#i have a constantly stuffy nose. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thoughtfulfiction · 1 month ago

Text

The Plague

Author’s note: This is another request that was sitting in my inbox for a year. Posting another new Justin fic after this but still working on rewrites so if you’d like me to work on an old fic to repost let me know!

On Friday, you woke up with a headache that felt like it came out of nowhere. Everything was foggy, like you were in a daze, and you couldn’t figure out why. The day before was relatively normal and nothing happened that would warrant this sudden bout of persistent and annoying pain. You hadn’t yelled or gotten too riled up the night before when the Chargers beat the Broncos in primetime. To be fair, Justin had made you sign a contract—yes, literally—with a pen, back when you were 16 weeks pregnant, before the season started. The contract, which was both ridiculous and endearing, essentially vowed you’d take it easy and not stress yourself out on game days. You couldn’t recall the exact wording, but you remembered something about calm, no exertion, and ease. Honestly, remembering things in general hasn't been your strong suit lately, pregnancy brain making it's appearance more frequently than you liked to admit. At 27 weeks pregnant though, you’d kept your end of the bargain—remaining cool and collected throughout the chaos of the game. So, this headache? Was just untimely and inconvenient.

Saturday morning, you woke up with a stuffy nose. Not ideal, especially after yesterday’s headache. You knew something was coming on, so you quickly decided that when the sniffles hit, you’d retreat to the guest room to spare Justin from catching whatever you had. The team was in the midst of defying all odds, on the road to a very successful season and solid playoff hopes in the first year of their rebuild and the last thing they needed was their starting quarterback coming down with a mysterious illness when they needed him most. You packed a bag with your essentials—clothes, toiletries, your phone charger, and laptop—anything to make you more comfortable while you isolated. As you made your way to the basement, you couldn’t help but be grateful for the full kitchen and fridge down there, greatly eliminating the trips upstairs you'd have to make and keeping Justin from constantly breathing your germ filled air.

The house felt so much quieter without him home, and as you cleaned feverishly, scrubbing surfaces and disinfecting everything in sight, you could feel your body protesting. But you couldn’t stop.

You woke up to your phone vibrating on the bed beside you, your hand weakly reaching for it. You didn’t even remember falling asleep.

“Hello?” Your voice was hoarse and rasping, worse than you thought it would be. Whatever bug was taking over your body was moving fast.

“Where are you?” Justin’s voice came through immediately, frantic. “I’ve been home for twenty minutes, calling your name like a crazy person. Thought something happened to you, I was ready to send out a search party.” He let out a breath, but there was no humor in it. Only worry, the kind that gnawed at him until he couldn’t focus on anything else.

You blinked, forcing yourself to stay awake, aware of how much energy it was taking just to stay alert. “I’m downstairs. Didn’t want you to catch whatever I’ve got, so I moved everything down here. Believe me, you don’t want this.”

Justin didn’t hesitate. “Gimme a second. I’m coming down.” His voice was firm, but the urgency behind it was undeniable.

Less than 15 minutes later, the door creaked open, and Justin poked his head in, his eyes immediately scanning the room before landing on you. His face was a mixture of concern and something else—fear, maybe.

“Babe…” His voice softened, and his eyes darted over your flushed face. “…You look—”

The look you gave him could melt diamonds. “Do not finish that sentence.”

Justin held up both hands in surrender, but his gaze lingered on you a moment too long, worry still clear in his eyes. He stepped fully into the room and reached out to touch your forehead, his palm warm against your clammy skin. “You’re burning up,” he murmured, the concern in his tone deepening.

“I changed the sheets on our bed. I tried to clean up a little bit too so you should be good in case I'm contagious,” you sniffle, forcing a weak smile, Justin frowning at you when the smile doesn’t reach your eyes.

He waves you off, standing next to you but maintaining a respectful distance. "You didn’t have to do that. Cleaning up is my job, remember?" His eyes scan your face, his concern obvious. "What hurts? Head? Throat? How’s your stomach?"

You hesitate when he reaches for your belly, having discovered that the baby readily responds to the sound of his voice. And he hasn't felt her kick since the morning and you want nothing more than to allow him to continue to bond with her, but you know it's not a good idea right now. "Justin, I'm sick. You can't touch me."

"I'm not touching you," he says, his tone almost comically serious. "I'm touching our baby."

You raise an eyebrow, your exhaustion making the sarcasm come out sharper than usual. "Our baby, who is currently living inside my body."

Justin sighs, retracting his hand as slowly as you've ever seen him move, although every inch he backs away causes him physical pain. "Fine, I'll try to keep my hands to myself. But you never answered my question."

You blink at him, confused. "What question?"

"What’s hurting?" he asks again, his voice softer now.

You sigh, the weight of the day pressing down on you. "Oh…everything? My head was hurting yesterday, but I didn’t think much of it. Then my nose got so stuffed up I couldn’t breathe, and now… I just hurt all over."

The man’s brow furrows deeply, concern etched into every line of his face. You can almost see the wheels turning in his mind as he processes everything. "Okay, here’s the plan: you rest. I’ll call the doctor and figure out what we need to do to get you feeling better. Deal?"

You nod, a yawn overtaking you before you can respond. Your body sinks deeper into the pillows, already surrendering to sleep.

Justin lingers for a moment, watching you with a mixture of worry and tenderness before quietly turning off the light. His footsteps retreat up the stairs, and you’re barely awake enough to register the soft click of the door closing behind him.

Dr. Shaw's number is dialed by the time he reaches the top step.

"Yeah she's running a fever, started with a headache and it's progressed since. She's clammy and achy everywhere and she's got a stuffy nose."

The doctor takes minute to take everything in, running though your symptoms in her head. "I won't know for sure until she comes in on Monday but it sounds like some kind of viral infection or the flu. Just make sure she's staying hydrated and getting lots of rest and I'll see you all first thing Monday morning."

He thanked the doctor and ended the call, dialing your mom's number as soon as he was done. Justin let her know the situation and that he needed her chicken noodle soup recipe, taking detailed notes along the way, hanging onto every word she said. When that was complete, he looked around the house and in the fridge before making a quick grocery list to figure out what you needed. The "quick" grocery trip ended up taking a couple hours because one stop turned into three. He looked at every pack of cough drops at CVS to check the ingredients list after googling "best cough drops for pregnant women" so that took some time. And then at Target he debated which fuzzy socks to get for about 20 minutes. As soon as he thought he was done he came up with something else that you might need and had to drive over to the next store to find it. After his latest stop he took a look in his trunk to examine the inventory, checking everything off the list before heading home.

The quarterback realized he may have gone overboard when he set all the bags on the counter but it was too late. And hopefully most of the stuff would come in handy until you were back to 100%. Justin could hear the shower running as he began to stock the downstairs kitchen with the new items. He bought fresh lemons, from Whole Foods no less, breaking a personal oath, for you to have in your tea. Whole Foods was usually way too pricey for him but since he found out the two of you were expecting, sparing no expense for you and the baby had become second nature. So he bought a bag of organic lemons for $6. The old Justin would’ve laughed at him—and probably teased him for buying a new electric kettle just so you wouldn’t have to wait for water to boil.

Yeah, he'd definitely gone overboard.

He shook his head at himself with a sigh, placing the cold compresses in the freezer. The cough drops, tissue boxes and the new humidifier were all lined up neatly in your new room for easy access. He even moved one of the side tables out from the living room and placed it by the door so he could have a hand sanitizer station in attempt to keep the germs at bay. Satisfied with his work, he headed back upstairs to gather the soup ingredients and jumped right in. This was his style of cooking. Give him a recipe to follow and he can execute it to perfection. The aroma filled the kitchen, and as he ladled the soup into a bowl and prepped crackers and peanut butter as a backup, pride swelled in his chest.

You knew he was downstairs as soon as you stepped out of the shower. It dawned on you pretty early on that everywhere Justin went he brought this calming, grounding energy with him. Even though you didn't feel the best, it brought you peace. Once you were dressed you stepped out of the bathroom and looked around at your newly elevated sleeping arrangements. You gave your belly a soothing pat, making small circles along your front where you were feeling her move. "Your dad is the best angel, I can't wait for you to meet him." Smiling to yourself, you grabbed the pair of fuzzy socks he laid out for you on the bed and put them on, already starting to feel better.

Justin heard the bedroom door open before he saw you. “Are you hungry, babe?” he called out, carefully arranging the tray. “I made soup.”

You rounded the corner, moving slower than usual, but the sight of in front of you brought a sense of relief. “Thank you for all this,” you said softly. “I don’t deserve you.”

Justin froze mid-step, the emotion in your watery eyes hitting him like a punch to the chest. He wanted nothing more than to scoop you into his arms, but for now, he kept his distance. “You don’t have to thank me,” he said, voice low but steady. “It’s my job to take care of you. Both of you.”

A small smile tugged at your lips as you glanced at the room, noting all the little touches he’d added. “Alright, let’s get you eating. How’s your energy? You still look wiped.”

You tried to brush it off, but he wasn’t buying it. “Go lay down,” he said, nudging the tray closer. “I’ll bring this in to you.”

“Fine,” you relented, heading for the closet. You returned moments later with a box of masks and gloves, setting them down on the counter. “But you’re wearing these if you’re gonna be around me. No arguments, Justin. We can’t risk you getting sick too.”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue, knowing better than to push when you were in this state. “Yes, ma’am,” he said with a small smile.

Satisfied, you made your way back to the bed, the simple task draining what little energy you had left. Justin watched you go, already slipping on the gloves, his heart full despite his worry.

Turning on the main light was too intense for your headache, so you settled for the soft glow of the TV when Justin walked in, balancing a tray with more items than you could have imagined. He gently set it down on the side table, his movements careful but deliberate.

"I brought several options," he pointed at each item as he listed them. "You've got tea, your water bottle and some Gatorades—Dr. Shaw said the electrolytes will help you get some of your energy back so I brought you a couple. There's some lemon and honey for your tea and if you need more I can bring the whole kettle in here and plug it in. Oh, and—” he looked around the room, considering the space, “maybe I should grab another table? So you don’t run out of room. I could also bring some extra water just in case…”

A soft laugh escaped your lips, breaking through your headache. “I think I’m good for now, Justin. You’ve already managed to bring half the kitchen in here.” You rested your hands on your lower belly and added, “If I need anything, I’ll text you.”

He hesitated, his gaze flicking between you and the tray as if he hadn’t done enough. “Promise? If you need anything—anything at all—please don’t hesitate.”

The tension in his voice made you smile. Gesturing to the spot on the bed beside you, you said, “Come here.”

He perched carefully on the edge of the bed, holding out a gloved hand as you guided it to your belly. A strong, steady kick greeted him, and his breath hitched audibly. His eyes, crinkling above the mask, told you everything his covered face couldn’t: he was overwhelmed with joy. Tears glistened in his eyes, and you could practically feel his heart swelling with love.

You placed your hand over his, offering quiet reassurance. “She’s okay. And you’re doing great.”

For a moment, he simply sat there, soaking it in. Then, his shoulders relaxed slightly, his gaze meeting yours with a renewed determination.

“I promise you’ll be the first to know if I need anything,” you said softly, breaking the silence.

He nodded, his gloved hand still resting where the baby had kicked. “Good. Because I’ll be right here.”

While you were in a cycle of falling asleep, waking up to blow your nose, shifting uncomfortably in bed and soothing your throat with cough drops before eventually falling asleep again, Justin was eating dinner, his laptop open watching film on the Patriots. They were playing the Bills the next day which would be a good game to watch but he wanted to get a head start and breakdown how their defense is set up and figure out ways to exploit their weaknesses. Checking his phone periodically, he couldn't hear anything coming from the room so he allowed himself to focus for two hours, going through New England's previous games and jotting down a few notes. His mind began to wander after he was done because the team was leaving for the East Coast on Thursday. If you were still sick by then who was going to stay with you? He wrote himself a reminder in his phone to tackle that problem later in the week. Around 9pm Justin decided to turn in, checking on you one more time, turning his ringer on before heading across the hall in the closest room to yours to get some much needed rest.

