only waited until you heard the familiar sound of the stairwell doors opening before you took off in the opposite direction, sprinting up the stairs.

In 7 cellphones across the hotel, the rest of the members received one text message in their group chat. You were both hoping they would all be there so you could get it all out in one go, and yet dreading having to face the remaining 4 members on your own. You would do what you had to do to keep anyone else from getting hurt, and if you lost your job, than so be it.

You could get another job. Gaining back someone’s trust? That would be a lot harder.

‘Hyunjin, Changbin, Seungmin and Jeongin. Meet me in Felix’s room in 15 minutes.’

One way or another, the truth was coming out.

-0-0-

Taglist: I think I got everyone. If I missed you or you want to be added to the tag list, free free to ask.

@3rachasninja @lilyuwon @brojustfknkillm3 @yukichan67 @mallielovssyou @mintchip17 @iweirdthingsblog @maisyyyyyy @neivivenaj @jc003 @skz-ot8-stay @passionandsuga @ms-flowergirl @kayleefriedchicken @seungmonggg @luvvvash @galaxy4489 @quokkahannie4 @joyofbebbanburg @xxeiraxx @lemonn015 @dazzlingjade @tenshimara @danceonmyheyday @staytinyluv @mamaj-right @dessianna1 @sillyhal @minh0scat @iris-iiridescent @fackeraccount @bumblebeebeebumble @hanniesbubuwife @bowsnbang @just-a-blackthorn-cookie @k-pop-luv04 @stopstaring4455 @mbioooo0000 @bby-boo4u @yumuramma @juju-227592 @idiotmaterial @channieismylove @kpetts @headfirstfortoro @iknow-uknow-leeknow @velvetmoonlght

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babybearnation · 5 months ago

Note

learning to cook native dishes so the drivers feel home when they're away from traveling so much? Anyone u would like

i chose 4 random drivers that i hadn't written for in this event yet so i hope you enjoy my choices! also its implied that reader isn't the same nationality as each driver so apologies if that doesn't work for you!

gn!reader

esteban ocon:

it wasn't often that you dealt with a homesick esteban, but it broke your heart every time you did because he didn't deserve to look so sad and miserable

after the french grand prix was removed from the f1 calendar, you knew that it'd be hard on him, and sure enough, it was - your kind words and tender touches could only keep the sadness from him for so long

so, using your cooking expertise, you tried out some french recipes until you were sure that you'd perfected the ones you liked most but you weren't 100% sure you'd done well and you wouldn't be until esteban tried it

when esteban next had that sad, homesick look in his eyes, you decided to surprise him with the dinner and dessert dishes you'd been practicing in your own time

to say esteban was shocked would be an understatement - he was so happy and thankful that you'd thought of something so sweet to try and cheer him up with

and when he told you the food tasted almost exactly like his mum's cooking, you couldn't help yourself from crying, relieved that you had helped him, even if just a little bit

pepe marti:

you never liked it when pepe got homesick - his usual bubbly spirit became so supressed and diffused and he often found it hard to speak when he got stuck in a homesick rut

it always made your heart ache and you weren't sure what to do at first until you spoke to a fellow driver's partner about what they did and they answer they gave you made you feel renewed

you knew from your many late night conversations what pepe's favourite spanish foods were so you set about making them for him when he next came over

you weren't super confident in your ability to make the food taste exactly like it would in spain, but you knew it would taste good regardless

pepe didn't even register the food at first until he took the first bite and a familiar myriad of flavours burst to life on his tongue

he crossed the table after that and hugged you so tight, voice shaky as he thanked you over and over for being so sweet, kind and considerate

nyck de vries:

the gaps between formula e races were usually long enough to allow nyck to go home and avoid feeling homesick but every now and then, that tough, stomach-squirmy feeling appeared and it ruined his mood every single time

you hated it - you missed your sweet boyfriend and his bright smile and cheerful humour. you'd do anything to get it back and you meant anything

that's why you knew you had to fix this and during a conversation one night, nyck let slip the name of a dutch dish he'd been craving

you got to work that same night, researching the recipe and checking your pantry for ingredients - you were missing a few items but it was nothing a quick trip to the grocery store couldn't fix

when nyck asked what was for dinner the next night and you said a surprise, he wasn't sure what it was gonna be but when you served up the food and he saw the exact dish he'd been craving, nyck's heart melted

he thanked you and kissed your hand before digging into his food, perking up when it tasted exactly like the food he ate growing up - he really couldn't believe how sweet you were sometimes

sebastian vettel:

sebastian couldn't control how he felt - every single win made him sicker and sicker. he wanted to go home and eat his mum's food, but he couldn't

you saw his mood drop and decided to message his mum, asking her for a recipe that would make sebastian happy - and you got it!

you knew sebastian would come over to your place for dinner every friday night (when he wasn't racing) and so you planned to cook up his mother's recipe for the next friday to pass

when friday came to be, you were so anxious and nervous that it only took one second for sebastian to notice but you refused to tell him the truth and insisted upon eating dinner together

he entered the kitchen and instantly recognised the food, his face morphing into a gentle pout as he realised what you'd done for him

he launched himself at you after that and thanked you a billion times over until you told him to eat before the food got cold - that got him off of you.. for like.. two minutes haha

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theonottsbxtch · 5 months ago

Text

FREE NOW PT 2 | OP81

an: someone requested this a while back but i didn't feel inspired at the time, after having spent xmas in london, i was reinspired so please enjoy

wc: 5.2k

HER PHONE BUZZED, the screen lighting up with a single word that might as well have been a thunderclap: Hello.

She stared at it, the glow of the message cutting through the dimness of her cluttered apartment. Her stomach flipped, and for a moment, she thought she might be sick. It had been months. Months since she’d last seen him, since he’d left her standing in the cold outside that little café, snowflakes catching in her hair like she was some kind of tragic heroine in a story she hadn’t agreed to star in.

Oscar.

She hated how the sight of his name made her heart race, hated how easily the memory of him surged to the surface: the way his laugh felt like summer breaking through the dead of winter, the way his hand had lingered at the small of her back just long enough to make her forget how to breathe. And now, this—just hello. No context. No explanation. Like he hadn’t walked away and left her to unravel herself alone.

Her thumb hovered over the message. She should reply—shouldn’t she? Her mind reeled, cycling through questions she hadn’t asked herself in weeks: Why didn’t he want me? She’d spent night after night dissecting the answer like a broken thing she couldn’t figure out how to fix. She wasn’t glamorous enough, she wasn’t exciting enough, not compared to the champagne-soaked world he belonged to.

And yet, even as she raged inwardly, she’d watched every single one of his races. At first, she’d told herself it was just curiosity—a fascination with the world she’d glimpsed through him. But with each podium finish, with every glint of triumph in his eyes, she’d been reminded of the man who had kissed her like she was his whole world and then left her behind without so much as a second glance.

She hadn’t answered his message, not for weeks. What could she possibly say? Every possible reply felt either too brittle or too raw. So she let it sit there, a glowing reminder of the question she couldn’t bring herself to ask: What do you want from me now?

That night, she sat in her cramped living room, her laptop screen flickering in front of her, a blank page mocking her efforts to start the sequel she was supposed to be halfway through by now. The cursor blinked, impatient. She pressed her fingertips to her temples, trying to summon even a fragment of an idea, but her mind kept circling back to the message. Hello.

It wasn’t fair, she thought bitterly. He’d been the one to leave, and now he got to reach out, to drop back into her life like no time had passed at all. But as much as she hated the selfishness of it, part of her wanted to reply. Not for him—for herself. For the chance to spark something, anything, that might get her out of the rut she’d been stuck in since he’d walked away.

She picked up her phone, her fingers trembling as she tapped out a reply. It was short, cautious.

Hi.

She stared at the word for a long moment before hitting send, her heart pounding as the message left her screen. She told herself it was just a small step, a selfish one. She didn’t owe him anything, after all. But somewhere deep down, she knew: this was the start of something she couldn’t quite name yet.

And for the first time in weeks, the cursor on her screen stopped blinking.

The moment her message was marked as “read,” her heart stumbled, caught in a snare she’d told herself she wouldn’t fall into again. When his reply came seconds later, the little banner popping up on her screen, her breath hitched.

Can we call?

She swallowed hard, the question hanging in the air like a trap she saw coming but didn’t step around. A tiny part of her, the sensible part, screamed at her to say no. This was selfish—purely, entirely selfish. She wasn’t reaching out because she wanted to fix what had broken between them. She didn’t want him back. Not really. This was about her. About needing something—anything—to pull her out of the fog she’d been living in since he’d left.

She wasn’t going to catch feelings again. She couldn’t. He’d shown her exactly what his priorities were, and she wasn’t naive enough to think anything had changed. This wasn’t about him, she told herself as she tapped out a reply. It was about her.

Sure.

The moment she sent it, her phone buzzed with an incoming call. Her stomach twisted as she picked it up, hesitating before answering and lying back on her bed. She set the phone down on the pillow next to her and turned on the speaker, as though putting distance between herself and the device would make this feel less immediate, less intimate.

“Hi,” she said, her voice softer than she’d intended.

