#it doesn’t mean she. doesn’t have one?

[naburi]

MY TEAMMATE’S DAUGHTER

SANA X READER

TAGS: DADDY KINK

2.7K WORDS

“There she is! Look at my daughter!” Your teammate points in the stand. He found out that he had an illegitimate child, now a beautiful young woman. He pays her visits occasionally and brings her every game to make up for the time he missed, not knowing that his daughter is already receiving the attention that she needs. “F-fuck me harder daddy!” Sana’s plea echoes through your room.

“You’re such a slut.” You said while you slapped her ass. You are holding Sana by her thin arms as you pound her from behind. Her thin body shakes in every impact. “You want harder?” You said as you tighten your grip in her arms to pound her with more force. You take a pause after pulling it out just to ram your cock again in her now messy wet slit. The sound of her juicy slit getting pounded, the sound of flesh colliding as your hips bumps her meaty ass, Sana’s whales of pleasure. These noise made you fuck your slut even more.

Driving back home, a few notifications pop out on your phone screen. You just know they are from the fans that want to congratulate you after a win. You have no idea that one of those fans will change your life overnight. Finally arrived at your home. You went straight to bed to get some needed rest. Scrolling through the notifications bubble, you notice a familiar display photo, but you didn’t mind it as you thought that you probably saw them in the stadium. You are grateful to receive some encouraging messages from your fans, thus you take your time to read each and every message. After opening the first few bubbles, this notification bubble led you to an instagram story that mentioned you. It’s a picture of you and two of your teammates. “Hold on, is this her daughter?” You said as you went to check her account. You saw some of her posts where she is in the game. “That’s why she mentioned me, I’m with her father in the photo.” You concluded. Sana is laying in her room, waiting for you to notice her story. She smiles as it notifies her that you give it a like.

The next game is concluded in a loss, the locker room is silent. It’s an unspoken rule that nobody should go out or have fun at night after a loss. You went straight home. you quickly drove home to get this night. Fewer notifications pop in your phone. You 're not expecting any good messages with how you lost this game. You saw the name of the daughter of your teammate again in your notification bubbles. You click on it first which brings you to an instagram story again. This time it’s a video of you with a caption “great play!” Attached with your mentioned name. You appreciate her compliment and contemplate if you should send her a message. Thinking about it for a minute, you settle in giving it a like again. Scrolling through the other bubbles, a new notification pops up. Sana followed you on instagram and sent you a direct message. “Hi! You did your best! Let’s win the next one!” You left a chuckle while reading her message. You haven’t heard her voice before but you read it like someone is cheering you on. “Thank you! Father played well today as well!” You responded to her. After sending the message, I saw that she had already seen it. It means she’s waiting for your message all along. “He’s a good player just like you! I want to meet you in person!” She sent another message but you were too tired to look at it. You toss your phone to the side before falling asleep.

You drove to the stadium for an early game today. Walking at the facility, it’s strange that you have not met anybody from your team yet. You continue to look for anyone in your team as you hear a noise coming out of one of the rooms. The whole team and staff are here and they are circling around a woman? “Your daughter is so pretty!”,”this can’t be your kid, she doesn’t look like you!”,”she’s too gorgeous to be your daughter!” The whole team is making fun of her father. Sana is standing on the other side, just smiling with the jokes. Her brunette hair shines from the sunlight behind her. Her silky white skin glows brighter than the light itself. Your teammates take turns shaking the woman before going out to the dugout. As more people leave the room, Sana finally caught a glimpse of you. Her innocent smile widens just enough that it looks seductive. It’s your turn for a handshake. You reach out your hand for sana to hold. Her slim fingers touch the back of your hand, her soft hands graces on your skin so slowly that it gives you chills. Her small hands look small compared to yours. She holds your hand a little longer than the others. “Goodluck!” She said while tightening her grip before finally letting your hands go. This is the first time you heard her voice. It didn’t help that her seductive smile didn’t go away when she held you. You won this game, the coach invited the team to celebrate this win with liquor. Some of your teammates are joking that they should also invite Sana with them but her father and some of the other players say that it should be a team only celebration. It’s still early in the night but you and some of your teammates excuse yourselves to go home to take an early rest.

Driving back home, your phone started to pop off with notifications again. You smile expecting a mentioned story or a message from Sana again. You sit on the sofa before you check your phone. You were baffled that no notification is from Sana. Checking your conversation, you saw that you haven’t responded to her message last night. “Should I message her?” You asked yourself. Sana has been putting you in a story in every game but today. You want to know the reason why you haven’t heard from her today thus finding yourself being the one to message her first. “It’s nice to meet you up close.” You said in your chat. Sana usually responds right away. It’s been 10 minutes now and she still has not read your message. You started to worry that you might have done something wrong that made the woman step away from you.

It’s past 10 pm, and a series of notifications wakes you up. You found yourself sleeping on your sofa, waiting for a response from Sana. You hurriedly sat up as you saw the new notification bubbles. “Hi! I grabbed drinks with a friend!” She said while also sending a picture. It’s a picture of her with her drink beside a drawing on the wall. You may get the hint but you act oblivious. “Have you made it home? Stay safe.” You responded. You are finally at ease knowing that she’s just busy. “Thank you, I’m walking with my friend on the way home. We are just a few houses apart from where she lived.” She quickly responded. “Let’s grab a drink some other time as well :)” she added with a smiling expression. The idea of going out with Sana excites you but the realization that her father might take it the wrong way holds you back. you don’t want to create any distraction with the team. “Your father might have found out,” you responded. “We can grab some drinks and spend some time in your house,” she suggested. You don’t like where this is heading, you know what will happen if the two of you are left alone in your home. “No one will find out” you said to yourself before agreeing with Sana. “Meet me after the game on Friday” you said to her.

In the locker room, the players are doing their pre-game routine and changing clothes. Sana is off your mind as you are focused on winning against your rival team. She didn’t leave your mind that long enough as you saw the woman standing outside of the locker room door. Sana is wearing less than what you are accustomed to. She usually is in jeans while paring it to your team's jersey. The locker room got quiet as they were too stunned with how attractive she is. The woman is wearing a small skirt that exposes her long lean legs paired with a tight folder jersey that shows her midriff. She walked inside the locker room to hand something to her father. She said it’s for good luck as she knows that this game means more as it is against your historically rival team. Sana gives you a long glance with a smirk on her face before she walks out. You both knew that she was not there for her father. She’s in there to give a glimpse of what you will see more tonight.

The game ended in a victory. Your coach invited the whole team to celebrate but you politely declined this one as you said you have a date. Your teammates are making fun of you that what you meant is really that you are going to hook up with someone tonight. It is not further from the truth as your mind gets clouded by how seductive Sana looks at you and how inviting her outfit is. You hurriedly walk your way out of the stadium. You tried to call your date for tonight but you were surprised that she is already in front of your car, waiting for you. “What if someone saw you?”,”I’ll just say I’m looking for my father.” She smirked at you. You look around to see if any player or staff saw the two of you but it seems like they are still inside. “How did you know which one is my car?” You asked in disbelief. Sana just gives you a wide smile. You guide her to the passenger seat and open the door for her. She thanked you as she sat inside.

You drove off to the nearest convenient store to grab drinks and some snacks. Sana is waiting in the car while you buy those items in the store. After returning to your seat. You felt her slim fingers wander on your pants. “What took you so long?” Sana’s voice changed. Her voice became higher pitched than usual, almost acting like a baby that’s waiting for her food. Her left hand is now moving up and downward on top of your forming bulge. You have not said anything as you don’t know how to react to her fast advancement. “I want to feel you now, Daddy,” her voice changed again. From a baby-like voice to a slow and alluring voice. Something clicked into you when she called you “Daddy.” It woke up your instinct for sex. Sana noticed this too as she felt how hard you got just by hearing that. Sana smiled and didn't leave her face as she knows that she will get what she came for. The two of you have now arrived at your home. You bring down the drinks and snacks to a small table in your living room. You sit on your sofa as you are about to open the drinks but Sana has other plans.

“I’ve waited long enough, daddy.” Sana unzips your pants down to your ankles. She smiles when she sees your cock begging to be let out on your underwear. She pulls your underwear slowly as she wants to see it spring back up in total hardness which she saw when she finally let your hard cock out. Sana gives your hard cock a few strokes before she measures it with her forearm. “It’s bigger than my forearm!” Her thin forearm has no match with the girth of your cock. You chuckled as even in this situation she can still look as cute and innocent as ever. Sana laughs with you before she holds your cock and pat her face with it. She let your cock rest on her face. Your hard cock is resting beside her sharp nose bridge, your shaft is on top of her left cheek while she closes one of her eyes as your cock is covering half of her face with your tip on her forehead. Sana smiles as she gets turned on by feeling your big cock on her soft face. She holds your cock again to now pat her tongue with it. She gives the tip a few licks before trying to swallow all of your cock in one go. You groan as your cock is not even lubricated enough for a deepthroat. You can feel her soft inside as she slowly swallows all of your cock. Her sharp nose touches your abdomen before she pulls her head back. Sana gasped some air as she left a chuckle. “You have a big dick, daddy.” She smiles again with her eyes widening from excitement.

You had enough of her gimmicks, you know what she came for and you will give her exact what she wants. You hold Sana’s brown hair in a makeshift pigtail to have something to hold on. Sana even opens her mouth wide as she waits for your movement. You bring down her face again, impaling her mouth with your hard cock. Gagging sounds come out every time you put all of your cock in her mouth but she didn’t care. Sana let you use her mouth for your pleasure. You stand up to give yourself a better angle. You know moving your hips to meet her face every time. Sana looks up at you with tears flowing down her eyes. You fasten your face until Sana’s face turns red due to lack of oxygen. You get worried for a bit as you pause to check on her. She coughs when you finally let go of her face. “Why didn’t you tap out?” You asked. “I want my daddy to use me just as he pleases” Sana gives you a wicked smile even in her messed up face.

You carry Sana to your room, she wraps her legs onto you while she kisses your neck before you carry her down to your bed. You unbutton her small skirt and tossed it on the other end of the room. Sana tried to fasten the process by pulling her underwear on her own but you caught her hand. “Someone is being inpatient.” You said while removing her hand on her underwear. “S-sorry, daddy” she said. You eventually remove her underwear. “Fuck me please, daddy.” “Fuck me now,” she continues to plead before you hold her cheeks to open her mouth. You put her underwear inside her mouth as a consequence of her impatience. You aligned your hard cock on her wet lips before slowly plunging it in. Sana's loud moans are muffled by the underwear inside her mouth. You can feel how her slit stretched out due to your girthy cock. You hold her by her thin legs and start your movement. Sana's muffled moans are still loud. She tried to remove her top while you're on top of her but you slap her hands away. “What did I tell you about being inpatient?” You shouted at her. Sana got turned on with how aggressive you're becoming. You pull up her folded jersey top and her bra in one go, exposing her perky boobs. You slapped her boobs with force until red marks appeared. You squeezed her boobs to hold onto it while you continue to fuck her. Sana can’t take it anymore. She removes her underwear in her mouth and starts to plead more. “Fuck me just like that, daddy!” She shouted as her body arched back in pleasure. “You like getting fucked like a slut?” You shouted back. “Yes! Yes! Fuck me! I’m your slut!” She said before she left out a loud moan. You pulled out your cock and instructed her to bend down. Sana quickly obliged and even spread her ass cheeks in front of you. You hold her thin arms as you continue to plunge your cock inside her again. “F-fuck me harder, daddy!”

[borathae]

Scents | JJK x f.Reader

“Life as Jungkook’s mate is everything you ever dreamed of. He is there for you, he keeps you safe, fulfills all your wishes and fucks you to complete satisfaction. Life as your mate is, well, it’s how Jungkook always imagined having a home feels like. Because his life as his father’s son isn’t easy, but with you by his side, it finally doesn’t hurt anymore. When one night, Jungkook comes home feeling like shit because of his father, you decide to show him that he can always count on you to be his comfort and his distraction.”

Pairing: Alpha!Jungkook x f. omega!Reader

Genre: Werewolf!AU, True Mates!AU, Married Life!AU, Angst, Hurt & Comfort, Fluff, Smut

Warnings: lots of plot <3, Kook is such a layered character omfg, his father is abusive fr, we hate him, she is there for him, scenting for comfort, he cries in front of her for the first time, this is just so :(, which means that the smut is gonna hit so hard, scene switch to morning, morning cuddles & slow kisses, he loves her i just want to say it again that he really loves her, he really does, the next ones are for the smut: needy Dom!Jungkook, service sub!Reader, she wants to make Him feel good for a change, adoration of his scent spots, which he never had done before so he is a goner, neck kisses, nipple licking & play, thigh kisses, biting, he has a big dick, oral sex (m.receiving), deep throating, rough face fucking, in my universe omegas can switch off their gag reflex, stimulation of his knot, she licks his balls too, lots of drool, and lots of slick, they do it on the window bench first where she kneels, then he carries her to bed and fucks her face while he stands, dirty talk & praise, pussy fingering & clit play while he face fucks her, choking (f.receiving), cum swallowing, rough hair pulling, multiple orgasms for both, very rough penetrative sex on the window sill from behind, exhibitionism kink cause yk window, squirting, subby girl tears, belly bulging, major breeding kink, creampies, they call each other "my omega" & "my Alpha", the softest & most loving aftercare, i want him so bad, also! he is a lot taller & stronger than her

Wordcount: 13.5k

a/n: you wanted more of alpha!koo, unaware that i was already working on a third installation because i want more of him too. i don’t think you even understand What he means to me like this story means so much to me and I’m so happy that so many of you love him as well <3 tbfh? there will definitely be more of him in the future but for now let us enjoy giving him the sloppiest head ever 💛 ps: i really need him to be my Alpha like-

You know from the sound of his bike that he was home. You drop the paint roller, which you were using before, to greet him by the door. You are currently redoing the living room so that it would feel homey. Jungkook told you that you can do whatever you want, as long as it makes you happy. It makes you really happy and you are practically skipping to the door to tell him all about your awesome day. 

You reached a point in your marriage where you get excited at the aspect of exchanging stories of your days with each other. Having Jungkook come home and listening to him tell you about his day is so exciting to you. In return, you can’t wait to share your day with him. Whatever this might mean in your development of feelings for him, seems positive to you. You definitely don’t want it to stop. 

You enter the hallway in sync with Jungkook. 

“There you are, I have so much to show-”

Bang! 

Jungkook coincidentally slams the door closed at the same time with you beginning your story. You stop abruptly, covering your ears instinctively. Loud noises scare you. They always have. Maybe it has something to do with your omega gen, but when something is loud, it means danger to you. 

Jungkook is huffing his air at first, but takes a moment of shocked gathering where he realises that he wasn’t alone. He lifts his eyes, studying you in a mixture of guilt and shock. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks you. 

“I don’t know”, you speak quietly, body smaller to keep yourself protected, “I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” he is talking harsher than he normally does.

“Just so.”

“You don’t have to be sorry.” He throws the keys on the dresser and shrugs off his leather jacket. He slips off his boots and discards them on the rack. 

“Did something bad happen?” you ask him while your body is still trying to regulate itself from the loud noise. You feel shaken and jittery, despite being aware that you aren’t in actual danger. 

“When does anything good ever happen to me?”

Your heart stings in a funny way. Does this mean that this bond is terrible to him?

“Oh, uhm.”

He studies you, visibly regretting his poor choice of words.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I just. Fuck, I just need to be alone, I can’t do this right now”, he says and stomps past you to the cellar door.

He has a home gym down there. In which he very obviously disappears right now. He slams the cellar door closed and moments later, you can hear the downstairs speakers blast heavy metal music.

You feel helpless and clueless. In the end, you sit in the living room, unable to do anything because you are frozen. You wonder if it is something you did. Maybe he actually hates the home renovations and he finally had enough. Maybe you are being too clingy. Maybe you aren’t being clingy enough. Or maybe it has nothing to do with you. Whatever it might be, you can’t figure it out and so you are frozen.

You continue to sit frozen and helpless until Jungkook returns from the cellar an hour later. You know when he finally leaves because the music turns off and he stomps upstairs.

You are on your feet instantly, following him hastily as he hurries to the front door.

“Where are you going? Talk to me, what happened?”

“Leave me alone, you’re only making it worse.”

He is going to leave. You can’t let him do that. Not when you are so confused. 

“I’m worried. Is it something really bad?” 

You are outside. All he has to do is take these five steps and then he has the house – and you – behind him.

“Jungkook”, you round him on the steps, forcing him to stop.

He snarls in distaste, sending you a poisonous look. You don’t feel scared in his presence however, placing your hands on his upper arms. They are hot to the touch and his muscles are hard. As if his entire body is constantly tensing in anger. 

“Talk to me. What happened?” you stress, rubbing his flexed muscles in hopes of calming him down. 

“Well, what do you think happened? My dad happened”, he spits.

“Fuck, so I was right. What did he do?”

Two hours prior

Jungkook drags his heavy legs to the foot of his father’s throne. It would be really awesome if the throne was only a metaphor, but it wasn’t. His father quite literally sits on a throne, head held high and eyes lowered in judgement about his son’s state. Alphas normally don’t do that.

“It’s done, father”, the words come with difficulty for Jungkook. His ribs still ache from having them punched repeatedly. “The last of Urquard’s pack is gone. I did it. Ah, fuck.”

Exhaustion and a still healing leg drag Jungkook to his knees. He falls hard, pillowing his descent with his hands. Some of the omegas present instantly rush to help him, touching him on spots of his body to check for more wounds. Jungkook is heaving and panting, staring at the floor as he waits for the pain to pass. He should be used to it by now. He stopped counting how many times his father sent him past the walls to eradicate his enemies. They were never Jungkook’s enemies. If he was the Alpha, there wouldn’t even be any to begin with.

Jungkook should be used to the pain by now, but he isn’t. Just as he isn’t used to his father’s stone heart.

“Get up, boy. An Alpha doesn’t show weakness.”

His father never asked him if he was alright. He never did. Jungkook bites back his emotions, standing back up with the help of the omegas. He wipes the blood from his mouth, forcing his head to stop pounding.

“Forgive me, father. I guess being bit in the leg twice and then having your side scratched open does that to someone.”

“I don’t want to hear it. Be glad that your mother only bore you, otherwise I would have replaced you as my heir ages ago. Ungrateful brat.” 

“Are we done here? I’m exhausted.” 

“We are done once I tell you that we are done. And you fucking omegas stop touching my son!” 

The omegas flinch back, scurrying away from Jungkook as quickly as possible. He studies them with a tight face, shifting his eyes to his father afterwards. 

“I’d prefer it if you stopped talking to the pack like that.”

His father scowls, gripping the arm rests of the throne tightly, “what was that?”

“You heard me. You wanna be their Alpha? Treat them with respect. Please.”

“I am their Alpha!” His father yells. 

Jungkook should be used to it by now, but it doesn’t get easier. That’s his fucking dad and he is yelling at him. Why does shit like this hurt even after the millionth time?

“Why are you yelling at me? I was only making a suggestion.”

“Because you don’t get to suggest anything! You get to listen and behave!”

“You know. It hurts me when you yell at me. I wanna talk with you like normal people. Why can’t we? Just once, please dad.”

“Oh so now I’m the bad guy? Look at yourself first! If you didn’t turn out to be such a disappointment, I wouldn’t have to yell!” 

“I’m a disappointment?” Jungkook gasps, touching his aching chest. “I just killed ten wolves for you, dad. I do everything you ask of me. I take the pain no matter how much it hurts and I’m a disappointment?” 

“And yet you ended up bonding with an omega. If your mother was still alive, she would hate the view of you.”

“If mom was still alive she would tell you that you’re a major jerk!” Jungkook finally yells, spilling tears he doesn’t want his father to see. “And she would be happy for me! Mama always wanted to see me happy, she wouldn’t hate me!” 

