#in the last picture you can't see it but they're holding hands :)

[lilacgaby]

˗ˏˋ🧸 bows and bottles ౨ৎ

pairing: girldad!megumi x wife!reader

summary: megumi had been shocked by you multiple times this year. finding out you were pregnant? a shocker. with a girl though? even more shocking. good thing he was a natural.

tags: pet names, pregnancy, afab!reader, domestic au, marriage, insecurities, fluff

(a/n: another lovely ask by @lexiene !! i think every jjk character is a girldad personally )

those two lines you showed to him changed the course of his life.

he was nervous sure, but you being there always calmed him down. he examined the rest of the items you'd placed in the gift box one by one, noting the gender-neutral clothing.

"you don't know the gender yet?"

"no silly! i'm only like.. a month. i think i have to be eighteen weeks or something to know."

"oh, okay."

"are you hoping for a gender?" you asked, moving your legs to face him on the couch.

"no, as long as they're healthy." he answered honestly, though the thought of having a girl did make him feel a bit nervous.

"hm, okay."

the weeks working up to the appointment you'd made were nerve wracking for megumi. you'd only been suffering mild symptoms of nausea and fatigue, so he'd been at your hand and feet most days.

the months had passed and your bump had grew. he'd been an angel for you, never letting you complain for more than a couple seconds. he'd wake up in the middle of the night and cook for you if you needed, he just wanted you and his kid to be safe.

as he drove to the appointment, reality set into him. you were having his baby, and they were going to find out the gender right now.

but an idea struck you in the car. "hey, how about we have them keep it a secret? we can have a fun little gender reveal party."

he physically slumped at the idea, relaxing a bit. "yeah, sounds good. but a small party, gojo is way too much of a lightweight for a huge one like last time."

you laughed at the memory, looking out the window as you held megumi's hand close to your thigh.

the visit at the doctor's was quick, they put the results of the ultrasound into an envelope for you two, and let you take home dozens of copies of the scans.

you went home content, smiling brightly as you looked over the pictures.

"they have your nose." you said out of the blue.

"you can't even tell that, it's a scan."

"yes i can."

"whatever you say."

the next week you had a small get together with some of your friends and megumi's. you wore a plain white dress since you didn't mind if it was a boy or a girl, and megumi wore a white button-up.

gojo wore a pink shirt, and argued with yuuji who was wearing a blue shirt.

nobara was carrying bags and bags of baby supplies, but was also wearing a pink shirt.

nanami was there holding a small gift box, he wore a white button-up with a pink tie.

they, along with some of your family, all held up confetti poppers. at the count of three they blew them up, pink confetti flying everywhere.

as gojo and nobara high fived each other, cheering at how they were right, you and megumi hugged eachother.

you now were able to go crazy, making everything really cute and pink for your little daughter. bows and bunnies scattered her nursery, pink flowers painted all over the walls.

cute rugs and rocking chairs, even her crib got a princess canopy.

nobara had gotten you the cutest little dresses and shoes, in the tiny box nanami had gotten for your baby girl it was little earrings. pure gold with a gemstone of her assumed birthmonth.

the months passed by really quickly, megumi kept his missions to a minimum so he could stay clung to your side.

he was a saint like always, holding your bump up for you to give you a few moments of relief, massaging parts of your body, he'd always be there for you.

but your little girl was stubborn and refused to come out. when he thought you were sleeping he'd speak to her, ask her nicely to come out tomorrow, speak about how excited he was to see her.

after a couple nights of that and morning walks? your water broke. he grabbed the overnight bag and made it to the driveway, only to realize..

he forgot you. oops.

picking up an annoyed you, he made it to the car and drove as fast as he could safely.

you delivered your baby safely, megumi thinking his wrist was going to snap from how hard you had it in your grip. he rolled his eyes though, because you were right.

she did have his nose. and his hair color, and his eyes. but she had your skin color, your lips, your eyebrows.

she was adorable.

she slept the whole day, not waking up unless she was woke up by you or him. she was an angel. barely ever crying.

he was relieved to find that she had your demeanor, your expressiveness that was more than just a straight demeanor most of the time.

he was the happiest when he looked into her and saw you, features of you that worked so harmoniously with his.

she was perfect.

she definitely had a favorite. spoiler alert: it wasn't you.

she always giggled when megumi was around, her first word was papa, much to your dismay. she clung to him all day, he was a natural at everything after all.

whenever he'd go on missions she'd cry, him having to call you just so she could fall asleep.

when she became a toddler? she'd run to the door to greet him everytime he'd come back. staying up past her bedtime just to see him.

but always passing out in his arms, wanting to stay by his side as she slept.

he'd do her hair once it was long enough. she begged and begged for him to learn how to braid, and after much consultation he learned.

he was there with her when she got her ears pierced, holding her hand as the needle went through her ear. it didn't hurt, but the numbing sensation felt weird. she wore the golden earrings she was gifted 5 years ago with pride, almost convincing megumi to get his ears pierced too.

almost.

she had him wrapped around her finger, doing anything she wanted whenever. if she wanted a toy she had it the next day. she wanted to go somewhere? let's start planning a family trip.

he taught her how to read patiently, grabbing any number of baby books to help her piece together the words, clapping together when she read a page successfully.

they shared a sweet tooth, so most of time he'd 'sneak' her snacks. candy, lollipops, chocolate, cupcakes, they'd share them together and laugh because they thought you didn't notice.

they were like two peas in a pod, they acted exactly the same sometimes. shed repeat his sentences, the way he walked, and even his facial expressions.

she clung to you just as much though, don't get it confused. she loved your attention on her as much as he did, scrunching her face when you two kissed in front of her. her using her body to push you away and 'reprimand' megumi.

he loved his girls so much, he didn't think life could get any better than being sandwiched in between the two of you while you watched random movies in the living room.

but it magically did, when for his birthday he was gifted baby socks. "are you joking?" he said, hugging you both tightly.

"those are too small for him!"

"they aren't for him sweetheart."

with another baby girl on the way, and his two treasured ladies right beside him, he definitely thinks he was born for this.

to stand by all of your sides, forever.

[mononijikayu]

chapter (1) — rumours.

GENRE: alternate universe - actors/celeb au!

WARNING/S: not safe for work (nsfw), r-18 and above, singers au!, romance, fluff, minor angst, slow burn, humour, slice of life, will they won't they, light-hearted, flirting, playful, possessiveness, teasing, explicit content, possible, kissing, sexual content, innuendos, drama, feels, hurt/comfort, falling in love, love, happy ending, actor/singer! sukuna, actress/celeb! reader;

WORD COUNT: 3k words.

NOTE: this was a request by a good friend of mine here, midnight-138; honestly, this was fun to write but i realized it wasn't going to be fun without a series happening. since jjk ended, i like to think its just a tv show with actors and everything. anyway!!! enjoy it!!!

masterlist

hey lover! series

SOMEHOW, ITS VERY COMMON TO HEAR YOUR NAME IN ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING. Headlines are always buzzing about your on-screen chemistry with your beloved co-star Ryomen Sukuna in Jujutsu Kaisen.

The two of you are practically inseparable on set, sharing private jokes and glances that fans swear could only belong to people who are more than just co-stars. Every Instagram post and tag, every red-carpet, every bit of interaction sends social media into a frenzy.

A blurry paparazzi photo of the two of you leaving a restaurant together? Uproar. Sukuna’s hand on your back at a press event? Uproar. Matching accessories spotted in your latest selfies? Uproar.

Fans dissect every interaction, convinced that something more than friendship is brewing. Because why wouldn't they? Everything felt like a clue. Everythjng felt like it was a mystery that needed to be solved when it comes to you two.

But the worst part about it is that you and Sukuna remain silent. Neither confirming nor denying anything. When asked about your relationship during interviews, you both just smile—maybe even exchange a playful look, adding fuel to the fire.

You leave fans in a constant state of guessing, teasing them with cryptic posts that seem like inside jokes only the two of you could understand.

In the quiet privacy behind the cameras, though, whether there’s truth to the rumors or not is a secret only you and Sukuna hold close. And maybe that’s part of what keeps everyone so hooked.

As social media explodes with theories, fans take it upon themselves to become full-time detectives. Suddenly, every frame from behind-the-scenes footage becomes evidence.

"Did you see the way Sukuna passed her the water bottle? That’s definitely a boyfriend move." People zoom in on grainy images like they're solving a mystery for the FBI.

A single, innocent tweet of yours like, "Had sushi today!!! 🍣🥢" is met with immediate chaos:

"GUYS, DIDN’T SUKUNA POST A PICTURE OF CHOPSTICKS TWO DAYS AGO?? THEY’RE EATING TOGETHER, CONFIRMED!!"

"Sukuna wears black, she’s wearing black. THEY’RE MATCHING."

"Doesn't she live in the East Side and Sukuna has a shoot in New York too? I bet he slept at her place, that's why they're together!"

You can't even breathe without someone connecting it back to Sukuna. Once, you posted a picture of your mother's cat, and someone commented, "Wait, Sukuna said in an interview last year that he likes cats. Coincidence?? I THINK NOT."

And the funniest part? You and Sukuna seem to be in on the joke. And still, STILL, not confirm anything. Not one thing. NEVER.

At every red carpet event, you both manage to “accidentally” coordinate outfits or just happen to walk into the venue within seconds of each other. On set, you pass him your coffee to share and the fandom collectively loses its mind. Yet, in interviews, your answers remain as vague as ever:

“So, there’s been a lot of talk about you and Sukuna. Are you two seeing each other?” The interviewer asks you, a certain mischief in his eye.

You looked at Sukuna, who raises a teasing brow. “We see each other every day on set, yeah.”

Sukuna grins back at you. “Sometimes even during lunch. At your trailer."

"Well, depends on the day." You added, grinning back. "I mean, sometimes we get messy in there so...."

Your fandoms spirals further.

Of course, fans don’t stop. A blurry photo surfaces of someone who might be you two walking through a park, closely packed together in a very close skinship The comments section erupts:

"THAT’S THEM. SUKUNA POSTED A PICTURE OF THOSE BENCHES A WHILE AGO!!!"

"No way, that could be anyone!"

"Look at the way they walk. That’s dating posture."

"Dude, it's just two blobs in a park."

"Only their blobs could look that in love."

Eventually, the theories get so wild, people start making compilation videos of “proof.” You sit back, watching them, popcorn in hand, thinking, They really think they’ve got us figured out.

But until the day you decide to spill the beans—or not—the internet will just have to keep guessing. And you and Sukuna? You’re having way too much fun letting them.

One day, you both find yourselves in a meeting with the producers, and the topic of fan theories comes up. They’re considering incorporating some of the drama into the show. With how your characters are, it was very easy to just make it happen.

“You guys are basically a couple already in their eyes. Why not lean into it?” one of the producers suggests, chuckling.

Sukuna leans back, a mischievous glint in his eye. “So, what you’re saying is we should start holding hands on screen? I mean, don't we do that already?"

You can’t help but laugh. “i mean that depends, you know? Only if we get matching outfits. I’m not going out there without a coordinated look.”

The producers are writing down ideas, completely serious. “We could do a whole segment on you two fighting each other and you know......sexual tension. Very exciting.”

"We already have that anyway." Sukuna snickers back at the producer. He looks at you. "I mean......have you seen how we get down?"

"Yeah, we don't need anything to be scripted." You grinned back at Sukuna before standing up, walking towards him and placing a kiss on his cheek. "I have to go sit at the make up chair first. Bye!"

In that moment, even Jujutsu Kaisen's producers weren't sure. Are you guys datng or not?

And Ryomen Sukuna refused to say anything. He merely smiled. Proudly.

Later, during a shooting break, you and Sukuna can’t stop giggling about it. “If we did that, the fandom and our fans would explode.” you say, shaking your head. “We’d really end up causing a generational fall out."

Sukuna smirks, “Let them have their fun. I’m sure they're enjoying how we have fun too."

➽───────────❥

PROMO SEASON CAME AROUND FAST. And even during this time, you and Sukuna were never escaping the allegations. At one of the major press eventa later that month, you both decide to play with fire once again. Once more, rumors were little but they burnt like wildfire.

At exactly 9:00 am, you had to be there in the agency building to get ready. You show up wearing a shirt with a giant cartoon cat on it, and since Sukuna and you have the same agency, when Sukuna arrives, he’s wearing a matching shirt with a dog. The cameras flash, and you both strike a pose, arms crossed, looking like a bizarre couple straight out of a sitcom.

The internet goes wild.

“ARE THEY ADOPTING A PET TOGETHER?!”

In the frenzy, you hear someone yell, “What’s the cat’s name?”

You look at Sukuna, who gives a dramatic sigh. He snickers. “Guess we'll have to say something about our pet, darling.”

You both exchange a look, trying to suppress your laughter. “Oh, but don't we already have Noodle?” you suggest.

"We do.” he replies back, mischief in his eyes. “But only make sure you only feed him on your side of the bed.”

The whole thing spirals into a hilarious Twitter thread: “Sukuna and (Y/N) are definitely getting married and adopting a cat named Noodle.”

This entire thing creates media frenzy. Because what do you mean there's a marriage? And not to mention, a cat? That makes it even more serious!

The following week, you’re both asked to do a Q&A session with fans at a media event.

The moment someone asks, “So, is Noodle a real cat?” you both exchange a look, then burst out laughing.

“Listen, Noodle is a very busy cat.” you respond, trying to keep a straight face. “He’s got modeling gigs and a busy social life. And very busy building his collection of balls. He’s basically the star of our lives.”

Sukuna adds looking at you. “Yeah, he’s too good for us. He's definifely giving us a run for our money in acting. Oh, if you can visit our house and see his acting chops! He'd replace me as Sukuna!"

By now, the memes have taken over. “Noodle the cat is the real star of Jujutsu Kaisen” trends on Twitter, complete with fan art and even a fake merchandise line.

Every time you and Sukuna scroll through the latest memes together, it feels more like you’re in a sitcom than reality.

And it happened again when you both came live on Instagram after a long shoot together. You were eating convenience store ramen together. 

“We should probably just embrace the whole ‘cat dad’ angle for you, bub.” you suggest one evening while going through a particularly funny thread.

“Only if you’re down to play the role of the supportive girlfriend.” he teases.

“I’d do it for Noodle!” you laugh.

At the end of the day, the speculation continues, but now, it feels like a shared inside joke. And who knows? Maybe there’s a little truth buried in the fun.

Until then, you and Sukuna are happy to keep the mystery alive, letting the fans run wild with their theories while you enjoy the antics of being in the spotlight together. And just be together.

➽───────────❥

YOU DON'T LIKE PRESS TOURS. Because they get longer and longer the more yoi're in them. But it's part of your job and you can't ignore it.

As the promotional campaign for Jujutsu Kaisen heats up, the marketing team decides to do a special segment where you and Sukuna read some of the most outrageous thirst tweets from fans live on social media.

You both gather in a cozy studio set, a couple of drinks in hand, ready to dive into the wild world of fandom obsession.

The camera rolls, and the host introduces the segment with a laugh. “Today, we have two of the hottest stars from Jujutsu Kaisen! Let’s see what the fans are saying about them.”

The first tweet pops up on the screen:

“Why do I want to fight Y/N just to get a date with Sukuna? Like.....Let me touch those pecs too, Y/N! #ThirstyForSukuna”

You smirk and turn to Sukuna, raising an eyebrow. “Looks like I've got some competition, buddy. Who knew you’d be a heartthrob?”

Sukuna leans back, feigning nonchalance. “What can I say? I’ve got that bad-boy charm everyone just falls for, you know?"

The next tweet scrolls by:

“Y/N could step on my neck and I’d thank her for it. #JJKThirst”

You nearly choke on your drink, laughing uncontrollably. “Wow, I’m basically a neck-stomping goddess now?”

Sukuna grins, “I might need to step up my game. Do I have to start practicing neck-stomping moves?”

You grinned. "Why not? We can start now, baby boy."

"Hang on, lemme kneel in front of you."

The host chuckles, and the viewers can feel the playful tension in the air. The next tweet appears:

“Why is Y/N so cute? I just want to put her in my pocket and carry her around. #ProtectY/N”

You lean over and poke Sukuna playfully. “Looks like I’m the cute one. What are you going to do about it?”

“Pocket-sized? I’m pretty sure I could lift you up and carry you around. I’d be the pocket protector.”

The host raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the banter. “This is some serious couple energy right here!”

More tweets flash on the screen, and they’re getting wilder:

“I’d let Sukuna ruin my life and then ask for more. #JJK”

“Y/N and Sukuna need to date in real life. They have undeniable chemistry!”

You read that one aloud, rolling your eyes dramatically. “It’s not like we don’t have undeniable chemistry, right? I mean, we just got it, you know?"

Sukuna leans closer, lowering his voice, “You’re right. It’s almost like we’re living in a rom-com, and I’m just waiting for the big confession scene.”

The chat is blowing up, and you can see fans losing their minds over the playful flirting. Comments like, “THEY’RE SO IN LOVE!” and “CAN THEY JUST DATE ALREADY?!” flood the screen.

Next up is a tweet that reads, “Y/N can do no wrong. I’d let do anything for my queen to step on me! #ThirstyForY/N”

You turn to Sukuna with a playful smirk. “Looks like I have my own little army. How do you feel about that?”

He leans back, crossing his arms. “I’m not worried. They can love you all they want, but who’s the one sharing sushi with you?”

The two of you break into laughter as another tweet rolls in:

“Okay, but if you and Sukuna don’t end up together by the end of JJK, I’ll riot.”

You look at Sukuna, eyes wide. “Looks like we’re starting a revolution!”

“Right? How about we take the revolution to the next level? You and I should go on a ‘date’ for the cameras and really stir things up.”

“Imagine the tweets! ‘The romance is REAL!’” you exclaim, giggling.

By the time the segment wraps up, fans are in a complete frenzy. The host turns to the camera, “You’ve seen the tweets, now let’s see what the fans will do with this energy. You guys are absolutely hilarious!”

As the cameras stop rolling, you and Sukuna lean back, grinning at each other. “You know, I think we just made a lot of people’s dreams come true,” you say, still buzzing from the fun.

Sukuna winks. “Just wait until the next promo event. We’ll really give them something to talk about.”

With the buzz of excitement surrounding you both, the thrill of flirting, and the chaos of fandom, it’s clear that the jokes and playful banter only add fuel to the fire of the romance rumor mill, and you’re both having the time of your lives

As the promotional segment wraps up, you and Sukuna step off set, still riding the high from the chaotic energy of the livestream.

Fans are already trending the hashtag #YandSForever, and you can’t help but pull out your phone to check the latest tweets.

“Look at this one, Su!” you say, reading aloud. “I need Y/N and Sukuna to take a couple’s selfie like right now. Make it happen!” You smirk. “Should we make that a thing?”

Sukuna raises an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “A couple’s selfie? What, are we going to match our outfits again?”

“Absolutely! Let’s go full rom-com with hearts in the background.” You both burst into laughter, and he nudges you playfully.

“Okay, but only if we can throw Noodle into the picture for added cuteness.” he says, mock-serious. “Can’t let my cat-dad image fade. After all, we have a three soul family!”

As you’re scrolling through the tweets, you come across one that reads, “If Y/N and Sukuna were a snack, they’d be the whole charcuterie board—gorgeous, a little salty, and definitely irresistible.”

You snort, shaking your head. “Okay, that’s actually pretty clever.”

“Salty, huh?” Sukuna leans in closer with a smirk, “You think they’re implying something about me?”

“Only that you’re a snack, Sukuna.” You wink, enjoying the banter as you both stroll through the studio’s backlot.

Suddenly, someone yells, “Hey! Are you two dating, or what?” It’s one of the crew members, clearly getting in on the joke.

You both pause, exchanging a look. “We’re.....interesting, right?” you say, nudging Sukuna.

He smirks, “Yeah, just interesting. Especially together. Interesting together as we definitely share sushi and matching outfits.”

The crew member laughs, shaking his head. “You’re both ridiculous. Just make it official already!”

You can’t help but grin, feeling a mix of warmth and excitement at the thought. As you continue walking, you check your phone again and see another trending tweet:

“Sukuna’s hand on Y/N’s back at the premiere was a whole mood. I’m not okay.”

“Hey, I think we were just trying to navigate the crowd.” you say, laughing as you elbow Sukuna. “Or maybe I was just trying to keep you from tripping on your own ego.”

He feigns shock, placing a hand over his heart. “My ego is as solid as my acting skills! But it’s nice to have someone as cute as you around to keep me grounded, darling."

Your cheeks flush at the compliment, and you decide to lean into it. “Well, I’ll just have to make sure to keep your ego in check. Maybe I’ll start charging a fee for my services.”

“Oh? What’s the rate?” he asks, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“A dinner date sounds fair. Noodle can join too!”

Just then, another crew member walks past, overhearing your banter. “Wait, are you two actually going to have a date? I’ll start a betting pool.”

Sukuna leans in, whispering dramatically, “How much are they betting on us? Better be big money we can share.”

You break into laughter again. “I’m betting they’ll think we’ll end up together by the end of the season. That’s practically a guarantee.”

As you walk back to your trailer, you can see fans gathering outside, hoping to catch a glimpse of you both.

“Looks like we’ve got an audience, Su!” you say, glancing at the growing crowd.

Sukuna gives you a sly smile. “Let’s give them a show.”