“Hi,” he replied. His voice was warm, familiar in a way that made her chest ache. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence stretching thin between them. She was about to say something—anything—to break it when he finally spoke. “I, uh... I read your book.”

Her heart stopped. She blinked at the ceiling, her mind scrambling to process his words. “You... you did?” she managed, hoping she didn’t sound as stunned as she felt.

“Yeah.” There was a smile in his voice, faint but unmistakable. “I saw it in an airport bookstore. Your name caught me off guard. The cover looked good, though. So I bought it. I wasn’t expecting...” He trailed off, and she could hear the hesitation in his tone.

“Wasn’t expecting what?” she pressed, trying to sound nonchalant, though her fingers twisted in the hem of her sweater.

“To like it,” he admitted, a sheepish laugh escaping him. “But I did. I was... impressed. The way you captured things. Us.”

Her throat tightened, and she turned her face into the pillow, grateful he couldn’t see her expression. She cleared her throat, forcing her voice to stay steady. “Well, it’s not like you gave me much of a choice. You kind of handed me the perfect material.”

He went quiet for a beat. Then: “I shouldn’t have ended things the way I did.”

There it was. The thing she’d been waiting for, without even realizing it. She let out a soft, disbelieving laugh, covering it with a quick cough. “Oh, no worries. It worked out for me in the end. I got a New York Times bestseller out of it,” she said, aiming for lightness but missing the mark.

He exhaled sharply, and she couldn’t tell if it was a laugh or a sigh. “That’s what I mean. You turned something... painful into something amazing. And I’m proud of you for that. I just... I’m sorry for the part I played in the pain.”

Her chest felt too tight, her emotions too tangled to unravel. She reached for something casual to say, something that wouldn’t give away how much his words rattled her. “Well, if you wanted to apologise, you could’ve done it before my deadline,” she quipped, a small smile tugging at her lips despite herself.

“That’s fair,” he said softly. “But I’m glad it worked out. You deserved it.”

His words lingered in the air, and she found herself staring at the faint cracks in her ceiling, her fingers still twisting in her sweater. This was selfish, she reminded herself. She wasn’t doing this for him. But somehow, it didn’t feel like a lie when she said, “Thanks.”

The cursor on her laptop screen blinked in the corner of her vision, but for the first time all night, she wasn’t looking at it.

She didn’t know how long they stayed like that, the silence between them no longer awkward but still weighted, stretched taut with unspoken words. She shifted on her bed, her arm brushing against the phone as she debated whether to push for more or let it lie.

“Why now?” she asked finally, her voice quieter than she meant. “Why reach out after all this time?”

He hesitated. She could hear it in the way his breath hitched, in the faint hum of background noise from wherever he was calling. “Because I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he admitted. “And then I saw the book, and it just... it brought everything back.”

Her chest tightened again, but this time it wasn’t anger or frustration. It was something softer, something she wasn’t sure she was ready to name. “Oscar,” she began, trying to keep her tone measured, “you walked away. And I get it—you had your reasons. But you don’t just get to walk back in whenever it’s convenient for you.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “I know I don’t deserve that. And I don’t want to mess things up for you. I just...” He sighed, and the sound was so human, so vulnerable, it made her heart ache despite her resolve. “I missed you.”

Her breath caught. She rolled onto her side, facing the phone as though it would help her understand the words better. “You can’t say things like that,” she said, but the anger in her voice was diluted by something softer, something closer to longing.

“I mean it,” he said. “I missed you. I miss the way you look at things, the way you see the world. It’s different. It’s... real.”

She wanted to laugh, wanted to scoff, wanted to hang up the phone just to prove to herself that she could. But she didn’t. Instead, she whispered, “And what? You thought you’d just drop back into my life and everything would be fine?”

“I didn’t know what I thought,” he admitted. “I just knew I had to try.”

The silence returned, heavier this time. She bit her lip, staring at the faint glow of the phone screen, her thoughts swirling. This wasn’t fair. He didn’t get to come back into her life and make her feel things she’d spent months burying.

But hadn’t she been the one to reply? Hadn’t she opened this door, knowing full well where it might lead?

She closed her eyes, letting out a slow breath. “You broke me, you know,” she said finally, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to keep it steady. “But you also gave me something I didn’t think I could ever have. That book—” She paused, her throat tightening. “That book saved me. Writing it saved me. So I don’t know whether to thank you or hate you.”

He didn’t respond right away, but when he did, his voice was quiet, almost fragile. “What if I said you don’t have to choose?”

She barked out a laugh, harsh and unsteady. “Oh, come on. It’s not that simple.”

“No,” he said. “It’s not. But I don’t expect you to forgive me, or trust me, or even want me in your life. I just... I needed you to know I’m sorry. For all of it.”

She closed her eyes again, her hand hovering over the phone as though she might end the call, but her fingers didn’t move. She didn’t know what to say.

“Listen,” he continued, his tone softening, “I don’t want to mess up what you have going on. You’re doing amazing, and I’m proud of you. I just... I’d like to talk. If you’ll let me.”

She swallowed hard, the vulnerability in his voice cutting through her defenses. She hated that it got to her, but it did. “I don’t know, Oscar,” she said finally. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“I get it,” he said quickly, his voice tinged with something that might have been desperation. “Take your time. I’ll be here.”

She laughed softly, bitterly. “You weren’t before.”

“I know,” he said, his voice heavy with regret. “But I’m here now.”

She didn’t respond, her mind racing with thoughts she couldn’t untangle. The cursor on her laptop blinked in her peripheral vision, steady and unrelenting.

“Goodnight, Oscar,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Goodnight,” he replied, and this time, she ended the call.

For a long moment, she lay there in the quiet, staring at the cracks in her ceiling. The cursor still blinked, but the words she’d been searching for all night were beginning to take shape in her mind.

It started with an Instagram comment.

She’d posted a photo of the snow falling outside her apartment, captioned simply: Winter always comes back around.

The comment was there an hour later, buried among thousands of others but impossible to miss: Still your favorite season?

Her heart jolted, even though she knew it was coming. She’d left the door open by replying to his text, by taking his call. She told herself it didn’t mean anything. It wasn’t as if they were friends. But the comment—casual, public, and so unmistakably him—hit her differently.

And, predictably, his fans went crazy.

Within minutes, her notifications were flooded with a whirlwind of speculation: Oscar commented! Is she the girl he was talking to Lando about in that DTS episode?! Is this his gf??

She muted her notifications, refusing to be pulled into the frenzy. But when she sat down to write later that night, she found herself lingering on that comment, the question lingering in her mind like an itch she couldn’t scratch.

Winter had always been her favorite season. It was when she’d met him, after all. And no matter how much she wanted to forget, it was also when he’d left her standing alone, her lips still tingling from the kiss she’d thought would change everything.

She thought she’d ignore him after that, keep her distance. But Oscar didn’t stop at a single comment.

A week later, he liked one of her posts—a throwback photo she’d shared of a bookshop in London, the caption reading: Where it all started.

He didn’t say anything this time, but the like was deliberate, she knew it. And she hated how much she noticed. Hated how much she waited for the next small gesture, the next subtle reminder that he was still paying attention.

He sent her another text not long after: You were always good with words. I hope you know that.

She read it twice before locking her phone and tossing it onto the couch. She refused to reply, telling herself she didn’t need his validation. But a part of her couldn’t stop wondering if he meant it, if he really thought she was good, or if this was just another attempt to slip back into her life.

And then, slowly, bit by bit, he started showing up more. A comment here, a text there, nothing overwhelming but enough to remind her he was still there. It was infuriating how patient he was, how careful, as though he was trying to rebuild something fragile. She knew what he was doing. He thought she was letting him in.

But she wasn’t.

Not really.

This wasn’t about him. It never had been.

He inspired her, that much she couldn’t deny. The first book had poured out of her because of him, because of the way he’d left her raw and desperate to make sense of what had happened. And now, as her cursor blinked on a blank page night after night, she couldn’t help but think he might hold the key to unlocking that same fire again.

She wasn’t letting him back in. She was using him.

And the worst part was, she didn’t feel guilty about it.

When he texted her again a week later—Can we talk?—she hesitated only for a moment before replying. Sure.

It was late when they called, and she made no effort to mask the exhaustion in her voice. He, on the other hand, sounded wide awake, his voice warm and familiar in a way that made her chest tighten despite herself.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” he began.

She rolled onto her side, her phone balanced on the edge of her pillow. “What part?”

“All of it,” he admitted. “But mostly about the book. About how it saved you.”

She pressed her lips together, her heart skipping a beat. “What about it?”

“I think... I think you were braver than I’ve ever been,” he said, the words coming out in a rush. “You put it all out there. You didn’t hold anything back. I don’t know if I could ever do that.”

His sincerity threw her off guard. For a moment, she forgot her script, forgot the plan she’d convinced herself she was following. “It wasn’t bravery,” she said quietly. “It was survival.”

“Still,” he said. “You turned something painful into something beautiful. I think that’s incredible.”

Her throat tightened, and she hated the way his words made her feel. She reminded herself why she was doing this, why she was even talking to him at all. This wasn’t about reconnection. It wasn’t about him.