His father jumps up and closes the distance to strike Jungkook across his face. Jungkook stumbles back, feeling disoriented for a few moments. It hurts, but not as much as it once did. His father is getting old and weaker.

“Don’t hit me. Why did you do that, dad?”

His father grabs his collar, lifting his hand in warning.

“You rather I use my claws?” he threatens.

“Go on. Do it”, Jungkook challenges through his angry tears. “It’s nothing I haven’t felt tonight. It’s nothing I keep feeling whenever I leave these walls to kill in your name. My hands are trenched in the blood of innocents while you sit on your throne, clean. You really think that your claws could damage me?”

His father scowls, flashing his eyes golden. Jungkook challenges him, eyes burning so much brighter. The truth has been out there for months. It is the reason why his father clings to his throne so obsessively, why he sends Jungkook on such deadly missions. He is losing his spot as the true Alpha. Dynamics in the pack are changing.

“I’m keeping the pack safe, father. Remember that. I’m the one who looks out for everyone. Like an Alpha should”, Jungkook challenges. 

His father growls, pushing him away to stumble back to his throne paranoid and blind in rage. 

“Go. I can’t look at you.”

The victory of tonight is Jungkook’s, but it leaves him empty. He doesn’t want to win, he wants a normal interaction with his dad that doesn’t leave him feeling drained and like shit. Fucking hell, he just wants a normal family. 

“Good night, father.”

Jungkook turns and leaves the throne room, holding is head high despite feeling as low as the fucking floor.

The now

“Urgh! I just”, Jungkook lets out and turns to slam his fist into the stone pillar. It crumbles at some parts under his strength and when he pulls back, bloody imprints of his knuckles are on the white stone.

“Jungkook, oh my god, you hurt yourself”, you gasp, trying to reach for his fist but before you can, he punches the pillar again.  

More crumbling and bloody prints.

“Stop it, you’re already bleeding.”

“If I don’t punch this fucking pillar, I’ll do something I’d regret. I’m so angry”, he growls and does it again.

“Stop it! This isn’t you!” 

“But it is”, Jungkook barks, whipping around to look into your eyes as he spits his words. “You’ve just never seen me like this. You’ve never seen me fucking angry.”

“No. No, you aren’t like this.”

“Don’t. Don’t tell me who I am. You have no idea who I am! How could you? If your deadbeat brother didn’t fuck up and I had to mark you, you never would have had to bond with me. You’re not in love with me, of course you don’t know me!”

You bite back tears.

“Don’t say that”, you get out quietly.

“I mean it. And, here is a little fact for you. This is me. I’m impulsive, I do stupid shit and explode in anger. This is me. So go ahead, push me away, call me a fucking dick. That’s just who I am.”

Your heart feels heavy, forcing you to whimper like a hurt puppy. Jungkook falters, taking a small step back.

“Leave me alone”, he says because he feels that pushing you away is all that he can do right now. 

You however don’t feel strong enough to leave. Behind all this anger and aggression, behind every brick he breaks, you can smell the hurt and insecurity he is currently feeling. He might hide it behind violence, but you are his true mate and an omega. All you can smell is that he feels like an anxious pup pushed into a corner, desperate for care and a helping hand.

“I said leave”, he stresses.

“No.” 

“Yes.”

You shake your head and step closer.

“Go! Before I use it.”

He is talking about his Alpha voice. It is a voice which will force any beta or omega into instant subordination and agreement. Any good natured, kind Alpha rarely uses this voice because of how much it feels like an abuse of power. Other, less kind, Alphas find joy in making their pack obey this way. Urquard was one of those Alphas. You know Jungkook, you know the kind heart and gentle soul he hides behind  his tough exterior. He would never use his Alpha voice. Especially not on you. 

This is just a desperate, empty threat. 

“I don’t want to leave you alone in this.” 

“Well, you have to because I’m telling you. With, with my voice. Go.” 

You close the last distance and pull him down to you.

“I said leave”, Jungkook insists panickedly, body tense. 

You rub your nose into the scent spot on his neck, hoping to spread some of your relaxing scent this way. He reeks of anxiety and guilt right now. 

Jungkook tries to protest again, fight you off and not appear weak, but you are very powerful in your attempts of calming him down, breaking him within a minute. 

“Why are you doing this?” he sighs out and hugs you, melting with you and revealing more of his neck to you. It feels so good. In no way in a sexual manner, but emotionally and physically and in some way also spiritually. 

Jungkook felt all over the place. He felt out of balance, without footing or a destination. He felt betrayed and hurt, but also anxious and insecure. It was eating him alive and all of a sudden, it is gone. All of it. It is just gone. And it’s all you. His head is quiet, his heart feels light and his stomach stopped twisting. He is free. And he is home. 

He buries his nose in the crook of your neck, right where your scent spot lies, and inhales deeply. He cradles you against him, strong hand on the back of your head and eyes closed. 

He exhales, shedding his heart of today’s burdens.

“I’m here now, Koo”, you whisper, playing with his hair slowly.

He never felt such relief before. Nor has he ever experienced such comfort. It goes so deep and feels so real. Jungkook wonders how he was able to get through life for so long without you. 

Sighing deeply in relief, he pulls you closer and puts his hands under your jumper so he can feel your skin. Warm and soft. You seem to melt closer from the touch, which only calms him down more.

It is a quiet moment as you and he stand on the porch and let the day finally stop bothering you. You and he aren’t aware yet that you are visible to anyone who could walk by your home, but if you were, you wouldn’t care. Let the world see that you and he found meaning in this once forced bond. Let them see what it means to be mates. And let his dumb father see that a bond between an omega and an alpha actually works. 

You change sides of his neck, wanting to make sure that he smells your scent equally. You stop by his lips as you make your way to it, having your eyes closed and resting your forehead against his’. He has his eyes closed as well, breathing slowly. Kisses are exchanged in the slowest rhythm ever. It is meditative. There is nothing else to him right now than you and what you are doing to him. Whenever he breathes in, it feels as if the air is filling literally every single fibre in his body. And when he breathes out, it feels as if he is ridding himself of toxins. He was never as aware of his energy flow than he is right now, breathing with you and sharing kisses. He can feel it coursing through him, mixing with your energy until it feels as if he is glowing from the inside out. And then you reach the other side of his neck, you nuzzle him and give him soft kisses and Jungkook feels invincible. 

His head rolls back in defeat, he sinks into you for just a second before his bodily instincts kick in again.

“Sorry, almost lost it”, he whispers, dragging his words.

“It’s okay. Should we go inside?”

“Yeah, let’s do that”, he says and picks you up with his hands under your butt.

Your legs instinctively close around his waist, your arms hug him. You keep your nose in his neck, getting droopy in his warm, relaxed scent. 

“I’m sorry that you had to see me like this. And I’m sorry for all the things I said. I didn’t mean them.”

“It’s okay. I get it. You have every right to be as upset as you were. I just, I don’t want you to think that this is who you are. You’re not aggressive or impulsive. I know you. You’re strong and kind and really sweet.”

“Thanks.”

“And your mom would be proud of who you became.”

He stops in his steps, looking up at you with glassy eyes. You cradle his cheeks.

“I remember when she would make us picnic baskets and call you home when it was dark out. She loved you so much. I know how she was. She would still love you and she would be happy for you.” 

He presses his eyes closed, spilling tears he doesn’t want to spill. He curses, showing his fangs in a desperate snarl to control his emotions.

“It’s okay, I’m here”, you whisper, nuzzling his scent spot again.

Jungkook stumbles to the entrance hall dresser and sits you down on it, holding you oh so close. 

“Holy fuck”, he croaks out.

“I know, I’m here. Right here.”

Jungkook got used to the feeling of grief in his chest. He learned that it will always be there and learned how to live with it. It doesn’t mean that it ever stopped bleeding. You stop it right now. It doesn’t feel like a gushing open wound in his chest. It is there, but it is bearable, as if he can finally carry it in his hands without cutting himself. 

And it is all you. You make it bearable, you keep him in this warm, healing space. 

“Thank you”, he whispers, “my mama would love you so much if she was still here.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I’m sure that she would tease you about how it happened though.”

“Yeah”, Jungkook laughs, covering up a sob with it.

You laugh with him, changing sides of his neck to make sure that he gets your soothing scent equally.

“Yeah, she would. But she would be happy for us. Mama always wanted me to bond out of love and I did.” He looks at your face. “I don’t ever wanna let you go. I can’t believe I lived without you for so long.”

You fluster, “wow, I don’t know what to say. I just…wow.”

“Don’t say anything. Just know that you’re the most amazing person ever.” 

“Shut up, don’t say that”, you mumble, nudging his chest and avoiding eye contact in nervousness.

He laughs, picking you up in his arms to get you closer. You snicker, holding him tightly. 

You and he fall asleep holding each other that night. Jungkook sleeps through the entire night, which he never did after past arguments with his father.

Jungkook wakes after you the next morning. Your side is empty and cold. He peels his heavy eyes open, shifting them to where you disappeared off to. 

The window bench, lost in a book and with your face still puffy from sleep. The rising sun is illuminating you. Jungkook swears that he is seeing an angel when he looks at you. His heart flutters and his stomach tingles. He has such immense feelings for you and seeing you be so utterly you only strengthens them.

“Good morning”, he murmurs sleepily. His cheek is squished on the pillow, his back peeks out from the blanket because he is lying on his stomach.

You lower the book at the sound of his voice, looking at him. He is smiling at you.

“Hey, good morning.”

“Why aren’t you in bed?” 

“I had to pee and then I saw the book and yeah, it was over for my sleepiness.”

“Mhm, whatever it was, get back here now”, he lulls and rolls to his side so he can open the blanket for you.

Your bedroom in the morning is really chilly because the timer for the heater hasn’t turned on yet. He smells so warm under the blanket. His invitation is incredibly easy to take. 

You put the book aside and hurry back to bed, climbing under the blanket. It is warmed up from him.

Jungkook purrs in contentment, pulling you against his chest and into his arms. He hides his nose in the crook of your neck, tickling your skin as he sniffles sleepily. 

“Mhm, my favourite smell”, he whispers, snuggling closer.

You still haven’t gotten used to being cared for in such ways. Of course you had boyfriends who were in love with you, but none of it felt like Jungkook’s affection feels. 

His affection feels so deep, so real and so eternal. As if nothing could ever change it. As if all he ever wanted to do was love you. It is unfamiliar but nice. So nice. 

The sun wanders over the horizon while his fingers wander over your arm and his lips take small steps on your neck. Your once chilly body heats up under the blanket and because of his incredibly warm body. It is such a cozy state to be in that you are fighting gravity with your eyelids.

He exhales deeply.

“What’s the matter?” you ask him.

“Just living in the moment. I feel like shit, but it’s, I don’t know, bearable like this...” He traces your side, mouthing at your neck as he talks. “...with you in my arms…so warm and soft.” He slips his hand under your shirt, touching your skin most tentatively. “My life’s bearable like this.” 

His words and gestures are sweet and filled with relaxation, but you can’t help still feel a twinge of sadness for him. If only you knew that behind the elitist, distant façade he put on, a deeply complex and troubled person was hiding. Perhaps you wouldn’t have hated him so deeply.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what? It’s not your fault.”

“Yeah, but still. I could have made the first step too, maybe tried to fix our friendship. I thought that you felt like you’re better than anyone and therefore didn’t want to hang with us anymore. If I knew what you were going through, I…I just feel guilty. I’m sorry that I wasn’t there for you.” 

“Don’t be. I fucked it up, we grew up and thought that the other moved on. Of course I missed you, but I didn’t blame you.”

“Yeah well, I’m here now if you wanna talk.” 

Jungkook kisses your neck gently, whispering his words, “I’m gonna be okay. That’s just how my dad is. It’s okay.”

You keep quiet, but hold him closer. No kid should have to defend their own parents like that. But you also understand him. His father is the only kin Jungkook has left. If he cut him off, the last reminder of his once happy family dies right with it.

“But this is nice”, Jungkook says and shifts so he can kiss your cheek. He purrs and lifts his head to give you a smile, caressing your temple. 

You retort it, but apparently do such a bad job at it that he furrows his brows in worry.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.”

“No, something’s up. Tell me.”

“I’m sorry that your dad sucks.”

He falters, looking to the side.

“Uhm, it’s fine. Thank you”, he says and sits up, “seriously, it’s fine.”

You sit up, closing the distance to hug his waist and kiss his shoulder. Jungkook places his hands over yours, leaning back into you. 

“If there is something I can do, just tell me”, you offer, rubbing his stomach and chest slowly, “I’m here for you from now on.” 

“Just be you. That’s all I need from you.” He takes your left hand and guides it to his lips. “Just be you.” He kisses the wedding band on your ring finger, resting his nose against it afterwards. “You bring me so much peace.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah”, he smiles to himself and squeezes your hands, “now I really gotta go. I need to shower because I feel like I stink.”

“No, you smell so good.”

“Thanks, but I still need to go.”

You get the sense that he needs this. Emotionally. That he needs this shower to leave yesterday truly behind him, watching it metaphorically run down the drain as he washes it off of him. So you let him.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll be here when you come back. Today’s a lazy day, don’t wanna leave the bedroom.”

“I’m taking your words for it.”

And with that, he leaves for a shower while you sink back into the pillow. You stare at the ceiling for a while, thinking. 

You have wonderful parents. Of course they have their flaws and made mistakes like any parent does, but they love you. And you love them. You would describe your relationship with them as healthy. So you don’t have any first hand experiences of bad parents like Jungkook does. 

It doesn’t make your understanding and shared pain for his situation any less however. It hurts you to know that his father manages to hit him so deeply that Jungkook still recovers from it one day later. You make a promise to yourself that morning to be the shoulder he can always lean on. Because that’s what best friends are here for, that’s what mates do. 

For the rest of Jungkook’s shower, you think of him and everything you have already experienced together in your short time as mates.

Jungkook forgot to bring his briefs to the bathroom with him, joining you in the bedroom in nothing but his towel. Snug around his hips, it reaches him a little under his knees. His hair is freshly washed and blow dried. His torso is bare and dried off. You are sitting on the window bench, clearly waiting for him, when he joins you. 

The view of him instantly shoots warmth between your legs. It is instinct. You can’t help it. Especially when you woke up not that long ago and you are still so warm from being held. 

“Hey there, baby”, he greets you, making his way to his closet.

“Hey.” 

“Why are you sitting over there again?” he asks you, busy with picking out briefs. “Is the book that good?”

“No I uhm. I was thinking.”

“What were you thinking, baby?” 

You stand up and close the distance. Jungkook turns to you, giving you his full attention and his hands when you take them. The briefs are forgotten again. You lead him to the window bench. 

“I was thinking, you had a bad day yesterday and you still have a sucky morning and maybe I could make it better.”

“You already did. The thing you did yesterday was amazing. I haven’t slept that well in, like, basically ever. I feel so good, baby.”

“Yeah well, what if I do something else amazing too?” 

“I don’t seem to follow.”

You sit him down. Jungkook looks up at you because you are standing and therefore are taller than him. But there is no ounce of power shift in your dynamic. He might be looking up at you right now, but you still feel so utterly submissive to him. It is nice because it is safe and feels like home. He puts his hands on your waist, talking in a warm yet raspy voice.

“And what’s that something else supposed to be?” 

“Please don’t judge me. Promise.”

“I promise. Now tell me. Come on baby, don’t make me work for it”, he encourages you, rubbing slow circles into your lower back. He slipped his hands under your sleep shirt, so his current touch is addicting. So warm and raw. You could honestly melt in his hands once he gets you started.

You put your hands on his strong shoulders and take a deep breath to gather your courage. You make your confession as you breathe out.

“Can I give you a blowjob?” 

Jungkook gawks with widened eyes, giving you his answer in the form of shocked silence. It makes you nervous and so you shift from one foot to the other.

“Please say something”, you whisper.

“Why on earth did you think that I would judge you for this?”

“I don’t know. I’m sorry, I-I know it’s a lot of me to ask and kinda insensitive. Oh god, is it insensitive? I’m sorry, I swear I didn’t mean-”

He silences your nervous babbling by cupping your cheek and pulling you down into a kiss. Your knees buckle instantly, the electric pull he has on you, tugs you on top of his lap. A small moan escapes you when his hands instinctively grab your ass and squeeze. The touch is so tender and possessive. It feels so good. Honestly, you would have started to kiss him until your lips were tired if he didn’t break the kiss to talk.

“Don’t apologise. Yes, baby?”

You nod your head, whispering a shy “yes.”

“Yes. That’s good.” He gives you a sweet smile, running his strong hands to your waist. “You’d actually want to blow me?”

You nod your head. 

“Kook, I missed you”, you confess and rest your forehead against his’. 

Jungkook chases the affection, sliding his hands into your pants and back to your ass to squeeze it gently.

“You missed me?” he whispers, letting you taste his minty breath while his fingers drive you just a little bit insane.

“Yeah, when you were in the shower, I missed you. I, I thought of us and my life and how awesome it is to be your mate and then I thought of the sex we’re having and how good you always make me feel.”

“I do. That’s so important to me, baby”, he rasps, kneading your soft buttocks. His touch is needy. He can’t deny it. Feeling your naked skin under his fingertips after such a yesterday is healing him as much as it turns him on. His instincts tell him to get you naked and fuck you until his anger is gone. His love for you tells him to take it slow and really saviour the current moment. As always, the latter wins. It will always win when it comes to you.

“And then I thought about all the things we haven’t done yet. And I never gave you head before and I…” you exhale shakily, giving his shoulders a needy squeeze, “Koo, I really need to have your cock in my mouth. Please can I make the bad yesterday go away? A-and maybe make this morning nice?” 

“Yes, holy fuck, of course you can”, he breathes out, pulling you against his body and claiming your lips in a passionate kiss. 

You almost fall sweet victim to it, but stop yourself before that can happen, breaking the kiss.

He purrs, chasing you. 

“You have to tell me what to do. I really suck at taking the lead”, you confess, giving him shy puppy eyes.

He chuckles, “I can do that. What if I tell you to surprise me? Mhm? That you have free range of my body and I want you to surprise me?” 

He takes your hands and begins guiding them over his bared torso. 

You follow the touch with your eyes, heart racing and breath speeding up. 

“You can touch me wherever you want to.” He makes you trace his pecs. “Feel me up.” He guides your fingers over his ribs. “Turn me on”, he purrs and drags your fingers through the ridges of his impressive abs.

“Kook”, you moan, writhing on his lap. You are soaking through your shorts by now, getting it all over his towel as well. The morning sun shines so beautifully on his skin, really bringing out how muscular he actually is. And just how sun kissed his skin is.

“You can do whatever you want, baby. Why? Because that’s what I’m ordering you to do”, he says, making you trace the glimpses of his pubes sticking out from the towel.

“Oh god”, you whimper, salivating to the point of barely containing it.

“Is this something you can do for me, baby? Can you be my good omega and surprise me?”

“Yes, I can do that”, you press out, voice quivering in excitement. You gulp down your saliva hungrily, spilling some down your chin. You can’t help it. Your body is preparing for his cock in your mouth and it is such a turn on for you.

“Look at you.” He wipes the drool for you. “Does it turn you on to follow my commands?” 

“Yeah, so much. Koo, I want to kiss your chest. Please.”

“Do whatever you want. I’m all yours, baby.” 

“Oh god”, you get out and begin. You can barely breathe. You are so nervous. This is such unexplored terrain for you. Being the one to touch and kiss is new to you. Normally you are the one receiving, but something about Jungkook makes you want to give. It still doesn’t take away the fact that you have no idea how to give. 

His neck first. This is familiar to you and gives you the needed confidence boost. It also really turns you on because his scent spots smell more and more like arousal. It is such a masculine scent, more lethal than any cologne could ever be. Sitting on his lap feels so good as you kiss and suck his neck.