You both step out onto the steps of your trailer, and the fans cheer, holding up their phones to capture the moment. Sukuna eagerly wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close as you both pose for a picture, flashing playful grins.

The fans go wild, shouting your names and yelling for you to kiss.

“Maybe next time, guys! I'm hungry!” you shout back, grinning. “Tough luck but you’ll have to settle for selfies!”

"Yeah, everyone!" Sukuna whispers, a sly smile on his face. "Can't let my darling be hungry now, can't I?"

You both pose for a few more pictures, enjoying the energy and excitement radiating from the crowd. As you glance at Sukuna, you can’t help but feel a rush of adrenaline.

This might just be a fun little game for you both, but with every shared laugh and inside joke, the lines between friendship and something more seem to blur just a little more.

Later that evening, you’re scrolling through Twitter again, and the excitement of the day sinks in as you read the latest updates:

“I’m not saying Y/N and Sukuna are endgame, but… I’m not NOT saying it either.”

“Someone tell me how I can apply to be the third wheel on their sushi dates! #LifeGoals”

“Can’t wait for the upcoming JJK season! Also, please, can they just kiss already?”

You smile, a mix of joy and mischief bubbling up inside you. With Sukuna by your side, the adventure has only just begun, and you can’t wait to see where it all leads. After all, isn't that the fun?

[artzee534]

Doodle request: Hello! In honor of summer could you draw sonic and tails at the beach and tails with cute floaties?

This was such a cute request, anon 🥺🤧

[boowritess]

very mild 18+ simon riley x reader

lmaoo i can't breathe Simon Riley is just a man.

atleast to you.

when he's home, all he is to you is dry humor, a couple beers every night, sat in front of the tv on his spot on the couch, the game is playing - some soccor or rugby match. he doesn't wear his mask, his clothes are a simple t-shirt and some pair of shorts he just threw on.

he uses your shampoo and conditioner, as much as it pisses you off because it's expensive and for some reason he uses half the fucking bottle everytime he's home, but when he does the groceries he still comes home with '2 in 1 shampoo and conditioner' he would’ve got the '3 in 1' but the last time he did that he got no head for 3 weeks.

he'll go to the pub, take you out, pushes the trolley, holds your bag, let's you dress how you want it, belly gets a little soft because he eats food like he's never ate before, buy you anything you want even after the 'do you really need it though?' talk.

he's bit lazy on workouts only goes on the occasional run, but will fuck you whenever you want; always vanilla and only gets rough when you ask.

he will say he'll fix whatever appliance needs tending too but won't do it right away, starts the occasional handyman job at odd times.

it's just - he's so mundane and normal that you'd never know just how dangerous he is ???? like he so carefully hides that side from you. seriously. when he's home, he throws his gear in the bottom of his closet in a box, locking Ghost away and just existing as Simon.

even when the rest of the task force come around on the occasion. they're so normal and are just... men. yelling at the tv during a sport match. teasing each other. stealing snacks and helping with cleaning. they never speak about work and when you ask them, it's always a smile and shrug, "just another day really." "little boring and slow." "oh not too bad." their answers are so half-assed, that you don't even ask anymore; which is what they want.

but you really aren't missing anything. not when you don't even know what you're missing out on.

it's crazy, because he even keeps Ghost hidden when you're being harassed by men. whether that be when you're shopping or just going for a walk.

he'll loop an arm around your waist or over your shoulder, look at the guy with a grin - that's more of a sneer, "can i help you, mate?" he'll drawl. his stature and stare is enough to make the man who had been harassing you back off.

"what a freak..." you mutter with a roll of your eyes, letting Simon guide you away as he presses a kiss to your temple, a deep chuckle leaving him.

around midnight you wake up to Simon in the laundry room washing his hands. he doesn't blink or hesitate when you wonder in and wrap your arms around his waist. "what're you doing?" you mumble, sleepy eyss dropping to the sink.

Simon's hands are red, and you would be alarmed, should be alarmed. but how could you when Simon hums softly, a sound that rumbles deep from his throat, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head. he's so warm and casual that you don't even do a touble take seeing the blood.

"caught a rat. right pest they are. the trap i set snapped it clean in half." Simon's mutters, he raises a bloodied hand to you, sniggering when you crinkle your nose up in disgust and step away from him.

"ew, i'm going back to bed." you huff, yawning and leaving him to what he was doing.

Simon laughs softly as you head off. "just be a sec, love." he says as you go. all he receives is a yawn and a tired 'mhm'.

he cleans his hands and then his phone chimes. he pulls it out and it's a private message.

'getting rid of your pest now, LT.'

image attached

Simon opens the picture and sure enough there's the man from earlier in the boot of a car. all bloodied like Ghost left him.

Simon heads back upstairs to your shared room, you quietly snoozing away. you don't steer or wake as the closet door opens and Simon's putting his mask back in with his gear. No. Ghost is too quiet to let you wake from such a warm and sweet sleep.

he turns from the closet after putting everything away and changing clothes. he crawls into his side of the bed and wraps his arms around you. letting your body nestle back into his side. limbs tangling together.

just you and your simon.

a/n: inspired by a tik tok video on how he is just a man lmaooo

[bi-writes]

i'm a big fan of your writing! can i ask what made simon want to mail order a bride in the first place? thanks <3

mail-order bride

he's tired of staring across his dinner table and seeing nothing but empty space.

it isn't something he had thought about in the before. he's spent a long time shifting between different cots, collecting sand from faraway places and counting the bodies he dropped with tally marks against his boots.

there's a picture he keeps tucked into his vest, but he won't take it out. it sits heavy there, an invisible wall between himself and the outside world, a reality that he chooses not to believe. if he doesn't look at them, he won't think of them, and if he doesn't think of them, maybe he can pretend they were never even real.

they all have something outside of here. his sergeants are too pretty and too outgoing to stick around; they're social butterflies, and simon has seen the shuffle of pictures of some pretty girl that gaz can't stop staring at, and soap never shuts up--whenever they have a signal, he's somehow got a phone call with his cousin's stepfather's little sister, or it's his second cousin's brother-in-law's birthday, and he's got to wish him well since he missed his art exhibition last month.

even price has a pale circular shadow that is stained onto his ring finger.

it's not his fault, is it? it's not his fault he was dealt the worst fucking hand. it wasn't his fault he was born already two feet into the grave; it couldn't have been his fault that he can only get a good night's sleep when there's screaming in one ear or the rattle of a battlefield over his head.

it isn't his fault. it isn't his fault. it isn't his fault.

the cigarettes taste bland today. they're old, stale, and he can taste the bitterness already, but he lights it anyways, flicking ash into the ground, scrunching his nose until he gets used to the bite of it.

there's a shadow at his side, and he turns to snap at them, assuming it's johnny and his incessant nagging, but he holds his tongue when he realizes it's his captain.

he's got a warm cigar in one hand, and he leans against the concrete wall beside him, sighing deep, the kind of pensive weight that only a captain can bear.

price looks tired. he needs to go home.

"boys invited y'out, didn't they?" price asks, and simon chuckles lowly.

"'m olready 'ome," simon murmurs. "'n i can get piss drunk oll on my own 'ere."

price shrugs.

"ya haven't taken leave since you joined my team, simon," he says low. "can't have that. you know it."

simon shrugs.

"can try and make me go," simon tells him. "but y'know i won't leave."

"i'm not asking, simon," price says firmly. "'m telling."

"doesn't matter," simon takes a long drag of the cigarette, holding it in for a second too long before letting it out slow. "got nowhere ta go."

his captain is not blind. simon's on a one-way road, and the end of it stops at the end of someone else's gun. men like simon, the ones who have nothing to lose, they're dangerous. they clear rooms outnumbered thirty to one because no one thinks they can. they hit targets from thousands of yards away because it's the only place that never changes. they kill and sleep peacefully because the blood of a stranger is far cleaner than that of someone they know, of someone they love.

they'll never leave because war is familiar. they don't want to go home because home isn't something they know. they're nomads, taking with them only what they can carry, because the rest is baggage and an emotional weight that they aren't strong enough to carry.

but it doesn't mean men like simon don't want. it doesn't mean they don't wish for more. it doesn't mean they don't think about using their teeth for something other than baring them to show their dominance, their aggression, their insecurity.

simon's a protector. the way he shoves his men behind him says so. the steadiness of his voice over comms when the op goes to shit. the ease of his hand when he ties a tourniquet. the split second that simon never wastes, the way he uses his body as armor and the look he gives his men when they're scared. simon's died twice before, and the look in his eyes tells them that this isn't it, that this isn't death, because he'd fucking know--he'd recognize it if he saw it.

simon's unrelenting. his past, his trauma, it's tried to beat him into a shape that will bend and snap, but its obvious simon is not made of lead--fuck, he's an entire block of unmovable steel. he does not give when compressed, he does not crack when the strength of him is tested. simon's fought too hard to live to let a gun terrify him, he's endured too much torture to flinch when someone sinks a blade into his chest.

but he knows, simon knows, that there is something missing. he fought hard to live, but for what? he's endured, but what the fuck is there when he lays his head down at night?

simon's a lover. he tries so hard to convince himself that he's always been this way--alone, drifting, lost, but it's a lie. simon knows what it's like to want. he knows what it's like to look into a crowd and hope you see a familiar face. he understands wanting to pull that string taut, but he also understands what it can do to you. what it can take from you.

he understands what you can never get back.

he thinks this is a bad idea. he crumples the note paper in his hand that had the address scribbled onto it, tearing it, staring up at the house in front of him. it's quaint, a lovely little house in the outskirts of london, with a red chimney and overturned planters in the yard. there's a weathered wooden door, a porch step that needs fixing, and when he kicks open the door, he grimaces seeing a carpet that need's replacing.

"the fuck am i doin' 'ere?" he whispers to himself, sliding his mask off, running a hand over his face. his heart is pounding, but he's not sure why, but he catches his reflection in the window. what looks back at him terrifies him--he can't do this.

he makes his way back outside, rummaging through his pockets for a cigarette. he takes a seat on the steps, lighting it, and as he takes his first frantic drag, he sees the torn pages of the note still on the ground. he picks up one end of it, running his thumb over the crumpled paper there, smudging the pencil scribble there.

she needs you

it's written in price's ugly handwriting, letters all tilted to the side and barely legible, but he still can read what price didn't write--and you need her.

but simon doesn't need anyone. he barely needs himself, barely can take care of himself. this won't help him--he can't help anyone, he isn't the kind that can be this kind of thing for anyone. he's stayed in the service because at least this way, he can die with honor, he can prove them all wrong, he can at least be remembered for what he could do and not by what was done to him.

his touch is ice. his heart is buried too deep under his ribs; no one has seen it since he could finally register a memory. his face, the skin he wears--he's not a pretty man, he's a forgettable one. he isn't gentle, he isn't capable of it. he can't forgive. he's so quick to anger, likes to snap his teeth, and he cannot be the kind of thing that they all expect him to be.

he does not love himself. he will not love himself. so he cannot love another.

there is a certain kind of satisfaction he feels when he fixes the porch step. once abandoned, once a nuisance, and now it functions as intended. he feels the same kind of thing when he rips up the stained carpet, and he feels it again when he watches the seeds of the thyme leaves grow as they rest in a pot above the sink.

things once forgotten serve a purpose. with effort, they can be used again. they don't have to be replaced, they can be open anew, they can live again and breathe deeper and see through the lens of a different perspective.

when you climb the porch steps the first time, he thinks about the board that doesn't wobble any longer. when the door shuts behind you for the first time and you take off your boots, he thinks about the new carpet that warms your toes now.

and when you lay next to him for the first time, under the covers of the bed he's made, he reaches over and slips a few fingers around your wrist, thumbing at the base of it and swallowing hard when he feels the pulse of your heartbeat. it beats, warm and steady, to a beat familiar, one he knows. his heart has not been hiding under thick bone and the tar of his own blood.

it's here now. under your skin. and now it's home.

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader - warnings: 18+ daddy kink, sexual content, phone sex

"Whit do ye think, LT?"

Simon vaguely hears Johnny's voice. It's somewhere in the background, something he's not dialed into right at this moment, since they're not in an active situation.

For now.

Instead, they're all holed up in safe house with shitty mattresses, shitty couches, and thin walls crowded inside a concrete box. Simon's on his back, on the couch, flicking through his camera roll, picture after picture of you and the baby filling the screen. There are new ones, ones you've sent over the last three weeks, and when he fires off a text to let you know his phone is on for a little bit, you send a video back almost immediately.

"That the wee one?" Johnny says from over his shoulder, and Simon nods, clicking play.

"Okay Ry, let's show daddy," Orion's on his tummy in the living room, holding his head up, staring at you behind the phone. He's giggling a little, smiling, wriggling around, and you place one of his toys just out of his reach, to the left. "You can do it bub, come on. Daddy wants to see." There's more encouragement, Orion rocking back and forth on his belly and kicking his feet-

before rolling over completely onto his back.

"Good job bub! What a strong boy." You pull him into your arms, his back to your chest, legs up over yours, and turn the phone so the video shows both of you. "So, that's a thing." You smile, and kiss his head. "Think we'll have a crawler on our hands soon." Something sad flickers in your gaze and you chase it away. "Anyway, we uh... we miss you. Call tonight?" A knot forms in his throat, and he practically leaps off the couch, making for the back door. Johnny calls after him, but he pays it no mind.

>Can you take a call now?

>You just missed him, I'm so sorry. He's asleep :(

>That's okay. I want to talk to you.

>Okay, sure.

"Hello?" You're not quite whispering, but your voice is still soft, careful, and he closes his eyes.

"Hey."

"Hey. How are you?"

"Fine. Can't believe he's rolling over." You stifle a small laugh.

"I know. He's going to be crawling soon, I can feel it. Keeps trying to push himself up with his arms and scoot his legs forward. It's cute. He looks like a seal." You sigh, and he gets lost in it, honey sweet spiderweb trapping him in the middle, tangling him up for the feast, your fangs already deeply embedded in his flesh.

That's what you are. Something under his skin. Something possessing him down to the marrow. A man who only takes orders from one other-

willing to say 'how high' if you would only say 'jump'.

He hears his promise every day, every night, ringing in his ears.

Johnny thinks he's flipped a switch somewhere. Gaz says he's more bloodthirsty than he's ever seen.

John just smiles at him, a knowing look in his eye, a mutual understanding.

He's going home, no matter what. If he has to kill every single soul he comes across, that's what happens.

He made a promise.

"Hope he waits." He tries to control the rough scrape of his voice, but it's still there.

"I'm sure he will." You're gentle in your reassurance, kind. His kitten.

"How's he doin' otherwise?"

"Good. Fussing has calmed down a bit, thank god, but I think he misses daddy."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you pause, small intake of breath, a barely there gasp. "I miss him too." He takes a cursory look around, and then drops the tone of his voice.

"Y'miss daddy, sweet girl?" The two of you have been dancing around this, for the last week. Since landing at the safe house, he's been able to call almost every night, sometimes he catches Orion when he's up and sometimes he only catches you, and recently, you've been engaging him with sexually charged late night conversations that make him jerk his cock behind a locked door somewhere, and come into his own hand.

Feels like a waste. He wonders if you'd let him get you pregnant again.

He doesn't even know if you can have sex right now, to be honest. He knows you tore, badly. Knows you had stitches. Knows you're probably still nursing the wounds, physically and mentally.

That's okay. He'll wait. He'll wait as long as he needs to. For this. For you.

He doesn't know where the change came from either, but he's not complaining. Or questioning. He's indulging and dreaming and telling you to reach into your pajama pants to touch yourself for him while he's tossing off on the other end of the line.

If he had to guess, he'd say the distance has given you some sort of courage, some sort of emboldenment to feel it out, gain comfortability.

The killing makes him extra rank, fills him with ardor for you, for his life now. He's always felt purpose, devotion, to his job, the 141, but now, there's a higher altar to lay himself at, a higher calling.

Getting a ring on your finger, for one.

"Are you in bed mama?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah? Gonna play with your pussy for me?"

"Oh god." You groan, but it's breathy, wild on the other end of the line, a whole world away.

"Tell daddy what you're doing, honey." He's rock hard, so much it aches, but he's not going to fulfill the burning need right now. He wants to be focused on you. "Are you touching yourself?"

"Y-yes."

"Does it feel nice?" You whine. "Rubbing your pretty little clit f'me, making it feel good?”

"Oh my god- yeah."

"Daddy's so proud of you, sweetheart. Taking such good care of Orion. Taking good care of yourself, making yourself cum since he can't be there to do it for you." You moan, unintelligible, nectarous melody on the wind. "I wish I was there. I think about the night we made our baby all the time, how you looked spread out on your bed, taking all my cum like a good girl."

"Oh, oh-"

"Took my cock so pretty, mama. Did so good, fit me like a glove." You're panting, tiny, bright whines slipping free, and he knows you're close. "Don't stop. Let me hear you." He orders, slipping a palm over the swollen mass of his cock.

"Fuck, daddy-"

"Keep going honey, come on." He can nearly hear your teeth grinding.

"I'm cumming, oh- daddy, I'm, I'm-" There's a shuffle, a high pitched gasp, and then you go silent, breathing heavily into the phone.

"Good job, mama."

He's sour by the end of week four. Muscles tight from the agony of being away, awful visions, nightmares, rotting the frontside of his brain when he closes his eyes.

The balaclava is heavy with blood now, everyday. Red stains white, fetid and curdled, trying to strain through his teeth.

They've moved from the safe house. The phone calls are only a dream. He turns his phone on for five minutes every other day, desperate to download the photos you're sending, only to get one out of the ten. Can't text you back.

At night, he stands outside with his chin tilted up, orientating himself with the skies, searching for Orion in the cosmic chaos. It takes time, too long, but eventually he spots it, south west in the sky, glittering alongside the moon. His stars. His moon.

John tries to temper him. "You'll have to get better at this, if you're planning to stay, Simon. It won't get easier, but you can ease the ache."

It's never been a question about staying, he's served the 141 for far too long to give it up now. The want is incredibly selfish, but he doesn't consider himself the other kind of man, the one who would take a desk job or sacrifice his duty. His life's work, essentially.

He's not a good man. But he's yours. He won't have it any other way.

Kyle's got a girl at home now, he tells Simon. Maybe we should introduce them, ya know LT? Give em someone to lean on, when we're gone. A brilliant idea, if he's ever heard one. Though he's not surprised. Gaz is the top of his class in everything.

He and Johnny speed run through the last part of the op, raining hell down upon everyone in his path, and he finally sees that crazy glint in Soap's eyes, the one that's been missing this entire time.

"Was fun, LT." He slurs the night before exfil, glass of whiskey lax in his hand. "Almost sad to be goin' home."

Not too long ago, he might agree. But now that he's staring down the barrel of five and a half too long weeks, he can't wait for it to be over.

>Hey

>Hey omg, I've been worried.

>All's good. On our way to base now. Gonna shower here, change. Alright if I come over after?

>Yes.

He’s a livewire stepping off the bird. Three paces behind Gaz, he’s trying to type out a text to you, hardly paying attention, spreading his stride to close the gap between him and the showers.

“Hey darling.” Gaz is wrapping someone up in his arms, pretty little thing with dimples, Simon barely glances up-

And then nearly trips over his boots, tongue tied to see you standing behind Kyle’s new girl, sundress swinging at your thighs, Orion babbling away on your hip.

His bag drops.

He sprints.

“Ah!” You shriek as he tugs you into him, lifting you and the baby with an arm under the plush of your ass. “Simon, oh my god-“ you curl forward, free hand gripping his shoulder, and he presses his mouth to yours.

“Missed you mama.” Your top teeth bite into your bottom lip, bashful and sweet. “You too, bub.” You kiss him again, longer this time, ignoring the whooping from Johnny in the background.

“Welcome home.”

[citrustan]

dating girl (jjk)

pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: you try to convince yourself that you're really okay with 'casually dating' your crush.

genre: college au, fwb kinda thing but more than friends ygm? angst!

"Are they allowed to cancel an entire day at college? That can't be good for anyone..." Your mother ponders out loud as you walk around the city hand-in-hand.

"There's not much you can do if someone decides to paint over every projector lens on campus." You nod.

"Lucky for me, I get to spend time with my little baby," she nuzzles her nose into your hair, squeezing you in a side-hug, "Still can't believe we have to schedule our hangouts now."

"Yeah, there's that..." You smile half-heartedly.

You stop near a flower stall, taking in the hustle and bustle of the city. It's especially crowded because of your university abruptly cancelling a bunch of classes.

After your day had freed up unexpectedly, you had invited your sorta but not really boyfriend, Jungkook, to go cafe hopping to find where all the good teas are because you knew he'd bee available. But he never responded.

So your mood has been a bit damp all day.

You had just stepped out of this store that sold handmade sweaters and yarn balls. Not even a good shopping spree could lift your spirits.

What definately doesn't help is randomly seeing said sorta but not really boyfriend who didn't respond to your texts out and about with some leggy blonde girl.

You've never seen her around.

Not that you know every single person on campus, but if they've crossed Jungkook's path, you know them.

They're dining together al fresco, at one of the cafes you had literally listed in your text to Jungkook.

Talk about a slap in your face.

For a second, you think she might just be his sister or something.

That thought bubble is quickly shot at with a razor sharp arrow when you see him kiss her knuckles.

Your eyes involuntary darken, and your mouth forms a pout. The kind one has when they're trying to hold back a cry or a sob.