It was about the words she needed to write, the story she needed to tell.

“Thanks,” she said finally, her voice measured.

But even as she said it, she couldn’t shake the nagging doubt creeping in at the edges of her resolve: what if he wasn’t the only one being selfish?

She told herself she was in control. Letting him in was strategic, calculated. She’d let him get just close enough to keep her inspired, nothing more. But the line between “enough” and “too much” blurred faster than she expected.

The first time he asked her to meet him, she hesitated, weighing the potential benefits against the risks. He was in New York for a press event, he explained, and he wanted to see her.

“It doesn’t have to be anything formal,” he said over the phone. “Just dinner. As friends.”

“Friends,” she repeated, testing the word.

He chuckled, the sound warm and disarming. “Or whatever you want to call it. No pressure.”

The logical part of her wanted to say no, to keep the distance between them intact. But the logical part of her wasn’t writing the sequel she desperately needed. Against her better judgment, she agreed.

Dinner was simple—a small restaurant tucked away in a quiet corner of Manhattan. He was waiting for her when she arrived, dressed casually in a plain tee and jeans, looking more like the man who’d taken her sightseeing in London than the global superstar she’d seen on TV.

They talked about nothing and everything: her work, his races, the places he’d been recently. He asked about her next book, and she evaded the question, unwilling to admit that she still hadn’t written a single chapter.

By the time they left, her cheeks ached from smiling, and her stomach hurt—not from the food, but from laughing more than she had in months.

“This was nice,” he said as they stood outside, the cool night air brushing against their skin. “Can we do it again sometime?”

She nodded before she could think it through. “Yeah. Sure.”

And just like that, it became a pattern.

At first, it was sporadic: dinner here, a coffee there. He’d text her when he was in town, and she’d meet him, telling herself it was harmless, just catching up. But then it became frequent. He started flying her out to races, always with some excuse about wanting to show her the world he loved.

The first time she landed in Monaco, she felt like a fraud, a tourist in his glamorous life. But he greeted her with that same easy smile, the one that made her feel like she belonged. They wandered through the narrow streets, stopping at cafes and small boutiques, and for a while, she let herself forget that she was supposed to be using him, not the other way around.

Before long, she found herself back in London, walking streets she’d once thought she’d never see again. He took her to her favorite bookshop, the same one she’d written about in her novel. She felt the weight of his hand at the small of her back as they browsed the shelves, and she told herself it didn’t mean anything.

But it was getting harder to believe her own lies.

She didn’t realise it was happening at first, the way her guard started to slip. It was in the small moments: the way she started to look forward to his texts, the way her heart jumped when she saw his name on her screen. She told herself it was just gratitude, a natural byproduct of the inspiration he’d given her.

But the truth was harder to ignore when she found herself laughing at his jokes, her walls cracking under the warmth of his smile.

One night in Monaco, after a long day exploring the harbour, they sat on the balcony of his apartment, the lights of the city reflecting off the water below. She held a glass of wine in her hand, her legs tucked beneath her as she leaned back in her chair.

“You’re quiet,” he said, breaking the silence.

“Just thinking,” she replied, her gaze fixed on the horizon.

“About what?”

She hesitated, then shrugged. “The book.” It wasn’t a lie, not entirely.

“Still stuck?”

She nodded, and he gave her a thoughtful look before speaking. “You don’t have to push yourself so hard, you know. It’ll come to you when it’s ready.”

She laughed softly, shaking her head. “That’s not how deadlines work.”

“Maybe not,” he said, his tone light. “But you’re too talented to force it. You’ll figure it out.”

His faith in her was disarming, and she found herself turning to look at him. He was leaning back in his chair, his profile softened by the dim light. For a moment, she let herself forget everything—her plans, her walls, her doubts.

And that was the moment she realised it.

She was catching feelings.

Her breath hitched, and she quickly looked away, her grip tightening around the stem of her glass. This wasn��t supposed to happen. She’d let him in enough to keep her writing, to keep her inspired, but somewhere along the way, she’d let him in too much.

And now, she wasn’t sure she could push him out again.

She was pacing her small apartment in New York when the realisation crashed fully, her hands pulling at her hair, her chest tight with a whirlwind of emotions she couldn’t seem to contain.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” she muttered under her breath, each word punctuated by the sound of her bare feet slapping against the hardwood floor.

She’d been in denial for weeks, convincing herself that she could keep her feelings neatly compartmentalized, that she could use him for inspiration without letting him crack the walls around her heart. But it wasn’t working.

Every laugh, every touch, every moment they shared chipped away at her resolve, and now the truth was staring her in the face, unrelenting and cruel: she’d fallen for him again.

She stopped pacing and leaned against the kitchen counter, gripping the edge so tightly her knuckles turned white. “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she hissed, squeezing her eyes shut.

Her phone buzzed on the counter, and her heart jumped, her stomach twisting as she saw his name light up the screen. Oscar.

She ignored it, letting the call go to voicemail, but a minute later, there was a knock at her door.

Her eyes flew open, her breath catching in her throat. No. No, he couldn’t be here. He wasn’t supposed to be here.

But the knock came again, more insistent this time.

“Hey,” his voice called from the other side of the door, muffled but unmistakable. “It’s me.”

Her chest tightened, panic flooding her veins. She couldn’t do this, not now. She crossed the room and yanked the door open, staring at him with wide, frantic eyes. He stood there, his hair slightly tousled from the wind, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket.

“Oscar,” she said, her voice sharp, her panic bubbling over into frustration. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you,” he said, frowning slightly. “I just wrapped up a sponsor meeting and we fly out to Miami tomorrow morning. I called but you didn't answer.”

“Well, maybe there’s a reason for that,” she snapped, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. She slammed the door shut, her heart racing.

From the other side, he sounded baffled. “What did I do wrong?”

She groaned, pressing her forehead against the door. “You exist, Oscar. That’s what you did wrong.”

“What?” he asked, his confusion evident. “Can you at least let me in so we can talk?”

She hesitated, her hand hovering over the doorknob. Then, with a resigned sigh, she opened the door again, glaring at him.

“You want to know what’s wrong?” she said, her voice trembling with emotion. “Fine. I’ve caught stupid, ridiculous, impossible feelings for you, okay? And I hate it.”

His brow furrowed, his confusion deepening. “Why is that wrong?”

“Because you hurt me once!” she shouted, her voice cracking. “You left me standing in the middle of London, and I didn’t even see it coming. Do you know how hard it was to put myself back together after that?”

His face fell, guilt washing over his features. “I know I hurt you,” he said softly. “But I thought... I thought you were giving me a chance to fix it.”

She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “Fix it? You can’t just fix something like that, Oscar. It doesn’t work that way.”

“I’m trying,” he said, his voice firm but still tinged with vulnerability. “I’m trying to show you that I’m here, that I want to be here. What else can I do?”

Her chest ached, her anger clashing with the part of her that desperately wanted to believe him. “It’s not about what you can do,” she said, her voice quieter now, almost a whisper. “It’s about what you could do. If I let myself fall for you again, you could hurt me. And I don’t think I can survive that a second time.”

He stepped closer, his gaze searching hers. “I won’t hurt you,” he said, his voice steady. “I know I don’t deserve your trust yet, but I swear to you, I’m not going anywhere this time.”

She wanted to believe him. She wanted to let him in, to let herself hope. But the fear was too big, too loud.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked, her voice breaking. “Why now?”

“Because I can’t stop thinking about you,” he said, his eyes locked on hers. “Because I made a mistake, and I’ve been kicking myself for it ever since. Because you’re the only person who’s ever made me feel like I’m more than the guy behind the wheel of a car.”

Her breath caught, tears stinging her eyes. She hated how much his words affected her, how much she wanted to believe them.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” she whispered.

He reached out, his hand hovering just above hers. “You don’t have to decide right now. Just... let me try.”

She looked at him, her heart pounding, her mind a storm of doubt and longing. Slowly, she nodded, a single tear slipping down her cheek.

“Okay,” she said softly. “But I’m not promising anything.”

“That’s enough,” he said, his voice filled with quiet determination.

For now, it was enough.

Oscar’s hand hovered in the space between them for a moment before he closed it over hers. His touch was warm, steady, grounding.

She couldn’t hold it back anymore. The walls she’d so carefully constructed cracked under the weight of her emotions, and tears slipped free, spilling down her cheeks.

“I’m so tired of being scared,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

“I know,” he murmured, stepping closer. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

He pulled her into his arms, his embrace firm but gentle, and she let herself collapse against him, her tears soaking into the fabric of his coat. He didn’t rush her, didn’t speak. He just held her, his hand stroking her back in slow, soothing circles.

When the sobs finally subsided, leaving her feeling raw and hollow, he eased back just enough to look at her. His face was open, earnest, his eyes searching hers.

“Come on,” he said softly. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Before she could protest, he shrugged off his coat, draping it over the back of the couch, and toed off his shoes. He guided her toward the bedroom, his hand resting lightly on her back.

She let him lead her, too drained to argue. When they reached the bed, he pulled back the covers and gestured for her to climb in.

“You don’t have to stay,” she mumbled, her voice thick with exhaustion.

He gave her a small, lopsided smile. “I’m not going anywhere, remember?”