Jungkook is in heaven, eyes closed sensually and body feeling weightless. Your mouth feels amazing on his scent spots, giving him the most intense tingles. It’s different this morning than it was yesterday. The deepest feelings you communicate are still to relax, but the intention is something else. This is meant to relax him so he can take the pleasure you are about to give him without any stresses in his head. And it’s working. Jungkook feels fucking droopy. 

Soon you have enough confidence to take on an unfamiliar path. Down along his collarbones to his chest. Jungkooktakes his hands off your body and puts them behind himself so he can lean back a little. 

You have better access like this, using your fingertips to get used to the unfamiliar paths. Up close like this, his strength is so noticeable. Shit, you are so into him. Feeling a little crazy, you grace your teeth over his skin. Jungkook purrs, pecs twitching as he tenses them in reaction to your bite. 

You shy away instantly, sitting up and covering your mouth behind your hands.

“I’m sorry.”

Jungkook tries not to show his disappointment, but you still see it. It increases your shyness. He takes a deep breath and opens his eyes.

“Why are you sorry, sweetie?” he asks you in a soft voice.

“I just haven’t done this before. Do you even like this?”

“Yes, baby I do. I like it too when I get some loving.”

“Oh.” You squirm on his lap. “This is hot. Do you really like it?”

“I do. It’s nice to lean back and really enjoy it for once.”

“Oh wow, Kook. Okay, this is so hot”, you confess and close the distance. His confession motivates you. It isn’t weird for him to receive as a change. He likes it. It turns him on. 

Dripping pleasure on his lap, you kiss and bite his chest with new found confidence. And Jungkook reacts in deep purrs and tenses of his pecs. His head is rolled back and his eyes are closed. He is utterly lost to the touches, turning you on with his scent and sounds. 

It isn’t long after, that you feel brave enough to take the next step. You take his nipple between your teeth and tug.

“Yeah…fuck” he cups the back of your head, arching into your mouth, “good girl, that’s amazing.” 

His praise makes you shudder. You drool and whimper as you kiss a path to his other nipple to repeat what you did. Suck, lick, bite and tug.

“Yes baby, yes”, Jungkook lulls, petting you in motivation. 

Change sides again. Maybe tug a little harder. Jungkook moans. Change sides. More confidence. Jungkook growls and closes his fingers around your hair. 

“You’re driving me insane”, he gets out under his breath, fighting for his air in deep pants afterwards. 

You have to look at him, kiss him and taste his moans. The kiss starts sloppily. Jungkook feeds you his tongue instantly, holding your hair possessively while his other hand rubs your soaked cunt over your shorts. This is his version of rewarding you for being such a good omega and it makes you mewl into his mouth unapologetically. 

“Koo, I’m so horny”, you confess. 

“Me too, baby. Wanna do disgusting things to you”, he says, giving your swollen clit an especially good rub.

You tremble, giving him your neediest puppy eyes. 

“But you’re not done. Give me more, baby”, he orders and takes his touch away. 

“Oh god.”

It hurts to be denied, but you aren’t sad about it. Being denied means that you can explore him more and you found your new obsession for it. You slip off his lap and kneel down between his legs. He spreads them for you in such a sexy way. With a needy moan, you connect your puffy lips with his upper stomach. You grab his sides, tingling when you can feel him tense up and later shiver. 

“Yeah, holy fuck…” Jungkook moans, rolling his head back and closing his eyes.

You mewl, drooling like crazy. His stomach is so sculpted and strong. Each new inch you explore, you kiss and lick and bite, makes you feel subbier and subbier. He is so strong and you get to worship him. Oh god, this is so hot.

“Keep going, fuck, so good…”

Jungkook gets pleasure through pleasing. This is what he thought was in his nature. This is what an Alpha is supposed to do. Please, give, touch. Jungkook thought that this is what he is supposed to enjoy. 

What you are currently doing, is rewriting his definition of wrong and right. Nothing which is “wrong” feels this fucking good. He is meant to get some loving too. And getting your loving is everything he ever needed.

It makes him desperate in ways which were still unknown to him. As a matter of fact, they get him so needy that he gives you his version of a beg when you finally reach his lower stomach. You are nuzzled into his faint happy trail when he begs.

“Fucking hell, if you don’t take off my towel soon and take care of It, Imma lose my fucking mind.”

You mewl something unintelligible, speeding up in your needy licks. Your hands follow his command while your mouth takes his exposed state to explore his scent spots. 

“Fuck. Woah”, Jungkook gasps, hands falling to your head and legs shaking in surprise. 

“Kook, oh my god. You smell so good”, you whimper, rubbing your face into his inner thighs. You need his scent all over you. 

“Baby, I’m serious. I’ll lose my mind, fuck. Ah fuck”, Jungkook warns, head pounding and cock aching. So this is how it feels to have his scent spots stimulated. No wonder that he regularly forces you into impromptu heat when he does it to you. All Jungkook can think about right now is rutting into you, knotting you and breeding you with his cum until he is alive inside you. The desire gets stronger and stronger and stronger and then it suddenly gets replaced by a new desire. The desire to fuck your pretty face until you are fed a full course meal of cum. 

The reason for his change of mood is your tongue licking his balls vigorously while your hands rub his scent spots. You keen needily as you do it.

Jungkook growls, tugging you away from him by a bundle of your hair. You mewl, gasping for air because of his strong grip.

“Stop teasing me or I’ll punish you”, he growls, but adds in the most loving and soft voice, “okay, baby? Do it for me.”

“Yes, Alpha”, you mewl and lower your head. You give his scent spots a bite each, then finally pay attention to his cock.

You dance a wet path from his balls to his swollen base up to his heated tip with your tongue, wrapping both hands around his base afterwards.

“___ baby…”

Jungkook watches you as you sink him in. Your lips look so good stretching around his girth. His head is pounding. This is the sexiest thing which ever happened to him.

“There we go, take in me”, he praises you, caressing your cheek gently. “What a good omega you are.”

You whimper, sucking on his tip vigorously.

Jungkook frowns, “urgh fucking intense. Yeah that’s it, baby. Suck me off.” 

Drool runs down his shaft, messying your fingers. You use it to your advantage, jerking off his base with it.

“Fuck, so good. Do you like? Mhm, does Alpha taste good, baby?” Jungkook lulls, vision just a little blurry because you suck him off really fucking hard.

You slip off of him, voice quivering as you answer him.

“Alpha tastes so good. Thank you, ah, so much”, you get out, shaking with your entire body. Of course you love it. Your dream is coming true. You get to taste your Alpha’s cock. Your need for him is unbearable. 

You open wide and take him in completely. Your nose hits his crotch, your lips feel his balls.

“Woah. Wait”, Jungkook gasps, stopping you instantly. He even pulls you off of him.

“What?” you ask him, looking up at him with needy eyes.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“What do you mean?”

“Force all of me inside. I know I said to stop teasing, but I didn’t mean it like that. You can stay at the tip. You don’t have to push yourself.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because you don’t have to make yourself gag for me.”

You widen your eyes in shock, staying silent long enough for Jungkook to become a little nervous.

“What?” he stresses.

“Did you…never get head from an omega before?”

“Why…is this so bad?” 

“No, it’s not. It’s just that…can I show you?”

“Sure?” he sounds unsure, but that’s okay, he will feel amazing in one, two, three. 

Jungkook gasps and tenses up, face falling in utter shock as you take him in completely and instantly start bopping your head up and down quickly.

“Woah, woah, woah. Woah. Fuck, wait. Woah.” 

He somehow manages to pull you off of him again. His cock slaps his abs, leaving a mess of spit and his pleasure. It throbs, begging to be taken in again.

“What was that?” he breathes out, pupils blown out and eyes glowing golden.

“Did you not like it?” 

“You didn’t gag.”

“We, uhm, omegas, you know, we can switch it off.”

“You can?!”

“Yeah, we can. When we’re with someone we really like, it happens automatically and I…” You nuzzle your nose into his scent spot, kissing it a few times before looking up at him. “I didn’t have to switch it off with you.”

“Wait. Oh my god, wait. Does that mean?”

“Yeah, I guess I really like you, Koo.”

“Baby, I’m. Wait, don’t make me get emotional, I-” He cups you cheek. “Baby, my love. Oh my god, my love.”

You giggle, “yeah, I guess it’s out there”, you say and take him back inside. 

“Yeah..it’s out there. Fuck, woah”, Jungkook croaks out and rolls his head back, burying his hand in your hair as deeply as your texture allows it as your warm mouth engulfs him entirely. He twists it a little, having to moan your name as you make him experience pleasure he never felt before.

You moan right with him, having to grasp his waist for support. You need it because it’s very difficult not to lose yourself.

Giving head for an omega is different than for others of the pack. Giving head has an almost drug-like effect on an omega, leaving it delirious and ecstatic. If the person they are giving head to is another omega or a beta, the effect is mild and an omega can easily go back to being normal afterwards. If the person is someone with the Alpha gen, it is a different story. 

Being close to an Alpha’s scent spots, tasting their pleasure and essentially getting bred in one way or another, bring the omega into a state of disillusion and an inability to think for themselves.

In the most disgusting and twisted circles of the werewolf community, evil Alphas use this to get disobedient omegas back under their control. The details of how such cruel acts happen will not be disclosed here, but trust, dear reader, that it is rarely gentle or consensual.

But Jungkook isn’t such an Alpha. Jungkook is kind and loving and gentle beyond anything else. And Jungkook is your true mate, which means that you have even less control over the effects his cock has on you.

You are so greedy for more, clawing at his waist to desperately get more of him inside. You mewl and sob as you do, barely breathing.

“Breathe, my love. Breathe”, Jungkook orders you, despite being so far gone. Because he is a loving Alpha. Because he knows how to make you feel safe. 

Your body obeys his orders because you currently are under his control and fighting your instincts is impossible. You breathe and breathe and breathe. Then get too greedy again. 

His base is starting to swell. Just a little bit. You wrap your left hand around his flushed tip to jerk it off while you connect your messy mouth with his growing knot. You tongue kiss the area sloppily, adding sucks to it as well. An Alpha’s knot is just as sensitive as his cockhead is. Perhaps even a little bit more sensitive. 

“___, holy fuck”, Jungkook gets out, actually closing his legs on you because of how good this feels. He moans loudly, throwing his head back to the point where he loses balance and drops into the pillows. 

He throws his left arm over his own eyes, moaning like a fucking pornstar while the morning sun shines onto his glowing face. He can feel his knot grow. It’s you who does this to him because of how good you make it feel.

“Baby, please don’t stop”, he actually begs, rolling his hips desperately to keep the stimulation going.

“Koo, I’m yours”, you get out and sink him back inside. His knot hinders you from deep throating him, but this doesn’t stop you. You wrap both your hands around his knots, jerking it off in circular motions while your mouth takes care of the rest. 

Jungkook writhes, voice pitching because of how honestly ruined you get him. His hands flail around for a little while, finding their support on the edge of the window bench. He grips it. Which is something totally new to him. He never had to grip something for support before. Especially not the edge of something. He feels like a fucking whore.

“Please don’t stop, it feels so good”, he gets out, squeezing the edge harder. 

Which honestly? It isn’t all that bad to feel this way because you give him so much pleasure. The kind of pleasure he swears should be illegal for an Alpha to feel.

Can people see him? He’s got windows all around him and the sun illuminates him like he is a fucking star. Can people see him? Can they see how the future Alpha of the pack is getting sucked off? Are they fucking jealous of their Alpha? Because he’s got the best wife and they don’t?

“Shit urgh”, he arches his back at the thought of people passing by and jealously watching their future Alpha get head, “don’t stop, holy fuck. Sweetie. I feel fucking high. Aaaahmmm.”

You couldn’t stop even if someone tried to drag you off of him. Jungkook’s constant begs not to stop manifest themselves in your drugged mind as little orders. Don’t stop. Alpha wants more. Don’t stop. You can’t stop even if someone tried to drag you off of him and it’s sacrilegious to you. 

You don’t want to stop. His taste is heaven. His scent is overwhelming. You have never smelled so much fucking pleasure on him. It’s making you even droopier.

“Yes baby, yes. My good omega. My fucking pretty omega”, Jungkook growls, sending you deeper into your delirious headspace.

Oh my god, you fucking love being his good omega. You sob around him, spilling tears. You love being his omega. You love it. You love it. You love it.

Trapped in your ecstatic omega space, you didn’t realise how much sloppier you became with your blowjob until Jungkook’s right hand in your hair lets you know. 

“Baby, you’re making me cum”, he gets out, tensing his stomach.

You mewl, shaking more than he does. You need his high. You need it so fucking bad. You suck him off harder, speeding up your hands around his throbbing knot. Please. You need him.

“Now, baby. ___ baby, now!” Jungkook tries to warn you but to no avail. He climaxes down your throat in thick spurts of his seed, gripping your head with both hands to rut up into you. 

He hits the back of your throat like this, really testing your jaw. Not that you mind. You are so drugged that he could do anything to you and you wouldn’t mind. All you can take in is hot cum down your throat and the ecstatic effect it has on you.

Jungkook comes down after seven thrusts, growling demonically and pulling you off. If he didn’t, his instincts would have kicked in and he would have hurt you. Your mouth is not your cunt. He can’t breed it like he could your pussy. He has to be stronger than his instincts. 

Using his abs, he sits up. His thighs are still twitching.

“Come up here you”, he orders you in a lull, pulling you to your feet and into a sloppy kiss. 

You fall on top of his lap, feeling limp in his arms. Like a little doll unable to use her muscles. Jungkook holds you safely, licking his cum out of your mouth. Tears mix with your drool and his cum. Jungkook instantly tastes them, breaking the kiss in worry. 

A mixture of drool and creamy cum seeps out your mouth, your cheeks are wet in tears. You whimper, desperately trying to get him to kiss you again. You can’t open your eyes, looking so goddamn intoxicated.

“Did I hurt you, sweetie? Is this why you’re crying?”

He can see from the way you move and your face is, that you are currently non verbal in submission. He instinctively knows that he could either break you right now or fix you up depending on how he will use this power.

“Arms up, baby.”

Your body obeys. He takes off your sleep shirt, pressing you against his chest like this. 

Naked skin and naked skin, he begins moving you and him in a slow grind. Your scent spots rub against his’, exchanging not only pleasure but also comfort. It slowly brings you back to him and Jungkook knows that, holding you through it. 

His knot shrinks again in the time, but his cock stays swollen. The situation you and he are in is too sensual and intimate for him to grow soft. His utmost desire still lies in breeding you. Oh, how he wants to breed you, his perfect omega. His. All his.

“Mine. You’re mine. You know that, mhm? You’re my pretty omega. Just mine.” 

“Yours”, you get out. 

“Hey baby, you’re back”, Jungkook breathes and lifts your head by cupping your cheek. “How are you doing? I was a little rough at the end. Is your jaw okay?”

“Yeah ‘s okay. I want more, but it’s so hard to move.”

“I know, baby. Do you trust me?”

You nod your head, leaning into his palm.

“Alpha is safe”, you lull, sending his heart into overdrive. He’s got you feeling safe. Fuck, he would set the whole world on fire if it meant you kept feeling like this.

“Thank you for your trust, baby. Now let me kiss you. You fucking ruined me”, he says and pulls you into a kiss, which you eagerly retort.

He moans deeply, picking you up while his tongue licks onto your mouth. It is like he is starving, like his own taste on your tongue is a drug to him. You moan just as much, writhing in his strong arms.

He carries you to bed like this. Kissing you as if he was starving. He lies you down by the edge of it, breaking the kiss when your head is tangling over the edge. He climbs off bed and rounds you so you have a view of him and his heavy cock between his fingers. He looks so big and veiny like this, forcing drool to the tip of your tongue. You sigh his name, opening and closing your mouth in hunger. You need him so bad.

“Tap your foot if you had enough”, he says and connects his leaking tip with your chin to drag it to your lips. “Now open up.”

You obey gladly, gurgling in ecstasy when Jungkook sinks his leaking cock back into your mouth. 

“That’s it. Take all of me”, he purrs, caressing your cheeks. His eyes are dark, lowered sexily as he gazes down at you. “So beautiful, taking me like this. Is it nice for you?”

You moan around him, nodding your head as best as possible. This is heaven. He fills you out so well. You could honestly orgasm with your throat because of how good it feels. 

“Fuck, it does…fuck, you drive me insane”, he rasps and picks up a rhythm. Finally. Fucking finally. 

You whimper, eyes instantly rolling back and jaw going slack. This is your heaven. This is everything you ever wanted. 

Jungkook watches your blissed reaction with a tingling stomach. He mewls, scrunching his nose and biting his lower lip at the same time. You are so beautiful, turning him on like no one else ever did. Quite frankly, Jungkook wasn’t even aware of how hard his cock can actually get. But being inside you like this, is showing him new sides of pleasure.

“This is so sexy, you have no idea”, he confesses, caressing your soft cheeks, “I’m making love to your face. It’s..hah it’s heaven, seriously.”

You whimper around him, reaching up behind you to touch him. You need to hold him, digging your fingers into the softness of his butt. It forces him to go even deeper, making him moan from the deepest parts of his stomach. He gasps afterwards, abs rippling and thighs twitching.

“Wow. Fuck. Holy fuck, wow”, he lets out, scrunching his face even harder. “So deep. What the fuck, wow.”

You moan with him, spilling tears of joy. He is right, he is so deep. So deep that you can feel his pubes tickle your nose and so deep that you drown in his masculine scent. Your body quivers, throat convulsing around his girth. You scratch down his butt against your will, stopping only when you have his thighs between your claws instead. So tensed and so big. It motivates you to take him even deeper. You lift your head as best as possible, bopping it back and forth on his cock.

“Fuck, your throat…it’s bulging so nicely, I just wanna…” he trails off, ghosting his thumbs over it as if he wanted to choke you. He doesn’t give in, not wanting to hurt you or go too far. 

You however want him to continue. You want him to steal your air and make you his�� in any way possible. You grasp his hands and pull them into place, doing the job for him. 

“___”, your name leaves him in a deep growl, cock throbbing in your tight throat. His strong hand closes around it, forcing it to tighten even more. 

You wail, clasping his lower arms with your claws exposed. 

“You’re so tight. Holy fuck, look at you taking me. Fuck. I can feel myself. Shit, baby. This is so hot”, he is babbling, which is new for him. It is insanely hot, driving you to the brink of insanity.

Air is sparse like this and you want it. You want to choke on his cock. You need it. You need to feel every second of it entering your mouth, every inch of throat he bulges, every tender spot appearing on your neck as he chokes it. 

You feel so high and satisfied and yet at the same time, you ache. You ache for more of him, wishing for something of him to fill you more. And more. More. 

“If you keep moving your hips like that baby, Imma think you’re tryna make me jealous with the air. Why you humping it, hmh?” Jungkook lulls his words, switching his hungry gaze between your fucked face and your needy hips.

You mewl, writhing. You can’t do it. He is tightening his grip on you, burying his thick cock deeper. His balls slap your face as he fucks it, his scent is making you foggy. And now he is teasing you. 

You can’t take it anymore, slipping your hand between your legs to take away the pain. You whimper around him, choking oh so sloppily as your fingers try to make up for the emptiness. Three digits. Three digits are buried inside your weeping cunt and it doesn’t help. You still feel empty, unsatisfied, needy. A fourth one doesn’t make any difference. You pump and twist and fuck your fingers into yourself, hoping that one of those things will scratch the itch, but it doesn’t. It only makes it worse because it makes you miss him.

It was a foggy evening, cold and wet and dark, when Jungkook showed you what his fingers could do for the first time. It happened in the living room, during a movie date which you planned to keep romantic. There were only supposed to be cuddles and snacks. One hour into the movie however, he had you naked and spread out on the couch while he drilled his long, tattooed fingers into your puffy walls. You might have ripped one of the cushions that evening.