The sound was faint, but eerily familiar. He flew out of bed, his body moving way faster than his mind could process, trying to get to you. Justin's steps faltered at the bathroom door, his breath catching as he took in the sight of you hunched over the toilet without a second thought about being too close.

He knelt beside you, one hand gently holding your hair, the other rubbing slow, steady circles on your back. “It’s okay,” he murmured, though his heart was racing. “I’m here.”

By the time you were done, his mask and gloves were a distant memory. He helped you stand, his grip firm but gentle as he guided you to the sink. “Here's this to rinse your mouth if you need to,” he said handing you the cup full of the only mouthwash that didn't make you feel nauseous, his voice low and soothing. He stayed close as you brushed your teeth and gargled, his hand never leaving your back.

Once you were back in bed, he stepped out briefly to wash his hands, grabbing a water bottle on his way back. “Do you think we need to head to the ER?” he asked, his voice tighter than he intended.

His worried voice breaks through the silence but you shake your head, basically becoming one with the comforter. "I actually feel a lot better now believe it or not, probably a mix of the congestion and everything else already going on in my body but now? I'm serious I actually do feel better. Just tired."

Justin sighs, his body finally relaxing as he's looking at you. He can tell that you're less uncomfortable and there's less tension in your features, which brings him a flicker of relief. "Here I thought the morning sickness days were behind us," he teased, his tone much lighter now.

“That was not morning sickness, that was war. I was literally fighting for my life," you quipped, a faint smile playing on your lips. "This? This is much more manageable. And temporary." You yawn, your body finally finding the ideal sleeping position you'd been searching for since you woke up feeling like you were underwater. In the most unexpected way, getting sick in the middle of the night felt like a reset and hopefully you were turning a corner. For the first time since the day began, you melted into the bed, looking so peaceful it almost hurt to watch.

Justin lingered, his hand brushing the doorframe as he debated staying longer. Leaving you alone felt wrong, but he knew you needed rest...and so did he. Still, as he crossed the hall to his room, he couldn’t shake the image of your calm, serene face. It was the only thing that made the distance bearable.

When he woke up the next morning without any signs of illness he was both surprised and relieved to still be healthy. And he kind of wanted to use this as an excuse to reduce some of the physical distance. Not wanting to push it, he texted you and asked if you wanted breakfast and you let him know you were in the mood for something light. He brought you a banana and a few pieces of buttered toast. “Promise me you’ll drink more water today,” he said, setting the tray down.

Throughout the day he went back and forth between morning games, continuing his New England film and periodically walking by to check in...every hour like clockwork. During your third bathroom break of the day you heard him walk by and asked him to come in.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“It’s fine, I wasn't sleeping," you laugh a little, feeling more like yourself, "I knew you were coming by soon. The Bills-Patriots game is starting soon isn't it?"

"Yeah..." a smile forms on his face as he inches closer to the bed. "What if I watched it in here? You’re feeling better, right? I’ll keep my distance, I swear. We can, I don’t know… make a pillow wall or something?"

"Oh please, as if a pillow wall could stop you. Get over here." You haven't even finished your sentence and he's already making himself comfortable under the blankets.

His large hand found it's way to your bump, feeling her kick like she realized her dad is back where he belongs. “Hi, sweet girl,” he murmured, leaning down. “I missed you too. Soon as we get your mom feeling better, we’ll get back to normal, okay?”

"I think she's a fan of that plan," you laugh at her kicking and moving around like she agrees.

"Hey," he mock-scolded, "we're having a private conversation here. Do you mind?"

You laugh even harder as he peppers soft kisses to your rounded stomach. "I didn't realize how much this yesterday."

“Me too,” Justin admitted softly. “You scared me yesterday, you know? You looked so…”

“Like death?”

“Not funny.” He deadpanned, but his playful smirk gave him away. “I’m just glad you’re better.”

Before you could respond, Justin’s phone rang. Coach Day. He stared at it for a beat too long, visibly torn.

"It's okay, you should go. I'm not going anywhere."

Justin steps out of the room, the weight of real life staring at hitting him in the chest. This was just the beginning of having to balance being a dad and having a job that was not only demanding but a job that was his dream. He loved playing football and lived for it. The competition, the camaraderie with his teammates and the chance to win a Super Bowl is what every football player dreams of. And here he was struggling to pick up his phone because of what he was leaving behind. It had taken so long to commit to someone, to find that person to compromise for, and with you there was no debate. He was without a doubt a devoted husband who could compartmentalize like the best of them, at home he balanced work and your relationship. It had taken a lot of practice and some difficult conversations but now with a baby in the picture he wasn't sure about how to navigate this new territory. This unbelievable hold that his child already had on him was hard for him to put into words and the two of you hadn't even named her yet. He wasn't sure he wanted to compromise this much when she was born, not wanting to miss a moment of her growth and the thought of that made him feel like a failure already. Coach Day's words barely registered throughout the call as Justin went over all these scenarios in his mind. They'd just have to rehash this discussion during their meeting in the morning.

When he returned after the call, Justin’s face was a storm of emotions. "How are we gonna do this?"

"Babe? What do you mean? How are we gonna do what?" You sat up, extremely confused as to what could've happened on that call.

"How... how am I supposed to do this?" Justin ran a hand through his hair, pacing the room. "I mean, I’m gone half the time—meetings, film, travel—and then what? You’re here sick, or she’s sick, and I’m thousands of miles away—"

“Justin.” You grabbed his hand, pulling him to sit beside you. “Breathe. It’s okay. Look, I know what I signed up for. And you're going to be the most amazing dad in the world. She's already in love with you and doesn't even know what you look like, she's gonna love you even more. Honey don't worry about any of that okay? You literally dropped everything yesterday to nurse me back to health I think you can handle a few diaper changes. You might as well have a PhD in caring for people, it's like you're meant to be a dad. And everything else with work we will figure it out, we always do."

"You're right." His lips quirk up. "We make a pretty good team don't we?"

"The best. That's why we're adding another player soon."

Justin smiles, feeling less overwhelmed. "We should probably find a name for our new player at some point."

"I know...do you have any that you're feeling?"

He pulls out his phone with the baby name list that you've compiled the last few months. "What about Georgia?"

"Cute but I'm not really feeling it," you scroll, "Willow?"

Justin shakes his head, "Willow Herbert sounds kind of weird. And if we want to give her a nickname what are we supposed to call her? Will? That just doesn't sound right."

"Okay fair. Wait...I like this one," you point at the name in the middle of the screen.

Justin nods, finding the name interesting. "Remington. Remi. That's not bad. I kind of like it too. What does she think?" You grab his hand to place it along your rib cage, the baby had been relatively quiet the last few minutes but had decided to make herself known as soon as her parents started to go through names. "Remi, huh?" Justin’s grin widened as he felt the kick. His eyes softened, and he gently pressed his hand against your rib cage. "She approves. I mean, that was practically a yes, right?"

#justin herbert #justin herbert imagine #justin herbert x reader #justin herbert fanfic

214 notes · View notes

docdudo · 3 months ago

Note

Hi!! I want to start by saying I absolutely love your writing! It’s great writing and is pretty good for me to understand (English isn’t my first language).

I just wanted to ask, How do you think poly hybrid 141 would react to adopted reader getting sick?? And I mean really sick, like a good case of the flu that takes a whole week, like 7 days and antibiotics to go away??

I could see them being so worried and stressed, taking her to doctors and everything because they get better in 24-48 hours with their fancy strong immune systems! I also wonder if adopted reader would be confused by going to the doctors, because if anything happend while in previous foster homes, she was told to just figure it out and get better on her own.

You are right about one thing: hybrids have a better immune system than humans do!

Humans are considered weak and frail in every sense of the word. That includes their health. In fact, a human's health is so discussed that specialists from other races all study the human body constantly so they would be able to treat one, would they ever needed it.

(Because of the lack of total humans on this universe, it's rare to find a human doctor, for example. So, other races have to cover for them in a lot of different fields. There are programs and organizations in this world that entierelly foucused on making sure the few humans that exist would get the care they need. So, for example, if you are a doctor and also specialize on taking care of humans beside some other race, you would probably be paid more by the governement).

Now, little reader getting sick? Like, really sick? Yeah, that house is turning upside down. As hybrids, the whole 141 pride themselves on being good caretakers and providers. They also know how much more frail humans are compared to them.

But know is different from experiencing.

Little reader would start off with the typical signs of the flu. Stuffy nose, throat a bit sore, a sluggish body. All that. But, as we all know, it's very quick for sickness to develop. And in the spam of a night, little reader is waking up with a high fever and a weak, useless body.

The 141 would notice almost immediatly. They can smell how sick you are, even from your room. That weird, almost sour smell that we can usually smell when we blow our nose.

Before you know it, you would probably be in Price's or Soap's arms, surronded by their warmth, hearing their cooed words that make zero to almost no sense to your sick and hazy mind.

And at first, they are very much panicking. They are calling the rest of their pack while cooing and conforting you, Laswell being the one to tell them to immediatly take you to the doctor.

And they do, everyone going on the car together, because if one of them had anything to do that day, it's immediatly getting canceled. They would still hold you close, on their laps, and every single one of them are cooing quietly at you. Even Ghost. Tho his "cooing" sounds more like his normal voice, just extra quiet and gentler than usual.

And it's true, you're not that used to going to the doctor. You usually never get that sick, and as a foster kid, it just doesn't happen often.

But, you were feeling pretty hazy, mind clouded and feverish. You barely remember going that first time to the doctor with them.

You barely remember the kind doctor that was trying his best to easy your foster parents' worries, and all the examination he did on you, even if you couldnt cooperate much with how confused you were.

You certainly got treated at the hospital and monitored until your fever came down a bit. After that, they send you back home with your parents, who had gotten a lot of new instructions and medicines to properly take care of you at home.

You took almost a full week to finally start getting better.

They would't let you sleep in your room anymore, since you got sick, you had been sleeping on their shared nest, with them. They would constantly check on your breathing and heartbeats, and would even feed you themselves and make sure you were plenty hydrated.

And even after you got better, they would still be extra careful and overbearing for a little while longer.

You can be sure that they would be taking extra measures now so that you never get sick again.

#cod #cod mw2 #dad!gaz #dad!ghost #dad!price #dad!soap #dragon!price #foster child!reader #harpy!gaz #hybrid 141 #wraith!ghost #werewolf!soap #poly!141 #poly141

400 notes · View notes

aliaology · 1 year ago

Text

WORK SONG

summary: jacks mind runs constantly, and you’re the reason

small a/n: per usual, readers looks wont be described, so reader can look however you want ♡ , does get slightly sensual! not tagging ppl for this one bc i forgot my taglist and im sleepy

pairings: jack hughes x fem!reader

not doing my tags bc im too lazy for this rn

boys workin’ on empty, is that the kinda way to face the burning heat? i just think about my baby. im so full of love i could barely eat

being in love was a full time job, and jack had no complaints. he loved being in love because it meant waking up next to you. it meant he was able to touch you, to feel you, to be with you. oh— how he loved it. he didn’t care if he was at practice, just thinking about you, because you were his motivator. he didn’t need drinks or food or sleep to play, just you.

you brought him the strength he craved, you were his number one fan. the one who supported him through thick and thin even when he was wrong. the one who held their hand out, so he could grab it and begin to climb. you were such an angel.

there’s nothing sweeter than my baby. i’d never want once from the cherry tree. ‘cause my baby’s sweet as can be. she’d give me toothaches just from kissin’ me.

your kisses were sweet. the way you’d pepper them against his skin, over and over and over again, made him fall deeply. you were his muse and your sound was so pretty. the way your mouth would drop open, noises escaping it. oh how you were so beautiful.

your lips tasted like cherries, a favorite fruit that he began liking the second his tongue met with the flavor of you. the flavor would linger, no matter what lips he kissed.

the feeling of your fingers on his face, or his lips, anywhere on his body, was like heaven. giving into you like a drug— he was addicted. he loved your touch, no matter if it was gentle, or the scratches you’d leave on his back. he yearned for more.

and i was burning up a fever. i didn’t care much how long i lived. i swear i thought i dreamed her. she never asked me once about the wrong i did.

jack hated being sick just because of the feeling. the feeling of a stuffy nose, a headache, the cough. all of it. but you somehow made it good. the way you would take care of him, pressing a cold cloth to his forehead when he had a fever. or when you’d make soup from scratch, your grandmas recipe that you keep a secret.

you were too good to be true. you were the embodiment of perfect in jacks eyes. everything about you. from how you spoke and how your tone was always gentle — to how you felt inside and out. every time you grip jacks hand hard— he swears he’s dreaming. you can’t be real. you were ethereal.

my babe would never fret none, about what my hands and my body done. if the lord dont forgive me, i’d still have my baby and my babe would have me.

jack didn’t like you worrying. he hated it, hated how you would get so scared that he would leave to go back to an ex. how you thought you were nothing compared to them— but you were so much more. you were his everything. the one who kept him going. you were his sun, he revolved around you. he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“baby— what if they ever want you back? they’re so pretty.”