She crawled under the blankets, her body sinking into the familiar comfort of her mattress. He tucked the covers around her, sitting on the edge of the bed for a moment before shifting to lie beside her, above the blankets.

She closed her eyes, her breathing evening out as the weight of the night caught up with her. She drifted off quickly, her head resting on the pillow, her hand brushing against his where it lay on the bedspread.

Oscar stayed awake, watching her. The faint glow of the city lights filtered through the curtains, casting soft shadows across her face.

“You don’t know how lucky I am,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Thank you for giving me a second chance.”

He paused, his gaze tracing the curve of her cheek, the line of her jaw. “I swear I won’t mess it up this time.”

He thought she was asleep, but the words slipped through the hazy edges of her dreams, nestling somewhere deep in her mind.

The following morning, she woke to the golden light of early winter streaming through the window. The first thing she noticed was the warmth of the room, the faint scent of him lingering in the air.

The second thing she noticed was her mind—clearer than it had been in months, humming with ideas.

She sat up slowly, careful not to disturb Oscar, who was still asleep, slouched awkwardly on top of the covers. His head rested on his arm, his face relaxed in a way she hadn’t seen before.

Sliding out of bed, she grabbed her notebook from the bedside table and opened it to a blank page. The words came quickly, flowing from her pen as if they’d been waiting for this moment.

Her next book wouldn’t be about him—not exactly. But the emotions he’d stirred, the hope and fear and vulnerability he’d unearthed, filled every corner of the page.

She glanced over at him as he stirred, his eyes fluttering open.

“Morning,” he murmured, his voice rough with sleep.

“Morning,” she replied, a small smile playing on her lips.

“What are you doing?” he asked, sitting up and rubbing the back of his neck.

She held up the notebook. “Writing.”

He grinned, his expression soft with pride. “Good. I knew you’d get there.”

She didn’t say anything, but as she looked at him, her heart ached in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

For the first time, she wondered if maybe, just maybe, letting him in again wasn’t the worst decision she’d ever made.

taglist: @alexisquinnlee-bc @carlossainzapologist @oikarma @obxstiles @verstappenf1lecccc @hzstry8 @dying-inside-but-its-classy @anamiad00msday @linnygirl09 @mastermindbaby@iamred-iamyellow

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starfxkrinc · 7 months ago

Text

wanna know what really went down the first time jj and sweet pea fucked?

you could barely focus the rest of the day, this was different. this wasn't the boys in your class sneaking in for a 8 minute pump and dump. jj was a man, one that's been whispered about all your life. always seen coming out of someone's trailer hours after their husband left.

the subject of the first wet dream that left you shaking and rutting against your pillow.

now it was real. flesh and blood. you paced throughout the living room, watching as the time crept from midnight, to fifteen minutes past and he still wasn't here. you were beginning to worry he stood you up when the backdoor creaked open.

clumsily, you skittered to him as he poked his head through the door, stepping through and stopping you before you crashed into him.

"woah woah, slow down," he closed the door behind you. he locked it. and it all began to feel too real, "lemme get a good look at you."

heart thudding you let him look over you, you didn't know what to expect. his hand travelled from your cheek to your breast, swiping a thumb over you nipple, smirking when you gasp as it puckers.

"what's all this?"

nervously you giggle, and now you're second guessing yourself. you thought he'd like it. you didn't wanna give him the same experience you gave everyone else-- sleep shorts and an old t-shirt--you wanted to prove you could be more. take more. so you put on your nicest dress even if that wasn't saying much. you matched your underwear. swiped on some red lipstick.

all in all you wanted to look older.

"you don't like it?" you looked down at your feet and cringed at the sparkly polish on your toes.

jj just shrugs, "lets sit down for a bit."

'a bit' turns into an hour. and you sit on the far side of the couch the whole time. suddenly you regret this. it's all too much, the weight of your age difference hangs heavily between you. you want him to leave.

before you can speak, jj breaks the silence, "why you sittin all the way over there hm? c'mere." you don't get the option to move before he reaches over, wrapping his tattooed hand around your thigh to pull you across the couch with ease. the snarling dog looks ready to tear through your guts.

he tucks you closer and you know he can feel you shaking, breaths coming out in quick gasps as he strokes your soft skin, his other hand coming up to your cheek, "you're such a pretty girl. i don't know why you put all this shit on your face." jj rubs his thumb across your lip, smearing the red as you struggle to speak.

"i don't want you to look at me like a little kid."

"who says that bothers me?"

your bottom lips trembling. you want him to leave but the request dies in your throat when he kisses you and you could almost keel over from the heat.

this was. different. jj kisses like he's gonna devour you. it's not sloppy and wet like the other boys. you can feel each slide of his tongue against yours in your panties. it's too much. you want to pull away.

you fall back onto the cushions. the dog cups your cunt.

when he pulls back your gasping, and jj laughs down at you like an amused father, "like that?"

you nod but you feel embarrassed, there's no way he can't feel how wet you are between your clenched thighs. not with how he rubs his palm against you.

"breathe sweetheart, i got you."

it's only then you realize you're practically hyperventilating. he has to leave before this goes too far.

"relax, open up let me see." jj coaxs you like a feral cat, smushing his palm against you as the tension melts out of you. you look even more vulerable with your lipstick smeared and your panties stuck to you lips. when he unbuttons your dress he groans.

you're matching, lacy black bra and black panties. a cherry embroidered on the front. a little girl's idea of sexy underwear.

"jj..." your voice brings him back to the present, your eyes are wide and watery and he wonders what he looks like to you, "can we--can we just watch a movie or something?"

he grips your thigh tighter, "why'd you invite me over then? thought you were just gonna cock tease me and send me on my fuckin way?"

"no! i just--i don't feel--"

when he grabs your throat your stomach drops, "i'm not one of your little boyfriends. i'm not playin this hot n cold shit with you."

now you're whole body's trembling and you look near tears, so he reels back, relaxing his hold on your throat to something softer, "i know you're scared, it's all new and you're used to being in charge."

sniffling you nod, "they never know what to do."

"right. i know what i'm doin. no games. me and you, like adults. and you're a big girl sweet pea. i wouldn't do anything you can't handle."

jj takes your smile as a yes, you needed the validation, you needed to feel like an equal in this.

he knows you're not.

when slides down and spreads you open he has to take a second, groaning into your thigh because for how scared you claim to be you're so fucking wet. a milky trickle of arousal drips down between your asscheeks and his tongue fucking throbs at the thought of tasting you. so he does. starting from the crack of your ass and trailing up to your puffy clit before he latches on.

"god fuck!"

he can feel your thighs shaking around his head, clamping shut as you bring a hand to your mouth to muffle the noise. jj's confident he's never tasted anything like you--heady and musky. despite his nose being buried in your bush he can smell your sweet, fruity lotion mixing with the scent of your pussy and he feels fucking dizzy. like he's been given a shot of black tar heroin right to the heart.

you're really gasping now, hips bucking under his strong grip as he licks and sucks like he's trying to reach the peach pit of your guts. ravenous like a starving dog.

"please make me cum, i'm gonna f-fuck-cum please."

your clit pulses and twitches between his lips, and all it takes is a couple more sucks before flooding his mouth. and he all but licks you clean.

it's only when you're flinching does jj pull back, kissing up your body as you lay there, eyes closed--sated.

"where's your room?"

your eyes fluttered opened, surprised. you were done, nobody's ever made you cum like this before and you didn't even think you could go again, "what? but i'm-"

"don't start that shit. you asked me over, you're done when i say you're done."

that sick feeling again. he had to leave.

"no- no jj you have to go, it's late and i don't think we should--"

bad move, very bad move. because he hauled you up like it was nothing--half naked and blubbering that you were done. that it'd gone too far and you wanted him to leave as he kicked open one door, then another as he found your room.

"cute."

he threw you down so fast you barely got a chance to bounce before he was on top of you, pinning you down with a hand on your throat as you sobbed, "jj please, i won't tell anyone you came over just go home! i'm sorry, i can't do this, i changed my mind!"

"tough shit little girl. next time? don't ask to fuck if you don't wanna fuck." when he drops his pants you cry harder, and he lays it against your stomach, "look at that. that's how deep ima be sugar."

hauling your thighs to your chest he practically squats over you, pressing the uncut head of his dick to your pouting hole, "shit, can you even take all this..." it's like he's not even talking to you, bullying his way in as you beat against his chest in tears.

"please--please stop it hurts!"

jj smiles at you, mean and predatory with a sharklike grin. the dog grabs your face, covering your mouth, its maw open to drink up your tears.

"you’ll be okay."

he drops his hips and if it weren't for the hand on your mouth you'd scream the house down. you're so flared around his base its a miracle you don't split in two. but jj just groans, loud and long as he starts fucking into you, "shit. you taste sweet sugar but goddamn you feel sweeter. you sure you aint a virgin?"

you sob, you feel sick, but he's filling you like no one has before, you can feel your heart beating in your clit stronger with each thrust, "no--i just--fuck that's--"

you let out a shaky moan and jj knows he got you, cockdrunk and hazy like you weren't just begging him to stop, "yeah i know. babys gettin her first real fuckin."

his hips slam so hard against yours they bounce off the bed, your hands wandering as you struggle to find something to hold onto. never in your life have you felt like this, hot and cold all at once, like someone's found a way to set your nervous system alight. even your skin feels sensitive when his palm rubs against your stomach.