And right now, it is haunting you. You want his fingers. Please. His fingers felt so good. He did it so much better, he fucked you so much deeper. Please.

You push him away with your free hand. Jungkook listens, letting his cock slip from your mouth. He holds it over your face, watching the spit drip from his tip back onto your lips.

“Please, it hurts. I want yours”, you beg, thrusting your hips up needily.

“Aww I see. I was already wondering what you were oh so clumsily attempting to do”, he teases you. “Let me do it, sweetie. Don’t worry, your Alpha’s got.”

He slides his hand into your shorts and swipes your hand away, giving you your sweet relief by sinking his long fingers into your dripping cunt. The position naturally allows his palm to press against your clit, applying such warm and intense pressure that you sob his name. He instantly picks up a quick rhythm, forcing you to cry out and claw at his hips in your clumsy attempt to get his cock back inside. He gives in for you, fucking his girth back into you in one harsh thrust. His right hand falls back to your throat, his hips pick up a punishing rhythm. The kind of rhythm which turns your moans into choking gurgles and which constantly slaps his heavy balls against your face. And how it leaves you feeling high. You stopped trying to swallow, letting the spit spill out of you messily and endlessly. It smears all over his cock and your face like this, making the glide so much easier.

“There we go, make those pretty sounds. Try to breathe whenever I pull out, baby. Breathe.”

You obey him. Breathe. Moan. Breathe. Sob. Breathe. Wail. Breathe and breathe and moan some more. You are so utterly his’. 

He has your face fucked, your throat claimed and now your cunt as well. Nothing. Truly nothing is missing.

“Yes baby suck on it. Suck it dry, baby. Suck it, yes baby. Yes. Fuck. Yes.” He is babbling, being loud with you as you shake and writhe your way to your orgasm. 

If this continues, it won’t be long. You are so high on him. So fucking high. Tears stream down your temples, your throat is starting to get sore from his rough breeding. You aren’t aware of it yet because you are truly lost to him. 

He is just as lost. It hasn’t been that long and your pussy is already so lose around his two fingers. Greedily, he slips in his pointer finger and pinkie too. You wail up, throbbing around him as you take his fist.

“Feels good?” 

“Ymgmeahm”, you gurgle out, grasping his hips to the point you leave marks.

“I’m gonna fucking ruin you, baby. Gonna put some puppies down your throat, make you my fucking cumslut”, Jungkook is losing it, which means that he is just as drugged as you are. Just in his own kind of way.

The kind of way which means that you are getting fucked harder and better. Which also means that he brings you over the edge mere moments later.

“Ah! Baby!” he yelps, legs stuttering. He throws his head back. “___!” 

He orgasms right with you, finding his crescendo deep in throat, which forces you over the edge a second time. And while your screams are muffled by his heavy cock, his scream bounces off the bedroom walls.

He didn’t even know that he could be this fucking loud. Normally, he is always the one who gets his partners screaming. Or in his case ever since he became your true mate, who gets you, his pretty wife, screaming. But this is new. He can scream as well. And it’s fucking needed because you make him feel goddamn invincible like this.

The moments after your highs died down are messy. It should have been enough, but it wasn’t. You want the stretch of his cock while Jungkook feels the need to truly use his strength. No more holding back for the sake of your jaw. 

Besides, he wants to make the cumshots count. He wants to feel fucking alive inside you again. Which has been his favourite thing to do ever since you and he bonded.

You drag yourself out of the position and onto your knees while he tries to make sense of what happened. You pull the shorts off of you, sobbing as you do.

“Please”, you beg, “please more, please.”

“You’re insatiable.”

You begin trembling, looking in pain. If he doesn’t give you another dose of him soon, you will pass out in withdrawal.

“Please, it hurts. Please.”

“Hey, calm down for me” he whispers and cradles your cheeks.

Your body obeys. The shakes stop. You look up into his eyes submissively. He is so tall and dominant, taking up your entire vision. And yet, he is gentle. He holds you with no strength and talks to you in a soothing voice.

“I want you too, but I need to make sure you actually want it. Tell me your honest feelings without taking me in account”, he orders. He knows that your little omega body wants to please him. That everything wants to make sure that he is satisfied. But he wants your truth. 

“Please, I want you. It’s, it’s the truth.”

“Yes? Does my little omega want more?”

“Yes, Alpha. More”, you hug him, feeling so small against him, “please more.”

“God, you drive me insane”, he rasps and lifts you to carry you back to the window sill. He lies you down on it, chuckling when you spread your legs all on your own. 

Your pussy is throbbing. She is so wet and puffy. 

“Fuck sweetie, I’m so lucky to have you. Can’t believe I get to fuck such a pretty pussy”, he purrs and sticks his cock into you.

You wail up, arching your back. Tears instantly shoot to your eyes and your body trembles.

“Shit sorry, I forgot to warn you. You okay?”

“Thank you, Koo thank you”, you sob, writhing in ecstasy.

“Mhhhm babyyyy, you drive me insane”, he purrs and grabs your hips to pull them up and on his cock. Your legs hook themselves over his lower arms, your body is bent so he can drill you oh so deep.

“Such a good omega. Fuck, keep moaning for me”, he encourages you, staring down at you with obsession in his golden eyes.

Your eyes are closed, your mouth is open. Your body writhes and shakes. Your skin is glowing in a sheer layer of sweat, reflecting the sunlight. Fuck, it looks so pretty on your nipples. How plumb they are. 

Jungkook pinches them, soaking up the wail you let out because of it. They leak a little, making the massage easier. 

“Fucking look at you. You’re fucking meant to be bred”, he growls. His hips rut into you without him having to concentrate on moving. It’s instinct. He’s inside his omega and his body knows exactly what to do.

“How are you that good?” he rasps, staring at you with a dizzy head.

“Good…what?” 

“Good at making it all better.” He thrusts into you as if he is trying to reward you for your mere existence. “Good at distracting me.” Another thrust, a twist of your nipples, quivers down your legs. “Good at being you. Perfect, amazing you.” He fucks into you with each word, knocking the most delicious moans out of you.

He pulls out of you just to watch your slick spill from your puffy cunt. He runs his heavy cock through it, playing with your stretched entrance. 

“You’re just so fucking good”, he rasps and pushes back inside. 

You wail, arching your back.

“Please rougher”, you beg instantly.

“Like this? Do you like it?” 

“More. Please, more. Kook please.”

Jungkook feels invincible when you are like this. It hasn’t been long since you and he have bonded. It has been three months, two weeks and one day to be exact. Jungkook counted the days. It hasn’t been long, but it has been long enough for you and him to fuck way too many times. You just love it too much. It is as if you can’t stop doing it. 

Whenever he gets you like this, so cockdrunk and needy for his rougher sides, Jungkook feels invincible. He wants to fulfil your every wish and keep you safe. This is your shared moment. Only he will ever see you so submissive and vulnerable and he would be damned if he didn’t keep you safe while he rearranges your insides.  

He lifts you up onto the window bench so you are kneeling on all fours and looking outside. He joins you on top of it. Your body falls to the front, colliding with the window. He slams his hand on the glass right above your hand, eyes shifting to the world outside. He towers over you, letting anyone know that trying to take you from him would end in fucking death. You’re his’. 

“Is this alright for you? Wanna make the world see how good we fuck?” he makes sure because he knows that once you are high on pleasure, you can’t really think for yourself anymore. He wants to make sure that you are aware of what is happening to you, that you always have a chance to change something.

“Yes, okay. Just please. Harder.” 

“Anything you want. Take me, baby. All of me.” He fills you up from behind, slinging his strong arm around you to hold you against his strong chest. “Let everyone see who makes you feel that good.”

You sob his name, sinking back into him. Your head hits his chest, your fingers grasp his lower arm. 

“Happy, so happy”, you whimper, drooling on his arm.

“Me too, baby. So happy”, he rasps, drilling his huge cock into you. The sunlight hits it each time he pulls out, really showcasing just how fucking wet you get him. “You like how I fuck you, sweetie?”

“Yeah, rough. So good”, you mewl, writhing in his arms.

“Mhm what a good omega you are, fuck”, Jungkook growls and slips his left hand to your pussy. He takes your swollen clit between his fingers and begins playing with it.

Of course you wail up because of it. Of course your pussy throbs around his cock. And of course you arch your back in the prettiest of ways.

Jungkook watches your nipples leak in pleasure, going insane because in the same fucking view he can also see how his cock is entering you repeatedly. He’s so big that your stomach bulges each time he ruts into you. Leaking nipples and cock filled tummies. Jungkook growls at the view, biting your neck right on your scent spot.

You sob his name, limp body shaking in his arms and legs quaking. He is going to make you climax. You’re his’. And now the whole pack is going to see.

Months ago, the thought of sealing your bond so publicly scared you. Right now, the potential of being watched is ecstatic to you. This is the future pack Alpha who’s fucking like this and you’re the girl he chose as his queen.

“You know that I’m so happy it’s you?” He rasps into your ear while his fingers torture your puffy clit to an orgasm. “You know that I wouldn’t want it any other way?”

Bonds between Alphas and omegas are rare in the werewolf community. Alphas don’t want to risk their pups being born with the omega gen and therefore most Alphas bond with other Alphas to guarantee their offspring to have the Alpha gen. Sex between Alphas and omegas is a more common thing, but marriage? Not that much. Too many risks. 

Sometimes you feel so wrong as Jungkook’s mate. You know how his father thinks of you and there are probably others in the pack who share his feelings. Being Jungkook’s mate bears the risk that your pups are going to be born as omegas too. It’s a risky marriage. 

Hearing Jungkook talk like this as he fucks you against the windows for everyone to see, changes you as a person.

“I gotta be the luckiest fucking Alpha out there, baby. I have a pretty omega as my wife. I’m the goddamn luckiest bastard.”

“Jungkook”, you mewl, grasping his hair as his words send you off the edge.

“You liked that, didn’t you? What a pretty omega you are cumming for me. That’s it, sweetie. Cream my cock, good omega. Such a good girl”, he talks you through it, rubbing your clit as he writes his name on your throbbing walls.

Panickedly, you reach down to get his hand to stop. He is stronger than you, torturing you and holding you close.

“I-I will- Jung- I- please”, you stutter.

“Don’t hold back, baby. Let’s show the pack how prettily my omega can squirt.”

“Jungkook”, you wail, sinking into yourself as he sets you off. 

He growls, pressing you against the window as he fucks the pretty liquid out of you.

“Yes princess, yes. Urgh what a good omega you are. Give me everything. That’s it”, he talks you through it. Of course he does. Jungkook always talks you through your orgasms, which is reason on its own to be totally crazy. You’ve got this sexy, strong Alpha as your mate and on top of it all, he always talks you through it.

You’ve got to be luckiest omega in existence. 

Jungkook is rougher after your high. His voice is deeper too. His grip is punishingly strong.

“I need to use your body. Can I? I’m so close.”

“Please”, you beg and sob when seconds later, you get pushed down into the pillows. The top of your head is pressed against the window, the sun shines right onto your face. You can’t open your eyes, crying tears because you are so sensitive and he drills you as if you have a debt to pay.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry, it’s gonna be over soon. I’m sorry”, he chants, keeping you down with one hand on your head. He hates seeing you cry, but it’s impossible to stop. He needs to rut, breed you and make you his’. “I’m so fucking sorry. Oh god, baby. I can’t stop.”

Something holds him back. Maybe it’s guilt. He doesn’t want to do this to you, but can’t stop. Fuck, why can’t he cum? Jungkook ruts even harder despite not wanting to. He feels so fucking guilty.

“I’m sorry, I can’t- I-”

“Feels so good, Koo. Koo. Please Koo”, you sob and shut off his guilt for breeding you with such strength.

The intense pleasure returns, hitting him with such intensity that Jungkook arches his back and throws his head back.

“___!” he moans, feeling his orgasm finally hit him. “Holy fuck”, he gets out, falling to the front. He cushions his fall with one arm against the window, dropping his head against it as he fills you with his creamy cum in heavy spurts. 

You sob his name, finding one more high because of his cum, but you know that you couldn’t take any more afterwards. You are ruined. This was the last thing your drugged omega body needed to be completely satisfied. Now you are finally filled up with him on both ends. Your tummy is truly only there to carry his pleasure. What a perfect life you are living.

Jungkook finishes with a growl of your name, then a tremble of his body and a curse. 

“Holy fuck, sweetie”, he croaks, pulling you up into his arms. He kisses and nuzzles you instantly, whispering the sweetest words repeatedly, “I love you, I love you, oh sweetie. My sweetie, I love you.” 

“I…I love you too.”

“What?” 

He pulls out and turns you, cradling your cheeks. His eyes are widened, racing between yours in urgency.

“What did you just say?”

“I love you too.”

“You don’t mean that”, he seems in disbelief, voice quivering.

“I do.”

“No. No, you don’t. Baby”, his lower lip quivers. He pulls you closer, tilting your head up so you can still look at each other. You are so close like this that you feel his breath tickle your lips as he talks, “tell me you’re not serious.”

“But I am”, you insist, touching his waist, “Koo, I love you.”

Jungkook laughs, eyes filling with tears.

“___, my love”, he chokes out, picking you up just so he can dance through the room with you. “Oh baby, I love you. Baby.” 

“Koo, I’m leaking. Please no twirls. It’s going everywhere”, you squeak, trying so hard to clench your pussy. 

“Doesn’t matter. Just leak on me. Oh baby, you make me so happy”, he says and drops on the bed with you. 

He buries you under him, attacking your face with too many kisses to count. He cradles your cheeks for it, making you giggle and squeal because it is so nice to be adored this way. 

“Oh baby, my baby”, he kisses your forehead and cheeks, “I could melt with you”, he pulls your head up to repeatedly kiss your lips. 

Once he stops, you feel butterflies in your tummy and warmth in your chest.

“But how are you? How’s your jaw?” he rubs it gently, “How’s your pussy? I was so rough. Is there anything hurting?” 

You shake your head, “just a little sensitive, but it’s nice.” 

“Yeah? And your tummy?” He rubs it. “I fed you a lot of cum. How are you handling it?”

You place your hand over his’, smiling at him goofily, “I feel like I could do anything.”

“Yes? Oh sweetie”, he nuzzles against your scent spot, “you have no idea how happy I am. I can’t shut up. The way you made me feel, it’s. Wow.” He laughs breathily. “Wow, I never felt this way before. I literally can’t shut up about it. I feel, wow.” He falls to his back and kicks his feet in the air, giggling. “Fuck, I could do anything! Ah!” He exclaims and stretches his limbs from himself in starfish position. 

You giggle, rolling over repeatedly until you are snuggled into his side again. Jungkook flips to his side, closing his arms around you. He purrs, kissing your forehead. Afterwards he just kind of lets the view of you sink in. He traces your temple and ear softly as he gazes into your eyes.

“You’re so beautiful”, he whispers, letting shyness appear in your eyes. “It sucks that I can’t share with everyone how you make me feel when our bodies connect”, he speaks softly.

“I feel like we kinda shared it a little.”

You and Jungkook glance at the window bench. The windows are dirty to the point where the sunlight looks a little milky through it. You look back into each other’s eyes, cracking up at the same time.

You and he giggle like teenagers doing something harmless yet forbidden. 

“I can’t believe that we did that”, he confesses.

“Me neither. Oh my god. Do you think someone saw us?” 

“I lowkey hope someone did and they tell my dad…” He kisses the tip of your nose. “...that his son has the best, most beautiful wife ever. And that he loves her so much.”

“I’m sure that they would also tell him that happiness looks so good on his son and that she loves him too. And that their bond is forever, no matter what anyone says.”

Jungkook’s features soften, “oh baby” he whispers, caressing you under your eye, “you’re just so…” his eyes glimmer in adoration, “... goddamn perfect.” 

You lean into his touch, rubbing his chest mindlessly. He kisses your forehead, nuzzling you into him afterwards. He draws hearts on your back while you melt in his embrace. 

He studies the windows you and he dirtied. The prints of his hands are next to the prints of your tits and the spots where he made your squirt. He feels so proud and giddy. He did that with you. Wow, he will think about this forever. 

“Are you hungry?” he asks in a quiet purr.

“A little. Why?”

“Just making a mental plan on how to spend the rest of our day. Just wanna cook for you and take care of you.” 

“Cooking sounds nice. I’m so sleepy though. I’m sorry it’s suddenly so hard to...talk.”

“No wonder. You’re coming down.”

“You’ll hold me, right?”

“Of course, baby. I’ll hold you. Just relax, I’ll make sure that nothing happens.”

You sigh in relief, growing softer and smaller now that he reassured you that it was safe for you to relax. Omegas rarely can function normally after sex. After basically being high and doing everything to chase pleasure, an omega’s body is spent. Most omegas use what little strength they have to flee to somewhere safe and hide away until it passes. Knowing that you have Jungkook as your protector and safe space to hide in, makes the entire recovery process a moment of healing. You won’t ever have to flee. You have someone safe who will be with you. 

“I love you”, you whisper with your last strength.

“I love you too, my sweetie”, he whispers.

You fall asleep in his arms and Jungkook stays with you for a while until he is sure that you are safely gone in your slumber. He tugs you in as he leaves to shower and begin preparing breakfast.

He wants you to wake up to your favourite dishes being finished and your favourite flowers waiting on your bedside table. And as he cooks, he dances to his favourite music. He hasn’t danced in ages, but being your mate makes him want to do the things he loved doing when his mental health wasn’t terrible. Being your mate makes him want to heal and become happier again. Life isn’t all bad, it really isn’t, Jungkook thinks and sings as he dances. Life isn’t all bad.

[fragilefawn333]

kinky arcane women headcanons ☆ MDNI!!

f!arcane x f!reader - vi, caitlyn, jinx, mel, sevika

AN; SOMEONE SEDATE MEEE!!!!! my ass is too horny ok im OVULATING!!!! this is probably the dirtiest thing i’ve written and i’m spitting out fics i’ve had in the drafts for a while so CW; dirty talk, degrading language aka ‘slut,’ biting and marking, overstimulation, choking, power, blindfold, spitting (2k)

Vi - Breeding/voyeurism

Topping: Despite women not being able to get others pregnant, this doesn’t matter to Vi. She’ll have you folded over on your shared bed, gripping into the mattress as she slams into you — going at a brutal pace. Making you cum around her cock for the second time, sticky-white dripping out of your aching hole.

“You take me so well, such a greedy girl.”

Breathy moans as the other end of the strap rubs against her clit, intertwining with your own needy whines. She moves to hook one of your legs on her opposing shoulder, watching as the toy disappears into your tight cunt with each thrust.

“Fuck - ah! Gonna fill you up, make you a mommy. You want that, yeah? My pretty girl.”

Pseudo-feeling herself finish inside you, pretending that the cum dripping from your slit is your mixed fluids — filling you up with herself. Swear to fuck, she’s gonna pester that pretty-boy to engineer up some magic that’ll let this happen for real.

Bottoming: She likes making sure others know you’re hers. Slung over you in a sleazy-bar, sucking dark-hickeys into your neck — the smell of bitter beer and spicy aftershave attacking your senses, clinging to you so even when she’s not physically there, her presence is.

You’ll be stumbling back from the bar, tipsy with too-strong alcohol and her touch, street-lights dimly illuminating your figures. That’s when she’ll push you against bricked wall, arms hung around her neck as she grinds her knee into your clothed sex. Unbuckling her belt and letting her jeans and boxers hang off muscled hips, using her fingers to collect her wetness and smear it over your lips.

“You taste that? That’s what you do to me, pretty girl. You gon’ clean up your mess?” Grabbing at your chin gently, and facing it to her half-clothed pelvis — red hairs climbing to her bellybutton, glistening with smeared wetness.