“oh baby, they could never compare to you.”

he didn’t care what he’d have to do, but he’d do it all for you to stay happy. in his eyes, you hung the universe. you were his universe.

when i was kissing on my baby, and she put her love down soft and sweet. in the low lamp light i was free. heaven and hell were words to me.

being able to press slow kisses to your neck and shoulders were his favorite things to do. or watching your soft body rock gently with his as your sweet love lit him up. you made jack forget everything in the world no matter where you were. you made jack forget everything else just by talking to him.

skin on skin, heavy breathing, sloppy kisses, it was all sweet. it was all you, you and your love. no time with him was for the hell of it. all of it was love, pure and desirable.

when my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth. no grave can hold my body down, ill crawl home to her.

love. jack loved being in love. he hated the saying ‘til death do us part’ and it wasn’t because he didn’t believe it. he hated it because it would never apply to him. he wanted a saying that would be one he could hold onto forever, just like your hand. he wouldn’t part ways with you once death decided to take over.

no— he’d hold you the entire time. he’d be with you no matter where you were. he’d wait until you two met again— and then he’d take you to another universe because in every one of them, you were soulmates.

jack would not let a grave, or death, part you two. he would hold onto you whether it be with one hand, or with his heart.

#hockey #jack hughes #nhl #nhl imagine #nhl hockey #new jersey #new jersey devils #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes x you #jack hughes imagine #jh86 #jhughes #jhugh #jhugh86 #hughes

558 notes · View notes

borathae · 4 months ago

Text

↳ Index [Day 25 - Doll Play]

Pairing: Soft Dom!Jungkook x sub!Taehyung

Genre: Vampire!Jungkook, Vampire!Taehyung, established relationship!AU

Kinks: sex on the toilet & in the bathtub, doll play, creampies, buttplug, prostate massage, strength kink, piss kink, bladder control, slight examination, praise, multiple orgasms, handjob, nipple play, frotting, bondage with a shower hose, lots of kissing, he is so gentle with him, Taehyung is non-verbal for most of this story, loving aftercare

Wordcount: 4.7k

a/n: a few people requested doll play with taekoo and I’m here to deliver hehe I also felt like adding this idea to the mix because it is fitting to the scene. ps: the entire section on the toilet is so hot to me, you have no idea

The things they did were intense. Both emotionally as well as physically. They left them shaken and beyond the ability to go again. Or so it seems for now.

Jungkook drops into the pillow, arching his back and groaning softly. He is panting heavily, skin covered in sweat and the remnants of passionate sex. His legs are still tingling, twitching every now and then as he recovers from his orgasm. His stomach feels sore from tensing it way too much. His cock is still hard, dripping post-orgasmic bliss into his messied pubes.

“Holy fuck, we just did that”, he gets out in a raspy, used-up voice, running his hand through his ruffled hair.

Taehyung lies beside him on his stomach, gaped hole leaking Jungkook’s pleasure and eyes refusing to open. He is heaving for air, skin wet in sweat and tender from the rough play. He can’t really articulate his own feelings right now because he is stiffened in submission. He knows that he is drooling and that his nose is stuffy because his eyes are constantly tearing up. His ears are ringing, there is pounding in his head and a constant throbbing deep up his ass.

“Tae?” The voice of Jungkook sounds as if spoken above water while Taehyung sinks deeper and deeper.

A touch, that of a hand, rests itself on the nape of his neck. It is warm and gentle.

“Taehyung?” The voice is clearer but still far away. The touch travels to his upper back.

“Taehyung baby, are you okay?” Almost. He is almost there at hearing him clearly. The touch dances along his spine then rests on his neck again.

“Come back to me, mon cher.”

Taehyung opens his eyes. Jungkook is looking at him, resting on his side and brows tightened in worry. They relax upon seeing Taehyung’s eyes.

“There you are. I lost you for a second. How are you feeling?”

Taehyung nods his head.

“Yes? Good?”

Another nod reassures him.

“That��s good to hear, chéri.” Jungkook kisses his ear, nibbling on the lobe in a relaxing manner. “You did so well. You took me like the best boy ever.”

“Doll.”

Jungkook falters for a second and then he smiles against Taehyung’s ear, whispering his next words, “like a good doll.”

Taehyung whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut in order not to cry. There are no words on this earth worthy enough to describe how good this makes him feel. Especially when it comes from Jungkook, the man who has never caused him harm nor will never do so. Jungkook combs his fingers through Taehyung’s twisted and tangled hair, adoring eyes gazing at his face. His normally pale cheeks are flushed, the makeup he wanted to wear is smudged. He is so beautiful to Jungkook.

“Does that mean you need this kind of care?” he asks him, speaking softly and full of love.

Taehyung nods his head.

“Well if that’s so.” A kiss to his jawline. “Let me prepare my doll’s bath. Okay?”

Taehyung nods his head.

“I love you, ma poupèe.”

Taehyung wants to compare the feelings he is on with floating on a soft cloud high above any kind of storm and where sunlight shines the brightest. It was him who taught Jungkook the French words for My Doll and confessed in the same breath that it means a lot more to him when he is spoken to in French. To be called like this right now is true heaven to Taehyung. He spends the waiting time floating on clouds and feeling high.

Jungkook announces his presence by running his hands along Taehyung’s calves. He tenses them at first, but relaxes instantly because Jungkook’s touch feels different than any other touch. He can recognise it blindly.

“You’re the prettiest doll ever. If I didn’t ruin you like this, I would crawl between those willing, open doll legs of yours and take you again.”

Taehyung mewls and moans a second later when Jungkook pulls him to the edge of the bed by his legs. He bends them by his knees, ordering him with just a tender squeeze to keep them like this. Taehyung obeys willingly.

Jungkook puts his left hand on Taehyung’s buttocks and parts him. Taehyung feels dizzy in anticipation. Sudden pressure on his hole. He gasps, twisting the sheets and rolling his ankles.

“Relax. I can’t plug your leaking doll hole when you tense up like this.”

Taehyung tries to but can’t because he is so excited to be used like this.

“Relax my pretty one, relax. We don’t want to lose any drop of my cum on the way to the bath, do we?” Jungkook talks to him in a soft voice, circling his rim with the metal buttplug. “So relax my pretty one, I’m going to be so gentle with you. I promise.”

His loving domination is enough to make Taehyung relax. He doesn’t want to lose anything of Jungkook’s warm cum. It fills him and makes him his. Of course he doesn’t want to lose anything. Of course not. The plug finally slips inside, eliciting a whimper from him and a deep moan from Jungkook.

“There we go, such a good doll. I’m proud of you”, Jungkook praises, giving the plug a good wiggle to check for its sturdiness.

It is intense for Taehyung because Jungkook fucked his prostate into a state of complete sensitivity. He curls his toes, hips chasing the weak fuck in hopes of getting more.

“So pretty. Fuck, you’re so pretty. It’s like you’re made to be my breeding doll”, Jungkook rasps and leans down to kiss Taehyung’s tailbone, cradling his hips tenderly, “my beautiful doll so perfectly made for me.”

He puts his arms under him and flips him, then picks him up bridal style, bouncing him until his head falls onto his shoulder to rest.

“Such a good doll.”

Taehyung melts into Jungkook, closing his eyes. He feels so safe. He gave up complete control right now, every ounce of power lies with Jungkook and he isn’t scared. He feels safe and he heals with every passing second he spends in this moment with him.

Despite his initial promise of a bath, Jungkook doesn’t sink him into the water first. Instead he sits him down on the toilet, keeping one hand on his lower back while he rests the other against his lower stomach.

He moves closer, lips brushing against Taehyung’s ear, and slides his hand down to the plug to pull it out. The position naturally forces it out easily, despite Taehyung’s attempts to keep it inside. He is working so hard in fact, that even once empty, no droplet of cum leaves him.

Jungkook places the plug aside and puts his hand back on Taehyung’s lower back. Then he finally applies pressure on his stomach, keeping a watchful eye on Taehyung’s cock.

The multiple creampies Jungkook left inside Taehyung start leaving him in a loud trickle. Taehyung whimpers in embarrassment, eyes tearing up and legs trying to close. Jungkook shakes his head, nudging them open and applying more pressure.

“Don’t be embarrassed. I need to make sure that you are empty before I clean you.”

Taehyung spills tears, writhing on the toilet seat as he trembles against his will. He swears that this feels almost orgasmic right now. Being forced to release the masses of cum having bloated his insides. It is Jungkook’s doing, but Taehyung swears he can feel every drop of it graze against his prostate as it leaves him.

He reaches out and twists Jungkook’s hair. It isn’t very doll-like of him to do, but he needs to inform him of his current situation.

Jungkook looks up, studying the ecstatic expression on Taehyung’s beautiful features. His own cock throbs a little, stomach tingling.

“Good doll. Such a good doll. Let it happen” he talks him through it, rolling circles into his shrinking stomach.

The trickling becomes cut off and irregular as Taehyung convulses and clenches. Jungkook squeezes down harder, applying enough pressure that Taehyung shudders and releases the pee he tried holding in alongside Jungkook’s cum.

“Good doll, I’m so proud of you. Empty yourself. What a good doll.”

Taehyung wails up, but it comes out as a croak, falling to the front as the sensations are too much. Jungkook truly controls everything. He controls when his hole should empty itself and he controls his bladder. Taehyung sobs into Jungkook’s shoulder, releasing a weak trickle of cum as his crescendo of the orgasmic sensations.

The liquid sounds stop. Taehyung is truly empty.

“There we go. That was intense, wasn’t it?”

Taehyung shudders, hugging Jungkook helplessly.

“Of course it was. Let’s check you just in case.”

Jungkook lifts his limp body off the toilet bowl. Taehyung instantly wraps his legs around him, giving Jungkook the perfect position for his check up.

He buries two fingers in Taehyung’s hole. Taehyung tenses up and mewls. He counts every second Jungkook stays inside. He scissors and twists his fingers, massaging his walls as he inspects him.

“So I was right in my assumption. You had an orgasm right now. Your prostate is still throbbing. Good doll, you handled the cleaning out perfectly.”

Taehyung swears he might orgasm again if Jungkook keeps talking while his fingers rub his sensitive prostate. He sometimes wonders if what he feels for Jungkook is healthy. Despite being ruined by sex, Taehyung could still - and wants to - orgasm for Jungkook. Are such feelings healthy?

To his dismay, Jungkook pulls out his fingers, placing them under his thighs so he could stand up with him in his arms.

“Good doll. You emptied yourself perfectly. I’m so happy to have you. Are you ready for the bath?”

Taehyung makes a little sound, feeling dizzy. The dizziness increases when Jungkook sinks him into the warm water. He writhes and shudders at first, but calms down when Jungkook cradles his face and shushes him.