All the while, your mother had talked about your grandparents' separation, the local diner having caught fire, and matching mother and daughter shoes she had bought for your birthday.

You were listening passively so you didn't quite catch everything.

"You're still seeing him, aren't you?" She tilted her head in confusion.

When your mother notices the look on your face, she frowns, following the line of your vision.

At spotting Jungkook and mystery girl, she gasps angrily, "Oh, no, he sucks." She turns back to you, "Honey, I'm so sorry."

"No, mom, this is normal," you smile weakly, "And it's okay."

"Yes." You nod, "I am."

"But then he's there," she points at the pair with her chin, "seeing her. How's that okay?"

"It just is, mom! Really," you attempt to convince your mother (and yourself) that you were 100% fine with witnessing Jungkook out with other women. "We're keeping things casual. Very... casual."

"And that's a mutual decision?" She confirms.

"We both agreed." You concur.

Your mother's still unsure about your choices. "Well. Okay then."

You glance at Jungkook and mystery girl one last time.

The picture isn't pretty. He's leaning into her ear and has his large hand placed over her bare thigh as she caressed his arm with her much smaller hand, thoroughly enjoying his attention.

Your mother watches your expression go stiff, "So, how does this work?"

Snapping you out of your daze, she pushes a few strands of hair away from your eyes.

When you frown at her she sighs, "Sorry..."

"Oh. Um..." You exhale, "Well, we see each other and we see other people, and that's that. We're cas-" - "Yeah, casual, I heard." Your mother interrupts your blabber.

"It's ok." You look down at your feet, kicking a few stray pebbles out of the way.

"I just--- I thought you guys were sleeping together." She blurts.

"Mom!" You exclaim, looking around to see if anyone had heard her, "It's not that big of a deal. I want this too. And I need to learn to date too."

Again, you try to ease your mind about your decision.

You lightly cringe and look around, "Uh... Nobody yet. But this guy from one of my extras--- his name's Hoseok but we call him Hobi, or Hoba, depending on how close you are to him--- anyway, he asked me out to a halloween theme party next week."

"So who else are you dating?" She asks pointedly.

This is suddenly getting very exhausting.

Your mother gives you a knowing look, deciding to play along anyway, "Oh! You've never mentioned him before."

"Mhm. Because it's new." You hunch your shoulders nervously.

The party was hosted by the student body to raise funds for, you don't know, collegiate stuff.

You had imagined going with Jungkook, with matching Dentist and Tooth Fairy couple costumes. But he hadn't asked you yet and you definitely weren't going to bring it up first.

Maybe you can do the look with Hoseok instead.

It's less than a week away, so you're not expecting anything from him either. He probably already has another date lined up.

You wonder if it's the blonde he's with now.

"So, are you gonna do it?"

"Do what?" Was she in your head?

"Go with Hobi or Hoba." She makes air quotations for 'Hobi or Hoba.'

"Oh, yeah. Yep. Definitely." Suddenly remembering, you add, "Oh and can you make me my costume? I want to be the Tooth Fairy?" You softly ask her, knowing it's a little last minute, but also knowing she wouldn't deny you.

"Why of course! Does... Hobi need a costume too?" She asks carefully.

"Oh, no. Probably not." Well, you don't know. You don't know if his offer even stands now and you might end up not going at all.

Your mother rubs your shoulder, "Ask him and let me know, 'kay?"

You force out an uncomfortable smile and nod, "Thanks."

Although your mother's not convinced, she decides to drop the topic all together.

"Well, that's good," she smiles down at you warmly, "Do you want to get that sweater exchanged?"

It was vague, but you appreciated her attempt either way.

"Mhm. Back to the store we go." You narrate with an airy laugh.

Your mother was in the lead, already making her way to the store you had just walked out of.

Once again, your gaze falls on Jungkook and his date, and to your surprise he was staring right back at you.

You want to give him a little smile. To show him you're unbothered. But you couldn't seem to force one out this time.

So you settle with giving him a small wave, which he returns, mirroring your expression.

His date follows his line of sight and spots you too, giving you a tight smile. It's not passive aggressive, just... decent. Not polite either. But why should she be?

Jungkook blinks at you as you hurriedly leave trying to keep up with your mother.

Maybe you should focus on Hoseok for now.

note: nobody asked for this but i was feeling a little silly :p needed some angsty ouchie with the possibility of a favourable conclusion so i indulged!

hey bonus points if you can tell what inspired this! and if you read all this lmk what you think regardless :D

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝐇𝐨𝐭 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 🔞 | Oneshot

"Does he even pay you?"

Tags/Warnings: Idol!Jungkook, fuckboy!Jungkook, friends with benefits situation, major angst, mentions of sex work, smoking, smut, god so much filth, Dom!Jungkook, big dick JK but what's new, did I mention angst?, protected sex, multiple rounds, multiple positions, a brief thighjob, so many feelings

Length: 7k+ words

There is no taglist for this fic. This is a Oneshot.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

"How does it feel to be a celebrity and ending up with me?" You wonder at him over the music, making him frown before he shakes his head, pulling you in by your hands he's holding.

"What're you talking about babe?" He argues softly, letting go of your hands to hold your waist now. "I've got the prettiest girl at my side, in my opinion. Can't complain whatsoever." He tells you into your ear, voice raised a bit and slightly raspy from his last smoking break.

You just shrug, enjoying the music when some people approach you, talking to Jungkook about something you don't listen in on, even though he's still holding you close. It's none of your business, you really don't want to get too involved with his work and everything around it, but it's clear that he likes to do exactly that.

Jungkook wants you around all the time. Doesn't matter if it fits the scene and situation, if he can invite you or bring you along, he will.

Fans don't know your connection to him. They constantly battle it out in comment sections that you're just a translator, nothing else, that you're staff so of course you have to travel alongside him. And just how they can seem to connect everything to dating if it fits their 'ship' they've got inside their minds, they're also talented in finding thousands of (sometimes frankly ridiculous) reasons as to why it cannot possibly be true either.

While before, someone wearing the same jewelry as Jungkook was a confirmation of a relationship, with you its just pure coincidence. You're an adult woman, you can choose whatever necklace or ring you want, that doesn't mean you're dating him. You're wearing the same t-shirt he wore just a day ago? Maybe you just own the same, or he was nice enough to lend it to you for one reason or the other. Seen near his hotel room? Well of course, you're staff!

The truth is, that you're not even staff at all- but you're also not dating him.

Jungkook has become awfully… comfortable in his trust that fans will brush off every rumor floating around. It's why he's shamelessly grabbing your tits from behind right now just for the fun of it, lips kissing your neck as you slap them off to hold your waist instead. "They'll call it AI-generated or something." He laughs, but you can't shake off the feeling of doubt about that. "And there's no one here filming anyways. It's a private VIP zone, so relax baby." He chuckles, swaying you with him to the beat.

He's right that this is a secluded zone- but that's never stopped anything ever before, did it. One random Instagram live where you're both seen in the background and it's over. For both of you.

"Let's go back to the hotel though. I'm horny as fuck." He laughs, making you roll your eyes with red cheeks to go with.

Jungkook is a shameless person- he doesn't see anything wrong with the things he says or does if they're not hurting anybody. He's got his own opinions and he stands by them, only ever shifting his stance if there's undeniable evidence of him being wrong shown to him. And he also enjoys the more physical aspects of love.

Jungkook enjoys sex to its fullest.

He used to sleep around quite often, his charm and also wealth and status enough to make the act of finding someone willing fairly easy. Most wouldn't be believed anyways if they openly said he'd slept with them- he made sure they never took pictures or god forbid videos, and he also never stayed the night, most of the time preferred the security of his own home where he could politely tell them to leave after the deed was done, his reasoning always having to do something with his work.

'I'm sorry, I got called up to the studio.'

'Fuck I forgot I had a flight early morning tomorrow.'

'I'm really sorry, ah this is awkward, but my manager just told me to a live now, and I can't have you being seen.'

You knew he did this. You were staff at some point, after all, even if not hired by his company but rather outsourced during a particularly demanding schedule and many other employees sick due to a viral infection going around in the office building.

You'd been just another victim of his. But somehow, he ended up biting down too hard- making him taste blood, Primal hunger awakened at the mind-blowing experience he'd had, an odd need to keep you just for himself having blossomed from it all. You were a keeper, you still are- and while it's not really love, it's good enough for him. Close enough.

He reminds you, regularly, that it's not love, with how he never claims to love you, avoids the topic altogether, always tells others you're just very close even when it's obvious just like tonight that you're a little too close to just be something casual. But he enjoys your presence nonetheless. Like a dear friend, just with some deeper layers to it.

Some staff call you his personal prostitute. And in a way, you do sometimes feel like that.

Jungkook is that kind of man who could have sex first thing in the morning. Doesn't even have to wake up fully- if you touch him just a bit, he'll come to life in an instant, if he's not sporting a boner already. He enjoys the exhaustion he feels afterwards, always pushes you past your first and second O, keeps his own saved up for the very last stretch all the time. He draws it out to high heavens, has trouble calling it quits.

Shower sex he's mastered, knows exactly where to step and what position to get into to make it as safe as possible. He loves having you on his large sofa, leather easy to clean after you're both done. Sixty-nine is his favorite dinner for two, though he has to admit that lately, he's been enjoying the more closer positions a lot more. Spooning from behind, lotus, you name it- you've become more than just an outlet for him.

He doesn't know what they call you behind his back. What your unofficial status is. They'd never admit that to him, because why would they? No one wants to get on his bad side if they don't have to.

He's on his phone, free hand on your thigh as you both sit in the back of the car that's driving him back to his hotel. He's gonna get out first, make his way inside, while you'll get in later from the back entrance to not raise any suspicion. It's normal. Routine. You've mastered it by now.

"I'll see you in ten." He winks before he makes his way out the car, rushing past some fans who've found out his location, bodyguards already there to guide him inside the lobby.

"Does he pay you?" The driver chuckles, and you shake your head. "Damn." The elderly man clicks his tongue. "Go find yourself an actual man, dear." He tells you as he parks behind the hotel, watching you move, your phone vibrating in your pocket, before it stops suddenly. "You know what they call you, right?"

"I know." You admit quietly.

"And you're okay with that? You're too sweet to let yourself be used like that. Have some self-worth." The man tells you with a kind tone. "I've seen you around long enough to know that you're kind, and a nice person. Trust me, you can and will find a proper man to love you right. But this?" He shakes his head. "You know he just wants you because you've become routine."

"I know." You repeat again, sighing a little.

"You're not what they say you are. You're just a little soft at heart, hm?" The old guy smiles over his shoulder, watching you unbundled your seatbelt. "Trust me, he won't be sad if you call it quits. I've worked for guys like this for more than thirty years- they'll just jump to the next." He explains, and you smile to yourself, before you nod towards the man. "Never mess with entertainers, sweetheart. They'll always break your heart." he offers.

"I know." You say once more, before you exit the car, and get on your way to Jungkook's hotel room.

You don't officially share one, but he still keeps you around for most of the night. You leave whenever he has to do a livestream or if he wants to go to bed, and you come back if he wants you to- but most nights you sleep alone, because he deems it too intimate for you to stay.

Apparently, sleeping in the same bed is more intimate than spitting on your cunt. Interesting.

When you knock on the door, Jungkook opens. Something's off, you notice it right away, but you don't dwell on it, don't answer. It's none of your business, and he won't tell you anyways, so what's the point in just further inducing his bad mood.

It's quiet as he moves around, since he doesn't talk to you, and you don't know what to say. You wait for him to make his move, and when he doesn't, you get up to grab your sweater you forgot in his room earlier, just to have him stand behind you, hands on your hips. "I didn't forget about you." He chuckles, and you let the fabric slip out of your fingers and back onto the floor as he kisses the crook of your neck.

Maybe jungkook is indeed using you. But you've started to use him just as much, if only to even out the odds, and make yourself feel more than just cheap company.

He slips out of his shirt. You raise your arms to help him take off yours, your naked skin at this point almost a requirement for him every time he takes you. He used to be satisfied with just fucking you somewhere quiet quick and simple to quench his thirst, but over the course of time now nearing an entire year, he's become more and more hungry. Like he wants to crawl underneath your skin at some point, the Idol constantly pushes himself more and more inside your body, not just in a sexual sense. He buys you clothes he thinks will look good on you, has a playlist just for when you're at his place filled with somber lovesongs more about heartbreak than anything else. He claims he didn't look up the lyrics, but you know he's lying. He knows a lot more english than he admits, just so he can pull the 'I don't understand' card whenever he's asked a question he doesn't want to answer.

He lets you wear his clothes without much comment by now, has gifted you jewelry he's worn and liked, laughs any mention of that being 'such a sweet gesture' off if anyone around him mentions it. He's not your boyfriend, but he surely is starting to act like it- maybe the lines are blurring for him just as much as they do for you?

People around you have started betting. On when he's gonna have another one, when you'll be 'swapped out' for something else, or at what point he's gonna make it official that you're indeed more than just nightly company. You don't await that day. It's never gonna come anyways.

"Turn around." He commands, and you do, because that's the easiest way to get where you want to be down the line. Head empty, no thoughts left, fucked stupid by a man who keeps you around for just your body and the familiarity you provide. You don't really mind any longer, long having stopped caring about emotions that are fruitless, bound to rot and die because Jungkook won't ever nurture anything you'd try and plant in his heart. He doesn't want it, and doesn't need it either- if he wants to feel loved, he just has to show his face to his millions of fans always on edge for more content. That's where he gets his love from. Maybe you're just there to feed other desires he can't have fulfilled like that.

He licks his lips as he gazes over your naked upper body, bra long undone by his hands on your back, fingers trained in the routine by now. You remember the surprise he'd shown you when you'd worn one with the clasp up front, face so soft and round for just a second that it felt like you'd just slipped into a dream- but his hunger had quickly returned, because Jungkook is a beast never satisfied. He craves more and more, constantly aims for absolute euphoria, never soft, never gentle.

Jungkook bites. He claims, grips, holds and pushes- he's aware over the physical strength he holds over you, and plays around with the fact almost every night. From tugging on your leg to pushing your head down whenever you decide to please him with your mouth instead for once. Something about the way you swallow around him and swirl your tongue always makes him feral, thighs trembling as the muscles spasm beneath the skin from the force of his orgasm. Maybe that's why he keeps you around. Because you can keep up.

His own shirt is shed, and his hands make quick work of his belt before he helps you out of your pants as well. He'd told you he didn't want to use the bed tonight, because asking for new sheets is always awkward, but he does it anyways- picks you up just to let you fall onto the bed, crawling over you. "What do you want?" You ask out of breath, but he just tilts his head in familiar habit, until it shakes no.

"Don't know yet." He answers. This is new.

Usually he always has a fixed scene set out, knows how he wants to take you right away, but this time he visibly seems unsure where to start. Almost like the first time.

He spits in his hand, doesn't bother taking off the rings, fingers working you up like it's second nature. He knows where to place them, how to move and what patterns to choose- and you don't bother thinking about the possible reason for it. Probably to get you wet and ready quick so he can get to the actual act itself, or maybe he just finds some sort of personal satisfaction from it. You're not sure- and neither do you really want to ask.

You're a little cold, but he'll warm you up soon. Hopefully you won't get sick like last time. Will he find someone else to fuck if you're unavailable?

Who knows. He surely has a lot to choose from, if he so much as asked.

He's got a question on his mind, but visibly contemplates on asking it. His teeth clamp down on his bottom lip, tongue playing with the twin piercings placed there for a second, before he leans in, kisses you. This is one of those things he does that are just outright cruel to you. His kisses full of fever and want feel so burning hot that you're sure you're marked by them for life. Like a signature he's inked underneath your skin almost he claims you again and again like this, with his tongue teasing yours, mouths open and ready to steal each other's breath.

He surely takes yours hostage, every time- and that's probably the smallest crime he commits.

"Have you eaten today?" He asks, and it catches you off guard, eyes opening again, painfully tugged back into reality where he lets his sticky hand run over your abdomen, just to settle on your hipbone. "Your stomach keeps growling." He teases, and you come crashing down. Of course. He'd never actually remember to ask that out of the blue if it wasn't for something reminding him about it.

"Not really." You respond, adjusting your position a little bit, legs trying to pull him closer. "Doesn't matter." You say, and he hums, leaning down again to mouth at your neck- probably marking his territory again, a joke made on a constant whenever you turn up with the blooming bruises on your skin, their origin more than obvious.

"Hm." He hums, almost dissatisfied, but you don't bother to think about it. He moves to lean off the side of the bed, pulling his suitcase closer to get himself a condom, opening the package easily before he rolls it over his length. He seems oddly soft tonight, in more ways than one. Is he still exhausted from the shooting? Could be. He never wants to admit himself that he has to take breaks, thinks that his body can just magically manifest strength from nothing but pure thought, and it used to irritate you, because you felt responsible, in a way. But that was when you still saw more in this than there actually was- nowadays, it's his business, not yours. He's got nutritionists and personal trainers who get paid for taking care of him. It's not your job.

What is your job, really?

Well, you're most certainly not working under his company any longer, and neither have you returned to your original agency either- simply because Jungkook's management deemed you too much of a danger in your position, after the idol had let it slip that you two were having sex on a regular basis. So you just signed an NDA, got paid for your silence, now earning a living by writing books. Modern fantasy novels, where the daydreams you once had can actually become reality, and your hopes and wishes can be dreamed of by other people who have the same.

It's good money. A hobby you cherish.

Jungkook has never asked you what you work as nowadays. He doesn't even visit your apartment, has never seen it before, and he doesn't know if you have family either. He just takes you as his, lets you live alongside him and entertains you whenever he's in the mood for it. And you let him, because these days, he's all you've got. There's not much else you can do than write all day at home or accompany him on his overseas schedules.

You're not sure why he always drags you along, when back home, he won't even call you for days. Maybe he doesn't have to? Maybe his bed at home is always warm. But if that's the case, why not take them on a trip once in a while? Does he have designated women for specific occasions?

Then who will the woman be he chooses to show to the public one day? Number three in his harem?

You can't even truly blame him. As someone he grew up in this industry, his view on the world is warped, shifted, not the same colors as yours. He doesn't feel the same worth in a simple banknote that you do, he can't understand the struggle of missing the bus or having to face an empty fridge.

"Sit up, baby." He tells you, chuckles when you struggle a little to do so- compared to him, flying around all the time actually does take a toll on you. And the petname doesn't make it any better in this moment, as his hands reach out to hold you steady, helping your legs over his thighs, before he guides the head of his cock into you. He wants you close tonight it seems like. Hopefully he keeps holding you, because you're not very energetic this time. "I've got you." He says, and you nod, resting your arms around his neck, hands faintly touching the skin of his back. "Are you cold?" He wonders.

"A bit." You respond. He's probably noticed your icy fingertips.

"I'll warm you up." He purrs, and you nod. You know he will. He always does- always hot hearted in everything he does, even in this. He holds you close, hands on your behind helping you move, your hips rolling a bit too slow for his liking, but he overlooks it for once. You're not sure what's up with him tonight. This isn't him. "You tired, baby?" He wonders, and you nod.

"Sorry." You tell him, but he shakes his head, moves to lay you down, knees pressed into the soft hotel bed mattress as he thrusts his hips forwards.

"It's alright." He brushes it off. "Flight was long as hell." He muses, lazily moving himself. You're enjoying this, even if it's odd for him to behave this way. "Wanna come over for breakfast tomorrow morning?" He asks, and you shake your head.

"Can't." You sigh, arms now moving to lay above your head, eyes closed in bliss. "I fly out back home at 8 tomorrow." You remind him, and you can't see the way his brows lower, face darkening as he realizes he didn't know that. You usually fly back after him. Why are you going home sooner this time?

"Why?" He huffs out, hands grabbing your legs as he pulls your thighs over his, pushing himself deeper now. "You always fly after me." He almost growls.

"I dunno.." You slur. "Management said." You just respond. Why does he seem so irritated by this? It's not a huge deal at all if you fly back sooner or later. He's not gonna call you up back home anyways, so why does it bother him so much.

"Management can go fuck themselves." He argues. "You fly after me. I'll book the flight myself if I have to." he demands practically, slight irritation causing him to have his energy boil up, position adjusted as he becomes more restless, balls smacking loudly against you cunt, pace a lot more ruthless now.

You're finally reaching it. Your head becomes fuzzy.

You don't notice Jungkook becoming almost.. satisfied from that sight of your tension finally leaving. You're nothing but whimpers of pleasure as he slips out of you, hands tugging and pushing your legs and body to have you on your side, the taller Idol now laying down on his side behind you to spoon you, dragging the head of his length through your soaked and slicked up folds. one hand holds up your thigh, helps in opening you up, though you're pretty much gaping from his girth stretching you out moments prior. His lips find your shoulder, your neck, as he pushes himself back inside with the help of your hands-

who suddenly do something new as well, tugging the condom from his cock, making him gasp out in sensitivity. "What're you doing?" He grows.

"IUD." You tell him. "Please-" You beg, and yet again he moves as if awakened from slumber, pushing you halfway on your stomach as he pushes the now bare head of his cock back inside you. This is most certainly new, and he knows for a fact, that he's never going back again.

"Fuck.." He almost laughs, leaning over you now, body covering yours as he just pushes himself in for a good moment, humming a sound of pleasure into your neck as he lets himself relish in the new sensation. "Ah-" He sighs out, before he clenches his jaw, thrusting hard as if to make sure your body will remember him for days to come.