Groaning when your slick tongue meets her clit, lapping her up like she’s the drink you two were just sharing two minutes ago. Her hand comes to grasp at your scalp, pulling you closer in to kitten-lick her slit, shoving herself into your face. Too enthralled in you, not caring to check and see if the streets are empty. If they want to watch then they can. Show everyone who you belong to.

Caitlyn - Brat-taming/degradation

Topping: Caitlyn relaxes on plush armchair, leather-clad hand moving to turn the page of her novel. You dig your fingernails into her shoulder, grinding sloppily against clothed leg. The harsh denim of her jeans chaffing against the flesh of your thighs, grinding against your clit. Huffing into her neck, you raise your hips and slam them back down onto her, trying to work up enough friction to come to your peak.

“Can’t cum?” Caitlyn mewls, mock sincerity, blue-eyes not even flickering up from her novel.

Your cheeks puff-up as you inhale, brows knitting together as you mumble a, “fuck you,” into her ear. Risky move, considering you’re currently knee-deep in a punishment from your last bratty-comment.

She wraps an arm around arched back, trapping you between her torso and bringing her face to yours. “Is that so?” She cocks her head, pensive yet still threatening. “Stand up.”

You whimper, shaking your head, “M’ sorry, I didn’t mean it.” But Caitlyn isn’t having it, directing you with a perfectly manicured index-finger. You stand up, vulnerable and naked to the bitter-air of the room. She leads you to the table standing next to the chair, pushing you so that the edge toys with your pussy. You grind on the polished oak, desperate for friction as rounded wood catches your clit. “You want to cum? Show me how desperate you are, and if I’m nice enough I’ll reward you.”

Drumming her fingers on the wood, she smirks and discards the book to the floor.

Bottoming: Caitlyn would lie herself onto cotton sheets, slender limbs snuggled on-top of the bed. Hair and body freshly washed, smelling of floral-soap and citrusy shampoo, not bothering with a towel letting the cool hit bare skin.

Allowing you to crawl onto the sheets after her, towel wrapped loosely around waist — another one ruffling through your hair, trying to dry it after your shared shower. She watches as your tits heave with every exhausted breath, nipples hardened at the cold air. She chews on her bottom lip, thighs opening so she can dip long fingers into her cunt. Caitlyn grinds into her hand, swollen, flushed clit circled by the base of her palm.

You glance over to her taunt, writhing body — chuckling as you watched her hump her own hand. “Shit Cait, you’re such a slut. Fucking yourself, don’t you have any shame?”

Caitlyn shakes her head, wetness now dripping onto previously clean sheets, letting out a strangled moan, “I need you.”

You snort at her desperation, moving to replace her fingers with yours as she bucks into you. “What am I going to do with you?” You tease, “What a pathetic mess.”

Jinx - Marking/overstimulation

Topping: It’s mid-afternoon when Jinx lays you on her work-bench. Shirt pulled up to collarbones, multi-coloured lights dancing on exposed skin. Jinx swipes her tongue down sternum, licking at your stomach and running teeth along the hem of your pants. You gasp when teeth embed into your side, sharp pain radiating from your waist. Jinx releases your flesh, feeling a vibration as she chuckles into your body.

She stumbles next to her, reaching amongst messy-desk to pull out a neon-pink marker, waving it in front of your face. She takes the cap off with her teeth, hooking her fingers around your pants and tugging them down. The ink is cold as it glides across you, Jinx circling the bite mark she’s stamped into your skin.

Jinx moves the pen down, right above your pubic-bone. She scribbles something, giggling to herself. The heat of the shimmer in her veins thrumming, unable to keep herself patient any longer — she lunges forward.

Her mouth meets your cunt. Lips wrapping around your clit, sucking the nub into her warm, welcoming mouth. She digs her nails, chipped blues-pinks, into your thighs, leaving half-crescents into swollen skin. You thrust up to her tongue, ears ringing as you come to your peak as she laps up the escaped wetness spilling from your pussy.

Later, when you stumble across a reflective surface, you lift up your shirt to reveal teeth-marks sunken into skin. Along with messy, capitalised ‘JINX WAZ HERE.’

Bottoming: Lights bounce off skin as you grind down into Jinx. The makeshift tent fluttering with the wind created by thrusting motions. Slick gliding together, smearing up thighs and abdomen. Jinx curls, letting out a shaky breath as heat pools in her lower belly. Hips rutting with frenzy as you bring her to her third release of the night.

Usually perky Jinx sighs with fatigue, hands stilling your gyrating hips. “Please… I can’t…”

You drag your tongue over your lips, leaning down to whisper into her ear, “Give me one more.”

Tilting Jinx’s bony pelvis to you, weaving thighs together and pressing her heat to yours. Her clit is swollen as it slides against yours, picking up considerable friction as you quicken the pace. Minutes later, Jinx twitches uncontrollably again, muttering pleases and silent sobs into the graffitied floors of her hideout.

Mel - Choking/filming

Topping: Mel will bend you over her desk, her fingers sliding down your nape, golden rings cold on skin. She buries her face into your neck, pressing heated kiss down sensitive flesh, her loose hair coiling down her face and tickling your shoulder. You press palms to her desk, trying to steady yourself as one of her hands snake down your body to the crux of your legs. You both simultaneously moan when her fingertips brush against wetness.

Bringing her other hand up your neck, shoving two fingers down your throat. You gag, spit trickling down your chin as her fingers slip over your tongue, hooking into your jaw — making you completely complacent to her. She presses circles on your clit, moving up and down, your thighs parting under the pleasure in turn giving her more access to spread lips open, dipping into your entrance. As her hands work you open, the two fingers coated in saliva draw back to neck, squeezing lightly. Your head comes back to rest against the dip of her shoulder, her hand bathed in golden divinity shutting off airways momentarily.

“Don’t fight it,” she hisses.

The intensity of your orgasm hits like a brick, tension around your throat adding to the pressure. Mel hums in satisfaction as you come down, running slick fingers over tongue — tasting you, lips suckling and rolling off her hand.

Bottoming: Mel lifts herself to the tip of the toy, grinding when she reaches the base. Each motion creating a jolt of pleasure that runs through her body. Stockings pull at her legs, garters tight around her thighs as skin spills slightly over the top.

“Stay still,” you pester, lifting up the camera to snap a picture of her hunched over — silicone dick buried deep inside.

She whines at the momentarily loss of friction, desperately waiting for you to allow her to continue her thrusts. You check the film, eyes taking in your artistry. You nod at her, and she snaps her hips immediately.

“You look too pretty for this to be forgotten,” you smirk. Her skin flushing, heat coiling in her belly, at your compliments. Mel nods her head, her eyes rolling back as she increases her pace — pumping into the toy. She spills over the bed, creating a wet patch on silken sheets as she lifts herself up, a string of slick connecting her pussy to the bed. You snap another photo, the room flashing white.

Sevika - Size kink/deprivation

Topping: Sevika places a hand at the base of your back, admiring how large her palm looks when it’s splayed onto your skin. Pushing you down with ease, stilling your almost-rabid jerking by tensing her muscles. Her other, metallic, hand comes to rub across your slit — the cool material’s contact against your warm cunt inciting a shiver.

You gape into ragged sheets, back arching as Sevika brings a hand down to the fat of your ass, skin slapping echoing throughout the room. Running her faux-fingers down the dip of your ass, rubbing circles around the entrance of your pussy. Chuckling at the way you reflexively pull back at the cold probe, but are unable to under her grip.

Switching positions slightly, she manhandles you so that you’re being supported by her metal-arm. This way she can feel the warmth of your cunt engulf her fingers as she pushes into your entrance, thrusting with haste. You whine and twist against her, feeling the pleasure shoot up to your abdomen - tightening and curling in you. She chuckles, low and grating, at the wetness that gushes out of you — stilling her fingers and planting a chaste kiss to your lower back.

Bottoming The blindfold tied around your face sits comfortably, obscuring your vision. You can only hear the sound of Sevika’s heaving breathing, and the taste of her, as you sit between her splayed knees. You dig your tongue in deeper, flattening your tongue at her clit. Grabbing onto muscled thigh for support, you continue working her open using your mouth.

You feel calloused hand pull at your hair, pushing you into the overwhelming wetness. She guides you closer, further up — aiding your unsure self in pleasing her, it’s not your fault really. She likes you rendered helpless, dependent on her and deprived of your sight.

“Thats a good girl,” she groans as you allowing yourself to be pulled by her grip. It’s not long before she’s coming undone before you, harshly pulling at your scalp to snap your head back — mouth open as you feel her saliva drip into your cheeks, and down your throat.

[bluetimeombre]

☽｡⋆ Learning to fly, starting to crawl

Over one hundred years ago, you lost your wings but the wound still hurts like it was only yesterday. When your brothers mate wants to learn to fly, he doesn’t hesitate in teaching her, right in front of you. And nobody can see the scars except the one you love…

[OMG I'M ALIVE!!!! I've had this sitting in my drafts for months but have only just got around to posting. Basically, I have too many hobbies but i'm in a writing mood again., very fitting to start with my boy AZRIEL, whom i love very much. I hope you enjoy. This is linked to my other Azriel fic but of course can be read alone. Not proof-read and yes, she lost her wings. It's becoming almost a thing but it makes for some good ass angst. ENJOY!!!!]

☽｡⋆

The inner circle all sat around the table, eating and chatting merrily. Rhysand sat at the head of the table, as was tradition, while his mate- Feyre- sat next to him, their hands entwined. They smiled at each other, as so in love they were. Cassian and Mor were joking around along with Amren and Elian listened politely. Every now and then, she glanced the shadow singers way to invite him into the conversation but there was no such luck.

Azriel only stared ahead of him, glaring at the empty space where you usually sat. He wasn’t at all surprised you hadn’t turned up, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t be angry about it.

For a few weeks now he’d noticed the shift in you. You snapped easily and often rolled your eyes at anything your brother- the high lord- had to say. He’d heard you pace your rooms at night and his shadows (that favoured you above all) had reported that many nights you went to Rita’s.

But your empty seat irked him. And it irked him that Rhys seemed to not care in the slightest.

Az was the first to be aware of your presence, the echo of the door opening alerting them all and your scent hit him in the face. He inhaled it- your lavender, your sweetness, tinted by the alcohol lingering.

Rhysand huffed and everyone seemed to notice the shift. ‘I apologize about this, Feyre darling.’

Just then, you and Nesta stumbled into the room, arms linked and laughing your heads off about something or other.

Azriel drank you in. Your cheeks were flushed, your dress creased as you struggled to stay up right. Gods, what had you done?

You pouted dramatically, throwing a hand on your hip. ‘Uh oh, Rhysands got his grumpy face on.’

‘Isn’t that his usual?’ Said Nesta, causing the two of you to laugh again.

Everyone watched the two of you.

‘Where have you been?’ Az asked, wanting to rush to you and support you, but Rhys seemed one breath away from snapping.

‘We’re trying to have a pleasant meal, don’t ruin it,’ he grumbled.

‘Yes sir!’ You saluted.

Rhys growled and Feyre took his hand, squeezing it tightly.

‘Something tells me we’re not wanted, y/n,’ Nesta said to her.

‘Alas, we do not want to be here,’ you said, stumbling your way past the table. Before you went, you gave Feyre a squeeze on the shoulder, leaning down to whisper to her. ‘Feyre darling.’

‘Enough!’ Rhys shot up, hands on the table.

You barley spared him a glance as you and Nesta went about your way. You tripped on a plant pot, stumbling and apologizing to the object.

Azriel got out his seat, ready to follow you to wherever. No matter if you wanted him or not.

‘Sit down, Azriel,’ said Rhysand, taking his seat again. He picked up his fork and smiled at his mate like nothing had happened. All the while, your scent got further away from him.

He looked between where you’d disappeared and his high lord. He settled down and promised he’d find out what had made you act so.

☽｡⋆

You woke with unbearable pain in your head the next day. And your back. Your head was granted with the amount you and Nesta had drank, seeking to out-do one another so much so you drank out most of Rita’s.

But your back, the pain was new. Almost as if it knew why you were so angry, so bitter and it sort to make it worse.

Your curtains were drawn but the wind blew them back, letting you glimpse the outside world you dreaded to be a part of.

Shadows curled up your bed, brushing your hair back affectionately. They seemed to always be around you, as if they knew the bond that heaved in your chest even if their master didn’t.

You offered them a poor smile. ‘I’m fine.’ But they caressed you and smelt your lie.

From beyond the curtains, you caught a glimpse of figures in the sky. You’d always loved your room for the view it granted, of the sun, the moon, the stars. But after losing your wings, the view turned cold and the sky never seemed as bright.

It only got worse.

Though you knew the pain it would bring you to see, you wrapped a blanket around you and treaded over to the window.

Feyre was trying out her new wings, the black gifts she’d been given. Once mortal, she now had everything you wanted. The power, the wings. Your freedom was now hers.

And you hated it.

Azriel was looking close to her, encouraging her as she went. Though they were small figures to you, you could see his smile, how he held his hands out to her should she lose confidence.

How many times had you flown side by side, acting like the clouds abided you. The times you’d raced or dropped just to have Azriel catch you.

Never again.

The bitterness invaded your mouth again, blocking out all other logical senses.

Your door burst open- the shadows rushing to your side and curling around your shoulders. You didn’t need to turn to know who it was, the anger radiating from him was enough.

‘How dare you turn up in the state you did last night,’ snapped Rhys. You didn’t turn to face him, shielding yourself from his fury. ‘You had no right to ruin a lovely evening. We are trying to make Feyre and her sisters feel welcomed, its a shame my own sister can’t seem to do that for me.’

The words twisted in your gut. For him… had you not done everything for him? Lost your wings because you wouldn’t give in? Lost fifty years of your life to be with him?

‘Get over whatever it is going on and only return to us when you want to act like a decent human being.’ Rhysand snapped before leaving again, slamming the door- causing her to flinch.

The shadows ran down your hair, your cheeks, your sides. Giving you any ghostly comfort they could. ‘I’m fine,’ you told them again, retreating further into your room.

The shadows followed you, but only half of them. The other half had returned to their master, clouding him and whispering in his ear.

Her wings. She misses her wings.

She hadn’t had to say it out loud, they knew her pain.

Azriel paused in the sky, alerting Feyre. She’d seen the shadows surround him in flourishes. She couldn’t understand they were reporting in on you, that Az needed you to have something there when he could not be.

‘What is it?’ She asked, beating her wings.

He stared at her then at the wings. He was filled with the longing to be with you, in the sky, playing. Your wings were beautiful, just because they were you. A beautiful part of you.

‘I need to speak with the high lord.’

☽｡⋆

‘Ask someone else to train Feyre to fly,’ said Azriel.

He’d insisted he needed to see the high lord on urgent matters that could not wait. He’d expected it to be of the war, but Azriel opened with the line.

Rhysand was sat behind his desk, looking up to Azriel with some amusement. ‘I’m sorry?’

‘Ask Cassian,’ he said, he didn’t need to repeat himself.

‘Feyre wanted you.’

‘I can’t do it anymore,’ he said, stating it all simply.

Rhysand waited, wondering if he’d be graced with an explanation, but it never came. ‘Might I ask why.’

‘Your sister.’

Rhys’s amusement turned to a deep scowl. ‘My sister has asked you to stop flying with Feyre?’

‘No. She hasn’t asked, she never would. But I can’t teach Feyre to fly anymore.’

‘I’m sorry, I’m confused- what does any of this have to do with y/n?’ He asked.

Azriels shadows wound tight around him, coating him like a second skin. He wanted to yell, and he never let his emotions get the better of him. Instead, he curled his hand into a fist and clenched his jaw. ‘Do you really not think that this is hurting her?’

‘After her behaviour the past couple days I think it’s her who’s doing the hurting,’ he said, picking a bit of invisible lint from his shoulder.

‘She lost her wings,’ said Azriel with barely contained annoyance. ‘She lost them. They were cut from her back and she was left to bleed out.’

‘I do remember that Azriel,’ said Rhys, closing his eyes at the words. ‘I was there when we found her.’

‘So do you not think that teaching your mate to fly doesn’t effect her?’

Rhysand looked at him. His eyes changed, the hue turning darker. No, he hadn’t thought that. You’d never let on to feeling anything for your wings or lack of them. But then again, even if you had, would you ever have gone to your brother.

Azriel took a measured step forward. ‘Do you not think it hurts her that you teach your mate to fly, the same mate that gasped in horror when she saw the scars on your sisters back? That you have us fly in front of the house where she can see? Did you even know that when she bathes y/n covers all the mirrors so she doesn’t have to get a glance at the scars.’

The high lord held up a hand. ‘I understand.’

‘No, you don’t. You could never know what it’s like, neither could I, or Cassian. She had a part of her ripped off and she has to live without it every day. But you’ve gifted Feyre them as if it’s nothing.’

‘Because my mate has the powers,’ argued Rhys. ‘If I could give y/n wings I would- in a heartbeat, I would.’

Azriel nodded. He knew that, he knew the relationship between you and Rhys was fractured at best, but he also knew that if anything or anyone hurt you, Az would kill them. ‘I don’t want to reach Feyre to fly because it hurts y/n.’

Rhys leaned back in his chair, studying him. ‘And you care about her?’

‘More than I can express.’ He would give her the wings from his back if he could. ‘And if something hurts her… it hurts me.’

Rhysand nodded. ‘I’ll take her flying from now on. We’ll do it in the mountains, to spare y/n from seeing it.’

Azriel bowed his head. ‘Thank you.’

Rhys nodded but averted his gaze. ‘Look after her, Azriel.’

‘I always have.’

☽｡⋆

Nesta had gone to Rita's, expecting you later but you'd already snuck down to the Wine cellar and picked out the finest to drown your sorrows alone in. You'd past Cassian on the way, the male worried about your shifting gaze and the way you held yourself but you brushed him off and carried on your way.

You hesitated outside your door, where shadows lurked. Yes, they liked you and yes they were often with you, but never guarding your door.

Then, you smelt it. Not wine but sweet cedar and moss. Az.

You didn't want this. Didn't want him to see you like this, in pain in your mind and back, in longing for the wind through your hair. You knew he'd noticed your behaviour, he was the spy master, you'd only hoped... only hoped he didn't care as much as he did.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed open the door and braced yourself for shouting.

Azriel stood there, looking regal and beautiful. His back was too the balcony, the door open and wind rusting his wings and sheets. His hands were behind his back and his gaze was... soft? It wasn't dark with anger or clouded in annoyance.

It was just Az.

'Azriel,' you do your best to smile, clearing your throat. 'What are you doing? I thought you had flying with Feyre?' you were trying but you were also just you and you missed your wings.

'I'm teaching her anymore,' he said.

You chuckle. 'Is she that bad a student?'

'I'm sorry.'

You look up to him, taking out the cork of the wine. Rose filled your senses. 'For what?'

'That she flys when you don't,' he mentioned it simply, as if you'd already told him what was hurting you and he'd accepted it.

You hadn't said it. You wouldn't. You hated yourself enough for being weak, you didn't need him, perfect Azriel, caring Azriel, to see how horrid your jealousy had made you. 'I don't know what you mean.'

'y/n,' he steps close to you, taking the bottle from you. He drops it at his side but no smash is delivered. The shadows swallow it up. 'Why won't you talk, instead of drowning yourself in pain?'

'I'm not drowning myself in anything,' you deny, moving away from him to close the balcony door. The air drifting in and moving everything but you only mocked.

'You can't fly,' he said.

Your eyes squeezed shut in pain. 'Yes, I know, you don't have to remind me.'

His boots sounded close behind her and he took her shoulders. He didn't force her to turn around, he only held her gently and soothed his thumbs over the knots in her back. 'You can't fly and words don't exist to tell you how sorry I am. If I could i'd give you the own wings off me back-'

'Don't say that.' The only thing worse than your pain, was Azriel going through it all.