“Is it too hot?”

Taehyung shakes his head.

“That’s good to hear.” He kisses his forehead, smiling at him afterwards. “Lean back for now, okay?”

Taehyung allows him to prop his body into the position of his liking. Jungkook leaves his side for a little while. Taehyung can barely keep his eyes open. The water is so warm, it smells like lavender oils and vanilla candles are illuminating the room. The feeling of cloud floating is so strong that Taehyung has a hard time not falling asleep. Which was a rather weird sensation because he was also so incredibly needy for Jungkook. Perhaps, if he dared to fall asleep, Jungkook could still continue and use him how he pleases. Taehyung wouldn’t mind. Just close his eyes. Close them. One second. Close…them.

Shuffling by his side. Taehyung opens his eyes. Jungkook returned, sitting down on the edge of the tub. He is still naked, which only adds to the intense and unbreakable intimacy they are currently sharing.

“Are you my sleepy doll?” he asks in a soft voice, caressing his cheek.

Taehyung looks up at him with droopy puppy eyes, lips parted and refusing to close.

Jungkook chuckles, “you’re so adorable. If you feel the need to sleep, don’t fight it. I promise to be gentle with you and to take good care of you. Okay?”

Taehyung nods his head softly, eyes glazing over.

“Okay”, Jungkook says and brushes his fingers over Taehyung’s lids until they fall closed. “Now relax, let me clean you.”

He knows that Jungkook wants him to stay like this and so Taehyung obeys. Jungkook soaks a cotton pad in makeup remover and places it onto Taehyung’s eyes. He counts down from five in a whisper then wipes the messy residues of a once beautiful eye makeup look. He flips the pad and goes in for a second time. Once his eye is clean, he repeats the process with the other eye, holding Taehyung’s head still with two fingers under his chin. After the treatment, he soaks two cotton pads in the warm bath water and places them on his eyes. Taehyung exhales deeply, body growing limp in relaxation.

“There we go, relax”, Jungkook whispers, gazing at him. He kisses his forehead once and stands up so he could stand behind Taehyung and brush his hair. He goes strand by strand and with utmost care. Not once Taehyung feels tugging or pinching, only tingles and shivers which reach him all the way to the tip of his toes.

“I can’t bear to look at you like this. With your hair all twisted and tangled. I was so rough, wasn’t I?”

Taehyung shakes his head.

“That’s good to hear. You know, I try to control myself when I’m with you, I try to be civil and a patient person, but then I’m inside you and every promise I ever made is just gone. I’m so…” He trails off for a moment. He grabs a bundle of Taehyung’s freshly combed hair and uses it to tilt his head back. The pads fall off his face that way, but neither cares as Jungkook kisses his lips right here and now. Deeply and with so much love. Taehyung swears that he tastes heaven on his lips. The kiss breaks because Jungkook wanted it to. “I guess I’m so addicted to you that I lose all sense of control when I’m near you.”

Taehyung opens his eyes. He moves his mouth but no sound comes out.

“I love you too”, Jungkook says and guides his head to the front to finish his hair. Because the pads fell off his eyes, Taehyung can keep his head straight and allow Jungkook to reach the back of his hair as well. He brushes it out as carefully as he did the other strands.

Once done, he rounds the tub, sitting down on the edge again. His eyes soften, his lips curl into a smile. He cradles Taehyung’s cheek, running his thumb under his eye.

“Yeah, I’m definitely addicted to you.”

“Koo”, Taehyung croaks, trying to sit up and steal a kiss, but Jungkook pushes him back into the water.

“Not yet.”

Taehyung whimpers.

Jungkook stands up and lifts his leg to step into the water. Any kind of disappointment of being denied a kiss is gone from Taehyung’s heart as he watches the love of his entire life sink into the water with him.

Jungkook giggles and Taehyung swears that he creates new galaxies with it. Jungkook scrunches his nose and Taehyung swears new life appears somewhere in this vast universe.

“The water’s so nice wow”, Jungkook gushes and scoots closer. Their legs entangle. They are so close that Taehyung can smell Jungkook’s intoxicating breath as he talks.

“Are you comfortable? Am I pinching something? I know my legs are kinda heavy.”

Taehyung moves his lips but no sound comes out. He isn’t ready to speak yet.

“Just blink twice if you’re comfortable”, Jungkook accommodates him, rubbing his pecs slowly.

Taehyung blinks twice, lighting up Jungkook’s features.

“Good doll. I love you”, he praises and breaks eye contact to study his body under the water.

He picks up Taehyung’s left hand, lifting it out of the water so he can touch his nails.

Taehyung doesn’t like having his nails touched because people in his past hurt this part of his body a lot. They ripped them out, taking pleasure in his begs for mercy and wails of agony and only passing out saved Taehyung from more torture. Ever since that night, he feels scared when people touch his nails, but not with Jungkook. He doesn’t want him to stop, on the contrary, he wants him to continue.

“No broken nails. That’s good. I was scared that I made you twist the sheets too hard and break your nails.” Jungkook lowers his left hand and repeats the same process with his right hand. “Oh? That’s broken. Are you okay? Does it hurt?”

Taehyung shakes his head.

“I’m glad. I will fix it for you, don’t worry.”

He reaches for the nail clippers he placed on the table next to the tub and clips the broken edge of Taehyung’s nail. Taehyung can barely even clip his own nails without reliving what happened to him. But when he is with Jungkook and he helps him fall into doll space, there is no fear in his heart. He doesn’t flinch nor inhale sharply when Jungkook clips his nails. He feels safe.

“There we go. Now you won’t hurt yourself”, Jungkook says and suddenly becomes serious, furrowing his brows, “you won’t ever have to hurt again”, he whispers, giving his hand a squeeze before guiding it to his lips to kiss the tips of his fingers. “I promise.”

He lowers his hand back into the water and cups Taehyung’s cheek. Taehyung does something a good doll would never do, but he can’t wait any longer, he sits up and kisses Jungkook before he can even as much as initiate it.

“Mhm”, Jungkook lets out and smiles into the kiss. He puts one hand on Taehyung’s chest and the other deep into his hair. “God, you’re driving me insane.”

One push at his chest and Taehyung falls against the bathtub wall. Jungkook chases him, caging him between the tub and his bigger frame. Taehyung whimpers and twists Jungkook’s hair, back arching into his touch.

It isn’t long into the kiss when Taehyung darts out his tongue for more. Jungkook curses and grabs the edge of the tub.

“Don’t tempt me”, he gets out.

Taehyung whimpers, fluttering his lashes up at him. He touches his strong chest, playing with his nipples. He knows that Jungkook likes it when he does.

Jungkook growls quietly, slamming his other hand onto the edge of the tub as well. He breathes sharply, brows tight as he looks down at Taehyung.

“You are the very reason I’m so out of balance. Haven’t I fucked you enough? Haven’t I given you enough orgasms?”

Taehyung flutters his lashes and wraps his hands around Jungkook’s hard cock. Jungkook hisses, arms and pecs tensing and head dropping so he can see what Taehyung is doing.

“Careful, poupèe, before I decide to take on another tone with you.”

Taehyung pumps his hand around Jungkook’s tip, mouthing his name before biting down on his lower lip. He knows that Jungkook lives for that. Eye contact, his own name spoken in bliss, lips being bitten. Jungkook is a man for simple pleasures, drinking them up like an addict.

He growls and jumps into action. He grabs Taehyung’s hands and presses them together. He takes the hand shower head to use its hose as a makeshift rope for Taehyung’s wrists. With one push, his tied up arms are above his head, bent by his elbows and hands tangling over the bathtub edge.

“Stay still and try not to rip it”, Jungkook spits.

Taehyung whimpers, lower lip trembling and eyes glazing over.

Jungkook’s features soften. He brushes the back of his hand down Taehyung’s face.

“I’m doing this for you, ma poupèe. You are weak and used up. I can’t fuck you again. So just let me take care of you. We’ll sleep and come morning, I can give you what you want. Okay?”

Taehyung nods his head.

“Good doll. Being obedient fits you so much better”, Jungkook praises, rewarding him with a kiss to the slope of his nose. He caresses his cheek. “Now the last part of the clean up is going to be intense for you, but it is necessary.”

Taehyung gulps nervously.

“Don’t be scared. I will be gentle with you. You are going to like it, it’s just going to be intense.”

Taehyung nods his head in consent, squeezing his own hands nervously. Jungkook acknowledges him with a smile then continues the cleaning process.

He starts his touch at Taehyung’s elbows, dancing it down his arms, his chest and stomach until he reaches his crotch. Taehyung tries not to, but still moves into the touch, feeling dizzy.

Past his cock and along his inner thighs. If Taehyung wasn’t so lost for words, he would beg Jungkook for more. But alas he can’t, meant to bear the gentle touch and not wish for more.

“So pretty, you’re beautiful”, Jungkook whispers and caresses his hips, “I’m owning the prettiest doll ever. Can’t wait to hold you to sleep.”

Contrary to his tender words, his touch takes on a rather sexual path. He cradles his balls, massaging them carefully.

Taehyung moans softly, hips jerking up and arms tensing. It feels so good. Jungkook feels so, so good.

“How come they’re already plumb again? You’re more insatiable than I am”, Jungkook teases, squeezing them softly and watching how Taehyung’s cock twitches under the water. It is hard and flushed, growing more excited with each second Jungkook handles his balls.

“Mmh doll, did I really not fuck you enough? Are you that full of cum today?”

Taehyung bites down on his lower lip, making submissive puppy eyes at him.

Jungkook gives up with a sigh, “what a needy doll. I wonder where all of this comes from. Are you genuinely only made to be bred and to breed in return, mhm?”

Taehyung’s eyes glaze over, his balls throb in Jungkook’s hand.

“Maybe, you are”, Jungkook murmurs mindlessly and wraps his other hand around Taehyung’s cock.

“Ah!” Taehyung lets out, thrusting into his fist needily. A slightly painful tug on his balls calms him down again.

“Stay still, I’ll hurt you otherwise and I don’t wanna do this.”

Taehyung tenses his body, trying to be obedient.

“Good doll. Relax, I promise it will all be over soon”, Jungkook whispers in a breathy, seductive voice as his hand glides up and down Taehyung’s cock. “Close your eyes, I promise it won’t take long. Just close your eyes.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes back and closes them, head dropping against the edge of the bathtub. Jungkook takes in the view with a fluttering stomach. Seeing Taehyung so utterly and deeply lost in pleasure will never lose its spark to him.

“Relax, my starlight, relax”, he whispers and closes the last distance between them to do what he craves for most. He presses his cock against Taehyung’s, wrapping his hand around both their lengths to jerk them off together.

Taehyung opens his eyes in shock, speaking the first word of the evening because the connection is too grand not to.

“Jungkook.”

“I love when you say my name like this, Taehyung baby. Makes it feel so good. So fucking good”, Jungkook says and cups Taehyung’s cheek, dropping his forehead against his’.

Their eyes close, they share one breath. Taehyung moans and whimpers quietly while Jungkook answers him in deep purrs and little sighs. He keeps his hand still for now, applying a steady pressure around their cocks as he rocks his hips back and forth. Their most sensitive spots keep grinding together, forming electrifying pleasure between them. Because of how Jungkook frots with Taehyung, it feels as if he was making love to him, as if he was fucking him deep and slow in missionary while the bathwater keeps them warm.

“Does this feel good to you, baby?” Jungkook asks and Taehyung tastes every word with insatiable hunger on his tongue.

“Jungkook”, he whimpers, writhing in the restraints.

“It feels good to me too. So good. You’re made for me.”

Overtaken by his emotions, Taehyung begins rolling his hips up to meet Jungkook’s movements. Jungkook trembles, lips brushing against Taehyung’s as he opens them in a gasp. He claims the opportunity instantly, kissing Jungkook and swallowing the heavenly sighs he lets out. Jungkook purrs, tongue instantly meeting Taehyung’s and hips matching his rhythm. What they are doing is beyond description. When Jungkook rolls his hips to the front, Taehyung pulls his hips back and once he thrust up, Jungkook rolls his hips back. It results in constant stimulation to each their cocks and pleasure so electric the very fibres of their bodies tremble in bliss.