"you were fuckin made for this sweet pea, fuckin tellin ya. lord knows how long i wanted this."

the truth's itching at his tongue, the fact that he's been thinking about this for years, far longer than he should have, like you dont still have baby fat on your hips.

"m-me too."

"yeah...how long?"

when you cry this time it's from embarrassment, shielding yourself from his view with your palms, "since...since i was 11 i dreamt about you."

he gets a flash of you then, suddenly shy around him, near tears when he talked to you and running back to your room after he patted your back.

"you wanted your daddy even back then?"

hysterical now--from embarrassment, from arousal from it all-- you wail, "yes!"

jj shudders, he can feel it wrap around the base of his spine, it won't be long so he smushes he thumb against your clit, not even rubbing, just the steady pressure, "alright. alright, i'm here now i've been waitin on you baby, you're my little girl now."

no noise comes out when you cum, not for a long while before you let out a long shuddering wheeze as you cream around him. and he's right behind you, groaning and pressing so close you feel his balls twitch against your ass while he cums sticky and hot against your cervix.

you're still crying when he pulls out--panting like a dog and he collapses next to you.

"hey, stop cryin you're fine."

guilt and disgust has wrapped itself around you. he's dug his way deep into your core. you don't feel so grown up anymore.

#trailer park!jj #🌙.txt #jj maybank prompt #idek yall #here you go

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bettystonewell · 2 months ago

Text

TO YOU I BELONG: CHAPTER 13

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader

Summary: Dean isn't looking for a mate, and the last place he expects to meet his soulmate is while on a case. Fate ain't real. He still has free will, and saving you is just another part of the job. Except, monsters aren't the only things you need saving from... 18+ only MDNI

Chapter Word Count: 7.1k words

Chapter Warnings: smut, Dean in rut, garage sex, pregnant sex, dirty talk, fluff, angst, language

A/N: Yeah, I had fun with this one!

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

How ironic. Exactly like that stupid song, with the crappy Canadian singer, who would’ve thought it? It certainly figured, and Dean kicked the ground beneath him like a petulant child.

“Aw, c’mon,” he said. “Not my Baby.”

But he quickly drew that kick back in as he realised just as quickly that the jackass Casper they’d been hunting was not only in the driver’s seat of his beloved car. She’d stepped on the gas and floored it.

Fuck.

Baby’s engine roared and her tires screeched as she took off straight towards him.

Fu-u-u-u-u-ck.

There wasn’t much time to think, let alone scratch his own ass. He spun on his feet, though. Twisted his torso, almost tripping over but then bolting in his boots over the pavers of the shonky old bridge.

It was always a bridge, always in the middle of the night. Always up high with nowhere to go but forward or down if you felt like swimming.

Which he did not. He’d tried that once before, and he’d found river slop stuck in the crevices of his sack days later because of it.

So, he raised his knees higher, only for his bow legs to jolt them again and again on the downward. Thump after thump after thump. Yard after yard after yard. Each breath, more and more haggard as his beloved Impala inched closer and closer with every new inch he took.

His old bones creaked beneath his weight. The wood and steel did the same, yet still he ran and it was a wonder the whole damn thing didn’t come tumbling down under him. It would seem luck was on his side until he reached the end where the suspension turned to gravel road and the sides were no longer railings and he flung himself off a la Superman with arms stretched out.

Then he rolled. Then flailed those same arms in the air, attempting to stop the inevitable. Of course, it did jack and his face planted into the dirt with an “urgh.” Or something close to it came from his mouth as he spat out all that had entered it.

That’s when he heard the loud thunk, the crash, and the definitive crinkle of shattering glass as your words from the Salina diner eight weeks ago repeated in his mind.

“What would you do if Baby got totalled?” you’d asked him.

Well. He’d fucking flip his lid is what he’d do, but “Please, Baby, please,” he said in the moment. His eyes, wide shut in prayer as his elbows lifted him up off the dusty grass.

To Dean’s horror, the transmission shifted, and the car moved again. Followed by the crunch of a tree and another shift that had him leaping up just in time to run - again.

Why did this always happen to him? Why did it have to happen to Baby? Why did you have to go and…say all that crap you had about her getting totalled?

Yeah. You. This was all…

…your fault.

Well, not really.

How could it be when you were five hundred miles away in Kansas, awaiting his and Sam’s return? You weren’t psychic. You certainly didn’t know this would happen when you’d compared your mate’s most prized possession to your own loss. Something you regretted since the moment the initial shock his car had attacked him delved.

Your phone pinged with another message from Sam, and you looked down to see a simple thumb emoji flash over the map you had opened on the screen.

Thanks for the warning…

Dean may have been in a foul mood, but now, three days after the incident on the bridge, his pin had moved to right outside, signalling their arrival, and thank god. He’d assured you he was okay. You just weren’t sure you believed him.

“Daddy’s here,” you said sweetly to your bump. What little there was of it.

At fourteen weeks, your pup was the size of a peach. Or a kiwi, an apple, or a nectarine, depending on the chart you looked at.

You had no idea which was correct when an animal one you’d found online said they were the same size as a hedgehog, however big they were, and another mentioned a scoop of ice cream.

Whatever the comparison, it was safe to say you’d likely eaten all of it all together at once. What with the waistband of your jeans rather tight against your skin, leaving ugly marks that continued to irritate the spaces long after you removed them.

Not that you were complaining.

Things had gotten better with you on that front, for sure. In fact, right until you smelt the first whiffs of citrus and bitter chocolate coming from your growing stomach, you’d been freaking out every other day.

But the more they grew, and the more the weeks passed, the more you became comfortable. Still cautious, but comfortable.

And two more visits with Doctor Cameron in between Dean’s ‘pest control clients’ had helped.

You stood up from where you’d leant against the stair railing and felt the pressure ‘round your middle subside. Baby’s distant rumble had filtered down through the darkened tunnel, and you noticed a squeak accompanying it. That did not sound good.

Sam warned you it was bad. It just hadn’t crossed your mind her engine was in trouble too when Dean could still travel close to his usual speed.

You tried to catch glimpses of your mate behind the wheel as the Impala rolled out onto the polished cement, but the dim lighting only made the one remaining headlight brighter. it wasn’t until he pulled her up in front of you with a very obvious jerk that you got a good look at everything.

Her hood was bent. The roof caved in the middle like someone had tried karate chopping it. Her windscreen, gone. How he hadn’t been pulled over for having marble sized clusters of glass in its place was anyone’s guess. Yet, here she was, mangled. And here he was unscathed with a pout frowning his handsome face and a single scratch framing his cheek on its side.

You scented the air, making sure nothing else was going on; finding traces of oil and regret amongst the despair and frustration lacing his underlying buttery aroma.

All that you were expecting. Well, the regret, not so much. Especially when teed with sex and that muskiness that only came when he did, leading your mind into conclusion jumping. He made it worse when he turned to Sam in the passenger seat before turning to greet you.

‘There has to be an explanation,’ your inner omega whispered, soothing the hurt that was trying to rear its ugly head.

And she was right. She had to be. So you put on a brave face with the warmest, cheeriest smile you could, which wasn’t hard when Dean was involved. With Baby’s current state, he needed you to be his rock for a change and you scooted back a step, waiting for him to shut the ignition off and open the door.

It took not one, but two shoves of his elbow, and a creek that rattled your ears worse than nails on a chalkboard for him to free himself. But the second he did, you leapt into him, wrapping your arms around his neck and squeezing them tight.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Dean chuckled into your ear.

“Welcome home.” You grinned before pressing your lips to his and sampling the remnants of coffee and powdered sugar on his tongue.

“‘S good to be back,” he said as you pulled away.

Unlike you, he wasn’t convincing.

There was a strain in his voice that told the opposite. He hadn’t even kissed you back, and though you tried your best to hold the tears, truly you did. It became obvious it was a losing battle when you realised he’d tensed under your touch.

You unhooked yourself, took a step backwards, and swiped at your eyes before anything could fall.

“Woah. Hey.” He cupped your chin and gripped your elbow, stopping you from moving any further when you scowled. “What’s wrong, omega?” he asked.

What was wrong? You should’ve asked him that, but you didn’t. No. Oh no. You jumped right off the deep end with a decimal loud enough for Sam to hear from the other side of the car, and said, “Why do you smell like sex?”

You didn’t care that he was there. You were all adults, and part of you hoped, if anything, he’d clue you in on what was going on, especially after all those warning messages he’d sent on the way home.

Funny that he hadn’t told you about your mate’s change in scent.

But the acoustics in that throat clear of his caused you to huff and Dean’s brows to crinkle in the centre. “I’ll, ah, catch you two later,” he said, sauntering off down the stairs with a spring in his step, into the main part of the bunker behind you. That traitor. What the hell?

“Thanks, Sammy,” Dean grumbled. The regret you’d noticed in his scent, coming in tenfold, with another chuckle, only after Sam’s footsteps trailed away and he’d looked over your shoulder to make sure.