It will. Sadly.

"God, fuck-!" He groans out, holding onto your body now, having turned you onto your side, hand reaching out adjust your arm so he can see your face. Your lips are parted, eyes closed in bliss, and he can't help but have his hand smack down onto your behind that's moving in a way that's way too inviting. He does it a second time, slap clearly heard as he smirks at the way you clench around his cock currently rearranging your insides. He moves your leg to rest over his shoulder, reaching even deeper, hand underneath your belly button pressing where he can faintly feel himself move.

No one can blame him for being absolutely obsessed with your body.

He can feel the way you begin to tighten, thighs shaking a little as you come undone, his hands moving your legs again to close them once more, holding them up, slipping out of your clenching cunt to push his cock right between your soft and wet thighs. it's enough for a moment, though you reach out to touch the tip poking through almost teasingly, making him laugh as he suddenly sighs out, groaning as he spills over your stomach and up your chest. You're breathing heavily, and don't notice you start to shiver, as he parts from you to turn on the light in the bathroom to clean up.

Aftercare is not really his thing- and you've come to accept that.

When you sit up, you stretch your arms in front of you, muscles slowly regaining strength as you wait for Jungkook to finish up, toilet flushing before he emerges again, shamelessly walking without underwear, gaze following you as you walk past him to use the bathroom yourself.

The moment you re-emerge to grab your clothes, he's sitting on the edge of the bed with his boxers back on, phone in his hand. "I booked the flight for you. Tomorrow at 12:30." He tells you as you slip back into your underwear, not bothering with the bra as you search for where he'd thrown your shirt. "Here." He offers- and you slip the garment on with a thanks, only noticing afterwards that that's not yours at all, oversized fabric reaching almost to your knees. "Cute." He comments way too quiet to be meant to be heard, so you don't mention it at all.

"Why is the flight-thing so important?" You wonder, slipping into your socks as he moves around to find the hotel room service menu.

"Because you always fly back after me." He repeats again, clearing his throat.

"…you already said that." You mumble to yourself, but he clearly hears you.

"Fuck alright, god damnit!" He whines in complaint, rolling his eyes. "If you were to fly back earlier, you'll run right into all the paparazzi and shit waiting for me. That's why you're meant to fly back later- so they're gone by the time you arrive." He explains, and you're stunned in the spot you're standing, watching him a bit confused.

So that's the reason?

"It's not like they know." You say, unsure why he's so adamant about it.

"Doesn't matter." He shakes his head. "I'm not having them jump you for whatever reason they might have." He denies, before he sits down in the seat near the window which blinds are shut. "Now what do you wanna eat?" He asks, and you shake your head.

"I'll eat something tomorrow morning." You deny, and he slumps back in his seat, eyes closed and tongue pushed against his cheek.

"What do you want to fucking eat, babe." He repeats, making sure to pronounce the petname before he looks at you with frustration.

"Nothing." You respond. "Are we done?" You ask him, and he shakes his head, setting the menu down before he crosses his arms.

"No." He denies. "What to they call you?" He asks, and you're not sure what he's getting at, shaking your head with brows furrowed in confusion.

"What're you talking about?" You ask, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"What do they call you?" He repeats. "I heard what you talked about in the car when I left."

"How?" You ask baffled.

"Telepathy." He jokes without humor, before he scoffs to himself. "I called you to actually ask you if you wanted to eat something- but you must've accidentally accepted the call without looking, because I clearly listened in on a convo I wasn't supposed to hear." He explains. "Either way, I want an answer. What. Do. They. Call. You." He demands, and you sigh.

"Why does it matter?" You argue, searching for your leggings in the room- finding them over the armrest of the chair he's currently sitting in. "I'm your personal prostitute, just without the pay." You tell him, and it takes him a second to realize that that's your answer.

Suddenly, he wants you out the room.

Not because he doesn't want you here any longer, but because the guilt is eating him alive with ever second he has to look at you. Because the more he think about it, the more it becomes obvious to him that this really must look like just that to everyone. After all, he's just taking you with him apparently for sex, and he's become so comfortable in it that he didn't think about it any longer. It's what you want too, right?

Jungkook has never really learned how to convey his emotions properly. He doesn't know what it's like to fall in love, has no idea what to look out for. He likes spending time with you, and enjoys the sex to the point that he's been monogamous with only you for the past year or so. It's nice to be in a relationship, even though he knows this one isn't normal. It's still okay, because down the line, you understand each other. He likes you, he just doesn't want people to use that against him or you at some point- so he keeps your status to himself. No one needs to know you're a couple. Only you and him. Because.. you know that, right?

"You know that's not what you are to me, right?" He asks, and you shrug.

"Does it matter?" You ask. "It's none of my business who I am to you, or whoever you screw apart from me." You say.

"What?" He asks, crossed arms unraveling. "I'm not fucking anyone but you." He says.

"Cool." You say.

"Cool? That's it?" He argues. "How can you be so calm about everyone else telling you I'm apparently cheating on you?" He worries, and you're yet again confused.

"What're you talking about?" You ask. "That's got nothing to do with cheating." You say.

"No no no no whoa there. Stop for a second." He holds his hands out as if to soothe a raging crowd of people, looking at the carpet. "You- you do know we're in a relationship, right?" He asks you, and your face tells him everything he needs to know. "Oh my fucking god are you kidding me…" He complains into his hands, covering his face in frustration.

"How the hell was I supposed to know?" You say, now with your own arms crossed. "Jungkook, you rarely even talk to me when we're back home. You only take me with you when you've got something up overseas, you constantly tell people we're just friends, you've never even asked me out in the first place!" You argue.

"We've been fucking each other for almost a year, I thought it was obvious I liked you?!" He whines, looking at you with what you realize are tears brimming on his waterline. Why is he so emotional now? "Have you- did you see anyone other than me?" He asks quietly, and you shake your head.

"No." You deny.

"Okay. Fuck- okay." He takes a deep breath, swallows down his panic. "I like you. I don't- I've got no clue if it's love or not because I don't know, alright? But I like you, a lot, to the point where I want us to be something permanent." He tries to explain. "Just us. You and me." He underlines, and you shrug.

"Jungkook, it's not that easy." You sigh. "If this has been what you think a relationship is like, then we won't work out."

"Alright, then what do you need me to do?" He argues, not letting go. "God- fuck, tell me what do I have to do to make you stay?" He asks, voice cracking.

"Jungkook, calm down-" You start, but he shakes his head, swallows thickly, bottom lip quivering for just a second before he licks over it, pulls it in between his teeth.

"I can't-! Not when it sounds like you're gonna leave me-" He worries.

"I'm not, don't worry. I'll stay. Just.. breathe for a second, alright?" You ask, getting up to walk closer, pushing his shoulders back to force him out of his slumped over position. "Hey- okay?" You ask, and he instead pulls you closer, sits you onto his lap, before he clings onto you, resting his forehead in your shoulder. "Why do you never reach out to me when we're home? You're confusing me." You gently tell him, and he shrugs.

"I'm scared they'll see you." He sniffles. "If they do- they'll tear you apart." He sighs. "When we're out here, like this- I can just.. claim you're staff, whatever. But at home- I can't.. I don't know how to protect you." He shakes his head.

"You should've told me." You sigh, leaning into him. "I was hurt, you know?" You tell him.

"I'm sorry. Fuck, I'm so sorry." He apologizes, pulls you just a bit closer. "I don't know what to do." He whines.

"What if you just visit me instead?" You offer. "They don't know where I live. And my windows are all mirrored so no one can look inside." You tell him.

"…since when?" he asks, leaning away from you a little so that you can finally see his face again, eyes red, a stray tear escaping him that you wipe off.

"Since a few months ago? Jungkook you don't even know my apartment in the first place. You've never visited me at all, ever!" You laugh, and he sighs.

"I know, and I.. always wanted to, you know, visit you.. spend time with you but.." He runs a hand over his face.

"You're okay. We talked about it now." You nod, an action he copies. "I'll come back tomorrow morning and we can have breakfast together, okay?" You ask, but he shakes his head.

"No, you gotta stay." He denies. "I don't care if you don't like that, but I need you close tonight." He says.

"Never said I don't." You say. "You just seemed uncomfortable with it." You wonder.

"Because I snore!" He whines, throwing his head back. "I snore, I move a lot, I might cling to you at night or I sweat, or whatever the fuck- I'm not as perfect as I'm made out to be." He complains.

"Jungkook sorry, but what the fuck." You laugh, and he can't help but smile at the sight and sound of you happy. "You can fart and burp like whatever, and I'd still stay. You're human, I'm not perfect either!" You explain, but he shakes his head, leaning forwards to kiss your already blossoming bruises on your neck.

"No, you are." He says. "You're absolutely perfect." He argues.

"Not really." You deny.

"Stop arguing." He complains, squeezes your waist a bit.

"What're you gonna do about it?" You tease, and he looks up at you with a heated gaze.

"Get me nice n' hard and I'll show you." He responds, making you giggle with eyes rolling, as you lean back to tug him out of his underwear, a hiss leaving him. "Fuck, baby your hands are icy!" He laughs, leaning back to hold your legs so you don't slip off of his thighs.

"That's cause it's cold in here!" You joke back, warming your hands up on his already heated length, skin already flushed and swelling as the blood rushes back. His hands travel beneath the shirt you wear, softly grabbing at the flesh of your chest, making you get up to shed your underwear and get back onto his lap.

"Think you can ride me on this thing?" He asks, talking about the seat he's sitting in. "Kinda tired right now, won't lie."

"Huh, making me do all the work now?" You raise your brows. "And here I thought you wanted to take us seriously.." You sigh, attempting to joke- but he clearly doesn't take it as such, face becoming serious again.

"Lift your hips a little." He demands, and you do so- unsure what he's trying to do, before he spits into his hand once more, feeling you up between your legs to check if you're ready. You are- quickly slicking up at the thought of him, and he guides his length inside of you again, stretching you out once more, but this time, it's not just sex.

He refuses to move. He just helps you settle on his lap, but holds onto your hips, keeping you from moving. "Jungkook-" You whine, but he shakes his head, and pulls your face closer to kiss you.

"No, I wanna stay like this for a bit." He denies.

"But I thought we wanted to eat something later?" You ask, making him roll his eyes.

"I'm trying to be romantic here." He complains.

"By putting your dick inside me?" You ask.

"Well I don't know what else to do!" He whines. "I.. I don't really know how else to properly express.." He falls deep into thought for a second or two, before he finally says it. "I don't know how else to make sure you can.."

"..feel how much I love you."

You're quiet for a good while, watching how he rather looks at your neck than at you in particular, avoiding eye contact as he continues to move his hands back to your sides underneath your shirt. "Jungkook…" You mumble, and he cringes.

"Don't-" He sighs, clicks his tongue in irritation. "-don't pity me or something-" He begins.

"No no no I'm not pitying you I just-" You cut him off, now your hands holding his cheeks to force him to look at you. Because you just realized something in the things he's said earlier. "Remember how you said.. you want me to fly back after you?" You ask, and he nods.

"Yeah." He answers, his way warmer palms now taking yours from his face, holding them in his. "Of course."

"That's.. something that also shows that you care about me." You say. "Because, you didn't say that you were worried about someone spotting me and putting your career on the line- but that you were worried about me being in danger." You remind him, and he nods. "Or how you noticed my stomach growling, and wondered if I ate today." You giggle.

"I already wondered if you didn't- cause I didn't see you eat anything." He shrugs.

"See?" You hum towards him, running your hand through his hair. "That shows you care, too." You say.

"But I want you to feel it." He complains stubbornly. "I want you to.. feel the same as I do when I'm around you." He offers.

"Horny?" You ask, and he rolls his eyes, throwing his head back.

"That too-" He laughs. "But mostly.. just, I don't know." He takes a deep breath. "It's hard to explain. It's like chest constricts when I'm not around you. Whenever I'm home, I miss you so bad that I sometimes go to sleep early just to avoid giving in and calling you. I have to distract myself just to not think about you- and yet I still do, almost all the time." He sighs, tucking your hair behind your ears. "When I wake up.." He hums, hands moving to your shoulders. "When I do my morning routine.." He explains, letting his fingers travel over the length of your arms. "When I work out.." He continues. "When I go to bed. It doesn't matter at all." He shakes his head.

"You know you don't have to make up something just to make me stay, right?" You ask him, and at that, his eyes immediately snap back up to you, panic returning.

"I'm not." He denies instantly. "I'm really not-" he urges. "-how can I prove it?" He worries.

"You.. listen, it's not something that you can just clear up in a moment." You sigh. "It's gonna take time. We're basically starting from scratch here." You explain, and he nods.

"Do you.. should we stop then?" He asks, glancing between your bodies for a second. "Until you believe me?" He wonders, and you shrug, before you shake your head.

"No." You deny. "I'd miss you too much-" You tell him, before you adjust your legs, arms around his neck. "-And you'd probably go insane without sex." You tease.

"Not without sex." He denies, watching how you begin to move your hips, letting him slip out until just the very tip remains inside you. "But without you." He clarifies. "It's not sex I want- that's a… I don't know. It's the closeness I feel, you know?" He sighs when you sink back down. "I just like touching you.. being inside you.." He hums, eyes fluttering closed as he leans back into the seat while your hands settle on his shoulders to keep you balanced, pace slow but fast enough to intensify the pleasure you both feel. "Just like that.." He sighs out in bliss.

"I have a really nice couch, you know?" You hum towards him, making him smile while his hands find your waist. "My bed is really big too.." You tell him, and he opens his eyes a little at that.

"Big enough for two?" He wonders, and you shrug.

"Guess we have to find out." You tease, and he nods, hands moving from your waist to your hips before one of them finds your heat between your legs where he can see his cock disappearing inside you.

"Is the couch sturdy?" He wonders, fingers playing with your clit now, making the muscles in your thighs twitch.

"Ah- yes!" You whine, picking up your pace.

"Hm, gonna fuck you on it then." He chuckles. "Stress-test it." He jokes, and you whimper as you come undone, your slick now coating his own legs, strings of the sticky fluid keeping you both connected, wet sounds echoing off the walls of the hotel room. "Break it." He growls, heels on the ground helping him in shifting his hips upwards into you, catching you off guard, your orgasm washing over you in a wave threatening to drown you.

You're shaking, but you still move, needing to feel him reach his high as well, and he does find his own release, spilling whatever he's got left to give, holding you close, kissing whatever skin he can reach from how you're hugging him now, breathing slowly easing again.

And he keeps you like this, uncaring of the food since it's by now too late to order any roomservice anyways.

And for the first time, he actually sleeps next to you, in the same bed-

promising himself to do everything he can to keep you this close, for now and as long as you'll have him.

[leaky-bunny]

on vacation right now and i can't stop thinking about how incredibly sexy beach omo with a controlling dom would be. so i wrote a little fic about it. :)

picture it: me sitting in the sand by my dom's side as they're reclined on a nice chair, soaking up sun. it's hot, so i'm guzzling water to stay hydrated and watching the waves ripple and crash against the shore. eventually, i feel my bladder pang, and i stand up to go find a bathroom, only for them to grab my hand and hold me back.

"if you're trying to do what i think you're trying to do, don't. you sit back down, sweetheart."

i agree, shifting in the sand, this time with my legs pressed a little closer together.

time passes and the need gets much much worse. the ocean does nothing to help me, its sounds only driving me closer to the edge. i tug on my dom's arm, voice now a lot more urgent as i tell them i'm going to go in the water, hoping i can secretly let go once my bottom half is fully submerged and hidden. their eyebrow raises, obviously not impressed by my weak attempt at beating the system, but nevertheless they agree and stand up as well. the change in position sends me whimpering, but i try to cover it best i can with a cough (not very successfully though because they clearly hear and smirk). we stroll towards the water, my bladder contracting as i fight the urge to hold myself. despite the beach being calm, it's certainly not empty, and our fellow vacationers probably wouldn't appreciate such a show. the second my feet touch the waves, however, i gasp as a leak forces it's was out of me, soaking into my bikini as my dom pauses by my side.

"what's wrong sweetie, i though you wanted to go in?"

i flinch as another wave laps at my feet, legs firmly pressed together. "nghh, g-gonna pee...."

their eyes turn hard as they scowl, grabbing my hand and dragging my back to our spot in the sand. "no the fuck you're not, i gave you one rule. you are keeping all that piss inside you until you burst, understood?"

i wanna beg, wanna do something to relieve the arousal now coursing through my veins, but i just nod weakly and focus on not letting any more out.

it only takes another 10 minutes for me to leak again, enough to make a tiny wet patch in the sand beneath me. this time, i do moan, eyes glazed with the desire to let go, but my dom looks over and knows immediately what happened. they smile and reach over, pretending to adjust the bottom of my bikini, but instead pressing on the bulge of my bladder, hard and achingly full. another leak sprays out, even bigger than the next one, and with that my last shred of composure breaks.

"please- fuuuck, let me pee master, i have to go so bad and i've been so good, trying my best to hold it in just like you asked me to-"

they shush me, looking around, but finding no one has overhead or seems to care. "alright baby, calm down, i know you've done well for me. dig a little hole in the sand, ok? that'll be your potty."

i nod rapidly, too excited about the concept of finally peeing to be embarrassed by their word choice. my hands work quickly, scooping at the sand next to me until there's a hole large enough to sit over, positioned so my cunt is right above it. i stare up at my dom, eyes pleading, and they smile wickedly. "open your legs baby, show master how wet you are." i do, the dampness on my crotch extremely evident, and they shake their head in disappointment. "i would punish you for leaking, but here is not the place for that. i'm feeling very gracious, so you have permission to pee now. let it out bunny, i wanna see every drop."

the sentence is barely out of their mouth before i let go, the gushing sound filling the air as i piss a torrent. at first, the sand soaks it up almost instantly, but after a while, when the entire hole is soaked, a puddle begins to froth beneath me just like the ocean. i pant and shiver, eyes rolled back into my skull, not even noticing that my dom is staring at me as if they're going to eat me whole.

"good bunny, making a mess in public for me. bet that feels good, hm? i can't wait to show you how fucking horny you make me when we get back to the hotel. master's gonna make you cum so many times your brain will turn as fuzzy as that ocean foam."

[luveline]

𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

part five | chapter list

summary you’re a single mom living three trailers down. eddie thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. queue sleepy kisses, baby kisses, cheesecake and cherry ice pops, and dinner with uncle wayne. [8k]

warnings teen mom!reader, fem!reader, r is junie’s birth mother, fluff, hurt/comfort, eddie being a girl dad (<3), tw for mentions of not having much money, new established relationship! idiots in love!! and junie being the sweetest baby ever

𓆩❤︎𓆪

You don't think you've ever seen Eddie asleep before. You rack your brain for a memory, even the suggestion of one, and come up blank. Maybe I dreamt it, you think to yourself, hesitating with your hand held aloft above his peaceful face.

He looks like a dream. 

What he'd said last night — before the kiss, and after — echoes. You can feel his hands on your face if you close your eyes, the heat of each gentle palm, the scratch of a silver ring. He's missing his jewellery now, because he takes it off before bed. You can't believe you hadn't known that. All these details. His lashes kissing the delicate skin of his under eye, the way his lips thin in sleep from being pressed together. You reach toward him with a shy hand and brush a bundle of curls from his cheek, exposing the ridge of his cheekbone, begging to be kissed. 

You'd been tired, so tired, and then he'd come back, and he'd crashed hard. You understand it. It'd been the most exciting moment of your life, and on top of that, he'd taken care of Junie for most of the day beforehand. 

You've slept sparingly. The sun leeches in through the window one small ray at a time. Junie makes a small sound behind you, stirring in her toddler bed. You nibble your lip guiltily, wanting one more minute, just one, to look at Eddie uninterrupted. 

You turn around and your reluctance melts, Junie a picture of a good long sleep. Her hair is a mess, her lips still pouting, and her eyes are partly open. She sees you're awake too and smiles, and the guilt of wishing she'd sleep in intensifies. She climbs down from her bed and rushes up to yours.

"Hey, baby," you say softly, holding out your arm.

She grabs the sheets and you help her up, folding her into your chest with a contented sigh.

She's tired, and she lets you move her around with little protest. Which isn't to say she's despondent: her hands latch onto your t-shirt, and her tiny chin rises as she stares you straight in the eye. 

"How did you sleep, bubby?" you whisper-coo, hand spread over the breadth of her shoulders, the other crushed under your own weight. "My hand's going numb." 

You pull you arm out and hold her face. "That's better. Good sleep? Do you feel happy?"

"Good," she says. "Feel good?" 

You huff out a delighted sound and drop your nose to hers. "I feel super good, Junie baby. I'm so happy, because you're happy, and you're so smart." 

She smiles more. 

"Can you say that, baby? Say, 'I'm so smart."

Junie wiggles against your torso, hands at the neckline of your sleep shirt. "Smart," she says. 

"Yeah! Yes. 'I'm so smart.'" 

"I'm so 'mart." 

"Yay!" you cheer again, your inflection celebratory even though you're still speaking in hushed tones. You don't want to wake Eddie, but maybe you do — is this the kind of thing he's interested in being a part of? "You're so smart. So so smart, and pretty and kind and soft." 