'I would and I mean it just to see you smile again, if only for a second. I'd be glad to give them up,' he whispered. Your shoulders slumped under his grasp and he sighed in relief, it was better than tensing up again. 'I miss you smiling. I miss you laughing. I miss you smiling at me. I'm sorry if teaching Feyre to fly has hurt you.'

'It wasn't you, Az,' you turn in his hold, never letting him feel like it was his fault. In doing that, you admitted to being bothered. 'I can't be who I was, because I don't know how. And I don't want to try to only fail.'

He listened, hands trailing down your arms to rub.

You gulp. 'And it's not just losing the wings, it's everything I lost with it. Freedom. I can't join you or Cas, or anyone when you take to the skies. How am I going to cope in battle? I can't run as fast as I can fly, I can't fight as well. I can't hit Cassian over the head when he's being an idiot, I can't-I can't wrap them around you when we hold each other, and it's painful to think of everything I've lost when I've gained nothing.'

He listened, tears watering his gaze. You had not lost any of that, not to him.

'And Feyre,' you pulled away, crossing your arms around each other and looking out the window. 'I don't hate her, I wish I could but I can't. But she's been Fae for five seconds and she has everything I've ever wanted. Wings. My brother loves her. She's happy. I hate it and I hate myself.'

Your confession weighed your gut but your chest rose in a deep breath. You couldn't see Azriel behind you in the reflection of the windows and you couldn't hear him.

He'd gone. Of course he'd left, you'd whined about what you'd lost when you were at least alive. You'd complained about the High Lady- treason in Rhysand's book.

No, you were all alone.

But you weren't.

Az crept behind you and slowly- so you could pull away- wrapped his arms around your shoulders. He pulled you into his chest and matched his breaths with yours. 'I won't insult you by saying I get it, because I could never. But that time, when I found you after you'd lost your wings, I thought i'd lost you and that-that is how I imagine your feelings. Because I stopped breathing and I didn't think happiness would ever be in the world again. And your blood, you bleeding out has been in my nightmares since. If my hands were to be stained with it, let them, because it was the last thing i'd ever have of you.'

You had no idea. He'd felt terrible yes and been there the weeks and months it took to heal but you'd been so full of pain and guilt you hadn't thought of how he fared. Your greatest friend... your lustful secret.

Your hands came up to hold his arms.

'You do not have to be who you were before,' he whispered, head resting on your shoulder. 'Become better. Become something more. As for training, you're the strongest woman I know and still the only person I'd trust with my life.'

A tear escaped you.

He nudged your chin with his nose. 'And you can still hit Cass as much as you like.'

You laugh through tears, holding onto Az like he was the last thing anchoring you to yourself.

His wings slowly inched over you. 'And I will hold you all day, every day till I die, and i'll keep you safe.' His wings closed around the two of you as yours used to do.

Neither of you realised how much you'd missed it, needed it, craved it until it happened.

You'd lost your wings, but you had never and would never lose him.

[meadowfics]

delivery

hwang jun-ho x pregnant!reader

the policeman is excited for his daughter to arrive

warnings: birth

this is a continuation and part two to this

it all starts late at night, just as you’re getting ready to climb into bed.

you’ve showered, slipped into your comfiest satin nightgown, and are looking forward to finally getting some rest.

jun-ho is already under the covers, scrolling through his phone while waiting for you.

just as you move to sit on the bed, you feel an unexpected sensation.

at first, you freeze, wondering if you’ve accidentally peed yourself.

this has happened before, due to your daughter using your bladder as a soccer ball.

the thought of it happening again makes your cheeks heat with embarrassment.

“uh… jun-ho?”

you say hesitantly, your voice barely above a whisper.

your partner's head snaps up immediately, his protective instincts kicking in.

“what’s wrong? are you okay?”

he’s already moving to sit up, concern etched into his features.

you glance down at yourself and mumble,

“i think… i think my water just broke.” the words feel strange to say, and you can’t help but feel a little self-conscious.

jun-ho blinks a few times, processing what you’ve just said. then his lips curl into a small, excited smile that he’s clearly trying to suppress.

“really? are you sure?” he asks, but he’s already reaching for the hospital bag that’s been packed for weeks.

you nod, still feeling a little flustered.

“yeah, i’m pretty sure. i mean, i didn’t feel any pain, but—” you trail off, looking at the growing damp spot on your nightgown.

“okay, okay, no need to worry,”

jun-ho says, his voice calm but laced with excitement.

he places a reassuring hand on your lower back, then gently guides you to sit down on the edge of the bed.

“let’s get you changed first, and then we’ll head to the hospital. our girl’s on her way.”

as you change into clean clothes, with the help of jun-ho.. the man hurries around the room, triple-checking the hospital bag, your phone, chargers, snacks, and anything else you might need.

you can tell he’s trying to stay composed, but the way he fumbles with the zipper on the bag gives away his excitement.

once you’re ready, he helps you into the car.

during the drive, you start to feel mild contractions. they’re not too bad yet, but jun-ho keeps glancing at you every few minutes, asking,

“how are you feeling? do you need anything? want me to play some music?”

you laugh softly, despite the growing discomfort.

“i’m fine, jun-ho. just focus on driving. i’d rather not give birth in the car.”

at the hospital, jun-ho is by your side every step of the way. he holds your hand tightly as the nurses check you in, offering comforting words and even cracking a small joke to lighten the mood.

“guess i’ll finally get to see if all those birthing classes paid off.”

as your contractions intensify, jun-ho stays calm and steady, never letting go of your hand. he rubs your back during the worst of it, whispering,

“you’re doing amazing, y/n. she’s so lucky to have you as her mom.”

hours pass, and jun-ho barely leaves your side. even when you’re tired and in pain, he keeps encouraging you, telling you how strong you are and how proud he is of you.

"you're doing so well, sweetheart."

when your contractions start getting stronger, jun-ho immediately shifts into “coach mode,” even though he’s never officially done this before.

he sits beside you, holding your hand tightly, and says,

“okay, y/n, remember to breathe. in through your nose, out through your mouth..just like we practiced.”

during a particularly intense contraction, just when you're seven centimeters dilated.. you grip his hand hard enough to make him wince, but he doesn’t say a word about it.

he's faced worst while being a detective.

instead, he rubs soothing circles on your back with his other hand, murmuring,

“you’re so strong, y/n. you’ve got this. just focus on breathing, one step at a time.”

every time the nurse comes in to check on you, jun-ho listens attentively, nodding as if he’s taking mental notes.

afterward, he turns to you and explains everything in a calm, steady voice, making sure you’re not overwhelmed.

“okay, so it sounds like you’re dilating really well. that means we’re getting closer. just a little more, and we’ll meet her.”

at one point, he notices you’re getting tense and you start clenching your jaw during a contraction.

“hey, relax your shoulders,” he says gently, placing his hands on them and giving them a light squeeze.

“it’ll help with the pain. you’re doing amazing, y/n.”

when you start to doubt yourself.. you start to cry,

“i don’t think i can do this,”

jun-ho immediately shakes his head and cups your face with both hands.

“yes, you can. you’ve already come so far. you’re the strongest person i know, y/n, and you’re not doing this alone. i’m right here with you.”

between contractions, he keeps you distracted by cracking small jokes.

“if she’s as stubborn as you, it’s no wonder she’s taking her time coming out.”

when you glare at him, he grins and adds,

“but stubbornness is a good thing. she’ll be tough, like her mom.”

when it’s time to start pushing, jun-ho positions himself right by your side, holding one of your legs and encouraging you with every push.

“you’re doing it, y/n. just a little more. you’re so close. i’m so proud of you.”

at one point, you grab the collar of his shirt in frustration during a particularly difficult push.. the ring of fire as doctors put it.

instead of panicking, he stays calm and says,

“that’s it, take it out on me. you can yell at me all you want..just keep going. you’re amazing, y/n."

the moment your daughter is born, just after three hours of pushing.. jun-ho’s eyes fill with tears. he looks at her, then at you, and his voice trembles as he says,

“she’s perfect. you did it, y/n.”

when the nurse places your baby girl in your arms, jun-ho leans in close, his arm wrapped around your shoulders as you both look at her in awe.

“welcome to the world, little one,”

your man whispers, his voice full of love.

even as exhausted as you are, you can see the way jun-ho can’t stop smiling. he keeps glancing between you and your daughter, like he can’t believe how lucky he is to have both of you.

later, as the three of you settle in for some quiet time, jun-ho gently brushes his fingers over your daughter’s tiny hand.

“she’s got your nose,” he says softly, leaning in to kiss your forehead.

"thank you for being the best."

you mumble, tired from the pushing.

“thank you, y/n. for everything. i love you so much.”

"I love you too."

you watch him as he carefully cradles your daughter, talking to her in a soft, soothing voice about how much he’s been waiting to meet her.

in that moment, you know your little family is already filled with so much love.

masterlist

[gtgbabie0]

{Vi can’t sleep so you bring her back to bed}

I want to put her in my pocket </3

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾

Vi used to be a really light sleeper before she met you. The tiniest of creaks or the slightest movements would make her jolt out of dreamland— the joys of spending years in prison she supposes. Being forced to constantly watch your back just in case. Everything was a threat in there, the inmates, the guards. It was literally hell on earth.

Nights were better with you. Sleeping by your side with her head nestled either on your tummy or in the crook of your neck. Oh, sleep had never been so easy, you were warm and so very soft. Your breathing lulled her and the safety of your embrace was a balm to her soul. As long as you were with her, then she would be fine.

Tonight was just a bad night. Violet had spent a good five minutes tossing and turning, at the very cusp of sleep but never finding that peace. It was pissing her off, so with a kiss to your bare shoulder she slips out of bed as carefully as possible and down to the garage to work on her gauntlets— the right one had been broken for weeks.

That’d been what?— her eyes flit up to the clock on the shelf above her workstation, 3:05 AM taunting her in bright red LED lights. She groans, rolling her head from side to side. Almost two whole hours and she’s gotten nowhere, so much for the groundbreaking works of Hextech… yeah that was definitely to blame not the fact that her eyes were burning, her body screaming at her to rest.

“Fucking piece of—” she cuts herself off from her frustrated ramblings with a groan, throwing the screwdriver onto the table, the jarring clang of metal against metal only drives to annoy her more.

She was far too in her own head to even notice the door opening and closing behind her— it’s only when she feels the warmth of your palm against her shoulder does she snap into reality, flinching slightly at the unexpected touch.

“Shit, baby. Scared the crap out of me.” her tone instantly softens within seconds, big hand resting over the top of yours.

“Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to.” You whisper, yawning mid-sentence.

God, she’s instantly hit with an overwhelming wave of guilt the moment her blue eyes meet your oh-so-sleepy ones— your voice still gruff having been woken up by presumably her, which doesn’t make her feel any better.

“Don’t be silly, it’s fine.” Violet chuckles, turning around on the stool she was perched on, making space for you to stand in between her legs— her hands resting over your hips.

“You look like you’re about to fall over,” yeah, she feels it too. Even more so when you brush the pad of your thumb just under her eye— along the small ‘VI’ tattoo on her cheek, the warmth of your soft palm making her sigh. “What’re you doing up, baby?”

“Mmm, can't sleep.” She replies almost sheepishly, strong arms snaking around your waist to draw your body closer to her— head snugly resting against your chest, nuzzling into the fabric of her hoodie you’re wearing. Oh isn’t that a sight for sore eyes?

“Why’s that huh?” You ask, pressing a delicate kiss to her hairline, black clinging to the red tresses that had begun to fade- it oddly suited her.

She doesn’t answer your question, she’s never been the best at speaking on her feelings— so she pulls back, fingers tugging on the end of the hoodie with a smirk. “You look good in this,” you roll your eyes, not having any of it.

“I know I do. Tell me what’s keeping you up?” Vi scoffs in amusement, brows raising, her blue eyes flickering up to you in slight surprise- although she shouldn't be, she knows that you see right through her.

She dips her hands beneath the hoodie to caress the bare skin of your waist ever so gently, rough fingertips skimming along your curves. “Nothing particular— m’just restless tonight, I guess.” Her face softens as she speaks, “Can’t shut my mind off.” She looked so pitiful in this light, lips slightly pursed, looking up at you through her eyelashes.

She thought she might’ve gotten used to this— the way you care for her so intently after so long but at last here she was practically on the verge of tears as you brush your fingers through her hair, hugging her against your chest. God, she felt so pathetic, she’d blame it on the exhaustion.

“You should’ve woken me up.” You whisper, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

At that she chuckles, shaking her head. “You would’ve gotten all grumpy with me if I woke you up at three in the morning babe.”

“I would not have gotten ‘all grumpy’ at you.” You huff, slightly offended.

Vi barks a laugh. “Yeah, you definitely would have. The last time I woke you up you nearly took my head off.” You didn’t have to see her to know she was smirking— ah she knew you like the back of her damn hand, so infuriating.

“Because you woke me up at two to tell me a joke, that wasn’t even funny.” Well, now that was just mean! She pokes your tummy in retaliation, making you squirm slightly with a yelp.

Your hands swat at hers, shooing them away. “Was hilarious,” she yawns against you, face pressed into you. “You just don’t appreciate my comedic brilliance.”

“Comedic nightmare more like.” She pinches your side once more, toned arms tugging you down to take a seat on her thigh using the opportunity to nose at your jaw. “Meanie,” her words muffled against your cheek.

“Mhm, m'just playing. Now, come to bed before you crash face-first into the table.” You whisper, kissing over her cheek and just above that tiny scar on her brow— thumb brushing along her jaw.

Violet knows she can’t keep herself up any longer than she already has, even if the thought of sleeping feels a little daunting right now. Her arms tighten around you the tiniest bit, sighing in contentment as your fingers massage the nape of her neck in a way that turns her into a puddle— yeah okay, maybe sleep wasn’t the worst thing if you kept touching her like that.

“Only if you keep doing that,” she murmurs to which you hum in agreement, biting back a giggle as she all but groans against your shoulder.

“M’Kay, c’mon then.” Then she’s hauling you up bridal style, enjoying the way you cling to her like a scared kitten as she walks up the stairs and into your shared bedroom. Violet finds sleep sooner than she thought, the magic touch of your hands— paired with those gentle kisses you shower her face with has her snoring into your neck in record time, her thigh draped over your hips effectively trapping you against the bed. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾

[bibliosauruswrecks]

Another thing you can do is just tell the people working for these organizations how much you appreciate what they’re doing. Call them up, send them a letter or a card, order them a pizza or something, it doesn’t matter. Sometimes the only thing standing between you and complete disillusionment is someone taking the time to acknowledge that you’re doing the hard work.

When Act 372 passed, and the libraries in Arkansas were tense and stressed because we didn’t know what was going to happen to our jobs, we had people calling us pedophiles and saying we deserved prison, and nobody seemed to care, it was all a lot of us could do to not throw in the towel and just quit.

One of our patrons was an elderly woman who was housebound for medical reasons. She called us one day just to tell us that she’d been keeping track of what was going on and how awful people were being, and she wanted to let us know that we were doing a good job, that she was proud of us for not giving in, and that she was praying for us.

It was the only kind comment we received that summer.

But it made a difference. She didn’t have the means to get out on the streets and advocate for us, or the ability to donate her time, but she could tell us that we were appreciated and valued.

In a time when no one else seemed to care, we really needed that.

Everybody wants to save the world, but nobody wants to do the dishes, and they don’t remember to thank the people who do.

I rambled about this in tags on another post but I can’t emphasize enough how only focusing on large-scale issues WILL lead to hopelessness & burnout. Activism must include small-scale, achievable works. If you don’t have something you can get your hands around and look at directly, despair will eat you alive.

[salemlunaa]

𓇼 ˚∘ Unlocking the Power of Manifestation: Shifting Realities Explained ·˚𓆉 ༘₊·

It seems some of you still don’t get it.

I get so many asks and dms worrying about the same thing so i will address it now:

“when i go to the void, will i still see my family and friends?”

“will everything be the same if i go to the void? like if i downy want certain things to change will they stay the same?”

“i like manifestation because shifting is too much for me”

“i only do normal manifestations because i don’t want to leave my family if i induce the void and shift”

well let me tell you something, there is no difference between the two

manifesting = shifting, it’s the same thing i don’t care if you are manifesting the sun to come out today with affirmations or you induce the void and manifest a whole new life. It’s still shifting, and it takes the same effort. I think the art of shifting has been put on a pedestal, but it’s nothing.

Let’s say Lumera wants to manifest money she does this through affirmation, she will shift to a reality where she has money, everything else stays the same, the only difference in this reality is that she has more money. Shifting isn’t some extravagant thing, it’s just natural, it’s first nature so it will feel normal and natural.

Manifesting is shifting because you just shift to a reality where your manifestations are in the 3D. There are many different realities where you don’t have what you want, but you’re not aware of that reality, your consciousness isn’t there. EVERYTHING IS A SHIFT, whether you pick that red skirt over the blue skirt in the clothing store, you’ve shifted to the reality that you now own a red skirt, yet everything is the same, and a reality where you picked the blue skirt exists but you just aren’t aware of that reality.

There is no original reality, feeling so bound to this one and so comfortable and natural in this unfavourable reality is why you aren’t getting what you want.

“It's like changing a shirt. When you put on a new shirt, you "jump" into a reality where you are wearing that new shirt. It's not what you think it is. There are infinite realities (infinite)

They (realities) are all as real as each other. You're just aware of this specific one. Doesn't make it more real than any other reality though. That's like saying you're scared of putting on a new shirt/ outfit because you'd be "jumping" into a reality where you're wearing a different outfit. That means that you'd be scared in everything you do, because your reality "shifts" with everything that you do.” - quoted from my girl @luckykiwiii101

Reality changes every second, your loved ones aren’t gonna disappear and change because of your outfit, yes when you pick that red skirt in the mall, your mum changes, but the only change she goes through is now being aware that you own a red skirt when you showed it to her on facetime. And if you picked the blue skirt she would vaunts but the only change being made is her now being aware that you own a blue skirt.

You don’t have an original reality, which is why people call it “current reality” because it’s the reality that your awareness is currently in. You can change that any time. Your innerman isn’t bound to just one reality because of what the 3d is showing you.

So stop asking if you’re going to see your family just because you want a new appearance via the void state. Stop asking if you should induce pure consciousness or just do “normal manifestating” It’s. The. Same. Thing. Shifting and manifesting have no difference, whatsoever. This doesn’t make things any less real and this doesn’t make your loved ones disposable, you’re a god and they don’t have to be “left behind” or change drastically if you don’t want them to. Everything but that desire of yours will stay the same if you want it to, stop asking stuff when your subconscious mind knows everything you want down to the minute details.

These questions and these fears ARE irrational because shifting IS first nature to you.

🌞☄️Do not let these irrational fears keep you from getting what you want.

[lightseoul]

a/n. i really don't know where i'm going with this, y'all. but getting to role-play as a therapist and explore bakugou's psyche has been lots of fun, so bear with me. please let me know what you think and/or would want to see! maybe that'll give me an idea lol. (1.1k)

navigation. part 1, part 2, (you are here)

“n-no.”

at that, the woman’s eyebrows shoot up, disappearing underneath her fringe. “no?”

“you heard me,” bakugou spits instinctively, immediately regretting how hostile that sounded not even a second later. “i mean, no, i didn’t.”

his therapist, apparently unfazed by his show of aggression—she must’ve gotten used to it by now, although he still feels bad when he gets testy—only jots something down in her clipboard before looking back up at him, an inexplicable expression etched across her features.

“do you have any ideas, then, why, for the first time in seemingly forever, you’re fixating on a particular social encounter?”

bakugou barely manages to bite back a scowl.

he hates it—this part. the part where his psychologist obviously has theories as to why he’s acting a certain way or how he’s actually feeling but chooses to ask him instead, in an attempt to draw it out of him.

as if talking about difficult shit in the first place isn’t already painful enough.

and isn’t that what he’s paying her to do? give him answers? why’d he have to be the one to wrack his brain for uncomfortable answers to uncomfortable questions?