Taehyung wiggles in his restraints again. The hose knocks against the bathtub rhythmically, mixing with the sound of splashing water and their muffled moans. It is barely a background noise at first before Jungkook breaks the kiss with a chuckle.

“All I can concentrate on is this stupid hose hitting the tub. Stay still, my doll.”

“Jungkook”, Taehyung begs, fighting the restraints with more vigour.

“Stay still, let it happen”, Jungkook encourages him and slides his hand to the nape of his neck, “my good doll, I know you can do it.”

Taehyung drops his arms, growing complacent in Jungkook’s hands. His hips lose their rhythm, twitching and flinching as Jungkook fucks him deep and slow. His eyelids are so heavy but he doesn’t want to close them. He needs to look at Jungkook, needs to look at the one person who made him believe that true love is real, needs to look at the one person who makes him want to never see other people again.

Jungkook smiles at him. It isn’t big of a gesture, but it is too much for Taehyung.

He orgasms, eyes rolling back against his will and body shaking out of control.

“Taehyung, oh god”, Jungkook gets out in a pitched-voice, following him in such intensity that he drops his head against the edge of the tub right next to Taehyung’s. They rut and thrust into Jungkook’s fist, making their orgasms so much more intense because of the messy, aggressive friction between their throbbing lengths. The water is milky because of them, the air trembles in the sound of their moans.

Jungkook plops down on Taehyung’s lap once he comes down, wrapping his arms around him to hug him tightly. Taehyung can’t melt into the embrace, squeaking helplessly. Jungkook understands without needing words. He reaches over the edge of the tub and undoes the knot of the hose. The shower head falls to the floor in a loud bang and stays there for now. Taehyung sobs in gratefulness, finally hugging Jungkook how he wanted to for ages.

“Hush, it’s okay. Don’t cry, I’m right here”, Jungkook soothes him, holding him safely.

“I love you so much”, Taehyung croaks.

“Well, I love you too Tae baby”, Jungkook whispers.

“I feel so safe with you.”

“You are safe with me.”

“Please, don’t ever leave me.”

“I won’t ever leave you, Tae baby”, Jungkook promises him with a kiss to his neck. He stays nuzzled afterwards, voice slightly muffled from the position, “I can’t believe we did that. Again. How many times did we cum in bed?”

“Me four times, you three times.”

“Yeah and the one time you came on the toilet. So five times for you.”

“Right”, Taehyung has to giggle.

Jungkook chuckles, kissing his pulse point, “and yet we still ended up like this again. Seriously, we gotta get our asses straight, it’s getting ridiculous how horny we are.”

“I don’t want to be straight though. It sounds awful”, Taehyung jokes, making Jungkook laugh with it.

Still smiling, he bites Taehyung’s earlobe playfully, rasping his words.

“It’s not how I meant that, but yeah, that sounds awful indeed.”

Taehyung snickers, agreeing with a nod of his head.

“Mhm, you’re too much. Fuck, I’m so addicted to you”, Jungkook purrs, giving his earlobe a gentle tug before he continues with his neck kisses, “how was it for you? I know I promised to clean you, but that didn’t happen. Was it still good for you?”

Taehyung nods his head vigorously and stutters his words because of how emotional he feels about them, “it, it was amazing. You made, made me feel so good and, and safe. Please don’t ever change, please.”

“Well, that sounds like you enjoyed it”, Jungkook purrs and kisses his jawline inch by inch, “I enjoyed it too. I love when you’re my doll and I can take care for you. I know it wasn’t like we typically do it.”

“I moved a lot, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise, baby, don’t ever. You needed it and I just…” he sighs, rubbing the tip of his nose against Taehyung’s cheek as he continues talking, “…want to see you happy. You looked so happy tonight. I’m so glad, it’s all that matters to me.”

Taehyung whimpers softly.

“Were you happy, baby?” Jungkook asks him, fingers playing with his hair.

“I still am.” Taehyung wiggles his head until he can look up at Jungkook. “I’m with you. All my heart feels when I am with you, is happiness.”

“Oh Taehyung”, Jungkook gets out and pulls him into an emotional, loving kiss.

172 notes · View notes

whore-ibly-hot · 5 months ago

Note

How would Mr. Critch, Mr. Murphy, Evan, and Carter react to Y/n getting sick?

(love your boarding school btw❤️)

(also I'm sick with a cold😫)

ARGHAHAHAHGG7RURH I LOVE SICK FICS!

Mr. Critch: He'd be extremely cross with you, what nerve of you to skip his class, is it because you think your special, being the head masters kid? He pulls Harrison aside, and demands the boy tell him why you aren't present. When Harrison explains, he scolds him harshly for not having you 'quarantined'. He quickly moves you to the nurses ward, wanting you to be away from contaminating others and full focused on making up the work you are missing. Still, he's oddly doting. He makes sure you're eating healthy, checking your fever and assuring you stay alongside him. He wants you obedient. He knows what's best, just let him treat you. He'll keep track of all your medicines, and the moment you're better he promises you can go back to your room with Harrison. He enjoys this quiet time with you, and a part of him, the one who reads to you while you try and sleep, wishes to imagine this moment as domestic.

"The fever should be breaking soon, it's okay." He dabs at your forehead. "I'll find a way to get you cleaned up after. I promise." He assures.

Carter: Much like Mr. Critch, he's strict about what you can do. As class president, it's his duty to prevent an outbreak. He'll bring you to the nurses office, and ensure you keep up with your studies. He's more condescending, constantly reminding you of how kind he's being, taking time out of his day to care for you when he could be working. You should be able to care for yourself, he'd say, but when you'd send him away, he'd refuse to go. He takes a little extra time 'diagnosing' you, it would help him for biology class, he claimed. He'd run his hands over your neck and shoulders, touching your chest and working his way down. He'd gently feel your head for fever.

"What?" He scoffs, looking at you with annoyance. "The nurse is far too busy to give you the treatment you need, I'm making sure you aren't worsening. Lift your shirt a bit, let's just continue the exam."

Evan: He's pissed. He just got out of a great fucking game, and you weren't even in the crowd, not even for Harrison. His cock was aching, he'd planned to drag you to the after party and get his dick into you, but you didn't show. He'll practically kick down your door, and he's quick about it once he realizes you're sick. He doesn't want Harrison being a bitch and trying to keep you in his room. He gets you to his dorm, gives you some cough syrup and an edible he snagged from Pez, to keep you mellow. If he can't fuck you, he's at least going to keep you around. You're still got, even with a red face and stuffy nose. He won't exactly be doting, you'd have to ask two or three times before he'd get you anything but water, but he does like the feeling of control he's got over you. He'd put on a movie and keep you on his lap, assuring you he's not gonna get sick. Let him kiss you while your sleepy, let him grope you while he changes you from your uniform to one of his oversized jerseys. And most importantly, he expects you to care for him when he gets sick from swapping spit with you.

"God, you're burning up. Good thing I brought you in here, huh? Wouldn't want that shit head roommate leaving you to suffer alone in your room when you got a big strong stud here to look after your sick ass." He groans, adjusting you so your head lays across his chest.

Mr. Murphy: Absolute caring bear man, you're immediately moved to wherever you feel safest, preferably his apartment at the school, but the nurses office or your own dorm works. If you choose his apartment, he'll be thrilled at spending the time with you, even though seeing you as a sick little thing makes his chest ache. He'd stand over the stove for hours, digging through old recipe cards from his mom. He's usually more of a meat and potatoes guy, but he'll try his mommas soup and roll recipes, just for you. He makes sure you take your medicine, but nothing you don't want to take. He refuses to let you think about your school work, and insists he'll excuse you and talk to Critch (he thinks that guy has a major stick up his ass). He's got the coziest place by far, thick quilts and a cozy plaid couch.

"Easy, kid, easy." You're desperate to chug down the soup, but he's pacing you. "If you do throw up cause of this bug you've got, that's fine, but I'd rather my cooking not be the cause. You've got all the time in the world to eat it, and I'll always make more if you want." He takes a spoonful from his bowl. "Don't make me feed ya now." He teases.

#ask me stuff #yandere #yandere oc #tw.yandere #x reader #yandere boy #tw.dubcon #oc Critch #oc Joel Murphy #oc evan #oc carter

234 notes · View notes

acapelladitty · 6 months ago

Text

After School Special

Summary: Confronted by your professor, Dr Jonathan Crane, over your constant need for his attention, you find yourself having to confess to some very inappropriate feelings with a surprisingly satisfying result. (2.6k)

(tw for: professor/student dynamics, desk sex, power imbalance, rough sex, teasing, mild degradation, multiple orgasm, piv sex, come marking)

Fic Masterlist ☆ Link to AO3

"You have been lying to me."

Caught off guard by the sudden accusation as you take the plush seat across from his desk, your face furrows into a frown as you splutter out an inaudible response at the hurled accusation. You had barely taken three steps within the room when he had spoken, the familiar layout of his private office as welcoming as ever – the densely furnished room mostly illuminated by the warm light of his desk lamp.

"Huh? I don't know what you're talki-"

"Don't lie to me."

You smooth the edges of your skirt, genuine confusion playing on your features as you look at him properly. He is sitting behind his desk with a firm look, one which you were well acquainted with and one which never sat too far from your mind in the darkness of the night as your fingers moved frantically against your heated sex. As handsome as ever, although many others were ignorant to his appeal, his wire-rimmed glasses sit atop his proud nose while his hawk-like gaze pins you into place.

"I have had my suspicions over your intentions for a while,” Crane confesses as his hands come to rest on his desk, folding over each other carefully. “You consistently seek support for work which you are more than capable of completing. At first, I considered that you may be cheating in some way but a thorough check of your academic history tells a story of genuine success."

His glasses flash in the dim light of his office as the vague attraction which always simmered below your skin while sharing a space with him found itself suddenly replaced by a surge of pure anxiety. A naughty child being caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

Crane's outfit is a stuffy as ever and maddeningly endearing because of it. No matter the weather or occasion, he was never to be found without his patchwork brown suits and over starched, light coloured shirts; the materials doing their best to fill out his thin frame as his scuffed shoes tapped across his auditorium floors.

"So why do you constantly seek my support when such assistance is unnecessary?"

"I don't-I don't know what you're talking about. You're my professor and teacher so I value your feedback on my concepts and proposals."

Cheeks flaring with heat, you attempt to push the lie as truth while a traitorous slideshow of all the inappropriate and wicked thoughts you had entertained about him flashed through your mind.

"Hmm." Clearly unsatisfied with the answer, Crane taps his thin fingers along his desk as he considered his next question with a knowing tilt of his head. "Are you single? Romantically, I mean."

"What?"

Body freezing in place as though dunked in cold water, a sinking sense of discovery roots you to your seat as you fidget uncomfortably. "That's none of your business."

His lips curling into a smirk as he slowly unbuttons the very topmost button of his shirt, a move which makes your teeth worry at your lower lip, Crane speaks slowly to allow you to hear every word while he stands from behind his desk.

"A simple question and yet your response tells me what I need to know. You seek out my company due to some asinine attraction you hold for me."

Breath coming short as your fingers fiddle with the hem of your skirt, your knee jerk reaction is to deny him even as guilt sits heavy on your face.

"What? No! Not at al-"

"What did I say about lying?" Crane snaps, his voice holding all the authority which it was capable of as he stood before hundreds of students - demanding their attention with only his tone and body language.

Caught and unable to do much else, you give in with a quiet confirmation as the blush on your cheeks creeps down your neck.

"Maybe. I don’t know. Sure."

Crane tuts, the noise clucking free of his throat as a mild disappointment joins the subtle smugness of his features.

"You want to use me to further your grade. Disappointing really. I expected more from a student of your capabilities."