You stroke her cheek with the back of your index finger, hoping to tickle her into giggles. "So soft," you murmur, "my lovely soft girl. You know why you're so soft? It's 'cause you're such a good girl, and you let me wipe your cheeks after dinner even though you hate it." You're speaking quietly enough that some of the words sound worn, syllables lost. 

Junie doesn't need to hear them to know they're dripping in love. She rests her cheek against your upper arm, chub against chub, and you sink down with her, closing her in for a cuddle.

Your fingertips brush over the nape of her neck. 

"Love you," you say, kissing her head absentmindedly. 

"Love you," she says back. 

She'd been a slow-learner, and she's still behind the majority of her age group, but none of it matters. Hearing her say anything at all is a gift. Hearing her says she loves you? 

You laugh. There's nowhere else for all the happy to go. 

Your hopes of sleeping again are dashed when she sits up and sees the lump of a body behind you. If she's confused she doesn't show it, hands pressed to your tender side as she climbs over you and onto Eddie's stomach. 

He doesn't rouse at first. He sighs, his arm lifting where it's trapped under the sheets, your faded cornflower blue quilt that he'd praised unnecessarily. It's pretty, he'd said, back flat to your mattress as you'd imagined him a hundred times before. 

You're pretty, you'd said. He'd opened his arms to draw you in for another hug. They'd felt endless all night.

Junie gets to his chest and her face fills with recognition. 

"Eddie," she says happily.

He hums but still doesn't wake. Junie pulls down the blankets, and he raises his arm. Eyes closed, he wraps it around her, pulling her to his chest with a contented sound. She giggles, tiny baby giggles, and starts to play with his hair. 

“June,” he mumbles. 

“Eddie,” you say, apprehensive, forcing a lightness, “we have company.”

“I can feel that,” he says. 

To your — your pleasure, your elation, he turns onto his back and his free hand finds you. His fingers curl around yours and he holds them, thumb pressed to the knuckle of your index finger. 

His eyes open slowly, his lashes parting, his face dipped down to take Junie in. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says. 

“Good morning.”

“Good morning,” he repeats with a laugh. “Aw, Junie, your hair! I’ve never seen you before mommy gets you dressed. Uncle Wayne would say you look like me when I wake up, when I was a kid he,” —Eddie talks through a yawn, smoothing the baby hairs out of Junie’s eyes— “used to say I looked like Linus from the Peanuts strip.”

“That’s so mean,” you say. You're relieved. You should've known Eddie wouldn't care. He loves her. 

"You know who you look like?" he asks her. 

She shakes her head. His face lights up. 

"Animal! Grown up Animal, not the baby." 

Your stomach rumbles. Eddie looks at you with concern, though that concern is a mild, soft thing. He sees you properly for the first time since he woke up, Junie held to his chest, hair as messy as hers, as yours probably is, his t-shirt neckline rolled from wear, and he visibly melts.

"D'you wanna go out for breakfast?" you ask. 

He shakes his head. "Come here." 

"What?" 

"Just come here. Lie down." 

You ease off of your elbow and slide toward him. You rest your head very carefully beside his, and are immediately delighted when he kisses your cheek. 

"How are you feeling?" he asks, pulling his arm out of hiding to steer the side of your face to his. Your noses smush together, eyes closing on instinct. "Hey, how are you?" 

"How are you?" you ask back. He sounds super tired. 

"Y'always do that. You can't just answer me? You're–" He kisses you, then, softly but with a sluggish imprecision. "Impossible." 

"I'm impossible?" 

"You're impossible," he promises. 

You try not to squish Junie as you wrap your arm around her and bring a hand to his cheek. The tiniest rebirth of stubble scratches your fingertips as they rove up his cheek to the smoothest plane under his eye. You turn your finger until the nail is flat to his skin, stroking a fascinated back and forth. 

"I can't believe you're real." 

Can't believe you're real, and you chose me, and you're here now letting my baby pull at the sweat curls tight at your neck. 

"Do I look bad?" he asks. 

You roll your head back enough to see his smile. It makes your heart skip in the best way, how handsome he is, and you have to dive in again to kiss the line between his lips and his cheek. He's really warm. Before him, you'd forgotten how this could feel, the heat that another person can give you and how protected it leaves you. 

"You look really nice," you say, your finger rubbing up and down his cheek. A teardrop to his chin that falls and climb over and over. 

"Eddie," Junie says, weaselling under your arm.

"What, baby?" he asks. 

She tucks herself up under his chin and lifts her head. It's awkward, but babies are like that. Always wanting to be where they aren't. 

"Junie?" he asks. 

She looks up, dishevelled hair especially fierce. 

"You said my name, remember? Did you have something to ask me?" 

She giggles at his tone but doesn't answer. Your stomach makes some more aggressive sounds and Eddie shoots up like bamboo, baby held to his chest and hand behind your head. 

"Mom's dying." 

"Eddie." 

"Mom's super duper hungry," he says, stroking your forehead apologetically. "Now move, mom, so we may enter your kitchen and make super duper breakfast." 

"Oh, no, let me change her first," you say. "Poor girl, I slept through the entire night." 

He passes her over to you and you stand so he can slide out of bed. His smile grows. "Hair fairy got you both," he says. 

You glare. "You are not exempt." 

"Can I use the bathroom?" 

"Don't ask! Since when do you ask?"

"Do you want to go first?" 

His caring is sweet but unnecessary. "No. Please go, and spend like ten minutes in there? I promise we'll be much prettier when you get back." 

"You're beautiful now," he says, though he obeys your ask and treks out of the bedroom with a wanton groan and a stretch that shows a lot of back. It's more than likely on purpose. 

"I'm with my baby!" you yell, laughing. 

"Don't know what you mean."  

You strip Junie down to her smalls, change her diaper, and rub a nice lotion all over. She loves the skin to skin and stays still until you offer her today's options, two dresses, one blue and one a lighter green. She chooses the green, so you put green butterfly clips in her hair to match, and white socks with lace in black shoes. She looks awesome. 

"Girls?" Eddie shouts. "Can I come out now?" 

"I was kidding," you murmur to yourself, laughing.

You comb your fingers through your hair and meet him in the bathroom doorway with Junie's hand held in your own, glancing at each other through the gap. 

"I wasn't serious." 

"Sweetheart," he says, bending at the waist like he's been punched, "look at you. Juniper the Beautiful, holy sugar."  

She only smiles. 

"I can take her, yeah? I'll make breakfast. Do you want to get dressed?" he asks you, concern again softening the lines of his face. 

"Sorry," you say. 

"For what?" 

He takes your face into his hand, cupping your cheek. You meld into it like you're one and the same, two pieces of the same puzzle clicked back into place. Junie’s hand in yours makes three. 

"Alright, Junie, breakfast," he says, pulling apart and away with a humorous brevity, stealing her little hand from yours. 

They walk together down the hallway, hands swinging. 

"We'll go get breakfast!" you call. That's why you'd put her shoes on.

"I can make it," Eddie says, voice carrying in the quiet. He shoots a smug look over his shoulder. "I can make it, seriously. Just have a minute for yourself, why don't you?" 

You wonder if that's code words for you look like shit right now, but you firmly believe Eddie wouldn't tell you that even if you did. You wash up in the bathroom and then get changed into a new-old skirt that you sometimes wear to work though you're not supposed to and a nice shirt that doesn't go. You take it all off and try again. And again. 

You pull on a pair of tight sweatpants and the band t-shirt he'd bought you all those weeks ago. For a moment you stand there, face in your hands, and then a big hand presses to your shoulder blade and scares you into flinching. 

"Oh, shit," you say. 

Eddie laughs a storm and gets his hand under your armpit. That's worse, and you squirm, but he doesn't budge, pulling you toward him for a tight-boned hug. 

"You're taking for ages," he says, parroting one of Junie’s newer phrases. 

"Well." You shove your face into the top of his shoulder. "I think I'm nervous. Do I look stupid? Nothing fits me." 

He hears your embarrassment and your panic and hoists you backward, hands curled around the tops of your arms as he gets a good look. 

"You look pretty, and like you need something to eat." He presses his lips together, a funny picture of nervousness to mirror your own. "I know we should probably talk about it, but I don't really know how to do that. Just. Are you still– You don't regret it?" 

It sounds clunky in his mouth. 

"I don't regret any of it," you say sincerely. 

"Good," he says, recovering quickly from this show of vulnerability with a good heaping of bravado, "'cause I was really hoping to get to do this again." 

His hands climb your shoulders, settle neatly in the curves of your neck. He holds your face. You wait for him to kiss you. 

"What? I brushed my teeth." 

He presses his lips to yours all wonky with laughter. It's fleeting, not nearly as long as you want it to be, but Junie shouts something from the kitchen and draws both of your attention. 

"It wasn't about you brushing your teeth," he says, back of his hand rubbing yours as he overtakes. 

Junie stands in the kitchen with a spatula, a whisk, and the rolling pin, an array of items from the bottom drawer she's in the middle of relocating. 

"Sorry I left her, I just wanted to make sure you weren't, like, trying to think of ways to let me down easy. I put the TV on. Not that you can't let me down easy," he says, bending to face Junie.

You shake your head as he starts to help her take things out of the drawer. You don't keep anything sharp in it for this exact reason, Junie's enthusiastic upheaval. 

He catches your look. "I'll put them back! Promise." 

"It's fine, you know she does it all day anyways." 

And really, he should know you won't mind because whenever he's here he helps. Cleans, cooks, soothes her small tantrums and her bigger distresses, like when you won't let her eat laundry powder with the tiny shovel that comes in the box. 

He's even started playing the bad guy sometimes. It sounds crazy, but having someone who's willing to say no for you is a sharp relief. To get to be the comforter rather than the nag, and to share a smile over Junie’s distraught head. 

"This is positive reinforcement." 

"I know both of those words, and yet," Eddie says, closing the now emptied drawer with his foot. 

"You helping her take stuff out teaches her that those things should be taken out." You pull open the fridge. "But it doesn't really matter, I'm just saying. Do you want orange or apple juice? June?" 

You hold out the carton of apple juice and the gallon of orange. The orange juice is awful, a concentrate with too much sugar, and it's delicious, so Junie picks that one without hesitating. You give her half juice half water in a sippy cup. 

"Is mine watered down too?" Eddie asks, accepting the glass you press into his hand. 

"I even mixed in some pedialyte. You're welcome." 

He nods with more genuineness. "Thank you. Now sit down! I'm making breakfast. I'm gonna make it. What do you want?" 

You look at him, fresh but still sleep rumpled, and you think about how hungry you are, and you really like him so much and you get why he wants to do this, but. 

"Listen, let's go out. Let's get waffles and syrup and strawberries and nobody will have to do the dishes." 

He buckles way too fast. It feels like a big compliment, how quickly you can erode his resistance. 

"Alright. Fine, but not because I couldn't have made all of those things." 

"Of course not." 

"You look crazy pretty when you ask for things, you know? All this time I've been begging you to ask for things and now I'm a little worried. D'you always smile like that? I could be in trouble." 

You boo at him and he smiles all the way to the car. He's still smiling as he drops his hand onto your thigh, pulls out of the driveway, and starts down the street leading out of the trailer park. It takes you a minute, but eventually you realise you can touch him back, laying your hand on top of his experimentally. 

"Do I look stupid?" he asks. 

He's stolen one of your hoodies to hide his slept on shirt. His jeans look messed up from sleeping in, but they're baggy. 

"You don't… You could start leaving clothes at my house, you know? If you wanted to– stay again." You swallow a nervous giggle. "I mean." 

"Of course I want to stay again. I'd love to. I love being with you." 

He squeezes your thigh. If it weren't for his pinking ears, you'd assume him unaffected. 

"Okay. Good. You can stay the night whenever you like, handsome, 'cause I love being with you too." 

You wonder and worry if your declaration is too close to an I love you he doesn't want. You do love him, have loved him for a while, but you have no clue what you even are. Last night, you'd said best friend. He's more than that, he has to be. 

You're in sync, or he can read your mind. He says, "We'll talk about it. After you get some breakfast in you. Your stomach's so loud they just put a weather warning on the radio." 

"They did not." 

—

Wayne puts a beer down in front of his nephew and doesn't pull any punches. 

"If you get that poor girl pregnant, I will disown you. Not her, mind you. Just you." 

Eddie thinks this is a very weird thing to say, but he also knows that Wayne is mostly kidding. 

"I'm not going to get her pregnant." 

Satisfied, Wayne sits down next to Eddie on the couch, the two of them tired from a long day at work, the TV on quietly in the background. It's the same thing they do everyday, or everyday before Eddie met you and your baby. 

"I get to meet her, or we just gonna meet at the wedding?" 

"Funny," Eddie says. "You can meet her whenever you want to. I kind of didn't think you'd be interested." 

Wayne sighs, scrubs his jaw. 

"Son, I want to meet her. Her and the baby. I didn't know if it was gonna work, but…" He smiles at Eddie. Eddie thinks that it's a mix of pride and love, and it has a lump forming in his throat near instantly. "I should've known, huh?" 

Eddie makes himself scoff. 

"Yeah, you should've." 

"Only thing you ever half-assed was high school." 

"You had to get that one in there." 

Quick wit and nipping comments aside, Eddie knows Wayne truly does want to meet you and Junie, and that he should've a long time ago. It had been a cop out to say he didn't think Wayne wanted to meet you, because he knew his uncle had been curious and — he's family. Wayne is Eddie's family, and you and June have become the same. 

When he brings it up to you, he does it carefully. With flowers. 

You open the door and throw your arms around him, smashing the flowers unapologetically. He chuckles into your neck, pulls you tight to his chest. You smell like the diner.

"How come you never used to do this before?" he asks. 

"You never did either." 

You take his face into your hands and kiss him, before your usual shyness takes over and you pull away. He's having none of it, grabbing your wrist before you can escape to offer your flowers. 

"Here. You'll have to give me one back for Junie, though." 

You give him the biggest flower of the bunch, a huge pink carnation with perfect petals and a thick stalk. Your fingertips brush his as you do, and his eyes are drawn to them, your hands, the bump and bone of your knuckles. You still have a scratch from work down the length of your pinky, and they're scrubbed raw as usual from cleaning. He worries you're a little compulsive about cleaning, but he supposes you'd had to have been, all by yourself. He resolves to treat them kindly at the next possible opening. 

"Thank you." 

You don't blink at his bag from Bradley's. You try not to look at it; Eddie won't accept a thank you and you're trying to let him give you things, as per the arrangement. 

As in, you, with Junie in your lap and fresh cream on your cheek, had agreed to be his girlfriend three days ago in the booth of a diner that wasn't Benny's. He hadn't been as brave as he could've been. It felt unreal to him to be with you, to have kissed you more times than he could remember, and to have you smiling back. 

"Listen, I know you said we're best friends, and we are, you're my best friend, but I– we're more. I want to be your boyfriend." He rolled the word around so you'd know how strange he though it was. "But if you've… changed your mind–" 

You'd reached across the table, pads of your fingers stroking the back of his wrist. "Why would I change my mind?"

"You realise, if we're together, you have to let me take care of you all the time?" he'd asked, full of nervous energy and really, really pleased. Proud to have you. 

"I think I can deal with it." 

He'd rubbed the toe of his shoe against your ankle and finally told you about the cream on your face. 

"Junie?" he says now, eyes searching for your lovely daughter. 

"She's in the bedroom." 

"What for?" 

You squeeze your hand through the crook of his arm, press your cheek to the top of his shoulder, and laugh. "She's making Eddie's bed, apparently. I tried to explain that you won't be sleeping here all the time but I might have made it worse." 

Did you make it worse, or had your toddler misunderstood? He hates how even in the small things you'll blame yourself. This feels like a completely blameless situation, and, if anything, it's his fault, he's the one who stayed the night, and then another night, and another. He'd gone home between those days, had even gone to work, and really didn't mean to spend the night each time. It's addictive to get to sleep with you so close by. Getting to kiss you with your arm slung over his chest, your tired eyes staring up at him lovingly — he's a good person but he's weak, too. 

He knows it's a little improper to stay this close so soon. If he thought for a second you weren't okay with it he'd be out the door. 

"Eddie?" you ask. 

"What?" 

"You're staring straight through me," you say, sounding both amused and concerned. "What are you thinking about?" 

"You, mostly. You and June. You know, Wayne wants to meet you." 

You shake the bouquet at him, brows furrowed accusingly. "Is this a bribe?" 

"'Course not… Are they working?" 

"I don't need flowers. I want to meet him too. It's weird we haven't met before. You keeping us apart?" 

"I absolutely am. I was a gross kid, I don't need him to tell you all of that now I actually got you." 

Eddie draws away from you reluctantly to put his bag on the table, as well as June's flower. He pulls out the dinner he's brought for tonight and his most important purchase, a vase big enough for your flowers. It's simple clear glass with dainty enamel flowers around the circumference. 

"For you, my sweetheart, a vase for the flowers. You want me to cut the stems?" 

You beam at him, a shining smile that makes his chest feel fizzy, a can of soda on a rollercoaster as the sound of thumping comes from the bedroom, small footsteps racing to the door. 

"Think she heard you," you say. You smile, take the vase, and kiss his cheek in a silent thank you. 

Sure enough, Junie appears down the hall and Eddie's barely taken three steps when she's laughing and pawing at his legs, having raced all the way.

"Eddie," she cheers, arms up in the universal sign for 'grab me before I start screaming'.

He's more than happy to get his hands under her arms and pull her to his chest, your mini me breathing hard as she settles. Her hand presses into his collarbone, her lips puckered up for a kiss. He doesn't usually kiss her, doesn't really know where the line is, but denying her feels cruel. He kisses her cheek and feels her lips press to his cheek at the same time. 

"Thank you," he coos, "thank you for the kiss, baby, I'm happy to see you too." 

"See you," she says, patting his neck. 

"How do I look? Handsome?" 

She tangles her fingers in his hair. 

"So, Uncle Wayne, does he like me?" 

Eddie leans against the countertop you're facing so he can see your face. "He's never met you." 

"Duh, but does he like me?" 

"Probably. He has a bunch of reasons to like you and none not to like you." 

"Doesn't hate me for stealing his baby boy?" 

Eddie wonders if he's going red. "No, god, he'd thank you for it. Man hasn't had a quiet night in a decade and a half." You laugh softly, fingers weaving through flowers to arrange their leaves and stalks, and he catches a flash of uncertainty as it twists your mouth. "Seriously, he'll like you. I know everybody says it 'bout everyone, but Wayne's a good man." 

"I know he's a good man, just…" You frame the flowers with your hands and step back. You smile at him to unsuccessfully hide an insecurity he can spot a mile away. "I'm not the girl people would pick for their son, you know?" 

He raises his eyebrows, feels bad and drops them. Eddie lives in a trailer park, and has done for most of his life, it's not like the people around here are prudent about love and partners: Eddie's obviously not the first guy to ever date somebody who already has a kid. He doesn't wanna brush it under the rug, though. Your worrying worries him. 

"I think you're exactly who he'd pick." He smiles at you in warning. You asked for this, sweetheart, buckle in. "Gorgeous girl with a perfect body," —you snort— "'n' a heart of gold." He pats between Junie's shoulders where she's oh so quiet in his arms, an affectionate slump over his heart. "And her pretty baby, too. I'd choose you for my kid. You know, if I was old. And I had one."

You wrap Junie up with one hand, the other placed sweetly over his shoulder. Your thumb strokes into his skin. "Thanks, Shakespeare," you say, letting your head dip down until your lips are flat to his shirt. 

He drops his head into yours. 

"Do you think he should come over for dinner?" you ask quietly. 

"What, today?" 

"It's gonna make me nervous thinking about it otherwise. What did you bring? Or maybe I can get pizza?" 

He encourages your head back, palm to the side of your head. He strokes down until his hand covers your ear and curls around the curve of your neck. Insanely, he thinks it is a privilege to get to see you upset and to get to try and fix it. 

"I can ask him, and he's not fussy. You're sure you want to do this today? I could host, you know, or we could go out." 

You shake your head, looking grim. Dread clear in your eyes, you say, "I'll obsess over it. Can you call him before I lose my nerve, please? Do you think that would be alright?" 

You ask like he genuinely might say no. He hasn't had the power to say no to you for months. 

"Yeah, sweetheart, I can call 'im." 

You offer to take Junie and it's funny because she doesn't need to be held right now and yet neither of you want to put her down. She's relaxed and Eddie doesn't see why she should have to be anywhere else but in his arms, hiking her up his chest in one arm to use the phone. He slots the receiver between his shoulder and his head and types in Wayne's number without having to look. He's typed it hundreds of times, at friend's houses, at the school nurse when his Mom's didn't work anymore, at the Hideout. Just to say, I'll be home late, but don't worry. 

He extends the invitation with a teasing tone. "You wanna come around for dinner? Old lady's asking." 

"You can't call her your old lady, son, not yet. That's a privilege you gotta earn." 

Eddie laughs down the line. "What's wrong with old lady? I'm keeping it respectful, classy, aren't I? She's making burgers." 

"You better be helping her." 

"How can I help her? I'm on the phone to you." 

"What time am I expected?" 

"Let me ask." He pulls June back up where she's slipping, mouth lifted from the phone to grab your attention. "What time are you thinking, sweetheart?" 

"It can be done whenever he wants it," you say, elbow deep in ground beef. 

"Give us an hour, okay? Don't fill up on shit." 

"Yeah, boy, I won't. Better leave me alone to wash up, or I can come in my overalls–" 

"Alright, Wayne." He hopes it sounds like 'love you'. "See you in an hour. Don't forget." 