“do you?” he then challenges, emboldened by that train of thought just now.

“yes,” she responds truthfully and without missing a beat it somewhat surprises him. “but as i’ve explained to you before, i think it’ll be helpful for you if we try a more active approach on your end so that any insights gleaned from our discussions become more personalized and stick with you longer.”

well, then. fuck.

the lady’s got a point.

“so,” she continues when he doesn’t reply, annoyingly aware her little spiel got to him, “any ideas? working hypotheses?”

“uh,” he starts begrudgingly, eyes roving over the bookshelves lining the room’s walls as he struggles to come up with another angle. then it dawns on him, and he looks directly at the woman. “i didn’t expect to see someone in here, and when i did, it caught me off guard.”

“that may be because most of our clients opt for virtual consultations rather than face-to-face ones.”

“yeah,” he piles on quickly, admittedly thankful for the validation, and for the fact. the absolute last thing he needs is to bump into some extras before and after therapy. “that must be why.”

“but how does that explain your, and i quote, ‘dumb as shit reaction’?”

bakugou instantly feels himself flame. he clears his throat, “i told you, didn’t i? it caught me off guard. how the fuck did you expect me to react?”

that must’ve been a reasonable point, thank the fuck, because the woman pauses in thought before nodding slowly. “i suppose you’re right.”

he narrowly bites back an of course, i am.

but then she’s spouting off again.

“although it’s interesting to me how your immediate reaction was to say hi, when that’s not really…how should i say, your style, based on our prior sessions and your personality test results.”

a pause.

bakugou scrambles for a bulletproof rebuttal. he comes up short.

the lady cocks her head to the side, curious. “how often would you say you mull over social blunders?”

never, he thinks to himself. because they never happen.

“i figured as much,” comes her unexpected reply, and only then does it dawn on him that he said the last bit out loud.

“can we talk about something else?” he finds himself suddenly asking, totally over this entire conversation. he can worry about being a loser and pathetically begging for an out some other time. right now, he just needs a break.

“actually, you’re in luck,” she checks her smartwatch, “the session’s just about to end.”

at that, his shoulders almost instantly sag in relief, which makes the woman laugh. he shoots her a half-hearted glare.

they spend the next few minutes summarizing what has been discussed, as well as the arrangements for the following weeks, with bakugou eventually throwing his bag over his shoulders and bidding her a mumbled goodbye. he tosses her a nod over his shoulder as he crosses the threshold of her office, mind already drifting to what he’s going to cook himself for dinner.

and that, for a typical session, he’s walking out relatively unscathed.

but then he does the stupid thing of looking up from where he was studying his trainers when a door creaks open, and he freezes.

because standing a few feet away from him, right beside the entrance to the restroom, is you, equally frozen.

he doesn’t know how much time passes with him just staring at you like a motherfucking idiot, and you, strangely enough, peering at him back, but it’s you who eventually takes a hammer to the silence.

“h-hi,” you offer, voice soft and quiet, just like how he vaguely remembers it from two weeks ago.

“hey,” comes his gruff reply, which would’ve been immediately followed by a wince at how rough his tone was just now had he not stopped himself in the nick of time.

at least he didn’t stutter.

“…b-bakugou, right?” you ask after a moment of neither of you saying anything, confirming his earlier suspicions.

“right.”

you nod, a polite yet somehow stilted smile on your face, and suddenly he’s mentally slapping himself. since when was he fucking bound to one-word sentences?

he decides then and there that this shit won’t do.

in an attempt to convince himself that no, this is just a weird outlier of an encounter for him, and that no, he’s not a fucking idiot like dunce face, and that yes, he is and is being perfectly fucking normal, he resolves to ask you for your name.

and he was just about to do that—he swears he was—when someone from the other side of the door calls out a name, and you whip to face their direction, breaking eye contact.

“yes, doc!” you holler back, and he watches you as you hesitate in place for a second, before turning to face him with an awkward smile.

“nice meeting you, bakugou-san.”

and then you’re off and shutting the door behind you.

he stands there for what feels like a few minutes, just blinking at the door in front of him, what must be your name echoing—again and again—up to the far recesses of his mind.

then: fuck.

he may or may not have just lied to his therapist.

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!

tagging. @bunnysaursushii @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @iluv-ace @lotuslovers @elarakive @sugurusmoon @napbatata @k0z3me @h0ngh0ngh0ng @honeyoru @yoongiwithglasses @hellokitty-doll @lilsebnem @tetsuukuroo @crangrapel0ver @syrhra @qyuin | @kalulakunundrum @cheezemanz @gold24fish @lunaryasha

[beloveds-embrace]

AND ALSO POLY!141

joking around and calling them your brothers and they go deathly silent because what do you mean tou don’t see them romantically? doesn’t matter if they’re already involved with each other they want you to be just as involved too.

also this is toxic but threatening your various dates, stalking them and taking them out (not in the romantic way) so they have an excuse to hold you close. you get comforted, and they get to embrace your warmth #win-win

Friendzoned? Nah, it’s bro-zoned now 😭

The one good thing about grueling and long missions- were the post-missions.

Without fail, each time, you’d be invited to their house where Price would grill up something delicious and juicy on the barbecue, and everyone would be able to unwind. You enjoyed that time, spending it and relaxing with them.

The dynamic you all shared was easy, comfortable, and fun- at least for you.

You rolled your eyes and tossed a fry at Johnny, who caught it in his mouth with a proud grin and wagged his eyebrows, daring you to try again. “You’re like an annoying big brother, you know that?” you huffed at last, a matching grin on your face.

Johnny froze mid-chew, but you didn’t notice, too busy thinking. “Actually… all of you are like annoying big brothers, now that I think about it.”

You chuckles at your own thought, grabbing another fry from your plate and popping it into your mouth without once realizing the shift in the atmosphere. You didn’t catch the way Soap’s grin had vanished completely or how Price’s hand tightened around the armrest of his chair. Gaz’s usual easy smile was gone, replaced with a cold, unreadable expression, and Ghost… well, Ghost’s dark stare had become a touch more menacing.

The silence hung heavy, but you were blissfully unaware, waving your hand dismissively when no one responded. Your focus was on your phone, scrolling through your social medias. “What? You all went quiet on me.”

Soap cleared his throat, but it came out strained, his voice low. “Brother, huh?”

You hummed absently. “Yeah, you know- family. You guys are my family. Like brothers, watching each other’s backs and all that.”

Price exhaled slowly, sitting back in his chair and running a hand over his beard. “Family.” He repeated, almost under his breath, his voice calm but tight.

Gaz tapped his fingers against the table once, then twice, before stopping abruptly. “Is that all we are to you?” he asked casually enough, though his tone carried an edge you didn’t catch.

“Of course,” you replied with a shrug, not bothering to look up from your food and phone. “I mean, it’d be weird to think of you any other way. You’re my team, my brothers-in-arms.”

You missed the way Ghost’s hands curled into fists on the table, his knuckles white, or the way Soap’s jaw clenched, demeanor replaced with something far darker. Price exchanged a look with Gaz, silent communication passing between them while you obliviously chewed on your steak, still oblivious to the storm brewing around you.

If you’d glanced up, even for a second, you might’ve noticed the way their gazes lingered on you- too intense, too sharp. But you didn’t. And they weren’t about to correct you.

Not yet, anyways.

The first time it happened, you didn’t connect the dots.

Your date, some charming guy you met at a café off base, canceled on you last minute, claiming he “didn’t feel safe” after someone left a threatening note on his car windshield. You shrugged it off as a weird coincidence- maybe it was the universe looking out for you, even. You didn’t want to be dragged into whatever that guy was stuck in.

The second time, a woman from the gym you’d been chatting with stopped replying to your texts entirely after she mentioned being followed home one night. You’d honestly tried to call and check on her, but she just… blocked you. Weird.

By the third time, when a guy you’d met on a dating app ghosted you entirely after his apartment was mysteriously broken into, you started to suspect something was up.

You mentioned it offhandedly to the team one evening, voice tinged with frustration. “I don’t know what’s going on, but every time I try to date someone, something weird happens. It’s like the universe doesn’t want me to find someone!”

Soap hummed, a little too casually, but you simply discarded that thought. “Maybe the universe knows what’s best for you, bonnie.”

Gaz leaned back in his chair, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “Or maybe these people weren’t good enough for you anyway.”

“You’ve got us to look after you. Don’t need anyone else mucking things up.” Even Price added in his own two cents, making you pause.

You laughed, thinking they were joking, but Ghost’s silence was unsettling- actually, none of them were laughing. He just stared at you, his eyes glinting in a way that made your stomach twist. But that was normal for your L.T… even if it’s been quite a long while since he’s made you feel like that.

The fourth time, it wasn’t just a weird incident. It was a full-on assault.

You were on another date- though even you had to admit this one was just… not going well. He was too dismissive, too loud, and the first thing he’d said before you even sat down was that you’d split the bill, and then he made a comment about you eating too much.

You’d sent a simple text to the team groupchat, telling them you really weren’t enjoying this one, and they’d left you on read. Bastards.

But then you date had been walking you to your car when someone stepped out of the shadows- a big, familiar hulking figure in a balaclava. Your date didn’t even have time to react before they were on the ground, unconscious.

“Come on,” Simon said, gently but firmly clasping his hand around yours. You were too shocked to even say anything- what the fuck? “Let’s get you home.”

You didn’t argue. Your heart was pounding too hard, and Simon took advantage of that to guide you to his car.

“Simon-“

“No.”

And thus the silence continued.

When you got back to their house, the others were waiting for you. Price immediately pulled you into a hug before you could demand answers, his hands firm but gentle on your lower back. “You’re safe now.” He murmured, as if soothing an angry kitten lashing out at him from fear. Despite your confusion and the flurry of emotions swirling in your chest, the tension in your body began to melt anyways, always so trusting of your Captain.

Gaz’s hand brushed against yours as he handed you a steaming cup of tea immediately once Price let go of you. His smile was kind, but his eyes seemed… off. Too sharp. “Drink this, yeah? It’ll help.” He said, his fingers lingering a second too long before retreating.

Before you could question the strange atmosphere, Soap tugged you down to sit beside him on the couch. His arm draped around your shoulders, pulling you close as though you were on the verge of breaking. “You’ll be alright,” he murmured, tone light yet firm. “We’ve got you.”

Simon remained silent, leaning against the far wall with his arms crossed. His presence loomed heavy in the room, his gaze never straying from you. It wasn’t comforting exactly- more like being caught in the sights of a predator lying in wait. Is this what the enemy soldiers thought and felt? You pitied them- but more than that you pitied yourself.

Your hands tightened around the warm mug, your confusion bubbling up like a shaken-up fizzy drink. “Okay, what the hell is going on?��� You glanced between them, searching for answers. “Simon knocked out my date! What if he presses charges? And what’s with all this- this hovering?”

“Hovering?” Soap echoed, his arm tightening ever so slightly. “We’re making sure you’re alright, bonnie. That’s all. You said your date wasn’t good, no?”

Price leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he spoke calmly, like he was explaining something obvious to a stubborn recruit. “That man wasn’t worth your time. None of your dates have been. They can’t protect you- not the way we can.”

“What are you even talking about?” you demanded, finally pulling away from Soap’s hold. Yet the feeling of being a bleeding sheep surrounded by wolves didn’t abate. “You’ve been acting so weird lately- ever since I mentioned dating. If there’s something you’re not telling me, just spit it out!”

Gaz sighed, his tone carrying a note of exasperation as he leaned against the couch. “We’re trying to keep you safe, love. Every time you step out with someone, you’re putting yourself at risk. You don’t know these people like we do.”

Your stomach churned. “What do you mean-?”

Gaz chuckled softly, but there was no humor in it, and you did not laugh. “Do you think we’d let you go out with someone without knowing everything about them first? Their names, their jobs, their pasts…” His voice dropped, a edge bleeding into his words. “How to get rid of them.”

Your blood ran cold, and you stared between them. They were dead serious, you realized. “That’s… You’re joking, right? Tell me you’re joking.”

No one answered.

Simon pushed off the wall, his massive frame closing the distance between you in just a few steps. He crouched down in front of you, his dark eyes locking onto yours. You were essentially boxed in from all sides. “We’re not joking. You don’t need anyone else. You’ve got us.”

“…This isn’t normal.” You whispered, your voice shaky as you tried to process what you were hearing. “This- I don’t-“

“It is normal,” Price’s voice was steady and calm, eyes dark. “For us. For the people who care about you most.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as the implications of their words sank in. They weren’t just being overprotective or overbearing. They were sabotaging your dates, controlling who could get close to you, and now- God, had they hurt people? How many had they hurt? All those people- you-

Your hands trembled, though you braved on even if bravery was the last thing you felt. “You can’t just decide this for me. I’m not some possession you can keep to yourselves.”

“We’re not keeping you from anything you need,” Gaz spoke so softly, you could trick yourself into believing he was saying you could leave and this was all just a mean prank. “We’re protecting you from what you don’t.”

“You should be thanking us,” Proce sighed, pulling out a cigar to smoke. Yet his eyes did not leave you even once, not even for a single second. “We’re the reason you’ve been safe so far.”

Simon’s gloved hands rested on your knees, pinning you down to the couch. “We’ll take care of you,” he said, his voice low and almost soothing. “Always.”

You wanted to argue, to push them away, but the realization- the full weight of what they had done hit you like a freight train. You stood abruptly, pushing past Simon and cutting through the tense silence in the room. Their eyes followed your every move, like predators watching prey.

“I can’t… I can’t do this,” you stammered, stepping back toward the door. “This isn’t normal. None of this is normal. You can’t just- control my life like this!”

“Sit down, love.” Price said, his voice calm, but the edge in it was unmistakable.

“No, no,” you shot back, shaking your head as you took another step toward the door. “I’m leaving. I need some space. This- this is insane.”

Gaz rose from his chair, moving to block your path to the exit. His expression was so deceptively soft, but his stance was firm, unyielding. “You’re not thinking clearly, love.” He said, low. “Just sit down. We’ll talk it through.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you snapped, your voice rising with panic. “You’ve been stalking me- sabotaging my life! That’s not protection. That’s obsession!”

Soap stood then, and his expression made you flinch. He stepped closer, effectively boxing you in again as he joined Gaz. “We’re not letting you walk out that door.” He said simply, but his words were anything but.

You turned toward the only other way out, but Simon was already there, his massive frame looming in the doorway to the hall. He didn’t say a word, just stared, his presence alone enough to make your stomach twist.

Your breathing quickened as you turned back to Price, the only one still seated, though his gaze was sharp and calculating. “You can’t keep me here, Price,” you said, your voice trembling but still clinging to the traces of defiance. “You don’t have the right-“

“We do have the right,” Price interrupted, standing slowly. The sheer authority- the sheer finality in his voice made your knees weak. “Because we’re the only ones who care about you the way we do. The only ones who’ll keep you safe. Your team, remember, darling?”

“This isn’t safety,” you hissed, backing toward the wall. “This is prison.”

Price mouthed the word, then huffed a humorless laugh. “We’re not locking you up. But we will stop you from running into danger. Even if you don’t understand it now, you’ll thank us later.”

“You can’t just-“

“Enough,” Simon cut in, sharp and blunt, his voice cutting through your protests like a knife. “You’re not leaving. Not now. Not ever.”

Your back hit the wall, your escape routes blocked on all sides. Your chest heaved as you looked at each of them, searching for even a sliver of remorse. But all you saw was determination, faces set in stone…

Much like your fate.

[almostfoxglove]

ALI FAKHSDJGKH okay it's taken me 100 years to reblog this but I WANTED TO QUOTE SO MANY PARTS IT WAS IMPOSSIBLE TO NARROW THEM DOWN. holy shit. this was??? EVERYTHING. like, this is the canon I needed - redemption for what could have been with Helena and fulfillment of every delusion I've ever had about this man. it felt so true to the world of the show and to javi I'm actually announcing this as Canon. sorry folks!! I don't make the rules!!

gonna pop some favorite bits under the cut :,) AH

“You switched your hair up today,” Javier notes one night, sipping his coffee and flicking off the ash of his cigarette, his eyes following the way your hair is pulled up loosely and framing your face, “looks good—good, I like it.”

lord help me I would not survive this I am NOT god's strongest warrior I am a puddle on the FLOOR this is him holding the secretary's finger and complimenting her nail polish all over again DSDKFHJK

“Are you really DEA?” You ask, his expression urging you to lower your volume as he takes a seat beside you, “Is that a lie?”

this is SO HEARTBREAKING ALI like what the FUCK oh my god. I feel like I can hear her and see her scared face and I'm going to cRY ABOUT IT

“I don’t think you want my opinion,” He answers vaguely, swiping the counter for his keys. “Just admit it,” You tease him with the words tossed over your shoulder as you grab for your jacket, “It’s fuckable.”

sdhkfjhaskjhgfa

“Mierda, your fucking hands—” He doesn’t even mean it in a sexual context, but the pressure you apply is perfect, pinpoint even, knuckles rolling against the base of his neck as his mouth opens, an embarrassing sound slipping beyond his lips as you chuckle softly, watching as he lifted his head in shame, “okay—okay, you’re done.”

OHHHHH, to take javier pena apart with a massage!! HOW I YEAAARRRN

“Yeah, pretty difficult,” You jest at his expense, his smile lines creasing as he grinned slightly, “I have this asshole in my apartment—annoyingly cocky, hates massages. God, the worst—”

I love them so much. she's so charming and brings out the CRINKLY EYES and I would die for them both ok ANY DAY ANY TIME

“Not much longer, chiquita,” Javier reminds, seeming to hear your discomfort immediately.

this is so !!!!! JAVI. saying it without saying it, ya know? that he sees her. I'm gonna cry brb

“Where did he touch you?” Javier asks casually, eyes closed as he pressed gentle kisses to the inside of your thigh, pushing your shirt up higher as you guided his hand over your hip and down toward your ass and squeezing gently. “There,” You admit before guiding his hand further up, alongside your ribs and around your back, another gentle squeeze before guiding his hand around and over your breasts, “and there—here,”

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” Javier promises, suddenly closer than you’ve ever known him to allow himself outside of sex, his finger drags along your chin and forces it up, looking at him, “¿Entiendes?”

MY HEART POUNDED SO HARD AT THIS PART I DONT THINK YOU UNDERSTAND

It’s just sex, you can hear the words before they roll off his tongue, ignoring your second question entirely. Tell me where he touched you.

*screams heard in the distance* *more wailing* *barking* *hollering*

“Baby, we have to go,” Javier urges, “I have to get you out.”

THE URGENT IN THE MOMENT NOT THINKING "BABY"??? MY PERSONAL KRYPTONITE?? ALI THIS WAS AN ATTEMPT ON MY LIFE

“It was a tracker,” You mumble eventually, “when he was feeling me up that night—it was because he was trying—well, he—he did, he put a—”

oh my god the pain of this realization fucking SLAPPED ME I just!! was there!! feeling her fear!! my chest is so TIGHT the angst is so GOOD

“I hope you’re okay, please come home.” It wasn’t a cry for help this time, but still a phrase that was special. A code, a message. A lifeline.

this was such a perfect ending. hopeful and soft but also still so javi!! and I'm obsessed with it. I've read this three times, oops. AND WILL DO IT AGAIN <3 all the ways you wove in the moodboard (THEIR LITTLE CODE PHRASE AHHHHH) are so fucking perfect and seamless. ugh. so good. thank you soso much for joining the challenge and sharing this fucking masterpiece with us, WE HAVE BEEN BLESSED. you are a talent and a gem and I adore you <3

𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃 | Javier Pena x reader

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summary | Javier's a creature of habit, a man of opportunity, and you were unlucky enough to find him when he's at his most desperate.

author's note | written for @almostfoxglove angst challenge, i really hope i did this moodboard justice ghjfkd. thank you @amanitacowboy for reassuring me while writing this behemoth + translations are at the end.

content warning | 18+ MDNI, informant!reader, set through beginning of season 3 narcos to end, angst, smut, involvement with the cali cartel, paying for info and sex, javier's a gentleman i swear, gratuitous smut, jealous!javi, protected/unprotected piv, creampies, oral (f receiving), some vague violence toward the end, happy ending

word count — 10k

The new influx of customers has been an adjustment, used to the elder regulars with orders that never changed and people who were grabbing a bite after a late night shift, it left you flustered as you reached for the pen and paper shoved into your apron, smoothing out the cloth as you approach the group of men, carrying on their conversation without a care.