“There’s no need to get jealous. It was my time of the season.”

Your eyes opened wide, catching the smirk that would’ve had you falling head over heels in any other circumstance.

Now though? Now you wanted to punch him as he’d shown you months ago. A good knee to his knot wouldn’t go astray either.

“You had a rut, and you didn’t tell me?”

“No. Hey. No, no. I got my hands on some suppressants.” Said hands raised in the air to placate.

Suppressants? “But that’s worse!” Though the implication that he went out and dealt with it with someone who wasn’t you was just as bad.

“How? You were here. I was on the road dealing with Miss Daisy’s ghost.” He thumbed behind him to Baby’s mangled, no longer sleek on the side metal. “And I can’t risk coming home to you like that.”

His eyes flicked down to your bloated stomach, fingers tracing the waist of your pants as he took you in further, igniting tingles down your spine. They hopped, skipped and jumped through muscle and tendons to pull a familiar warmth between your legs as his mouth stretched up into those brilliant greens of his. “When did this happen?”

“Don’t change the subject.” You smacked him on the shoulder, but Dean wasn’t listening.

He dropped to his knees, much like he’d done the day he’d pointed out your pregnancy to you. Placed both palms on your firmer, popped out belly. He couldn’t contain himself. He shucked your shirt up and his nose soon tickled your navel as he pressed a tender kiss over the obvious dip there.

“Well, now I’m jealous.” You grinned down at him, running your hands through his travel-blown hair. If you weren’t pregnant already, your ovaries would’ve self-combusted.

“Least your mom’s no longer mad,” he whispered against your skin.

He wished.

Alright, mad, like the word hate, was a stretch. Frustrated. That fitted. Just as he had been, and still was over Baby two days later.

It was going to take him weeks to repair her. At least, that’s what he’d told you the last time he’d resurged from the garage. But, hey. It meant he wasn’t going anywhere, anytime soon, and you’d no longer be stuck alone reading dusty old books.

There’d be no more hours with no one to talk to other than the pup, because you had Sammy to keep you company. Or Dean, if you wanted to hang out with and watch him go through the effects of taking the suppressants he’d “found” in Wyoming.

Yeah, nope. You were still working on that. Something needed to be done if you wanted him to live long enough for your pup to present as an alpha as he’d predicted.

The problem was, he was worried he might harm you or them on account of his rut being abnormal. Years of suppressant taking had led to heavier ones when he’d allowed them, but he wouldn’t take into account this one had come on naturally, and therefore was different. No. He was adamant he wasn’t risking it. Even when you insisted, his instincts wouldn’t allow him to get rougher than you could handle.

He was stubborn. He knew it, you knew it, and it was unfortunate you were also above dumping them down the toilet while you emptied the contents of your stomach.

Him hovering over you while your head hung low in the small bedroom sink wasn’t the most opportune of times, either.

“You okay?” His fingers smoothed over your hair.

Urgh, no, though you didn’t have the energy to say it. If anything, you were helping his stolen suppressants do their job because who’d want to touch you like this?

One hand twisted the tap on full force to wash away the mess. The other patted the cool porcelain surrounding it in search of the cloth you’d replaced that morning, only to knock it off.

Dean swooped down beside you and picked it up, manhandling you next. He straightened your back with a gentle nudge from the front and behind. Supported you and your body with a firm grip, soaking the cotton under the bubbling water and your heart in waves of serotonin. It was the most he’d touched you since coming home.

“You heard me?” you said as he dabbed the newly damp cloth to your forehead with the gentlest of touches that didn’t match the grease coating his hands.

“Only ‘cause I had to hit the head.” His crow’s feet framed his eyes as he shrugged. “Good thing I didn’t hold it.” He moved his hand to your cheek, puffing out his own. “I thought you’d stopped throwing up?”

You bit your lip. That little detail was just another notch on the growing list of erroneous things you’d done to make your lives easier, and your jaw clamped harder before it let go.

“Just when I think it’s gotten better,” you said, shaking your head with a slight jiggle. “The juice I had with lunch didn’t sit right.”

Dean frowned. He pushed those cheeks of his into a full pout. Nothing like the one he’d given you in the garage, but accepting enough until he said, “You wanna come hang out with me?”

Did you? When you knew there was an ulterior motive to keep those crow’s feet of his on you?

Even if you hadn’t wanted to, Dean didn’t give you a choice, and you soon found yourself watching him as he worked on Baby. Which was fine. For your own motives.

From the comfort of a picnic blanket he’d placed on the hood of an old-timey car, you tapped your foot to the beat of Highway to Hell playing on the stereo. You were livin�� easy, but you weren’t lovin’ free because queasy and overly emotional pregnancy symptoms aside, your body craved your alpha. His delectable scent, his touch. More so when he stood before you, in the form-hugging t-shirt that highlighted his pectorals and worn jeans that fell from his hips.

Yeah, the grease monkey look wasn’t helping. Neither was the way he showed just how good he was with his hands. Soon your teeth were chowing down on your lip for another reason altogether as your lower ones flooded with their own kind of lubrication.

Okay, you had it bad, but he was flaunting it all in front of you by bringing you down here. And after two days of him hiding away with Baby and his scent lingering throughout the rest of the bunker, taunting and tugging you into some weird denial loop, how could you be blamed?

You squirmed in your spot, stretched out and fanned your legs with the skirt of your dress for some much needed cooler air. Not only did the breeze work a charm, it drew Dean’s attention to you, too, and you loved that.

“You alright, sweetheart?” He looked up from his lean over the engine. With the angle hiding his face, you relied on your nose to read him.

“Mm-hmm.” You nodded, tantalised by the musk you’d found wafting through the gap of the cars. He was sex on a stick, and he’d kept it from you for too long.

What the hell were you doing over here, when he was right there?

You slipped off the edge and closed the gap between you. “How’s it going?” you asked, resting your palm on his lower back where his muscles tensed again.

“Can’t do much without the new parts.” He sighed and twisted something.

Well. His arm shifted up and down. Metal scraped against more metal, and there was definitely a clunk or two as he worked with whatever tool he was using.

So your hand moved from him to the lip of the engine cavity and Baby’s not-so-black-anymore paint. “The dent’s gone,” you commented. What else could you say? You had no idea what he was doing there, and if Baby held his attention, you’d use her as a way to his…heart.

“Yeah. First thing I did. And here.” He pointed to the underside of the hood, tracing his fingers over the middle crease with pride. You were more interested in his arms as the muscles underneath his skin rippled with the stretch. “Got rid of all the glass, too. Now it’s just a waiting game.”

He pushed himself up, dropping a featherlight kiss on the crown of your head as he stood tall.

And…was that it?

No.

God.

Wait.

Really?

You were gonna complain about that? At least he’d kissed you.

Barely…

“How long?” you said, leaning yourself back against Baby as he dug through his toolbox. You watched, more like examined, the rest of his skin that was exposed, and covered in a sheen of sweat.

“Couple of weeks.” He chuckled, wiping his hands on an old rag. “Guess you guys are stuck with me.”

“Or you’re trapped here with us.”

He hummed at that. Lips pursing into a rueful smile as he pulled out another tool. “That won’t be a problem in a couple of days.”

“But it’s a problem now?” you said, and it was almost venomous. Almost because you were still the sweet submissive omega. The one trying not to burst yet again as your hormones took over your body in too many directions all at once.

Stuck was an insult. Sort of… Well, in that tone, it was.

He’d been so gentle. He always was. Washing your face and soothing your hair while you hacked your guts up. He’d held you close, then got you all comfortable on the other car. Made you the sandwich you’d washed down with that awful juice, but those things didn’t make up for the avoidances, the flinches and the sigh of frustration he wasn’t hiding.

“We’ve been over this.” He dropped the tool back down, spreading more grease over his brow with the other hand.

Screw his tools. His car. The hairs on his head were getting more action than you were, and that was… this was… God, you were pathetic. But that thought didn’t stop you from tearing it up. “No. You made an important decision without me, and then holed yourself down here the second you got home.”

So he’d go into rut if he succumbed and ditched the suppressants? It was far better than endangering himself further with a prescription that wasn’t his. It was a miracle he’d knocked you up first time after years of…medicinal abuse.

Alright. Alright. You were his soulmate, and a little pissy. Okay, a lot. But you doubted his inner alpha would harm you if he took control. The pup was also his, technically, and you stood up and reached for his hands, only for him to pull them back.

You were going to tell him you were worried about him. You would’ve begged him to stop. Would’ve. Were. Hah. Not anymore. You sure snapped instead. “You won’t even touch me?” May as well have been diseased with the way he was avoiding you, but he had no qualms about biting back.

“I held your hair while you hurled.”

“Gee. Thanks,” you said, not caring that it sounded ungrateful and bratty. He’d only done it because he’d walked by, and the jackass blinked at your sarcasm.

“I’m doing this to protect you!”

“And you’re hurting yourself in the process. It’s just sex, Dean.”

“No. It’s a rut!”