Indignant, despite the situation, your eyes narrow as you hotly contest his assumption.

"I don't need you to help with my grades! Are you kidding me?"

"Oh, is that so?"

"I think you're handsome and I like hearing you talk. Is that such a crime now? I've not done anything wrong."

"Losing focus in my class by allowing yourself to indulge in wanton fantasies should be a crime." Crane grumbled for a moment but his expression shifts into something decidedly predatory as he leans his ass against his desk. "But I would be more disappointed if you did not see your goals to their end."

Desperately trying not to read into his words as the shame of your discovery ignited a flood of arousal deep in your gut, you squint up at him with confusion.

"Professor?"

"If you are going to waste my time with your asinine attraction then I may as well gain some benefit from it. Stand up," he demands.

The command making your cunt clench with its unshakeable demand, you stand from your chair and approach him slowly, feet feeling absolutely non-existent against the thin carpet.

Crane's position against the desk, with his ass sitting on the hard wood and his legs spread, makes it easy for you to slot yourself between his knees - his impressive height making your head have to tilt up to meet his own. Every nerve in your body feels on edge, a thrilling sense of danger pairing with the arousal to make your limbs tremble.

"What're you going to do with me, Professor?"

Clearly a man of action and not words, his head slips forward in a smooth movement as he captures your lips in his own in a heated kiss. His lips are rough, painfully chapped, and his face feels sharp against your own as you tilt your head and immediately grant him all the access he needs.

He tastes of coffee and the harshness of it creates a wrinkle in your nose as you run your tongue along his teeth, mapping out the uneven landscape as his thin arms come to wrap around your waist - pinning you into place against him as you drag your hand up the rough material of his suit. His shock of auburn hair is surprisingly gentle against your fingers as you wind your hand around the back of his neck, needing something to anchor on to as he devours your mouth like a starving man.

"You're very soft," he mutters as he pulls away for only a moment. "And I can taste your perfume." His lips draw across your neck, licking and kissing a line down the sensitive skin as you gasp and curl your hand into the nape of his neck.

"God, Professor Crane- you're so-" You cut yourself off with a whine, your free hand dropping to press against the tented fabric of his groin as his teeth bite harshly at your neck, the discomfort of the bite making the growing dampness between your legs even more pronounced.

"Is this what you've fantasied about, my dear?" His breath is hot against your neck as he allows you to unzip his slacks - freeing his rapidly hardening cock from its confines. "Your wicked professor bending you over his desk and fucking you until you can't stand it anymore."

Shuddering at the vulgarity you release his slacks long enough to shove your hands up your skirt, hooking your fingers around the waistband of your panties as you shuffle them free of your ass. Allowing them to fall to the floor, you step out of them and hiss as his right hand instantly drops from your waist to slip up under the hem of your skirt.

"You're very forward, little mouse," Crane teases as his fingers trail a line up your inner thighs. "Manipulating a poor old man to debase himself for your own needs. It's desperate and requires some level of discipline I think."

"Discipl-oh fuck!" His fingers pressing insistently at your slit as his hand cups your cunt short-circuits your brain for a moment and your grip on his neck tightens as your other hand finally wraps around his cock.

He's long but not overly thick and you can feel the softness of his salt and pepper flecked pubic hair pressing the side of your hand as you stroke along his length with slow, jerky movements. His cock has a definite leftward lean and the velvety heat of it is heady against your palm as you carefully jerk him off.

Heat dances along your skin as his fingers continue to play with your cunt. It's almost experimental in the way that he strokes and rubs his way along your slit before finally finding the target of his exploration; a bolt of pure pleasure curling your toes as his pointer fingers brushes along your clit. Pleased with his discovery, he quickly alternates between manipulating your clit and teasing your hole, his fingers making obscene noises due to how wet you are.

Having decided enough was enough as his hips unwittingly start to buck into your hand, Crane pulls his fingers free of your cunt and brings them to his lips. A greedy tongue flicks at the ends of his digits and he tastes you and a rumble of approval trickles free of his chest. It's so unbearably hot that you shiver in place, rolling the palm of your hand against his cockhead as it twitches within your grip.

In a quick motion, one which catches you off-guard as you squeal in surprise, Crane switches your positions by grabbing your shoulders and smoothly swapping your bodies - ensuring that your front is facing his desk as he molds his much larger frame to your back. His desk now pressing into your lower stomach, you allow Crane to push you down and force you to bend over the hard wood. Your elbows are quick to steady your body and you groan out something indecipherable as he wastes no time in hiking your skirt over your ass.

Exposed and painfully desperate to be fucked, you can't help but arch your back and present yourself to him like a bitch in heat. He seems to appreciate the effort though as a low growl floats over your head and his fingers grip at your ass - groping every inch he can get his hands on as you gasp at the sensation.

"Tell me what you want," Crane demands, his voice low and rough with need.

"I want you to fuck me! Here- like this! On your desk."

A sharp sting makes you cry out and you instantly realise that he has slapped your ass with his open palm - a choice which makes your cunt ache and spasm around nothing.

"Mmm, not good enough. Let's give ourselves the proper titles we deserve; me as your professor and you as a needy whore who begs for his cock."

"Oh God." You groan, his words doing an absolute number on your mind. "Please, Professor Crane, this whore needs your cock. I need to feel you stretching me out and fucking me across this table until I can't see straight."

With no warning, he thrusts himself with you – every inch of his cock burying itself as deeply as possible within your dripping cunt and his victorious grunt is easily drowned out by the muted cry which you are only just able to catch by slamming your lips shut. His strokes are forceful, painfully stretching you without mercy in the most delicious way as you grip his desk and meet his ferocity with your own.

“I must confess that I’ve considered this myself,” he rasps. “Having you wrapped around my cock just like this. Tell me, how many times have you gotten yourself off thinking about this? How much pleasure did you bring yourself thinking of your professor’s cock?”

He fucks you even harder and you can’t even articulate a response as your lips form into a low series of moans and whines – clenching around his cock with every thrust as you remain powerless in his grip. His hands are hard against your hips and you know that small, purple bruises will absolutely mark up the skin within a day.

That said, his right hand disappears from your hip and you whimper as it instead snakes around your throat, pulling your upper body higher to lay flush against his chest as he remains buried within your cunt. The sensation of his hand around your throat pairing with the delirious pleasure of his cock stroking along your sensitive walls proves too much and you – aching, dripping and utterly desperate for more – come around his cock; your walls clenching and milking him for all he’s worth as he snarls out his own pleasure at your tightness.

His pace is unrelenting and the flow of it drags your orgasm out as your toes curl against your shoes and every nerve in your body feels aflame, pleasure rolling across your frame to make your head feel light and your cunt quiver and twitch.

“You’re so tight, little mouse,” Crane growls into your ear. His teeth make themselves known on your neck and the discomfort of his blunted teeth on your skin only adds to the overstimulated ache in your cunt. “A man could get used to this kind of treatment.”

A second orgasm rolls through you, the surprise of it making you cry out loudly but his hand slips from your neck to your mouth – fingers pressing against your lips to stop any further noises from escaping.

“Hush now,” Crane pants, “we wouldn’t want to be discovered like this now, would we? What would your peers think if they saw you taking your professors cock so beautifully?”

He pulls free of your cunt with a single fluid motion and you feel the heat of his release as it spatters across your cunt and ass, his erratic grunts barely restrained while you clench your throbbing cock around nothing – disappointed that he chose not to finish inside.

The mess between your legs is intense; the physical mess of your combined release dripping down your inner thighs as your cunt feels raw and aching due to the ferocity of his thrusts. Your clit twitches with the vague aftershocks of your dual orgasms and it takes a solid minute for your legs to stop trembling fully as Crane slips forward to press himself flush against your back once more.

"You make a very entertaining proposal, little mouse. Provided that discretion remains a priority, I wouldn't mind a continued tuition in such a manner."

Working through his stuffy speech pattern with your post-orgasm brain, it takes a moment to realise what he means and you tilt your head back to meet him – catching his gaze with your own and taking note of how satiated and relaxed his features are.

"You want to…again I mean?"

"You graduate within two months and your academics prove your abilities,” Crane hums and his hands are everywhere as they roll across your hips before tugging your skirt down to cover your ass. “I doubt a session or two with your most dedicated professor will have much impact on your achievements."

Not quite ready to move just yet as you mistrust the strength of your legs, you can’t help but feel that ‘a session or two’ may not be enough to fully quench the thirst which the new development has planted deep in your thoughts.

#professor crane make brain go brrrrrrrrrrrrrr #jonathan crane #scarecrow #the scarecrow #dr jonathan crane #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane x you #scarecrow x reader #scarecrow x you #dc comics #batman #gotham rogues

181 notes · View notes

crossingthedreams · 4 months ago

Text

false hope — gregory house x f!reader

masterlist | day 15 (@angstober) — false hope

summary: a little hope is effective, a lot of hope is dangerous. what is true for revolutions, it’s also true for relationships.

word count: 1k

warnings: angst, drug use, mentions of overdose, no use of y/n.

“Hope, it is the only thing stronger than fear. A little hope is effective, a lot of hope is dangerous”.

Interesting how a quote said in a context about authoritarian governments can also apply to relationships, you thought.

In a relationship, if your hopes are too high, the chances you’ll make an Icarus of yourself, fly too close to the sun and burn are considerable. It’s good, healthy to expect certain things — that he’ll remember your birthday, that you’ll go to a movie together, and so on and so forth. Too much of this, too much hope, is certain to doom not only the relationship, but it's bearer’s mental health.

Every time one hopes too high, they are bound for disappointment or to have even higher hopes in the future, which will also inevitably lead to disappointment.

You had come to this realization at a young age, and it made your life easier in many ways. Hope is a very dangerous feeling.

You were older now, but not as old as your man. His graying hair and beard were so attractive, it made him look so mature. Too fucking bad he constantly acted like a child. You were able to laugh it off most times, like when he teased you for being younger. He enjoyed when you could tease and taunt him as well, such as the time when you put Barbie decorations on all of his canes.

You had fun. Until you hadn’t.

He always had a pill problem, ever since you met you saw him take the tiny bottle from his coat and pop a pill or two every other hour.

It was fine, until it wasn’t.

The first time he threw up on you, the first real crisis you had, was almost a year ago. You stood by his side through it all, even when everyone told you to leave. Even Wilson mentioned how hopeless this was for you.

To hell with them all. You had done something you promised you wouldn’t: you chose to have hope. Not only a little bit, but a lot. Enough hope for you and the recovering pill addict man you loved so freaking much.

Seeing only his potential for growth, and potential was there, it was easy to feed yourself false hopes. Hope is dangerous when it’s too much, but a false hope is always a tragedy.

What a tragedy it was when you were cleaning the coatroom of your shared apartment and found a secret stash of his pills. And what a fucking tragedy it was when you drove yourself to the hospital where he worked to confront him.

You stormed through the reception so quickly, you didn’t hear or see Cuddy calling your name. You were sure you looked terrible. Still in your cleaning-mode clothing and a pair of ugg boots, you looked like a teenager going through a first break up. Your nose was stuffy and red from the tears you cried, and you had a gigantic frown on your face.

When the elevator’s doors opened on his floor, you marched up to the glass doors and tried to walk in and yell at him in front of his fellows. You knew their names, but didn’t bother with it right now. You just stood there, waiting for him to see you.

His gaze met yours, and your world stopped. He knew what you knew, and it was clear to both of you this would be an argument.

He motioned towards his office, and said something to the three doctors. As he left, the tallest one complained about something and your man just flipped him off. Any other occasion, you would have laughed.

Now, you couldn’t bring yourself to smile, let alone laugh. You walked into his office, and used your gray coat to hug yourself. It was cold in the street but, somehow, it was colder in here.

“I found your pills”, you said in a normal tone, surprising even you. You were sure you’d scream and cry and throw something at him, but no. No screams came to you. This was too exhausting.

You extended your arm and gave it to him. He took it, looked at the table and placed it at his desk like they were nothing. Like they didn’t almost destroy him, destroy you. You just shook your head as he called your name.