"Yeah, 'cause I'm that old," Wayne says, followed by the sound of the phone on the hook. 

Eddie passes it to Junie where she'd been dying to have a turn. He can't let her play too long, guilty already watching you chopping and dicing and washing. He sets her up on your couch with her army of teddies and a peach juice box from Bradley's. He'd picked them up thinking they were weird, and that he'd wanted Junie to try them if she hadn't before. She seems pleased with it, back and legs straight across the pillow, head bent in a way that would give a grown up a sore neck for the foreseeable future, socked feet wiggling along to the music playing on her show. 

He returns to find you washing your hands. Eddie wants to kiss your neck but doesn't have a clue in the world if he's allowed to do that now or ever, so he folds his arms over yours like a hug. 

"Can I get some of that?" 

You squirt dish soap into his palm. He's expecting grumbling and complaining at his weird position, but you say nothing, only laugh. You wash his hands for him, thumb rubbing down the small hills of his fingers until he has to wash off the suds, squishing you to the countertop edge with a feigned apology. 

You squeal with laughter. "Get off," you plead. 

"I'm so tired, suddenly, I don't know what it is." 

"Eddie," you moan, well and truly sandwiched under his weight. 

He pecks your neck and stands properly in search of a hand towel to dry off your dripping hands. He towels his, passes it to you, and uses his dry hands to cradle your face. He thinks you look beautiful but admittedly very tired, and lowers his voice to an adoring murmur.

"You can go sit down, if you want to." 

"Oh, no, there's too much to do," you say, and though you're denying him, your face lists heavily into one of his hands. You close your eyes for a moment before looking up at him through your lashes. "I can do it." 

"I know you can do it, I just don't want you to have to." 

He pulls you closer, his elbows pushed into your shoulders. 

"I'm really good at making burgers. S'like, my signature dish. That's why I got stuff for burgers, 'cause I wanted to cook tonight." 

You still don't budge. 

"Go on," he murmurs, "go get your cuddles." 

Junie, upon realising Eddie would be sleeping in your bed, has taken to climbing on top of him and insisting she get to stay in the big bed. She's hogging him, and it's clear you're not unaffected. Not jealous, not bitter, but missing your baby. 

You're in mild withdrawals, and it makes sense. After all, she gets her extreme need for affection from you. 

"You're sure?" you ask, frowning softly. 

"Yes," he says, laughing and pushing you away gently, "trust me, sweetheart, I can make dinner. You gotta take my flower for June, though." He picks it up off of the counter and twirls it under your chin. "I forgot all about it, you distracted me." 

You take the flower but hesitate in front of him. 

"Kiss?" you ask, eyebrows popped up. 

He bends backward, hand coming up to cover his mouth. "You have it bad, huh?"  

"Forget I asked," you faux-threaten, spinning on your heel to leave. 

Eddie follows, spins you right back around with a hushed, "Where do you think you're going?" and kisses you, hand sliding up your cheek. 

One kiss turns to two, your lips parting slightly under the pressure. He grins and goes in for a third. 

—

You don't sit down for long. You steal a Junebug cuddle, in which she insists on sharing her juice box with you and kisses you upwards of twenty times. You giggle giddily, the petals of the flower you've tucked behind her ear almost blinding you with each one. They're drooly and gross and lovely to begin with, less wet when you leave to find something for her to wear. 

The dress she wears now is dirty from daycare, and the applesauce, crackers, and peanut butter you'd given her earlier stain the neck. You pick out a simple matching set of not-quite pyjamas. You want Wayne to know you dress her well, but you'd feel bad if she had to suffer any longer in clothes with buttons and zips.

Once she's changed, she's somehow even happier than she was. Now she's settled into daycare and your routine, she's over the moon all the time. She's finally settled in, and you have Eddie to thank for a good chunk of it. He's a great part of her routine, another person who wants to love and dote on her. While you know you'd been doing a great job by yourself, any extra love at all is welcome. You could love him for how he loves her and nothing else, only there's a thousand other things about him to love. 

Like his singing. You can hear him humming, then riffing, spatula scratching the frying pan as he rocks out to a song you can't hear. You're playing with Junie's toes, as strange as it sounds, wiggling and tickling the sole of her feet. 

"Mommy?" she says breezily.

"What?" you ask, leaning to her eye level, fluffy bed socks in hand. 

"Special treats for dinner?"

You can't believe the improvements in her speech, though it's natural, and it would've happened eventually. And it blows your mind because you'd known she was in there, she's a great listener and she's so patient for a toddler, but knowing she's having these thoughts and then having her voicing them now is something else completely. It's amazing. 

You tuck the sock under her pant leg and beam at her. "Yeah, baby, we're having special treats after dinner. Eddie's making burgers with the cheese," you hum, offering your open hand for her to hold.  "And… his Uncle Wayne is coming by for dinner. So we're gonna meet him and say hi to him and be super nice, okay?" 

"Okay. What's for treats?" 

"I don't know, you'll have to ask Eddie. Should we go ask him?" 

She nods enthusiastically and slides off of the sofa, gand in yours. She walks with a wobbly confidence into the kitchen, where the smell of searing hamburgers and black pepper is cloying. 

Eddie turns with the spatula, slouched with one elbow on the counter. He perks up when he sees Junie in her fresh clothes. 

"Hey, bub, look at you!" 

"She has something to ask you." 

Eddie crouches down. "Anything. What do you want to ask me, Junie?" 

"What's for," —her voice is small, high-pitched and clumsy but sweet— "... have for…" 

"Dessert," you whisper. "For treats." 

"What's for treats?" she asks, smiling. 

You sigh with pride and Eddie mirrors your expression. "Well," he says, reaching out to readjust the flower peaking in front of her hair, "I brought two things, cherry ice pops and cheesecake." 

"Oh," Junie says, "my gosh." 

You leave them in their love bubble and change into your nice (bleach stained, agonisingly bleach stained) jeans, rather than meet Wayne in your waitressing skirt and blouse. Eddie wolf whistles as soon as you emerge, Junie now happily perched on his hip as he moves the burgers onto a plate to wait in the oven. Junie turns and drops the slice of cheese she was holding, startled at the noise. 

"Is this awful?" you ask, pointing to the thin line of bleach across your thigh. 

"'This' is killer," Eddie says. 

"No, but can you see the bleach?" 

"Not really. If you need new jeans, we can go get some."  

The I can't afford it begs to be said, though you know exactly what he'll say in response. 

"Not right now," he amends. "They look fine, okay? He won't notice. I had my first tattoo for three weeks before he saw it." 

You lean over the sink to open the window and let some clean air in. Eddie goes back to the plate, and Junie drops another slice of cheese. 

The knock at the door startles you. You're unprepared, terrified, and you haven't wiped down the dinner table yet. Eddie sees your panic and shakes his head at you. 

"It's fine. You want me to answer?" 

"We should both answer," you say, with a confidence you are not feeling. 

You hold your hands out for Junie. She's a safety blanket. 

Please like me, you think, letting Eddie pull you to the door. 

—

You have nice shoulders. Eddie feels like he's had this thought before. Often, he looks at you, and he finds something new to catch onto and to obsess about. This hasn't changed in the few days you've been together. It's gotten worse. 

He can see the top of Junie's head against your shoulder but not her sleeping face. You sway her from side to side and he can see you arms shaking with the effort it takes to have been holding her for this long, your quiet humming now a whisper of sounds. The gentle thudding of your hand against the bottom of her spine stops, and you turn to look at him, a question in your eyes. 

He nods. Looking good. 

You ease her down into her toddler bed and spend some time pulling the blankets over her legs, tucking her small army of teddies in beside her. 

Finger to your lips, you and Eddie creep out of the bedroom and back into the kitchen. There's nothing to clean. His Uncle Wayne is a stickler who couldn't not help clean up. 

Wayne had definitely liked you. You're still glowing with it. It had been a great time, not nearly as awkward as you'd feared, and Eddie's feeling pretty content right now. You waste no time collapsing on the couch. A sippy cup under your hip, cushions in disarray at your head. Eddie grabs the half of the cheesecake that's left and two spoons and sits right next to you, thigh to thigh, no need for friendly space anymore. He forces the spoon into your hand, slides the cheesecake onto your thigh, and moves the sippy cup out of the way. 

"My arms are too tired," you mumble, dropping back into the cushions. Junie had piled them all up behind Wayne's head. She was extra, extra nice. 

"Want me to feed you? I can baby bird you." 

"Ew. That image never gets any less disgusting, Eddie." 

It's been Eddie all day. What's a guy gotta do to get a 'handsome'? A 'baby'? 

He laughs around a spoonful of cheesecake and twists his foot behind your calf, linking your legs. You've managed to finally get cable, and an episode of Jeopardy plays on mute across the room. There are toys everywhere, the kind of mess that you'll spend three hours putting right, sorting and spritzing and wiping with Junie behind you pulling things back out. 

Eddie's already got the clothes here to stay, and Wayne had said, "See you tomorrow," when he left, but Eddie asks anyway. 

"Can I stay over?" 

You sit up to drop your face heavily into his shoulder.

"Please, handsome. Don't want you to go home." 

There's the pet name he'd been searching for. A warmth climbs all over, a twinge in his stomach. He heaps cheesecake onto your spoon and presses the handle into your fingers. You eat it slowly, tip of your tongue making an unexpected appearance when a crumb sticks to your lip. 

You make a sound that should probably be illegal and drop the spoon into the cheesecake casing, freeing your arm to wrap it around his chest. You nuzzle your nose into his skin, sniffing. 

He laughs from happiness and nothing else, making good work of the cheesecake while you doze. He's not an animal, leaving some for you and June if you want more tomorrow, but he isn't temperate, either. He's thinking this might be the perfect life, you and your baby, Uncle Wayne laughing at your kitchen table, Junie in the high chair beside him trying to make a babbling conversation. She'd managed a couple of proper words and an impressive sentence, much better at answering than asking but trying either way. 

"You're a ringer for your mom, kid, you look like twins," he'd said softly. 

"Ring-ring," she'd said happily, excited to have understood. She'd offered her hand to him, pinky and thumb stuck out. 

Wayne, grinning, had answered the phone. 

"June loved Wayne," Eddie says conversationally.

"Junie loves everybody," you say through a yawn, hand soothing up and down his side greedily. "Not like she loves me and you, but she does. She keeps hugging all the other babies at daycare and they don't know how to stop her." 

"What? You've never told me that." 

"I didn't know 'till this morning." Your fingers find and breach the hem of his shirt, pads tracing to the small of his back. 

"God, you're cuddly tonight. Here, let me–" He moves the cheesecake. "Come here." 

You groan, "No, this is fine." 

"Sit on my lap, loser." 

"I'm heavy." 

True or not, Eddie wants you in his lap, and he's selfish, pulling at you like a kid not getting his way. You end up flopping over his lap to stop him, curled into an uncomfortable but darling position. He gets his hand behind your ear and turns your face, wanting to see your eyes and your nose and your lips. 

Your eyes are bright in the lighting. 

"Wayne liked you," he says, stroking down the shell of your ear with his thumb. 

"I can see why you're so kind," you say. 

You smile at each other. 

"I don't know what I did." 

Eddie leans down, tilts his head to line up with yours, his eyes flicking between the lightness softening your gaze or the curve of your top lip, calling him in like a siren. "What did you do?" he murmurs. 

"To get so lucky," you say. "I don't know. I must have been a saint, in a past life." 

"A past life," he repeats. 

Your eyes find his and narrow. He knows where you're looking, that little dot of dark hiding beneath his eyelashes. You move over his lap carefully, hands behind his neck to anchor yourself. Your thighs against his thighs, ankles locking him in, your hands always so gentle where they play in his hair. 

He thinks there's a kind of melancholy to moments like this. He panics, in his way, in his head, because there are no guarantees. This perfect night with a perfect girl could be it. There are many bad things that could happen, unspeakable, and he gets this trip in his chest like a fuse shorting out. 

He should slow down and tell you what he feels. How you're his and he's the lucky one, goddamn, he's never had luck like this in his life. 

He smooths his thumb across your lips and stops at the corner, momentarily ashamed of his big, clumsy hand, and permanently in awe of your softness, your goodness, how it lines every feature on your brilliant face. 

You lean in for a kiss. 

Your lips are parted, and he thinks you might've read his mind, the hunger and the fear he'd felt, the heart-pounding reverence, that split second of wanting to say something he shouldn't yet. It feels like you read his mind; your lips kiss and kiss and your hands tremble minutely behind his head. The heat of your tongue shocks him like the first drag, has his hand bawling in the fabric of your shirt, a low sigh smothered by your attention. 

Your nose touches his. In the days since his confession you've endured a frankly overzealous amount of his kissing. He's had you in bed, in the kitchen, just outside the front door. Some heavy handed, some sweeter than sugar, none ever for anything but kisses. Your ardency surprises and excites him — his pulse is a freight train, pounding in his veins as you yield. Your head tips back slow, your gasping breaths a golden sound he endeavours to keep forever. 

When you lay back, it's quietly, hand at his front and encouraging you to lay with him. He props himself up on his side, one hand feeling for your upper arm, wishing you'd worn something with shorter sleeves so he could feel your skin. The other covers the column of your throat. He can feel your too-fast breathing in his palm, your shallow gasps. 

Your eyes close again as he ducks in. He rubs a line with the tip of his nose next to yours, the heat emanating off of your skin thickening the air. Or, that's what it feels like. 

"Kiss me," you say under your breath. This close, you might as well have shouted it. 

He kisses you until not one of you can breathe properly, and a little after that, too. His thumb ghosts under the curve of your breast and he can feel the tightness of the question between you, a string pulled taut by your hand and his. 

"Sweetheart," he says, trying to pour all of his affection and something deeper into the word, "do you want to…" 

"What?" you ask. 

He lifts his head off of yours and waits. You open your eyes in confusion, though that confusion quickly turns when you hear what he's hearing. 

Movement. Little feet. 

He pulls his weight off of you and helps you up, brushing down your hair, your hot cheeks. You move away from his hand without malice, and when he turns he's not at all surprised to see baby Junie in her pyjamas, the ear of a teddy clasped in a small fist. 

You press your arm to his. 

"Sorry," you whisper. 

He turns to you, blinks three times quick. "Baby, it doesn't matter." It's unfortunate, but not as unfortunate as your mortified expression. He holds his hand out to Junie where she's meandering toward you, exhausted steps unsafe but determined.

She reaches his knees, and Eddie helps her up to sit between you both, his arm behind her head. 

You stroke her hair. The look you give him is pensive and loving at once. You lift your chin, and he presses a saccharine, chaste kiss against your kiss bitten lips. 

Junie falls asleep again near immediately. Eddie finds your hand in the mess of limbs and gives it a good squeeze. 

"Bed?" he asks. 

You slouch down. "In a minute?" 

He slouches down with you, letting his temple drop against yours over Junie's sleeping figure. 

"Whatever you want." 

𓆩❤︎𓆪

thank you for reading! im so happy they’re together this is my fave part of every fic, aimless adoration <3 im not sure what to write for part sis so I’d love to hear what you want to see there, thanks so much

[psychostxr]

𝐣𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐧 𝐥𝐢 | worth

PAIRING. jordan li x female! reader

WORD COUNT. 1.1k

WARNINGS. angst, cursing, homphobia, insecurities, racism (some are very brief)

NOTES. inspired by @maraschino-ch3rry post about jordan not being marketable

KEYS. (y/n) - your name e.g. paige, sam, etc. (l/n) - last name e.g. cole, thomas, etc.

Fairy lights and flowers decorate the foyer of Godolkin's Student Union as the night of Brink's Memorial Gala unfolds. Your satin dress flows elegantly, hugging and highlighting your figure with a refined slit. Champagne glasses twinkle as they float by on silver trays, a luxury you can't resist. Grabbing a glass of champagne, you take a small sip.

Your eyes wander, tracing the guests who have gathered for the occasion. The guests, staff members, trustees, benefactors, and a few students invited or could afford to buy tickets are here to 'support' Godolkin University. As for you, you're here to support your partner, Jordan, and find trustees willing to vote for them.

When you finally spot Jordan entering the foyer, your heart pounds against your ribcage at the sight of them. Jordan looks hot in their black suit, and the half-pearl half-chain necklace adds to their charm. However, Jordan's expression doesn't match the mood of the event. They're frowning.

You wonder why until you see their parents trailing right after them. Downing the rest of the champagne, you place the glass on a nearby waiter's tray and scurry over to Jordan, careful not to trip over your heels or dress.

"Jordan!" You grin, pulling them into a hug. Their arms wrap around your waist as your lips kiss their cheek before grazing their ear to whisper, "Stop frowning. You're too attractive in that suit to be sad."

Jordan chuckles, a smile cracking across their face. "Thank you," they murmur, kissing your cheek in return. 

Jordan takes a step back, revealing his parents behind them. You plaster on a fake smile towards Jordan's parents.

"(y/n), meet my parents, Paul, and Kayla Li. Dad, mom, this is (y/n)." Jordan pauses, gulping. "My girlfriend."

"Hi, it's so nice to meet you, Mr and Mrs Li," you say, offering your hand to shake.

Jordan's parents glance at each other, almost like they're communicating telepathically. Then, both of their lips quirked upwards. Paul chuckles, reaching out and eagerly shaking your hand.

"You have a girlfriend?" he questions, "Why didn't you tell us?"

Before Jordan can come up with an answer, you interrupt, "I'm sorry, that was my idea." You pull your hand away and rest it on your décolletage. "I didn't want Jordan to tell anyone. I'm a very private person."

"That's okay, dear," Kayla reassures. "We're just happy that Jordan's found someone is all."

"Well, it was nice meeting you both," you say, catching Jordan's parents' attention, "But Jordan and I have duties to attend to tonight." Like schmoozing trustees and securing votes for Jordan. "I hope to see you again soon."

Hooking an arm around Jordan's, you guide them away from their parents and towards the influential guests at tonight's gala.

"Private person, my ass," Jordan remarks once you both are far away from their parents. "One search of you on Instagram and pictures of me flood the app."

"You love it," you quip, unhooking your arm to hold Jordan's hand. "People know we're together, so they can't try shit when you're not around. Unless they want to get their ass kicked."

"You can't blame me. I don't like to share."

Rolling your eyes, you stop in your tracks, causing Jordan to halt.

"Earlier, before you arrived, I was scouring the guests, and I think a few people here would vote for you with enough persuasion. We just need to show them the marketable side of you." You gesture to a man nearby drinking champagne. "That's Daniel Travis, one of the trustees for Godolkin. We can start with him and work our way with the others."

Pulling Jordan, you walk towards Daniel Travis and put a smile on your face. "Mr Travis, I'm (y/n) (l/n), and this is my partner, Jordan Li. Could you spare a few minutes to talk with us?"

He lowers his glass. "Of course. What would you two like to talk about?"

"Well, as we know, trustees decide the rankings. And during the incident with Golden Boy, Jordan went down in rankings. We wondering if you'd like to vote for Jordan," you explain.

"I don't like to ring my own bell, but I am putting up the best stats of anyone here in forensics and combat," Jordan adds, "And to be honest, I'd love your vote."

"I've looked at your Q Rating, Name Recognition, and Social Trending, Jordan. They're down, and it's no secret," Daniel states bluntly, "Frankly, being bi-gender and Asian won't appeal to certain audiences in America, so, in terms of marketability, you're not in the best position."

Jordan's face falls at Daniel's harsh assessment. It's a tough pill to swallow. Daniel shifts his attention to you.

"But you (y/n)?" he says, "Your ratings are through the roof, and your control over your powers is remarkable! You're a marketable asset. But, you see, you could achieve even more if you broke up with Jordan."

The suggestion hangs in the air, a poisonous idea souring the elegance of the gala. Jordan feels a surge of anger and frustration at Daniel's audacity while you're shocked by his proposal.

You squeeze Jordan's hand, hoping to give them peace of mind while you resist the urge to use your powers and toss Daniel into a wall. Your eyes flash with a mix of anger and disgust.

"You must be out of your mind to think I'd ever let someone like you dictate my relationship," you retort sharply, "Now if you have nothing important to say, we're leaving."

With that, you lead Jordan away from the conversation, finding a quiet corner of the gala to catch your and Jordan's breath and collect your thoughts.

You knew that success could come at a cost, but compromising your relationship with Jordan wasn't a price you were willing to pay. Wrapping your arms around Jordan, you pull them into your embrace and kiss their temple. 

"Jordan, I'm so fucking sorry," you apologize softly, "I should've dug for more information on Godolkin's trustees before making any moves. I didn't expect that from Daniel."

Jordan sighs, resting their head on your shoulder. "It's not your fault, (y/n). But Daniel's got a point. My numbers are down. Nobody wants to see a bi-gender Asian Supe. Your numbers would be higher if we weren't together."

You shake your head, holding them tighter. "Jordan, don't listen to him. I love you with every fiber of my being. No marketing scheme or student ranking is worth more than my love for you. I don't care about the numbers. I care about you." You tilt their chin up, looking deeply into their eyes. "You are more than any label or statistic. I love you for who you are. Don't let anyone make you question your worth or our love. Because if anyone thinks otherwise, they can fuck off."

© psychostxr — all rights reserved. please do not repost, copy, translate, or claim any of my works as your own.