“With your mate!” Again. His alpha knew you were pregnant. You knew it wouldn’t be as full on as he thought. They also taught you this in school, for fuck’s sake. Okay, maybe you were a little worried, and…no. No. He’d never hurt you.

But then he snatched at your wrist and took you by surprise. He pulled you towards him and dug his fingers into the soft, fleshy globe of your right ass cheek, and it was good. Very, very good. Especially when he pressed you into the growing bulge in his pants, and his hot breath fell into your ear.

“You think I don’t wanna bust my knot in you?” The aggression rolled off his tongue, landing smack bang in your core. “‘Course I do. I’d bend you over the hood right there and rail ya.”

“Then do it.” You reached between your bodies with what little space there was, gaze searching for any more opposing arguments.

He jolted your arm, still in his grasp. The twang it caused rippled through the bone and into your elbow, but it didn’t stop you. Even when he warned you with “Omega,” you just purred.

Yeah, the submissive act contradicted your fingers looping round the fine metal detailing and worn leather of his belt, but he wasn’t challenging you. He never demanded you move your hand. His hips swayed with you as you tugged the end free, though, and that was a good enough sign he wanted this as much as you did. He’d told you himself. His alpha, so close to the surface. Only—

“I can’t,” he said in a pained voice.

“You can.” He could, and you popped the button on his fly and undid the zip one - tooth - at - a - time. Testing, teasing, and, most importantly, proving him wrong, even as he twitched at the slightest touch of your palm. His cockhead straining against the denim confines had a life of its own.

“Help me down,” you said, and there was no shoving or pushing or rushing when you bent your knees. His hands just gripped yours and helped you lower with ease. Not letting go until you looked up and his fingers were brushing the strands of hair away from your face. Keeping them there against your temples, and god, he was beautiful.

His sun kissed face from years behind the wheel and those sparkling greens would have captivated you for longer in any other moment. But in this one, your fingers brushed over him too.

You took hold of his jeans and shimmied them off his hips. One side, then the next, loosening the belt loops and repeating the process until there was enough room to pull him free and meet him, face to…head.

It was rare he let you do this. Blow jobs usually required catching him by surprise first. That in itself was hard to do when his senses went off at the slightest shift of the most minuscule things. Bed sheets moving. Your toes of your shoes squeaking on the floor beneath you when you shuffled your legs (that had you looking up to check).

The joys of being mated not only to an alpha, but one who thrived on acts of surprise himself. Ones you hoped to get out of him after he spilled down your throat. Maybe back in your bed, or in Baby. Didn’t matter. You just needed him to let go, and then some, for his health’s sake, and yours.

You brought your lips to the slit, tasting the first drops of salt on your tongue. Widened them over the width of the crown. Wrapped your entire mouth around the tip, and looked up with a pucker. A certain air of innocence, even though you were far from it.

He grunted. His head fell back. You were certain his everyday conscience was no longer in the driver’s seat when his nails scraped over your scalp and clasped a sizeable chunk of hair, twisting and turning it through his fingers.

The pull urged you on. The resistance made you splutter until you relaxed your jaw and tried again. Down, down, down. Inch by hardened inch, thick and long, filling your mouth and throat with musk and more saltiness that dripped down into your stomach with a warmth like no other.

Your hand wrapped around him, warm. Your legs and between them. Fuck. Warmer still. Your cheeks and tongue that lay flat below the lip of his head. His swollen knot below your fingertips that throbbed and quickened as you attempted mimicking your walls when they clenched. It all left you tingling in need and in pride.

Your free fingers danced over his skin where they could. They scratched and embedded the tips of your nails into his freckles and battle scars. Along his spine. Up his chest and across his stomach.

That grunt was because you touched him there. That growl, thanks to that squeeze on his knot. The low rumble that reverberated in your ears as they passed below his navel and over the chiselled V directed you south to cup his balls, had you pretty pleased with yourself.

You fondled them. Rolled them in your palm, feeling the heaviness and the heat under the silky, rough texture. Another growl from above when you tugged ever so gently, stroking the sensitive skin at the base of his perineum at the same time. You needed to remember that.

“Omega.” He caressed your chin. “Need you.”

And you flattened your tongue and dragged your teeth along his underside in response. Over the vein, catching on the lip of his velvety head, releasing him with a wet pop as you caught his heated gaze.

“You have me,” you said, but he was tugging you up, doing the same to your dress and bra once he’d pulled you to your feet.

From head to toe, he drank you in. His eyes, focused on your fuller breasts and rounded tummy on the second sweep, flushed your cheeks and had you feeling exposed.

Did he have to look at you like that?

Swallow? Clench his jaw. His hands were nowhere near you. The gap between you suddenly felt very wide. When you tried to close it up again and reached for the hem of his shirt to make things fair, he was pushing you off.

His own fingers moved to your bloat. That apple, peach, hamster and ice cream scoop beneath your skin weren’t as large as his calloused hands. Though it sure fit in them snug.

“Look at ya,” he said, but you were looking at him again. The fiery red tip of his cock twitched along with his lips as he stepped closer. “Getting all round with my pup. Shame I can’t fuck another one into you.”

There went your already soaked panties. Your ovaries, blown.

“You can always try?” And this time when you went for his shirt, he didn’t stop you. Nor when you pounced.

Your mouth came over his free neck and shoulders first. With a strong desire to worship, you trailed nips and kisses over his jugular, Adam’s apple, and up to his ear, where you nibbled on the junction of his jaw. Everything you knew he liked, every piece of skin he found erogenous. Your mouth and hands were there, as were his.

They kneaded your breasts with perfect pressure. Massaging and caressing the uncomfortable aches and itches out of them you’d been feeling for days. He smoothed down your sides, eliciting tingles that yanked the strings connected to your core.

His tongue licked you there and his thumb pinched and pressed in that sensitive spot he knew with his eyes shut, working your body like he was fine-tuning an engine.

Huh.

Ironic when you had oil on your hip from the perfect imprint of his pinky.

He had pre-cum on his foot until he spun you around and swiped it all over your lower back, cool and wet, when he cradled his arm over your middle.

Your heart melted and more slick pooled at your entrance, even as he pushed it back inside with two thick digits and a delicious squelch. The pad of his thumb circling your clit strained and stretched the remaining material covering your mound and ass. It accommodated him. Turned your insides to goo with the tickle, and another pinch you could definitely get used to.

“I’m, ah, supposed to be taking care of you,” you said as he patted your juices back against your sensitive skin.

“You will.” He chuckled, rutting his hips against you until you mewled.

How the hell did he do that? You were in control for all of five minutes, but now you were the one whimpering at his touch. Full of anticipation as he inched your thighs apart to make room for him.

It throbbed still. It warmed you again, only now from your entrance in. Your muscles clenched over him, trying to draw it in and push his fingers out, because you needed him ploughing into you. Needed that full feeling. Needed his knot.

Whether he took the hint of you adjusting to catch the tip at your entrance or he decided he was ready to thrust into you was neither here nor there. He pushed your shoulders into Baby, and your aching tits, the cool glass that wasn’t broken.

He lined himself up, and you caught it all in the side mirror. His hips as they shoved up into your tight hole. Knot and all, in as far as your body would allow. Forehead as it thumped onto your upper back. His jaw dropping and mouth opened wide in a beautiful display of lust and relief.

That sublime stretch and sweet friction of his knot already catching on reentry each time had the skin there buzzing and fluttering under the surface.

Fuck.

You could almost come undone there. All that energy convincing him to fuck you had you fit to burst and desperate.

So when he pulled out and forced himself back in on trembling legs that shook against your clit, you drenched him. Crying out, shaking and trembling yourself as the little shockwaves flooded your nervous system, and you were grinning like an idiot. Unable to close your mouth, unable to hold still.

“Fuck. Is all this for me, omega?” He paused and gave you a feral smirk when he caught your reflections and you raising your head to stare back at him. “Guess you like what you see?” And with his fingers resting on your ass, he leant back and watched, too. His chin, down and smirking as he pumped with languid strokes, in and out, slower and slower.

“Alpha,” you begged ‘cause fuck, his ego could wait. You needed more.

“All knocked up and still needing my knot, huh?” He snapped up, and you whined at the sweet, sweet fullness. Whining again when he pulled all the way out. Legs still shaking beyond belief.

“Dean?” you said the moment you could, but he was guiding you to spin around and face him with a grin you wanted to smack off of his. Before you knew it, his hand had lifted your leg by its knee, tucked your heel snug behind his ass and pressed into you, and you into Baby’s side.

“Can’t knot ya like that.”

Your back arched over her metal.

“Gonna give Sammy a show.” Wait, what? You slid back down, still twitching. Breath staccato’d in your throat and nose. A whimper following.

“Walk with ya still on my cock…and…”

But you didn’t hear the rest. You weren’t even sure he’d said anything after you still being on his cock because, next minute he’d pulled your tit into his mouth, and all coherent thoughts went out the window.

Yup. Mm-hmm. That wet soothed the ache. Every bump on the topside of his tongue felt as he swirled it round and round. Suckled and sucked with expertise until your budding nipple and surrounding skin strained.

And then his hips found their rhythm.

Tension. Tingles. Titillating tugs and nips. You grabbed onto him for dear life as that familiar euphoria bubbled up and down the base of your spine.