Tears began to flood your eyes, but you didn’t want him to see you cry.

“I understand how this looks like”, he began, but stopped when you scoffed.

“It looks ridiculous, that’s what it looks like, Greg!”, you exclaimed, frowning once more. You hoped you didn’t look as broken as you sounded at this moment. “You promised me it was over. Was all that you gave me false hope?”

“I also gave that cute handbag”.

You scoffed again, motioning towards the exit.

“C’mon, it was just a joke”, it was his turn to exclaim. You turned back to meet his distraught expression.

You both stood in silence for a heartbeat before he continued: “It’s unbearable sometimes. It’s why I have that hidden out. That’s all”.

“I don’t think I believe you”, you said, feeling the tears stream down your cheek. This was all too much.

You hadn’t realized you reached your breaking point up until now. You saw the face of the man you knew you loved and you felt more exhausted than ever. The constant fear of him falling down the rabbit hole, of him not being the person you knew he could be — it was enough.

You refused to look at him again for now, because if you did, all you’d see is the drug addict who almost killed himself the year before.

There was a reason why you only let yourself have so much hope. You were reminded of that fact on the drive home, when your heart felt like it would stop beating on your chest.

#day 15 #angstober #angst #angstober 2024 #house #doctor house #house md #gregory house x reader #gregory house x you #hugh laurie #house x reader #doctor house x reader #james wilson #lisa cuddy #robert sean leonard #dr house #dr house x reader #fiction

120 notes · View notes

ninii-winchester · 6 months ago

Note

I'll send a request for Dean first and later I'll send it about Sam. Because I have had this for a while.

Dean basically raised Sam, and took care of Sammy, and I think about this idea of the reader taking care of Dean while is sick, showing that Dean deserves to be cared for and loved too.

Sorry if it's confusing English isn't my first language.

��

Tender Care

Pairing : Dean Winchester X reader

Word count : 1.1k

Warnings: none

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

The bunker was wrapped in a calm stillness, there was nothing to do. Sam, Dean and Y/n came back from a hunt the night before and there were no potential hunts either. Y/n was in the library, dusting off the dirt that had accumulated on the further shelves, when Dean entered the open space with a mug of coffee in his hand. He didn’t speak, just took a seat on one of the chairs and admired his girl quietly.

The quiet of the bunker was broken by the sound of a loud sneeze. Y/n turned to look at Dean as he muttered a little ‘excuse me’. She nodded before going back to her work. She shrugged it off as a result of the dust filling his nostrils. He didn’t think much of it either.

Until a few hours later, he was sneezing constantly and his head felt heavy. His eyes were burning. His body felt weak and he felt cold. He groaned as the realisation dawned upon him, he was sick. He hated being sick. He pushed the thought aside and went into the garage to work on his Baby. Not before informing Y/n.

Y/n was in the kitchen preparing lunch when Dean entered the kitchen. She noticed something was odd in the way he walked. His nose was little red and so were his eyes.

“I’ll be in the garage if you need me.” He informed her. She noticed the change in his voice too. It was hoarse. She placed both of her hands on her hips and she observed him closely.

“Dean Winchester.” Was all he said and Dean looked like a deer caught in the headlights. He hated when she went full mother hen on him. And he knew it was coming. She took a step closer to him and touched his forehead with the back of her hand. “You’re burning up and you want to play mechanic?” She reprimanded him like a child. “Bed. Now.” It wasn’t a request. It was an order. And he was no fool to defy her orders when it came to this. He knew she would drag his ass to bed and chain him to the bed if needed.

“Yes ma’am.” Truth is, he could barely stand. He just wanted to distract himself by tinkering with Baby. But he could feel his illness coming to hit him with full force. She guided him towards their room with careful steps and laid him on the bed. She helped him out his jeans, getting him more comfortable and covered him with a blanket as she felt him shiver slightly.

“I’ll you bring some soup.” Y/n said but he grabbed her hand, stopping her from leaving.

“Don’t go.” He whined like a child which brought a smile to her face. He was cute when he wasn’t being all grumpy and a badass hunter. But he’s her grumpy badass hunter.

“I won’t be gone long, De.” She cooed at him lovingly. “I’ll get you some medicine too. I’ll be back before you know it.” She promised and he nodded reluctantly.

True to her word, Y/n came back fairly quickly. She had a tray in her hands which consisted of a soup bowl, a glass of water and some painkillers for him.

He laid in bed, looking pale and tired. His face was flushed from the fever, and he occasionally shivered despite being wrapped in blankets. A pile of used tissues sat beside him, evidence of his persistent coughing and sneezing. His nose was red and stuffy, making it hard for him to breathe comfortably. He felt weak and achy, with a dull headache adding to their discomfort.

She set the tray on the nightstand before sitting on the bed beside him. She pushed his hair away from his head. “Cmon baby, I brought you food.” She caressed his cheek gently and he closed his eyes leaning into her touch. “Dean.” She urged him to sit up. He sat up slightly and she adjusted the pillow behind him so he could be comfortable. She grabbed the bowl from the tray, she took a spoonful of soup and blew on it before feeding him.

Dean didn’t want to admit it but he liked being pampered by her. Even if meant getting sick sometimes. He hated being sick. All his life he had to deal with his sickness on his own. Even when he was a child. He took care of Sammy even when he was sick. And when Sam got sick he did everything in his power to get him better. Sometimes he wished, someone would do the same for him.

And when Y/n came into his life, she always took care him. She cared for him in more ways than one. Whether it was patching him after hunts, making sure he ate and slept adequately and taking care of him when he was sick. Sometimes he felt he was taking advantage of her kindness, that he didn’t deserve to be treated with such gentleness but she always assured him she loved him and felt happy taking care of him.

After the bowl of empty she passed him the tablet and he downed it with water. She helped him lay back and tucked him in the blankets. She got up from the bed but his voice stopped her. “Where are you going?” She placed a soft kiss on his forehead.

“Nowhere.” She replied getting up from the bed and turning the lights off. She rounded the bed and got into bed, laying beside him. He immediately rested his head on her chest and she started massaging his head. “Feeling any better?” She asked scratching his head lightly. He just hummed in response. He becomes a baby when he’s sick.

“Man, I hate being sick.” He mumbled after a few seconds of silence. He snuggled closer to her.

“It’s okay baby. I’ll nurse you back to health.” She replied holding him.

“Can you wear the sexy nurse outfit while you do it?” He grinned against her chest and she shook her head with a chuckle.

“Feeling better already, I see.” She remarked noticing he’s back to his flirty self. “Go to sleep, Winchester.”

“Yes ma’am.”

When Dean woke up he felt much better. His head wasn’t hurting anymore and his fever has subsided. And Y/n was still by his side. “Hey how’re you feeling?”

“Much better. Thank you for taking care of me.” He said throwing his arm around her waist pulling her closer.

“I’m just glad you feel better.”

With a content sigh, he pulled her into a gentle embrace, and they held each other, feeling the warmth of their closeness, as they enjoyed the simple comfort of each other’s presence.

Tags:

@spnfamily-j2 @galway-girlatwork @deangirl96 @queensilber

@s0urw00lf @monkey-d-hoshizora98 @deans-baby-momma @fullbelieverheart

@riah1606 @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @hobby27

@starkleila @suckitands33 @m3ntally-unstable @kanekilovelove-blog @candy-coated-misery0731

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #sam and dean #spn fanfic #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester x reader fluff #spn fluff #spn x reader #supernatural #supernatural fluff #supernatural x reader #supernatural fanfiction #jensen ackles #jensen ackles characters #nini writes

289 notes · View notes

heathermason6060 · 5 months ago

Text

Daryl Dixon x f!Reader: Together Apart Ch.5

Warnings/Mentions: History of abuse, neglect, strong language, mentions of character death, alcohol and drug abuse, ptsd, shared trauma, reader is cold, angst, fluff, eventual smut, slowburn, angst

Summary: You and Daryl grow closer due to feeling out of place in Alexandria. Just when you think you have the old Daryl back, he leaves.

Notes: I think the chapter after this one will be the last chapter, and finally have some cheesy old fashion love making :D Sorry Daryl vanishes at the end tho ):

It never seemed to end for him. In front of everyone else he was silent, emotionless, an empty body on autopilot. But when you'd walk off into the trees to search for water, it always hit him, no matter how many times he'd thought he'd cried out all out and was done with it.

He clung to you after her death like never before, constantly walking in your shadow and wordlessly begging for some sort of comfort, reassurance, anything. You did the best you could, which ended up being more than either of you expected. You seamlessly morphed into the familiar elder sister role, mirroring the ways you would comfort your bruised baby brother.

He put a cigarette out on his hand the one time he went off by himself, and not following him was something you came to regret.

“Daryl,” the whisper of your voice had him cringing, the sound too empathetic and full of concern, he had to fight to keep himself from cracking when your comfort washed over him.

“I know… I'm not good with words, or shit like this.” You sighed, maintaining a quiet tone, low enough for the sound of rain and the crackle of fire to cover.

Daryl remained silent as you spoke. He picked at the skin around his fingers, looking down at his hands in his lap, and the sight of your smaller hand lightly touching his wrist makes him jerk.

“I can't take away your pain, God knows I'd kill every goddamn piece of shit alive to make you feel better.” Your voice turned shaky, and the urge to cry was becoming overwhelming for the both of you. “But... I can promise you, you'll never have to worry about losing me. I just want you to know, I'm that one thing you don't need to worry about. I always will be.”

Daryl slowly inhaled through his stuffy nose and nodded, the noise dry and shaky, his eyes burning and unblinking from their gaze on your hand.

“I know.” He finally spoke and nodded again, as if that would magically set it in stone. “Me too.”

Slipping back into your place in the group dynamic was unpleasant after being alone with Gabriel for that long. It wasn't just one person you had to make an effort for anymore, and deep down you despised it. It was almost comparable to going back to school after summer break. You had to play by the rules again, fit into their perfect perception or risk repercussions.

The discovery of Eugenes lies was all but a surprise to you. You didn't have some wild sense of intuition, you were just a pessimistic person. Although you kept your opinions to yourself, you didn't predict the extent of how deep his lies had been. The cure was a given, obviously, but the fact he lied about being a scientist as well? Lied about the safe place in Washington too? It took everything you had in you not to cave his face in when you saw the look of disappointment on Daryl's face. That's another reason why you hated being in a group. People didn't deserve to be able to let you down, and sure as hell not the one person you gave a shit about.

People love to parrot that same ‘it has to get worse before it can get better’ bullshit you'd been told by concerned and empathetic authority figures all throughout your childhood. Safe to say it had lost its meaning to you, even when Daryl tried to lift your spirits.

Well, it sure got better for everyone else.

You weren't alone in your suspicions about Aaron. For once Rick and you agreed on something, it was a bad idea to go to Alexandria. But the group convinced him to take a chance, that the rewards greatly outweigh the risks, and you watched with a disapproving glare as Aaron led you all past the gates.

“I'm just going to ask you a few simple questions, get to know you. You don't mind if I record this, do you?”

You had a feeling your answer wouldn't make any difference, no matter what you said. You shook your head as you watched Deanna turn her video camera on, the big black lens feeling like an intimidating pit waiting to swallow you up if you gave an answer she didn't like. She rounded the couch and sat down, a tight and professional smile on her lips.

“Let's start with your name.”

You told her your name, trying to behave despite your stomach growling and the sudden awareness that you smelled and looked awful.

“Where are you from,” She repeated your name.

“Georgia. Up North.”

“Did you work?”

“No.”

“What were you before the outbreak?” When you didn't answer, she elaborated. “Were you a student in school, staying at home, traveling…?”

“After high school I stayed home for a couple years. Took care of my mom.”

“I understand you're close with Daryl, is that right?”

You must've visibly reacted to that question, because even after you answered, she pressed for more information.

“Did you grow up together?”

“Kind of, we weren't really friends or anything. He lived nearby and I'd see him around.”