[wriothesleybear]

Looking at Gallagher's character art, you can see a bouquet of roses on the floor and petals scattered on the bar top surface. It be giving me thoughts about Gallagher bringing you flowers just because he likes to spoil you and he's a old fashioned romantic. He surprises you every now and then just to do something special. There's two ways this can end. One way is you smother him with kisses which turns into a long, passionate make out session. The second way is you show your thanks for the flowers by riding him on the bar counter. Here's a little drabble~ warnings: suggestive, MDNI!

Polishing the bottles of alcohol behind the bar, you hear the door to the bar open, a bell jingling as well. Without turning around, you greet the unknown customer and tell them to give you a second before you serve them. While distracted by cleaning, you don't hear the sound of footsteps moving towards the back of the bar where you are. Your concentration is broken when you feel a strong arm wrap around your waist, bringing you close, your back meeting a solid chest. The person holding you nestles his face into your neck, their stubble lightly scratching your skin.

Your face breaks into a smile and you giggle once you recognize who the person is. "Well, this is a nice surprise." You say as you reach your hand up to run your fingers through his hair. He gives a tired grumble in reply. You loosen his hold and turn around in his arm to face him. Cupping his face, you bring his face down to yours, pulling him into a short, sweet kiss. Once you break away, he doesn't give you time as he quickly brings you into another kiss. This one full of passion that it takes your breath away. He finally breaks the kiss, letting you breath. "Geez, what was that for?"

"Just wanted to give my lady a proper kiss."

"Well then, how about giving your lady a few more?" You lean up to kiss him again, but he stops you by putting a finger to your lips. You give him a confused look as he grins. Removing his hand from behind his back, he holds a bouquet of roses in his hand. Surprise is written on your features. Smiling, you look up at him. "What's the occasion?"

"No occasion. Just wanted to give my beautiful doll flowers to show my feelings for you."

Taking the bouquet, you smell the beautiful roses and bask in their fragrance. The smile that graces your features as you soak in Gallagher's sweet gesture was what he wanted all along. He wouldn't mind taking a picture of your soft expression to keep in his pocket to look at when he's away from you, busy with work. "Thank you Gallagher. They're beautiful." The view of you as you gaze at him with such a soft and loving look makes his heart skip a beat. He can't help himself from putting his hand behind your head to pull your lips to his, meeting once again for a kiss. But this one lasts longer than the previous ones. The bouquet falls from your hands as you get too caught up into the kiss. Wanting your hands to wrap around Gallagher instead as you feverishly taste one another.

His hands move down your hips, to the back of your thighs to pick you up. You wrap your legs around his hips as your arms stay locked around his neck, not once breaking the heated kiss. He sets you down on top of the counter, elevating you a couple inches taller than him. His lips move down to your neck, leaving marks along your skin. "Gall~" You moan his nickname as you pull on his locks, enjoying the feel of his lips on the sensitive spots on your neck. His hand goes under your shirt, exploring the skin of your belly, and moving up to cup your breast. The slight squeeze from his big hand on your breast sending shivers down your spine.

"Gall. I want to ride you. Get on the bar." He breaks away from your neck, looking up at you. "Well, someone's eager to return the favor." He teases. Running your hand down his chest and stomach to his belt buckle, you slightly tug on it to indicate your desire. "Just want to show my appreciation to my darling boyfriend by riding him on this counter until he's exhausted." His eyes widen a bit but it's soon replaced with a smirk and chuckle. "Well then, how could I deny that offer."

~a/n: I'll probably write a part 2 to this or something else regarding bar sex. Also, idk if Gall sounds like a good nickname for him or if it sounds weird.

[marvelfanfics1]

Do you think you could write a fanfic about rafe coming home after a really hard day in particular of dealing and they didn’t get as many sales as usual and Berry and rafe were pissed off at each other so instead of coming home and being all sweet and clingy to age regression reader he yell’s at her for accidentally getting paint on the table well painting him a picture and he yells and screams at her and she runs and goes and hides, and he ends up finding her in the back of the closet and pulls her out and apologizes then he comfort her after yelling saying how he never meant to scare her:3🦈🎀

Painting and Yelling

Pairing: daddy!rafe x little!reader

Warnings: age regression, yelling, mentions of drugs/dealing, hurt/comfort, some cursing

Today has been exhausting for Rafe, not only didn't he make the promised sales but also came into a conflict with Barry because of it and now they're not talking with each other.

When Rafe called you to tell you that he's on his way back home you could hear that he's upset and exhausted, so the second he hung up you quickly gathered art supplies to draw him a picture to cheer him up.

Since you want this one to be special you decide on painting with acrylic paints instead of crayons. You are so focused on drawing the picture, using all the tips you can remember from those videos you watch on YouTube sometimes that you don't notice the paint you accidentally get on the table and the sleeves of your hoodie.

The sound of the front door opening and closing, indicating Rafe's arrival has you squirming on the chair with anticipation of his reaction to your picture that you have put a lot of effort in.

Rafe enters the living room, rubbing the back of his neck as he makes his way over to you. "Hey..."

"Hi daddy! Look what I made for you!" You smile at him, holding up the picture for him to see.

He doesn't look directly at what you were holding up but more at the mess you made on the table and yourself. "What is this?"

"A picture..." You frown at him, isn't it obvious? It's not the first time you gave him a drawing, so his reaction confuses you.

He breathes through his nose, pinching the bridge of it with his fingers. "I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about the damn mess you made."

As you finally look at the table and take notice of the paint stains on it and on your sleeves. You start to try and explain yourself. "I just-"

"God I- I had a long fucking day and the last thing I wanted was to take care of shit like that. Can't you just once- just once, use the few brain cells you possess or is that too damn hard!" He suddenly interrupts you, his voice rising.

Before his brain can comprehend what he just did, seeing the way your eyes widen and fill with tears, your bottom lip quivering, he opens his mouth to apologize but you quickly get up and bolt out of the room and upstairs.

"Wait- baby!" He calls after you, his head dropping as he hears a door slam shut.

He runs a hand through his hair, cursing at himself for shouting at you when he promised himself that he would never let that happen and still couldn't keep his temper in check yet again.

Glancing at the picture on the table he felt even worse. He grabs it, a small smile on his face at the different shapes and messily drawn 'daddy' in the center of it.

Meanwhile you are hiding in his closet, picking at your lambs fur with tears rolling down your face constantly, trying not to sob out loud. His words hurt you deeply, even more so that it was directed at your little self.

You hear footsteps approaching the bedroom and push yourself more into the corner of the closet, pulling your knees to your chest as the bedroom door opens.

"Baby?" Rafe calls out again softly, not surprised he doesn't receive an answer but notices his closet door slightly ajar and walks over to open it.

He sees your sock-clad feet beneath his hanging clothes and crouches down, his heart breaks at the sight of you, your cheeks wet and avoiding to look at him.

"I know you probably don't want to have anything to do with me right now but...I'm sorry, okay? I shouldn't have yelled at you and said those things. I'm sure you don't believe me but I didn't mean anything I said... you're- you're the smartest little someone could wish for and I'm so thankful for being allowed to even see this side of you." He starts reaching out to rest his hand on your knee, his thumb rubbing over your skin.

He waits a moment to see if you will reject his touch, when you don't he takes that as a sign to continue. "I really like the drawing you made..."

You lift your head when you hear the rustling of paper, seeing him admire the picture with a smile.

"It definitely deserves a special place on the wall." He says, straightening himself and walks over to the cork board that already has a few of your pictures pinned on it.

You slowly crawl halfway out the closet to watch him hang it up. He steps back to look at it again, a hand on his chin as in deep thought. "I think that's the best one you made so far."

"Really...?" You sniffle.

"Really." He confirms, stepping closer to you and holding his hand out. You hesitate for a moment before placing your hand in his, letting him help you up. He instantly pulls you into his arms, holding you in a tight embrace and kisses the top of your head. "I'm really sorry...I didn't mean to scare you or anything. Think you can forgive me?"

You think for a second, pulling your face from his chest. "Can I has ice cream?"

He chuckles, relieved that you seem to accept his apology. "Of course, baby. You can even eat on my bed and watch a movie, sounds good?"

"Two scoops and sprinkles." You look at him seriously and he sighs, pressing his lips into a thin line.

"Fine, but only if I get a kiss." He smiles at the way you quickly stand on your tiptoes to peck his lips. "Another?"

"Daddy."

"Okay, shouldn't push my luck, I get it."

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ♡ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @aagn360 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse

@mythixmagic @iris-xoxo-juhu

For Rafe:

@chiaraanatra @chimindity

[ethereal-night-fairy]

Silver Tongues, like Bullets

Chapter 2

Werewolf!141 x Female Reader

Your camera held darker secrets than any of the men anticipated. It was also the first nail in your coffin. They may have let you go had they foregone seeing those pictures.

Warnings: MDNI, dark themes, manipulation, drugging, punishments, kidnapping, non-con touching, non-con looking, stealing nudes, breast slapping, groping, manhandling, implied jerking off, poly 141 taking care of reader, BDSM themes?, Sorry if I missed any.

Silver Tongues like Bullets Masterlist

Word: 6k

-23/11/2023

A blanket of darkness had fallen over the cabin, the night air getting much icier than before. Not that it bothered any of the boys. They had thick skin and were susceptible to surviving in harsh weather. It was you who they were worried about. It was a shock when they all first saw you. No one was supposed to be able to find this place, not easily that is. It caused a slight rift in the dynamic of the pack. With Gaz and Soap wanting to help you and him and Ghost walking on the edge of caution. In the end they decided to wait and see. And if they thought they needed to they'd have you restrained until they could confirm your innocence.

Soap had gotten you a blanket but you were still shivering even with the fire burning hot. Price was growing suspicious. Were you purposely acting pitiful to gather their trust? Were you trying to make yourself out to be less of a threat? Gaz looked at you with pity as he started plating the food for everyone. A nice cut of venison with some military ration sides. Ghost seeing you weren't able to regulate your body heat goes to gather more wood from the wood pile. While all this going on Soap can't help but ask you every question under the moon. You were quiet and reluctant to answer anything too personal.

Price comes out of the cabin with a first aid kit. You tense up when he approaches you. Like you were just looking for a chance to run. Your behaviour was strange. You were the one to ask for help yet you looked like you wanted to be anywhere but here. He didn't know what to make of it. His first instinct was to think you were a spy who was caught snoopy and just made a cover story to buy time. If that was the case they needed to stay on high alert if they were being watched by someone. For now he told his boys to stay on the edge of caution even after Ghost had secured the parameters. They couldn't be too careful.

Price came to sit beside you. Holding out his hands to look at your injuries. With some reluctance you eventually place your shaky hands in his. Price held your fragile skin with tenderness. Making sure to wipe away the blood and dirt with care. The damage wasn't extensive but you had certainly taken a fall somewhere in the forest on the way here.

You looked disheveled and extremely tired. You flinch and whimper from time to time as Price applies pressure and the iodine on your busted skin. The sounds definitely caused emotions to stir in all of the men. Pair that with your intoxicating scent the situation was a little too convenient.

Such a delicate thing you were, you didn't look like you could do much harm. But you can't really trust anyone, not in situations like these. They're been hunted for far too long to not be cautious of strangers approaching them for help. As lovely as you were, the timing and your behaviour was odd.

-

You held a cup of hot chocolate to your chest, the warm ceramic starving off the cold from your fingers. The blanket wrapped around wasn't doing much for you anymore, maybe you were coming down with a fever. But it was hard to tell because you were so tired. The situation wasn't ideal. You didn't want to be here. And by the looks of it the men didn't want you here either. Fatigue was settling in and you could feel your eyes drooping. The fire was on its last leg, only a couple embers glowing in the dark. You had offered to help clean up but they kindly told you to rest. You watch them mull around tidying up as Soap keeps you busy with idle chatter.

They didn't say much about themselves nor did they indulge you with your questions. The only information they gave you were their weird nicknames and that they were here on a short break after an extended work trip. You couldn't blame them, you wouldn't share too much information with a stranger either. Despite the shaky introduction the men were very sweet to you. Price had helped patch up some superficial cuts on your hands and legs, while Gaz got you something to eat and drink. You were even given a blanket when the fire wasn't enough to starve off the cold. They even offered to drive you into town the next morning. Your parents definitely warned you about trusting strangers, especially men but these four didn't seem so bad. Hopefully you'll be able to call them soon to let them know you were ok. Though you weren't looking forward to the lecture you were going to receive when you got home tomorrow.

Gaz had gone in first to set up your sleeping arrangements. Price followed soon after with the dirty dishes and utensils in hand. You sit for a while longer enjoying your conversation with Soap, despite his forward personality he seemed like a decent fellow. What unnerved you the most was Ghost, he hadn't spoken a single word to you as of yet. On top of that you could only see his eyes. You watch as he puts away the wood in a neat pile beside the cabin. He was a very big man, much bigger than the rest of them. His biceps bulge as he carries the heavy wood to their designated spot. They were all so rugged and well built it made some stir deep inside of you. No one in town looked like that. No one in town had made you feel this amount of tingling between your legs.

You're totally oblivious to the fact Soap is watching you eye Ghost with intrigue or possibly hunger. Maybe a mix of both. You also miss the full canine smirk gracing his features as you continue answering his questions, though a bit sluggishly. He watches your eyes flickering close signaling the effect of the medication slipped into your now empty cup.

The fire finally dies out, causing you to shiver despite having the blanket Soap draped over you. Soap gets up to escort you in while Ghost waits at the entrance of the cabin. You try standing up to follow him, but you find your feet to be unsteady. Everything felt woozy and unfocused, you felt two familiar arms wrapping around your waist, preventing you from falling over your own two feet.

“Careful thare lassie…wouldn't want ye getting hurt again”, he coils his arms around you tighter, taking the brunt of your weight as you try to formulate words in your mouth. He was definitely too close; his face was practically in the crook of your neck. You could feel his hot breath on your cold skin. You wanted to tell him to move, to tell him not to touch you so casually. But your tongue felt like lead. There was a weird aftertaste in your mouth that you were only just noticing. You couldn't move and you felt your head lolling over. Something was wrong…something was very wrong! The cup was in danger of falling from your hands as you tried speaking again. You still needed to ask to borrow a phone to call your parents to let them know you were ok.

You watch Ghost walk towards you, taking the cup from your hands while telling Soap to help you inside. With surprising strength and ease, Soap lifts you in his arms bridal style as your head rests on his shoulder. Your eyes are fighting to stay awake as small grunts and moans leave your mouth. You really couldn't form a sentence even if you tried. He coos and shushes you as tears form in your eyes from frustration. You didn't know what was happening, why couldn't you move? Did they drug you!?

The fire was roaring inside the cabin. The frigid air long forgotten as Soap carries you towards a bedroom. Your eyes were hazy but you could make out Gaz pulling back the duvet to allow Soap to lay you down in the very comfy looking bed. Your whimpers and whines ceased the second your head touched the pillow, your eyes becoming so heavy you had no choice but to close them. Your body sinks down into the cloud-like mattress soothing the ache in your bones. You feel them remove your shoes and then your jacket, moving your body with precision and ease. Their melodic voices whispering sweet words you couldn't make out anymore. Sleep was calling to you, trying to slip your head underwater like a siren. But not before you felt two pairs of lips on your forehead wishing you a restful sleep. Eventually you go under, everything fading into black as the warmth of the duvet surrounds your sore body.

-

“How did you get her down so easily?”, Price inquiries as he settles onto the sofa beside the fire.

“Slipped one of Ghost's melatonin tablets into her hot chocolate”, Gaz walks towards him settling on his lap after placing your phone, wallet and camera on the coffee table.

Once everyone is situated on the sofa that's when Price speaks up again.

“I don't know who she is or how she found us….this place was supposed to be hidden. Laswell organised this trip as an outlet for us to roam freely in our wolf forms. No one was meant to be here apart from us.”

“What if she's a spy?”, Ghost chimes in. “What if she was sent to gather intel on us…it's not the first time an organisation has tried kidnapping one of us.”

“I don't know…she looked pretty beaten up when she found the cabin and her phone was broken…She genuinely could have been lost. She also doesn't have much on her”, Gaz tried to reason with the rest of his lovers. “Not to mention her smell…it was very inviting.”

“Aye she dinnae look like she could dae much harm…But her pheromones were driving meh crazy especially when Price was patching up her cuts.” Soap reaches out for your jacket, giving it a quick sniff to confirm his findings. “Can we keep ‘er? Promise Ah'll treat ‘er gently…fragile little thing she is..would make ah great addition to the pack”

“Let's not forget the last time we let someone close, sunshine here almost got a sedative to the neck”, Price grumbled while eyeing Soap.

“Her pheromones are very enticing…But we can't just kidnap someone because you like the way she smells, especially someone we just met. We should call Laswell to do a background check just to be safe”, Ghost offered while running his gloveless fingers through Soap mohawk as he reaches for your wallet to search.

“It might take a while to get the results and Gaz had promised to take her home tomorrow. But that could prove dangerous to us if she informs anyone of our whereabouts.” The men all nod in agreement as they chalk up a plan to keep you for a while longer, just until they can confirm you aren't a threat. Definitely not for other reasons…

After Ghost finished going through your wallet and finding your driving licence he grabs your phone to plug into his laptop to get any useful information that you hadn't disclosed already. Soap was happy enough beside him going through your pictures on your camera. He just wanted to confirm you weren't stalking them and taking pictures when they weren't looking.

Gaz and Price come to an agreement in pretending like the truck broke down tomorrow morning forcing you to trek back into town on foot, with Gaz guiding you. The only difference would be that Gaz would lead you into the wrong direction towards the lake. They'll have to wait and see how you'd react to being baited.

Once everything was settled they put their plan into motion. Price gives Laswell a call as they crowd around the laptop having no shame in going through your personal information or the numerous pictures you have saved. They mirror your phone screen onto the laptop and the first things that pop up are a plethora of messages from your parents telling you to come home right this instant. Calling you dramatic for ‘faking an emergency’ and that weren't going to call anyone to help or come get you. Telling you they'd kick you to the streets if you continued to act like this. They seemed really pissed off by something. But there were too many messages to go through. It was like reading a soap opera script. Your siblings on the other hand seemed really concerned asking for you to come home quickly, telling you that your parents were ransacking your room and throwing things onto the street in anger. It seemed a little too convenient of a story to Price.

“This could all just be a ploy”, Ghost suggested. A made-up story to get their pity so you could get closer to them. Ghost and Price didn't want to give you the benefit of the doubt, even though Gaz and Soap were more than willing to believe your story. Probably too enticed by your scent already. They've been in these situations far too many times for it to be considered a coincidence. Especially when a pretty thing wanders somewhere she definitely shouldn't be, spreading very enticing pheromones to a pack of wolves.

They continue their search for something incriminating. Anything to give away you were working for someone. But everything they found felt very mundane down to the nitty gritty details of your life. It almost seemed too normal as if your life was scripted. You must be hiding something even if it wasn't related to them. Everyone had at least one skeleton in their closet. But you didn't or maybe you were just better at hiding it. The pictures on your phone are mostly tame, the main subject being nature and quite a few candid shots of what they assumed were your friends. And obviously you had plenty of pictures of food, but not many of yourself to their disappointment. Gaz seemed particularly disappointed, the younger two men seemed to be taken by you. Even though they've only spent an hour at most talking to you. Your Instagram wasn't much different but your online portfolio had quite a few creative pictures with models. They were often made to look antique or aged and followed a very classic aesthetic. Soap thought it was a shame they couldn't get to see your pretty face.

You could have just stolen these pictures from someone else but they couldn't confirm that either. At this point they thought they saw enough to get to know you. Gaz seemed to want to come to your defense but held his tongue, he knew how dangerous situations like these could get. But to him you seemed like any typical college graduate trying to make a name for herself. Young, ambitious and full of creativity. But you were also naïve and a bit ditsy if what you told them was true. And he so desperately wanted it to be true, the idea of keeping you around was growing on him. One would think if you enter a forest alone the least you could do was pay attention to your surroundings regardless if you were distracted taking pictures or not. It seemed you lacked common sense. Especially when thinking asking four strange men for help was a good idea. Though in your defense it's not like you had many options at that point. It was either this or freeze to death.

It's ok if you were a bit slow or naive Gaz thought, he'll protect you and teach you everything you'd need to know. Once you were cleared of suspicion, that is, Soap and him could definitely work to convince the other two men to agree to keep you. It didn't seem like your parents treated you well, he's sure you'd be happier with them anyways so I wasn't like they were doing something that wrong. In fact they were probably doing you a favour by taking you away from your abusive parents.

Soap was still off to the side somewhere hyper focused on looking at your pictures for some reason. When your camera finally died, Soap let out a flurry of curses.

“Find something useful?”, Price inquiried. Worried you were indeed taking pictures of them to sell or send to whoever you were working for. Soap just mumbles something in frustration before saying no.

Intrigued, Ghost takes the camera from Soap with some trouble. He slots the SD card into the laptop to see what he was moaning about. It's safe to say none of them except maybe for Soap, were expecting those kind of pictures to pop up. You were still dressed, just barley that is. The men took an audible gulp of air, their Adams apple bobbing in their throats. When Ghost clicked on the first exposed picture of you they all felt their mouth becoming entirely too wet and too dry at the same time. They were practically drooling at the sight of your naked flesh.

Ghost was kinda annoyed Soap was trying to keep this to himself. Greedy little bastard. He would have probably jerked off to the pictures after everyone had gone to bed. Only telling them about it when he got his fill.