His knot swelled, yet still he pumped, grunting, growling, forcing it in and out of your tight cunt. Catching on the seam where your body ended, and he began. So good. So…so…just so. And just when you thought you were about to pop again, his teeth were on his claim and they sunk down deep as he popped himself and stilled.

The pulse of his cum quickening out of him, pulled you from the sting and doused your inner walls with more warmth, flooding you with a high like no other.

You’d float away if it weren’t for him, looming over you. Hearing every pant next to your ear as he licked the fresh wound. The tang of blood on your tongue when he pulled up and kissed you with such force, his lips squashed yours back.

That’s the kind of kiss you’d expected when he’d arrived home. The fire you needed. Such passion and intensity, that had you sniffing the air and breathing all of him in.

He was in full blown rut.

Cum, slick, sweat. His earthy undertones and musk against butter, whisky, and the motor oil he’d been using. Your apple mixed and collided with it. But the sweetest and best of all?

Bitter chocolate and sweet citrus still laced the air under everything else.

They were okay. Just as you knew they would be. Still safe and sound, if only feeling them kick to be certain wasn’t weeks away.

Your hand slipped down between you and stroked the side of your bloat, though. Your gaze flicking down away from him to see the swell where your tummy and his toned muscles pressed together.

“You happy now?” he said, cupping your chin to look into your eyes. “Got yourself all full of me?”

“Mm-hm.” You hummed, wiggling your hips until he growled lowly. “I need more.”

“No. You need rest,” he said, scooping up your other leg under the knee and digging his fingers into both of your ass cheeks.

Next thing you knew, he leant back. Let you fall into his warm chest as he moved towards the stairs like he hadn’t just busted his nut in you, and something about Sammy getting an eyeful crept into your mind.

He wouldn’t…

…but he did.

And when he next came to be in control, however many hours (or days) later, Dean remembered it all. Only unlike the beast within, he held remorse. You were both lucky you hadn’t run into Sam as he trailed both your naked asses through the bunkers’ halls and given him an eyeful.

No doubt he’d smelt the ruckus. Or at least, no, definitely heard it.

The garage had great acoustics, and the halls echoed every damn footstep, boots or no. Even here in your bedroom, noises carried because of the stupid grate in the door.

Sammy would’ve heard everything. The grunts. The snarls. The slap of his sack swinging against your clit when he took you from behind, here on the old bed. His alpha, railing you in the shower after you’d insisted you needed a bathroom break, telling you to “take it,” against the bathroom tiles.

He hadn’t even had the decency to get you into a stall first. Although, come to think of it, what had transpired was safer. No chance of complications, including slippage from leftover water by the drain.

Besides, Sam was the first to tell him he was a fool to take the suppressants before you’d even figured it out. Sam being so smart would’ve known to stay clear. Probably put you up to all this.

Not that you’d had any complaints regarding the four knots he’d given you.

No. You purred in content now. Snuggling next to him on the memory foam. Your head further into the fluffed pillow and his arm, not so fluffed under that.

Yes, you were pressed into his chest, warm and snug in his embrace as was his pup in your belly. His cockhead, still catching on the natural dip your walls made as they relaxed, spilled inside of you on each twitch and pull.

He sniffed the air and his claim. Nuzzled into it, giving another lick to soothe the inflamed skin there. His hand caressed the tiny bump below it, as he looked over your shoulder and surveyed your face for any distress.

Of course, you were still recovering from all the sex, but a piece of him still held concern for you. What if he’d been too rough? What if he’d hurt you or…him?

Hmm. Him.

Those lips of his curled and his torso swelled on the inhale as he breathed it all in again. Apple, orange, chocolate, and traces of motor oil, still on his hands.

Spendings.

Home.

His family.

Even though he missed you warming his bed and the shower pressure of the bunker. Going out into the world to deal with witches and dead grandmas was all worth it, knowing he was coming home with less of them out there to harm you both.

Even if Baby suffered.

“What d’ya say to a bath once we’re free?” he said. Hopefully, you’d add some of that perfumed salt crap you liked that got all up in his cracks and tingled him delightfully.

“Probably a good idea, seeing we didn’t get that far last time.” Your fingers stroked his topmost arm.

“You had to take a leak.”

“Yeah.” Your hands moved into pinching the hairs on his arms. “And I had you hovering over me.”

Technically, that was his alpha, but he was at attention, too, making sure you stayed upright on account of the jello legs from all the fucking. “Well, you poked the bear.” He chuckled, but… shit. Screw bears Your scent flared, and he was about to deal with one released kraken.

“I had to.” Your body tensed in his arms.

“And I didn’t wanna hurt the pup,” he said, knowing any mention of him would calm you right down.

You may have hid it. Even convinced yourself you weren’t still worried about losing him though you were in the ‘safe zone,’ but he saw the constant checking. The way you scented for him every morning before you got up and every hour after. Through each knot and subsequent refractory period. You did it again now, as he just had.

But this business over his rut was getting old, and he sighed, more in content than anger. “We had some good sex.” You couldn’t deny that.

“Yeah,” you said again, but the quiet in your tone had him wary. You’d better believe what he said next was to keep the conversation light and not piss you off any further.

“Should make the most of it before we’re dealing in diapers and zero sleep.” He hummed.

You looked up. Turned your head so he could see your pout and eyes boring right back into the other side of his skull. “Does that mean no more suppressants?”

“Well, no more stealing them.” His tongue peaked through his lips.

You smacked his hand, and his body jolted in reflex. He felt his knot pull. But it didn’t hurt, and you didn’t have any grievances. Not for this, at least.

There was no gasp of pain. No flinching or jolting yourself. So he looked down to your join, leaned more into it and tugged, just a little, able to slip out with another.

The added spillage of cum and slick oozing out onto your leg had him raising his eyebrows at the sight and he smirked. He fisted himself and, with his still sensitive tip, pushed it back in before rolling you over and pinning you down in one swift movement. His weight, on his elbows. Knees and ankles caught in the fray of sheets.

“You want me to knock you up first heat after this one? You got it.” He grinned. and took your breath away before you could say anything against it. Mouth locked on yours and tongue dipping in for the kill with his signature move. He soon had you keening again.

It’d be one kid at a time, for sure. Contrary to what he’d just said. He needed to survive you through the rest of this first, only slightly worried about his hand and the future of his sack. He’d be at your head end during the birth if he could help it.

All jokes aside, he pulled back and gazed over at you, licking his lips. The swell of your stomach. The glow. Your scent. This suited you. Your fuller rack suited him, too.

But he could do without the frown. Those lines between your brows only looked good when he hit your g-spot.

Your hands came up, splaying over his chest, stroking over his skin and tattoo with delicate slides and eliciting tingles. “That’s not what I meant,”

Well, obviously. “I know. But the job… it’s dangerous. It’ll probably kill me first.” His tone was lighter on purpose, even though it was a harsh truth, no matter how many times he’d tell you.

“That’s…not helping.”

“You want me around ‘til I’m old and grey? Missing teeth and driving you to hurting innocent cars?” He didn’t want to end up like Seymour. You wouldn’t end up like his mate Alice if he could help it. Crazy. Most likely from him. Dean would have to make sure Baby passed to Sammy or the pup instead of you, just in case.

“I want you around.”

“Well, you have me for at least a month. Maybe even here for the next scan.” He smirked. Then stole another kiss.

He didn’t want to think about it. Couldn’t imagine leaving you and him alone and early. But what could he do? He was a grunt, remember? He’d go stir crazy like old Alice. Driven to despair, and attempt murder that wasn’t provoked.

No. He was good. He loved his life, for the most part. He loved you. He just had to find a way to not get ganked too early, and stick around.

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

Gah. Friday snuck up on me and I was frantically getting this one ready to post here. Oops.

Coming soon- Dean in a baby store. See a little tid bit below 👇❤️

Chapter 14: Announcement - 22/05

Where to start? The music with its whiny drone and high-pitched piano? The mish-mash of colour, dominated by rainbows and construction truck yellow? The smell of snotty noses, diapers and Cheez Doodles? Had every kid pooped in here or was there something wrong with the plumbing?

Alright, a salvage yard would’ve had none of these things (might’ve stank a little), but the pup store had the upper hand for worst, simply on the fact you were there, amongst people he didn’t know.

He’d slung his arm over your shoulders and directed you around the other shoppers with the widest of gaps possible between you and them, following the signs to the wall of strollers on the left. You passed the conveniently located nesting section right by the cash registers on the way, of course. Full of all things fluff, including stuffed animals.

Dean may have glared at another alpha who got too close when you stopped. He may have sympathised with another who also found himself stuck while you and his omega eyed one fugly looking cushion, but he said nothing. Neither did the other guy. Though there was an eye roll when your scent peaked in full delight as you ran your fingers through the fur that could’ve passed for a muppet.

Oh god. His world was going to be full of Elmo and Cookie Monster, wasn’t it? Or that blue thing with the Australian accent he kept seeing as you walked by older pups sitting in the main part of their parents’ carts with eyes glued to their screens.

@globetrotter28 @ambiguous-avery @arcannaa @jollyhunter @zepskies

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