Deanna nodded as if she was your therapist listening to some deep-seated trauma.

“Did you ask anyone else these questions?” You scratched the back of your arm, beginning to feel uncomfortable.

“I ask everyone all kinds of questions. I want to get to know you all, it's not an interrogation. You don't need to answer any that you don't want to.”

She finally changed the subject to your relationship with Rick's group. Not that you were eager to talk about it, but at least she wasn't grilling you on Daryl anymore.

“I've been here since before Rick came and took over. Back in Atlanta. Daryl and his brother Merle came to get me when it happened. I thought maybe they were having some bad trip or somethin'. Ran into my house yelling about dead folks coming back to life and eating people. If it wasn't for them, I'd probably be dead too, but, I think they mainly came to get me because they knew my mom had a stash of cigarettes and drugs.” You were chuckling as you spoke, not realizing you had given up so much information without her even asking. You instantly shut up, the amused smile leaving your face.

“How do you get along with other members of your group?”

You cringed at the phrasing. They weren't your group, they were Daryl's people, you were just a temporary guest without a set time to leave.

“Fine. Haven't heard any complaints. Have you?”

“No. But I have heard you don't work well with others.”

You shrugged.

“Do you want to be here?” The way she would use your name at the end of every few sentences was starting to get under your skin.

“I'm kinda stuck with wherever Daryl wants to be.”

Deanna ended the interview after a handful of other unimportant questions and you were allowed to leave, led to your new house by one of her son's.

You took the longest and hottest shower of your life, only getting out when Abraham started pounding on the door. It brought back that same feeling of anxiety you'd get when your mother would bang on your locked door in a fit of anger. You nearly ran him over when you burst out of the bathroom, making him drop his change of clothes and call out a disgruntled complaint.

“Who the hell is this?”

Daryl looked up from his bag to see you looking down at him, a teasing grin on your fresh face. The image of you being all cleaned up had him momentarily stunned. It had been a while since either of you had seen each other clean like that.

“Daryl? No way, where's your grease?” You toyed with his damp hair before sitting next to him on the floor near the fireplace, where he'd decided to sleep for the night.

“Nah, I don't know you. Ya don't smell like bloody rabbits.” He retorted, leaning in to dramatically sniff at you. “The hell is that? Shampoo?”

“Uh, it's shampoo, conditioner, body wash, lotion, and toothpaste.” You replied, giving an exaggerated smile to show your clean teeth.

You shared a few chuckles and jokes as the rest of the group cleaned up and prepared for bed. Even though you couldn't stand the place or the new people in it, the prospect of having your own room with an actual bed had you buzzing with excitement.

Sleeping next to Daryl wasn't anything out of the ordinary for you. It was an arrangement that happened more nights than not. But sleeping next to Daryl in a safe house, wrapped in clean clothes, soft blankets, and not even the slightest whiff of the outdoors? It was overwhelming.

You turned on your side to face him, watching as he stared up at the ceiling, the dark room filled with the familiar ambiance of gentle snoring and breathing. Daryl always slept after everyone else, and that night was no exception.

Despite your instincts telling you not to, you wiggled on the blanket to move closer to him, nuzzling your face in his nearly dry hair, closing your eyes as you inhaled his clean scent.

He stiffened at first, an automatic reaction which soon faded and he relaxed, tilting his head until his cheek rested against your forehead. He could barely feel the warm tickle of your breath under his jaw, the feeling soliciting a subliminal relaxation. His eyes closed then, and he listened to the barely audible whistle of your nose. He listened as the whistle got softer, slower, and nearly disappeared altogether as you fell asleep.

Daryl made sure to untangle himself from you the next morning, before anyone else had the chance to wake up and witness your private bond. No one deserved to see that part of him or you, it was intended for the two of you alone, something deeper and more personal than anyone would understand.

Adjusting to being around people was a challenge that went all the way back to school. Even in Atlanta you struggled with it, going from being a hermit with your sick mother to an adult in a large group of people, it felt like your first day of school all over again.

That was all nothing compared to being in Alexandria. Not only were you surrounded by people that annoyed you, but another larger group of people you knew absolutely nothing about.

They bestowed heavy responsibilities on you as well. It wasn't just scraping by washing clothes and hunting, it was work. Hard work. Wall building, gardening, work inside Alexandria, work outside their walls, near constant supply runs, and cooking.

Parties. Pasta for dinner. A seemingly limitless flow of sparkling amber champagne. Some kid was walking their fucking pet dog on the sidewalk.

It felt insulting. Their first impression on you firmly implemented your personal views towards them. Spoiled, weak, wearing faces of false persona, wives chittering like hens with warm knowing smirks. Husbands and men who always smiled like the sun, going out of their way to do things they considered nice for you, then putting on a somber and humble face if anyone had praised their hard work, dedication, and sacrifices. Sacrifices that basically ensued going to the grocery store.

You hated it. You hated them, you hated their kids, you hated their houses that looked like mansions to you, and you hated the way Rick's group treated it like they'd walked through the bright pearly gates and not the glorified pretentious prison that it was.

To your relief Daryl didn't quite like it either.

“They invited us to what?” You didn't believe him when he said it to you as he stared around your new room.

“Said it was a welcoming party.” He grunted, fingers picking at the edges of a tacky poster of a puppy on the wall.

“A party? What do you mean a party?”

“Dunno.” He sighed, throwing his hands up in muted exasperation. “S’jus what she said.” She being Deanna, the same woman who took away your guns, which yours had grown to be quite the impressive collection. But you being your hardened and sneaky self, you'd managed to smuggle two of your handguns into your room. Daryl got to keep his crossbow, of course, and you your own recurve bow, it was the bare minimum aside from your knives, which the others were allowed to keep as well. Sadly, you'd end up breaking that bow a few days later by slinging it at Pete's head.

“And everyone's going?” You pressed on from your seat on the bedroom dresser.

“Dunno. Goddamn, told you what she told me, you know s’much as I do.”

You went to the party. Of fucking course you would, they had full on meals with all the food groups, they had alcohol, they had little appetizers and finger foods you'd only ever seen on tv and in magazines, you'd be an idiot not to. The only con was the house was stuffed with people. You could barely make it two steps without bumping into a new face.

You didn't stay long at all, leaving the second your stomach felt full, and you had a decent buzz going on. You snuck out the back door and snagged the half empty bottle of champagne on your way out.

“Ya went?” Daryl was surprised to see you walking down the sidewalk in new clothes. The black button up hung a little loose on you, the sleeves bunched up around your elbows, the hem falling all the way past your ass.

“I may not like those people, but they make some damn good casserole.” You snickered, popping out the metal reusable cork and taking a deep drink.

Daryl grabbed the bottle from your outstretched hand and downed nearly the whole damn thing in three gulps.

“Yeah yeah. Go on, help yourself.”

He gave a weak grin at your playful scoff before handing the bottle back to you.

“You remember what I said back in Atlanta.”

You looked to your side at Daryl as the two of you walked down the dimly lit path back to your new residence. “Gotta be more specific.”

“Bout takin’ their shit an’ hauling ass outta there.”

“Yeah. One of my biggest regrets is talking you out of it.” You sighed, your tone no longer playful and lighthearted. “We could be all the way across the country by now. Would still have Merle bitching out ears off and ranting about some racist conspiracy theory.”

Daryl suddenly chuckled. “You ‘member that time he was tryin’ to come up with slurs for walkers?” His amused grin spread further when you erupted into laughter at the memory. “What was it he called ‘em? Rotters? Pus-suckers?”

“Yeah, those were some of the tamer ones.” At the time you'd been annoyed by Merle's constant need to remind you that the three of you were better and more superior than anything and anyone around you, but all this time without him and his humorous outlook on life, you missed it. You even missed when he'd belittle you, at the end of the day he still was sexist, despite the obvious care he held for you.

“Why'd you ask though?”

“Dunno.”

“Daryl.”

“Everyone's safe now, ain't gotta worry about ‘em anymore.”

You kept quiet as he fought for the words to convey his thoughts. It was obvious he felt like the odd man out again, it was impossible not to, in a place as nice as Alexandria. The rest of the group had effortlessly slipped into their places in the new environment, if you were an onlooker, it would look as if time had frozen in place for the small neighborhood and its citizens.

But Daryl, and you, it wasn't easy like that. You never had a normal life like this, so you had no default state to regress to. Daryl had only changed a little since the start, and you hadn't changed much at all. Your skin felt like it was burning with electricity at the insinuation in his words.

“I'll go wherever you go, you know that.” You nodded firmly. “Just say the word.”

He ended up going to Carol with his vague plan, and then Rick. You don't know what they said to him, but the next morning he told you he wanted to give it a few days before he made his decision.

You should've just made the decision for him. You should have grabbed your stuff, packed your bags, and stole one of their cars and left. Because a few days turned into a hell of a lot longer.

It wasn't all bad, the two of you grew even closer due to his feelings of being an outcast once again surfacing. It was the same for you, which caused you to cling onto him tighter than before. You slept on the same ratty mattress in your room, sometimes cuddling, but most of the time on separate ends.

You watched more people die around you, which was something you'd become bitterly accustomed to. Aiden, one of Deanna’s sons, and Noah, who you'd never spoken to before. Rick made some trouble for himself getting wrapped up in the wife of the town surgeon, and all hell broke loose after that. Pete lost his shit and accidentally killed Deanna's husband, and Rick killed Pete. As if there hadn't been enough blood shed, a hoard of walkers became an issue just as things started to calm down.

You didn't like the role that'd been assigned to you. You were being seen and tasked as a protector, sent out by Rick with Abraham and a handful of others to build strategic walls for his master plan of relocating the hoard.

Another thing you didn't like was the way people's views towards you changed. People who once never even spared you a second thought were speaking to you, making an effort to get to know you, and it was just as unsettling as that time Rick invited you over for dinner.

“Too pretty to be so sad all the time.” Abraham had said once as you dug a hole for the wooden pillar.

“I'm not sad.” You muttered, stepping back as three men lifted the wood into the hole. You poured in the instant concrete and took your gloves off to get a drink of water.

“So you just always have that sour look on your face then, huh?”

“Only when I'm around people I don't know.” Or like, you thought to yourself.

“I've known you for how long now? Course you know me. And Sasha, and Rosita, and-”

“You're people I'm stuck with. Doesn't mean I know you.”

“Tsh.” He snorted, folding his massive arms across his equally massive chest. “So you're just a bitch then?”

“Yeah.”

One would think that conversation would've been enough to get the point across. No, sadly, it only made things worse. Rick ended up giving you jobs with more people, and you quickly caught onto the convenient way Daryl was almost never in those assigned groups.

Rick was in charge, that was undebatable, but he wasn't in charge of your free will. You did your work as he asked, most of the time faster than expected, and spent every second of your free time with Daryl, even if it meant pulling four different jobs a day.

It worked like that for a while, and eventually you did begin to change. Not you exactly, moreso your attitude had changed. You became less closed off, no longer baring teeth and claws as a constant warning. You actually enjoyed spending time with Abraham, as he was one of the only people that called you out for being shitty, he wasn't scared of your mean mug or the harsh bite of your words. It wasn't just Abraham you started to like. Maggie, Carol, Rosita, Michonne, and sometimes Tara, the small group shifted from strangers to acquaintances, some would call you their friend. They'd eventually worn down your hard exterior and you experimented a little with conversation and generosity. Carol was the exception, it was you who had to pursue her. Trying to become genuine friends with her was hard, it made you realize how hard everyone else had been trying with you.

You even started decorating your room a bit. Nothing fancy, just a few homemade shelves and displays for your numerous weapons. You made a special one above your futon, the only object it held was the small gold tinted shell of a used bullet.

All good things must come to an end.

You sat alone in your shared room for the third night in a row, silent on your lumpy mattress, your eyes burning in effort to hold back tears.

He hadn't even told you he was leaving.

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams @my1fx @jinx-nanami

122 notes · View notes