It was a photograph of you sitting near some wild flowers. In the photo you were wearing a long white dress so the picture wasn't taken today but they wished it was. They wished you came to them looking like you did in that photo. Your dress was pushed up very close to exposing your panties, your legs were strategically parted but not enough to expose yourself. It left them wanting for more and had their fingers itching to touch your warm supple skin. It was ironic how sweet and innocent you came across when speaking to them yet you took pictures like this of yourself? It had Soap blood rushing to his cock and also his head, it angered him that there was a possibility you were taking these pictures for some girl or dude. A possessive feeling entered his heart, he was annoyed thinking someone apart from them could have possibly seen these pictures of you. The other men probably thinking something similar, even if they wouldn't admit it just yet.

Ghost glanced at Soap adjusting his slacks before going back to click onto the next picture. The silence in the room quickly faded when the next picture loaded up. Gaz and Soap let out audible groans at the image. Their cocks were definitely straining in their trousers.

The picture showed you laying down this time still on the grass, your wet hair arranged prettily. But it looked like it was raining. Your face was wet, your lipstick smudged and the white top completely soaked through exposing your erect nipples. You had a demure expression on your face despite the very erotic pictures you were taking of yourself. The more images they clicked the more erotic they became. Though you were at no point completely naked or fully exposed. But by God you knew what you were doing with that camera. You knew your best angles, the natural lighting was perfect, your clothes were arranged just how you intended. They'd mistake you for a pinup model if they had found these pictures accidentally on some website.

The best picture so far pops up and by this point everyone including Price and Ghost are acutely fixated on your devine body, your soft curves and dips. They all probably felt their cocks hardening. Everything about you just seemed so perfect, like you were made for them. It was safe to say even if they found you were actually a spy they'd find a way to keep you next to them. A body so divine would do no good buried six feet under. They had no idea you were hiding such a figure under your baggy clothes they found you in.

The picture in question was of you laying propped up on your side. The top on your dress was pulled down to your waist exposing your chest, torso and stomach completely. The dress was soaked, becoming transparent and your white stockings were on display. You were looking at the camera innocently like you weren't just sitting prettily half naked in the middle of a forest by yourself. Gaz really hoped it was you taking these pictures not someone else. They really ought to teach what could happen to pretty half exposed girls who wander into the forest to take such naughty pictures. Ghost goes to click on the next picture but it just circles back to the most recent picture of a white bunny you took. Everyone was clearly disappointed but only Soap and Gaz voiced their dissatisfaction. Soap tries to take the laptop to return to his favourite picture of you but Ghost slams the screen shut.

“Oye! What was that for!?”, Soap practically seethes, Gaz not far behind voicing his anger.

“She's not some wank material for you Johnny.. Go to bed, we have a long day tomorrow, both of you…”

“I agree, go to bed. You both need to cool down and think with a level head. This girl can be a danger to all of us…”, Price's stern voice rings out, squashing out any room for complaint. The two men grumble and head off to Soap room. “Don't sneak into her room either!”. They let out some pathetic ‘yes sirs’ before closing the door to their room. Price knew for a fact they were going to get each off to the thoughts of your body. He'd hope they wouldn't get too attached to you just yet… there was a lot at stake. He didn't want any of his boys getting hurt because they were thinking with their dicks..

Price tells Simon to put everything back so you don't suspect them tampering with your stuff. They needed to keep up the air that they were oblivious about you. Price rubs his eyes. The fatigue clearly evident in his face. This was supposed to be a relaxing trip…He needed some sleep. The anxiety was eating away at him. He'd be expecting a call from Kate the next morning for an update. It's best to get as much rest as possible..

Rest would have been good for Simon too yet he found himself making backup of all your pictures once everyone left. Price had told him to return everything back but he couldn't bring himself to allow anyone else to see these pictures of you. As much as he was trying to hide it. He found himself becoming infatuated. By your scent, by your demeanor, by your beautiful breasts. His mouth was just itching to latch on your supple skin. Which was extremely concerning, he shouldn't feel like this. Yet he found his hand discreetly finding his way into his boxers as he made copies of the pictures while deleting them off the SD card. It wasn't like you'd notice, your camera had died. Though he did feel cruel for denying his boys pleasure while he was indulging in it himself. He'll make it up to them later once everything is settled and they decide what they should do with you.

-27/11/2023 present time

You found yourself on a familiar sofa again, only this time it was Gaz who was taking care of your wounds. The cuts sting as you try to escape the grasp Soap has on you as he holds you down on his lap.

“Please I'm not a spy…*sob*.. I just want to go home..”

“Settle down hen…nae need tae work yerself up.. we just want tae take care of ye”, you could still hear the residual anger in his voice. He probably got an earful by everyone for allowing you to escape on his watch. But you didn't care, you just wanted to go home. Anywhere was better than being stuck with four strange men. Four very dangerous men who shouldn't technically exist. Your mind was still trying to process what you had witnessed. Maybe it was all a hallucination. There no way men can turn to wolves right? Right? You'd promise never to mention it to a living soul if it meant they would let you go but you doubted they'd take the risk. You had no way to contact the outside world, had no way of escaping four military men with connections. Four protected military men who could technically get away with anything if they can get away with war crimes.

“Ye need tae stop squirming so much hen… or we'll have another problem on our hands”, Soap whispers in your ear. You stop your movements immediately at his words. You try to get off his lap but he just holds you down harder. His stiff cock brushing against you too bagging sweatpants and you felt everything since they had taken your underwear to ‘clean’ while they were nursing you back to health. You hated to admit it but his body heat was pleasant compared to the cold you were just in. But that didn't mean you wanted his hard cock pressed up against your vulnerable unclothed pussy.

Gaz and Soap continue to try to soothe you, but it's of little help because you begin panicking the second you see Price and Ghost getting the truck loaded with their belongings. They were leaving the area and taking you with them.

You feel Gaz brush your hair out of your face as he shushes you with gentle words. You were a fool to think he was ever going to take you home. You partially blamed him for your fall into the lake. Had he not suggested you climb the nearby boulders to get better reception on his phone; you wouldn't have slipped in leaving you mentally delirious for the last couple days due to your aggravated fever. You don't remember much from the last few days apart from a lot of vomiting and the men taking care of all your needs whether you wanted them to or not. Not to mention them dressing and undressing you like a doll whenever they felt like it. Or maybe it was because you kept vomiting but you wanted to blame it on them..

The fight in you dies down as you just resort to crying your feelings out. The boys continue to soothe you but they were probably just making things worse. You were extremely overwhelmed by everything you were witnessing; it was all becoming too much. You just wanted to turn your brain off for a second. You watch Price and Ghost stop in front of you. They had hard expressions on their faces. Dread filled you as you realised what they were going to do..

“Do you want your punishment now or when we arrive back home?”, Price inquiries. But you know he doesn't mean your home he meant their home. You cry even louder not knowing what to do to convince them to let you go. Pleases and sorrys leave your mouth as you beg them for mercy, beg them to see what they were doing was wrong. Trying your best to convince them you weren't a spy. But they wouldn't listen. It's like they had already made up their minds to keep you regardless of whether you were a spy or not.

Price maneuvers you off Soap lap and over his knee as everyone watches with held breaths. You struggle, you really do. With all the energy you have left you fight the punishment you're about to receive. You feel Price's hand rub over your ass giving it an experimental squeeze despite your crying and squirming. It only seemed like a mild inconvenience to him. You feel his hand brush up to the waistband of your sweat pants which causes you to kick your legs more. It's only then you hear Ghost speak.

“Price maybe we should let her decide her punishment” Price gives Ghost an odd look but decides to hear him out. You quiet down and listen too, hoping for an out from this humiliating situation.

“Let's give her two options to choose from, since it's her first time and hopefully her last time trying to escape”, you look at him like he was your saving grace. That would later be a great mistake on your part since you hadn't heard his options yet.

“What would you suggest?”, Price inquires as he continues to rub your thighs and ass as you held your breath hoping to get out of this punishment. Gaz and Soap look on eagerly knowing either suggestion would have you partially exposed to them. Not like they haven't been oogling your body already, especially while helping you clean up over the last few days. You don't know that though you were too delirious with fever.

“She can decide if she wants slaps to her bare cunt or bare breasts”, your face drops at his suggestion. You were really hoping for something else, like writing lines or doing extra chores like the way your parents preferred punishing you. You start crying again at your predicament. Why was life like this? Why did it have to be you? You were a good person, well at least you tried to be.. Was this your punishment for defying your parents' will? Was God punishing you for being an unfilial daughter? Was it because you wanted to feel sexy in those pictures? Had that evoked the wrath of God?

“Make a decision luv or I'll make it for you…”, You hiccup through sobs trying to ask for forgiveness instead. You didn't want to be exposed to strangers. This wasn't how you expected your first time to be. You had your doubts they'd stop at a simple spanking. When Price goes to pull your pants down you speak up, finally realising you weren't going to be shown mercy.

“M-my…my.. breasts”, you cry. It was the lesser evil. May God forgive you for exposing yourself to these strangers. You're gently made to sit upright as Price forces you to lift Soaps shirt, baring your supple breasts to them. Your squeeze your eyes shut as you clench your hands into fists waiting for the pain to begin. But it doesn't come. You wait and wait but nothing happens. You don't hear them speak or move, which just caused more anxiety. You eventually can't take the suspense and open your eyes to find them all staring, eyes full of lust and desire, hands twitching at their sides. It was as if they were transfixed, unable to break the hold your naked body had on them. It unnerved you, you didn't know what they were waiting for…

“Price…”, you whimper out his name so you can get this punishment done and over with. An inhuman groan leaves his lips at you calling his name so sweetly. Immediately his eyes shoot to yours before they dip down again. He clears his throat as his expression changes back to his previous one of anger, but not really. You close your eyes again waiting for him to do something, your body trembling from the fear and anticipation.

“Five slaps to each breast ok darling?”, You nod your head, your hands clutching onto the shirt tighter. You brace yourself while holding your breath again, waiting for the pain to come. He lays his rough calloused hands over your hard nipples causing your breath to hitch at his gentle touch. You try to squirm away but the first tentative slap lands on your left breast, forcing you to gasp despite it not hurting. The next one that lands is much harder, delivered in quick succession like the rest. Your skin felt hot and raw after each thunderous slap. Tears slip past your waterline as the last blow is delivered to your left breast. The skin he was brushing against felt incredibly sensitive. He pinched your nipples again and they felt harder than before, if that was possible.

You felt the rumble of Price's inhuman growl as his large hands cup your sore breast. He keeps it there, feeling the weight of your bosom in his hand as he experimentally rolls your nipples between his fingers. The dangerous throat sounds you were hearing just froze you in place that you didn't even think to move away even though you wanted to. It wasn't just Price, you could practically feel the other men burning holes into your skin despite having your eyes closed.

Eventually you feel him move to your right. He was being much crueler with his slaps this time around. Every time his hand clapped against your flesh you flinched from the stinging pain. Gasps and whimpers left your mouth more readily this time around as well. The pain was spreading all over your sensitive flesh yet you could do little to prevent it. It felt inflamed and hot and all you wanted to do was hide in a corner somewhere far away. Never in your life have you felt this kind humiliation. The worst part was your nether region felt hot and sticky making sitting extremely uncomfortable. You squirm as you rub your thighs together. Trying your best to alleviate the ache. Hopefully no one noticed.

By the end of punishment you were crying again. The tears didn't seem to want to end this time around. Eventually you felt your top being pushed down to cover your tender sore breasts as Price brought you in for a hug despite you trying to escape.

“You took your punishment so well bunny, such a good girl. I'm so proud of you. Our perfect girl.”, Price coos at you while you still try to escape his hold. But he just tightens his arms around you, plastering your head to his chest as you cry it out. Soap and Gaz chime in too as they caress your head and back showering you with praise for taking the punishment so well.

“Being such a good girl for us, we're so proud of you bunny. You deserve a reward. Let me go get you some water. We'll get you some ointment when we get home luv just sit there and rest for now.”, Gaz leaves the room to get some water at you continue crying.

“Let me give ye a reward hen.. Ah’ll make the pain go o’way. You've been rubbing yer thighs since the punishment started”, You feel Soaps hands move to your thighs. Trying to pry them open for your ‘reward’. But you adamantly refuse while fighting to keep your legs closed, not that it was doing much to deter him.

“No..no…please…no more”, you plead through sobs. Before you can cry louder you feel him being pulled back roughly. You open your eyes to find Ghost holding Soap by the hair as he whines kneeling on the ground.

“That's enough Johnny..Not today”, You watch him help Soap up as he grumbles something about it being unfair that only Price got to touch you. But he eventually relents and goes to follow him outside.

Gaz returns with a glass of water from the kitchen and brings it to your lips. You hadn't realised all that running and crying had left you extremely parched. You gulp down the water not thinking much of it when he gently tips the glass for you. Price has to slow you down your movements telling you you'll choke yourself like that. He takes the glass from Gaz to help you slowly finish it. It's only when you're done that the same chalky taste of medicine you've been tasting for the last couple days makes itself known. They've drugged you again.

You cry and plead for mercy in your last couple minutes of consciousness but all they do is coo at you until you pass out. The last thing you see in your hazy vision is Gaz kissing your forehead while Price gathers you in his lap to carry you to the truck.

Copyright © by ethereal-night-fairy. 2024. All Rights Reserved. Writing not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or use with AI technologies.

[marksbear2]

AARON HOTCHNER X VICTIM MALE READER

My man, and I’m redoing and re posting some of my old fics since I don’t like how I wrote them.

⚠️THE UNSUB IS THE READERS EX.⚠️

He didn’t want to believe it was you. His world had came to a stop once he saw you were all bloody and injured on the floor inside the unsubs basement. His heart ached with anger and sorrow even guilt filled his heart.

His stomach felt sick and low as he stared at your ex then you. You were on the floor in your old blood. Aaron felt paralyzed like he couldn’t even breathe.

He felt like he should have known the unsub was targeting you. The unsub was your ex. 

They were targeting people who looked something like you. He knew how possessive and desperate he was for you. You told him and showed him pictures of them. One of the pictures you showed him was your ex’s body and face all tattooed everywhere and the tattoos were “Y/n L/n” all over his body. 

He watch paramedics pick up your limp body taking it into the ambulance. Hotch didn’t know whether to scream and shout or beat himself up for your kidnapping. Aaron stares at the unsub who’s on the floor handcuffed staring up at Aaron with hatred in his eyes. 

“So…You're my replacement. Y/n could have gotten someone better like me…” the unsub breathes out with a chuckle. 

Aaron balled his hands into fist with his knuckles turning white. Aaron stares down at the man feeling the rest of the team's eyes burning into his back. 

Aaron's jaw was clenched as the rest of his body felt like he was about to go animalistic on the guy. He didn't care if he lost his job or something he couldn't think about anything other than fighting him. 

"Agent Hotchner, we have to go. Cmon boys get em up." An agent finally says breaking the silence. Quickly the team begins to comfort the boss with all sorts of words.  

HEADCANONS!

— After that incident Hotch never left you out of his sight for a LONG time. He’d be at your sides at all times never leaving you alone for the smallest thing.

— He began to call sick for work and go on break to spend time with you and just overall wanting to make sure you're safe.

— Begins to carry you everywhere. He doesn’t want your wounds and injuries to hurt or re-open. He tries not to make it obvious that he’s treating you like glass.

— He knows you can take care of yourself, but he couldn’t shake the thought of him having to protect you. 

— Once he gets to see you in the hospital he begins to apologize profusely. He was on his knees by your hospital bed holding your hands tightly as he cried out a series of “I’m sorry.”

— He’ll cradle you in his arms if you have a nightmare since the incident letting you cry softly into his chest as he whispers against your head. “You're safe, I'm here.” 

— Jack will asks about your scars and if you’d let him he’ll trance your scars with his tiny little hands.

— He'll wait weeks, months, years even for you to be comfortable with him touching you in some places.

—The memory of you lying limp on your own blood haunts him every night. It will make him bolt up awake mumbling your name under his breath making sure you're still with him. 

—He probably pushes away the team and keeps to himself as he tries to cope until he can't hold it inside no more.

—Hugs are even tighter and longer between you two. 

-Lasting long kisses assuring the other that they're safe. 

—Aaron and you are trying to build back the foundation of being a happy family for both of you and especially for Jack.

—Aaron tries his damn hardest not to just shoot the unsub dead on the spot as soon as he sees the unsub hurting you.

— The team setting up you, Aaron and Jack to a secret vacation so y'all can finally feel at peace. 

— Aaron becomes more secretive of you and Jack, only speaking up about the two of you unless it's the team or absolutely necessary. He wants to keep you both safe.

—He becomes such a protective husband. Like he couldn't stop himself.

[minus-plus-zer0]

Working at Bakugou's Agency Headcanons - Part 2

| Part 1 | ♡ Genre: Fluff ♡ Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

Ever since you broke the ice with Bakugou, he's been finding more time to talk to you at work. You're less likely to call him by his hero name now out of habit.

You feel a little bad though for the co-workers he still yells at though, so you ask him if he could be just a "smidge" nicer to them.

His first instinct is probably to say "NO FREAKING WAY!" but he's been thinking about all the things you said to him before this point and he's at least considering your suggestion, albeit begrudgingly.

That's a victory of a sort.

You're learning a lot about the inner life of a Pro Hero, given how much time you spend working around the agency.

You joked to Bakugou before about surpassing him as a Pro Hero but really, if you put your mind to it, maybe you could do it. Your experience as a secretary could only help and not hurt you. It's a lot of work though.

The idea is still put on hold for now. Especially considering what happened recently. There was a new villain on the streets and they caused a ton of trouble for the Pro Heroes. Bakugou in particular was pretty banged up...

You were worried sick over him during and after the fight. You visited him in the hospital and although you heard he was in a bad mood, he seemed more alert when you entered the room.

He couldn't stand to see you cry. He told you it wasn't your problem and that you should only focus on your work. But you insisted that as a friend you should care.

He doesn't disagree with that, so he lets you stay. He says it'll be easier to keep watch on you this way and he needs to know how the agency's doing anyways.

The agency is not nearly as worried as you are, at least not on a personal level. They're not callous, but they're not close to the man. So you're the only one who visits.

Regardless of the good or bad news, Bakugou enjoys listening to you speak. It's better than being alone in the dull hospital room. You end up talking quite a while and time passes by before you know it. Bakugou's smiling more and more as time goes by.

When Bakugou eventually returns to work, you're talking to him in private about the status of his wounds. He lets you help him with first aid and also with moving around the place. You're literally a shoulder for him to lean on when his issues are at their worst.

Eventually he heals up and you don't have as much of an excuse to talk to him at work, so you go back to your usual amount of interactions. It still nice but never enough...

Bakugou ends up reaching out to you more as a result and this time around, Bakugou is the one to invite you out for dinner! But instead of the fancy restaurant you attended last time, you suggest a more low-key, humble cafe nearby.

He agrees, even though this means he's gotta disguise himself somewhat. There's some private tables in the cafe and it's not too busy with people, but the fancy restaurant was more guarded against the usual common fans and reporters than a simple cafe would ever be.

You poke fun at his disguise and find a good table for you both. As you're making your orders you notice him staring at you from your table and it's very clear he didn't think he was going to get caught looking. You stick your tongue out at him and that leaves him seething at your teasing.

You return with the food and you give it to Bakugou before he can complain about anything. Your careful recommendation on what he should order was right on the money. He likes the food and you can tell by his expression.

You say that to his face, and he screws up his expression so now you can't tell what he's thinking or feeling. He looks deranged.

You want to take a picture to show all your co-workers, but he's got a hand on your phone before you can do anything. Damn him and his fast reflexes!

Since his face isn't screwed up anymore you still want to take a picture, but this time for yourself. You don't tell him that last part, you just ask if you can take a photo of him and his food, for posterity of course. He agrees and he initially keeps his typical grumpy face for the photo. But then a thought occurs to him and he gives you a small smile and you know you just HAVE to take the photo ASAP.

If you didn't have to go back to work, you would've forgotten that he was your boss. He's too close to you now, so many smiles and secrets you didn't think you'd get out of a man like this. But you need something more. You don't want things to stop progressing here, not when it's getting good. However, there's no good way to broach the subject.

Hours later after having a good time together at the cafe, Bakugou is walking you home, all the way to your doorstep.

When you finally reach the place, he tells you he has something to talk about.

He looks like he's a bundle of nerves. He ends up blurting what's on his mind just to get it off his damn chest, and it's just easy for him to talk to you about these kinds of things.

He admits that he doesn't always see you as his secretary, but as his close friend. He knew he had feelings for you at the start, but he thought he could manage that in private so as to not make you uncomfortable.

But he does love you, and he's thinking he's been reading the signs right and that you feel the same.

You just kiss him to confirm his thoughts and he kisses back even deeper than you ever could. He's inexperienced and rough, it's obvious to a T, but it's everything you would want. He's pulling you into his chest and making sure he's tasting every last bit!

Finally you break for air and his smirk is shaky, his body is shaky, and his voice is also shaky when he tells you "You're mine."

"No YOU'RE mine."

He quite likes that!

Though he admits he can't let you work for him anymore if you're together. He'd be letting you go as his secretary, because he would really rather have you as a girlfriend!

Sucks that you're out of a job though. But you heard that Deku is hiring...