“El envío llega el domingo,” It was Friday, which meant whatever was coming in would be here in a couple days—they never said what, but it was always something.

And their eyes always eat you up, hair pulled back loosely as you greet them with a smile, taking down their order as they keep their sights locked on you and commenting on the swing of your hips and the curve of your ass as you depart. 

Like rabid dogs, feral and hungry.

You’ve learned to catalog their conversation, catching onto a regular pattern of when things were coming in and out, knowing that whatever nefarious business they are involved in couldn’t be good—but they tipped well and that wasn’t lost on you.

It was almost a month of daily interaction when a new customer pops in, nearing midnight as he settles into his booth quietly, thin button-up stretching over his shoulders as he removed his jacket and tossed it into the space beside him, yellow tinted sunglasses tucked into his shirt, catching the ashtray with a single finger and lighting the cigarette already settled between his lips.

You attempt to greet him, lips parting before he interrupts you, barely acknowledging your presence as he spits out the order for a coffee, black. Dickhead, you think. The pen and paper is shoved away in your pocket and you swing your hips around the counter to fulfill his order with a side of spitefulness.

When you approached again, it was with a nauseatingly sweet smile.

“Can I get you anything else?” You ask, catching his eyes briefly as they flicker up before he shakes his head, a roar of laughter and slaps coming from the booth a few feet away, perking your eyes up at the subtle information they were sharing, scooting out of the both as they slapped a bill on the table, passing by with a vicious smirk that had your blood running cold, the graze of fingertips brushing against your ass that had you biting down on the inside of your cheek to steady yourself, nearly falling into the table as they pushed by.

The stranger perks up at that, his eyes trailing over your body with the same robotic motion as them, but with an air of curiosity, like he was examining you and your reaction. 

“No—no, just the coffee,” He assures you, both of you watch as the group of men climb into their shared truck, “those your regulars?”

“Unfortunately,” You let slip without thinking, “I’m sure their boss would hate to hear how loud they talk about all transfers and shipments—can’t imagine it’s anything good.”

His eyes drag to your breasts, more pointedly toward the nametag pinned in your shirt. 

He speaks your name before introducing himself, “Javier,” He addresses, turning to dig into his jacket before he pulls out a leather wallet, opening it to flash off his credentials, “DEA.”

“Oh–I’m…I’m not…involved with them, if that’s what you think…” You don’t know why the revelation has your nerves shot, but the fingers that wrap around your wrist ground you.

Javier has spent weeks—not a single lead or piece of evidence to follow. You were his saving grace, a goddamn miracle. He tugs lightly, pulling your attention to him.

“How often do they come in here?”

“Uh,” You blink rapidly, trying to think, “Um—three or four times a week, usually every other day.”

He speaks your name gently, his demeanor changing as he releases his hold on your wrist before he motions for you to sit, looking around briefly to assess how busy the restaurant was.

At this hour, it was only you and him.

You slide into the booth and place your palms against the table, fiddling nervously with your fingers, watching as he puffed at the cigarette a few times before placing it in the ashtray, followed by a generous sip of his coffee. 

“Everything they’ve told you,” Javier begins, pointing his finger vaguely in your direction before he points down, fingertip pressing against the table, “tell me—not a detail spared.”

You swallow the lump in your throat as your mouth opens, tongue dragging against your bottom lip as you try to access the memory stored in the back of your brain before you remember the small, mostly indecipherable notes you had been taking.

You rip the wrinkled paper from your notepad and pass it over, his brow furrowing as he attempts to decipher the information and to your surprise, he does.

Unknowingly, you had captured a loose schedule they seemed to follow when they shipped things in and out, the day trading off as weeks passed, constantly changing to throw off suspicion, but eventually things overlapped and repeated.

Quietly, Javier pulls his wallet from his pocket and tosses over a wad of bills in your direction.

You stare at it blankly, eyes dragging up to his face as he nods toward the money.

“Should cover the coffee—and a tip.”

You reach for the money, pulling it apart to count, suspicious of the amount.

Prying the bills apart you count, eyes widening as the number rises.

“Sir—uh, Javier. This is…too much.”

“Not for the information,” He clarifies, peering cautiously over his shoulder, “If I come back every week can you promise more?”

You scoff lightly, pocketing the money regardless, “I can’t promise anything—besides, it’s always the same stuff. Just when things are coming and going, nothing more.”

“Can you get more?” Javier asks curiously, an eyebrow raising as he taps the ash off the cigarette and brings it to his lips, “Like, names—anything?”

“I can try, but—”

“I’ll pay.”

Unfortunately, waitressing was a shitty job.

And you were more than willing to allow Javier to turn you into his little informant.

You nod quietly.

-

His order changes depending on his mood.

He never orders food, usually coffee or whiskey.

Nothing less, nothing more.

And you do dig deeper, giving in to the absurd attempts at flirting and playing it up, allowing the occasional touches that make your skin crawl, returning them with fervor. Luckily, you had a strong stomach and handled it with ease, catching the names of the four that frequented the restaurant often, curiously asking about work and life, giving them vague or fake answers for your own when they pried.

“Three are single,” You tell Javier as you slide him a glass of whiskey neat, “desperately.”

Surprisingly, he chuckles at that. You’ve never heard it before.

It’s a nice sound.

“One is married, two kids.” 

You pass him a piece of paper with names and information, trading off for the cash he transfers in return, pocketing it inconspicuously. He’s never there at the same time as them, so the weight on your shoulders is lifted, but the creeping feeling of being watched stays put.

“You switched your hair up today,” Javier notes one night, sipping his coffee and flicking off the ash of his cigarette, his eyes following the way your hair is pulled up loosely and framing your face, “looks good—good, I like it.”

“They like it down,” You retort with a forced smile as a customer passes by with a nod, “so—up it is.”

Conversation was always easy with Javier, his charisma oozes out without even trying. It was natural for him, casually taking your hand into his during a slow shift, examining the lack of jewelry.

“Could get you a fake one, if it would help,” Javier suggests.

Unless you already had one, of course. His eyes flick up in a silent question.

“I don’t think it would matter,” You admit, “If they want something, they’re going to get it.”

The routine continues like this for a while, until eventually, it doesn’t.

A new group of men come in one Friday, the other, and another, throwing you off kilter.

They started rotating them, keeping you on edge as the information is becoming harder to obtain despite your attempts to dig and frustrations arise in Javier, but never with you.

Sometimes they don’t even speak at all, hushed tones at the table unless you’re needed—but, occasionally they get messy. It’s usually the younger guys, inexperienced, fresh-faced, eager to please the big boss but riding on an uncapped power high.

One of the men gets particularly ostentatious, always coming in on a drunken stupor and slurred words, eyeing you like a piece of meat that he was eager to sink his teeth into. He slips you his number more than once, ignores your polite attempts at a subject change when the rest of the men are hyping him up, and rarely takes your refusal into consideration. 

Eventually the fear that has built in you overflows, suspicion arising when you leave work a night after Javier had long departed, a night of very little information exchange outside of casual talk—and even that was forced, understanding how frustrated Javier had become. 

One of the men had stuck around, only a brief crossover as Javier had stepped into the restaurant, his eyes tracking you the entire way out before you’re pulled in by Javier’s voice ordering his drink of the night, squeezing his shoulder gently in response.

You should have known better, you should have spoken up.

Javier would’ve done something then, but instead, you convince yourself to forget about that uncomfortable feeling that crept in. You knew what would help, biding your time until Javier left for the night, ignoring how he seemed to eye you too, but with a glazed over expression of worry.

There was a car you barely noticed, swallowed up by shadows and turning on as you drove down the road when you finally clocked out, the minutes dragging before you pulled into the parking lot of the chapel you had sped towards with a weight on your chest and a sick feeling in the pit of your stomach.

You couldn’t recall that last time you had visited, but you were desperate now more than ever.

You needed solace.

Prayer comes naturally, dedicated to begging for protection over yourself, allowing the silence of the space to consume you as soft footsteps of other patrons walked by, just raising your chin as a hand clasps over your shoulder, nearly falling to your ass as you turn to connect the owner of the hand to a body. 

“Javier?” You ask quizzically, “Did you follow me?”

“No?” He looks confused, answering with full honesty.

That twisting feeling in your gut sinks further, looking around briefly.

“I can provide protection,” Javier tells you, “if you need it.”

You stay quiet, chewing gently at your bottom lip, scanning the room for familiar faces.

“Something is wrong, isn’t it? I could sense it, back at the diner.”

There was only Javier, still mostly a stranger.

“Are you really DEA?” You ask, his expression urging you to lower your volume as he takes a seat beside you, “Is that a lie?”

“I spent a long time trying to take down Escobar, I find that kind of insulting, chiquita.”

He’s met with silence, understanding your need for reassurance. 

“Yes, I am,” He tells you, his gaze unwavering, “I should’ve offered a protection detail to you from the jump, but I figured me being around often enough would work—did someone follow you here?”

“I don’t know, I kinda lost sight of them.”

You fall silent, staring at a crease in the denim of his jeans as you speak. 

“Should I be worried?” You ask quietly, turning your body toward him, “Like—are they going to kill me?”

“They’re getting uneasy,” Javier responds vaguely, before assuring, “Not because of you.”

“I should…I should tell you,” You take a breath, “One of them invited me to a party, I have his number. I told him I would have to work some things out, but I never…”

“Was it this weekend?” Javier asks suddenly, the lines in his forehead creasing at the mention.

“Yeah—yeah, why—”

“Say yes,” Javier urges, “I’ll keep you safe.”

It was a big promise, but Javier’s pleading eyes worked like a spell.

“This is gonna cost, Javier.”

“Name your price, hermosa.”

–

Javier’s touch is white-hot, cigarette tucked between his lips as he brushes your hair behind your ear and presses the in-ear monitor inside, hiding it behind the gaudy jewelry attached to your ear and adjusts your hair back over, stepping back and raking his eyes over your frame casually, pinching the cigarette from his lips with his thumb and pointer finger as he blows the smoke out.

“It’s small enough they won’t notice but try and keep it covered,” He tells you, his free hand shoved into his front pocket as his presence fills your apartment, moving around sheepishly under his gaze, “I’ll be a few minutes away, if anything goes south I’ll get you out.”

You stumble slightly slipping on your heels, caught by his tight grip as he steadies you. 

“Sorry—I’m freaking out,” You admit, looking away nervously as his grip loosens but doesn’t leave, firm around your bicep as you sleep your other foot inside the hell, “Th—thank you.”

“You smoke?” Javier asks causally as you stand.

“Not really,” You respond, “Occasionally, I guess. It’s probably more social, if I’m being honest.”

He plucks the cigarette from his mouth and offers it to you, placing it between your lips as you take a small puff without thinking or being told, an effective way to calm your nerves as you focused on the action as he points toward the cigarette, “Don’t drink or smoke anything they give you tonight,” Javier warns, “communication works both ways, I need you coherent.”

He pulls the cigarette away and places it between his own lips again.

The nicotine stings your throat and chest, giving you a noticeable distraction that calms your mind. “How do I look?” You force a tight smile, twirling on your feet as the dress clung to your curves, a soft, velvet red, “Fuckable, I hope. Otherwise I’m not getting anything out of them.”

Javier snorts at that, brow creasing at your crudeness.

“I don’t think you want my opinion,” He answers vaguely, swiping the counter for his keys.

“Just admit it,” You tease him with the words tossed over your shoulder as you grab for your jacket, “It’s fuckable.”

“Yeah, sure,” He mumbles around the cigarette between his lips, “fuckable.”

The way the word rolls of his tongue is visceral, ignoring the pulse between your legs at the vibrato in his voice and the chuckle that follows—regardless, it helped ease your nerves. 

–

It’s loud, sweaty, and overwhelming.

You thought they would choose something less…obvious.

But, it was becoming more and more clear how much of the town was under the Cali Cartel’s payroll, learning more and more information as Javier shared it with you in bits and pieces, your curiosity getting the better of you.

The idea was to mingle, drifting far enough away from your date that you might happen upon one of Javier’s more meaningful targets, not going as far as to infiltrate the heads, but someone damaging if you sunk your teeth in. 

You quickly come upon the realization that most of the men are confusing you with entertainment, rather than being a guest, quickly side-stepping the hands that reach for you as you squeeze your way toward the bar, sliding into an empty seat with a breath of relief.

“They are animals,” The voice beside you speaks—belonging to a man who was scientifically handsome; oddly perfect, hair perfectly coiffed and mused into place, a perfect set of teeth hidden behind plush lips and piercing green eyes—you had memorized the face in the picture Javier had shown you, “¿Cómo te va? ¿Lo estás pasando bien?”

You almost forget he’s talking to you for a moment, staring up at him distractedly before Javier’s voice speaks softly in your ear, “Answer him, chiquita. He’ll get suspicious.”

“Oh, yes,” You answer quickly, moving in closer to converse over the roar of music and the heavy buzz of strobe lights flashing overhead, “I seem to have lost my date, though.”

“Don’t worry,” He smirks, “I will keep you company.”

It does take a few drinks and you nursing your own, but you play into the act of being a mere accessory on the mysterious man’s arm, allowing him to drag you around the club with no real path to follow, eventually ending up with a smaller group of men huddled away in a corner, standing dutiful and quiet as the men talk amongst themselves in obscure words, almost like a code. 

“I can’t—I can’t hear them,” Javier’s speech is garbled, drown out by the music as you squint at the pain of the feedback in your ear, “can’t—hurry—”

Eventually, you find an opening to excuse yourself.

“Hermosa,” The voice freezes you in place, but the touch is gentle, surprisingly, “I would like to see you again, outside of here—”

You quickly ramble off the name of the diner, attempting to pull away, but not before a kiss is pressed against the front of your hand, feeling the heat burn through your skin like a brand before you’re slipping through the crowd, unable to take a deep breath until you’re outside.

You walk the distance to where Javier had parked originally, finding him buried deep in a conversation with someone who had pulled up in another car, hands curled around the driver’s side window, his head turning as he heard the distinct click of your heels.

“Fuck,” He curses, approaching you with his hands hovering around you—not touch or prodding, almost hesitant to cross that boundary unless it was absolutely needed, “are you alright?”

“Yeah,” You answer confused, nose scrunching up as you peered around him at the unknown agent, his window rolling up before he drove off, “what’s that about?”

“We think someone might have jammed the comms—there’s no way to know, it could have been the club itself, one of the agents is going to look into it—”

“Can you drive me home?” You interrupt suddenly, rubbing at the spot on your hand that the man had kissed, feeling dirty, “I’m full up on being felt up tonight and I want to change.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Javier replies after a moment of hesitation, “let’s go.”

You rip the device from your ear the moment the passenger door closes.

–

Javier places your heels against the floor as you walk barefoot into your apartment, a simple but kind gesture as your belongings scattered against your kitchen counter, fingers dragging through the front of your hair and back as you smeared your makeup in the process.

“Oh, the uh—the code,” You remember suddenly, “something about a bridge, as the sun rises…something with water. The guy, the picture you showed me. He approached the four you told me were important. I don’t think they liked me being there, but I also think they assumed I was too ignorant to remember a few words.”

Javier pauses, hands digging into his hips as he paces near your door.

“Do you want a beer?” You ask curiously, the furrow in his brow sinking deep as he attempts to decipher the code, he nods silently.

You figured with the information bestowed he would leave, but instead he stays, sipping at his beer for over an hour as you watch him move, his brain working things out in real time.

He’s beside you know, hands pressed into the counter as he pushed his body away, staring down at his feet as he repeated the words aloud, but quietly, like a murmur. 

“Are you sure they aren’t distributing right under your nose?”

Javier’s head tilts to the side as he looks at you, confused by your analogy.

You stare out your window for a moment, curtains pushed open, the gray luminescence of the moon illuminating the inky night sky, “I mean, they’re obviously paying people off, always partying at clubs—wait, the bridge and water,” A thought pops into your head, grabbing Javier by the hand before you’re pulling him to your apartment window, “what if they’re meeting on boats? I mean, not to say that’s how it’s getting it in, but—”

“That…makes sense,” Javier says, void of any distinct emotion as he takes a long chug of his beer before placing it on the ledge of the window, rubbing at the shoulder of his opposite arm.

“Annoyed you didn’t think about it first?” You tease, turning to tilt your head at him like he had earlier.

“Hadn’t gotten that far yet, we’re still trying to put the pieces together,” He grimaces at the tightened muscles, rolling his neck as his hands settle back against his hips, “that’ll help, though.”

“Sit down,” You urge him, pointing toward your couch and Javier looks at you with dull amusement before you’re urging him again with your insistent finger, eventually he relents.

Immediately, you round the back of the couch and allow your fingers to dig into his shoulder, working out the soreness with deft fingers, “Shit—you don’t have to,” Javier begins to protest before your hand is curling around the back of his head and pushing it forward, molding him to how you needed him positioned as your fingers dig in deep, “that’s, fuck, that’s…shit, right there.”

His voice is pure erotica, but it makes your lips curl in amusement. It was that pathetic desperation you heard so often from the men you served daily—that slight pitch to their tone as they tried to grab your attention, but with Javier, he’s completely detached.

His hands were tucked between his legs, head resting forward as you dug in with a strong, pointed touch, his groan reverberating down his spine. 

“Mierda, your fucking hands—” He doesn’t even mean it in a sexual context, but the pressure you apply is perfect, pinpoint even, knuckles rolling against the base of his neck as his mouth opens, an embarrassing sound slipping beyond his lips as you chuckle softly, watching as he lifted his head in shame, “okay—okay, you’re done.”

“Oh, come on,” You tease, “I was just getting started.”

Javier shakes his head and stifles the laughter in his chest, resting against your couch as his hands circle the beer in his grasp, looking up at your face, tilted down toward his own as your fingers curl around the back of the couch, straps slipping down your shoulders in your relaxed state.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Javier checks, given you’ve had a proper amount of time to wind down from the adrenaline of being inside the club surrounded by dealers and potential kingpins.

He’s worried. He barely knows you and he’s still worried.

“It’s a rush,” You admit candidly, “But, I’m pretty resilient, Javier. Work is work. I’ve dealt with worse assholes on the job, I’m good at putting on a face when I need to.”

“What about now?” Javier asks curiously, eyes exploring your morphing expression of amusement to bashfulness, the way he’s staring at you outright, words unspoken.

“Yeah, pretty difficult,” You jest at his expense, his smile lines creasing as he grinned slightly, “I have this asshole in my apartment—annoyingly cocky, hates massages. God, the worst—”

He doesn’t like the way this job winds him up, the tension taught in his spine and unrelenting, staring up at you with a tinge of a buzz from the alcohol and the sight of your sloping breasts spilling out of your dress.

He’s used to driving miles and miles for peace of mind and a nice body to sink into, but you’re here, you’re smiling at him and he’d be damned to refuse the opportunity you’re presenting to him, leaning down as his hand comes up without thinking, twisting in your hair as his head turns to meet yours at the same angle, placing his beer down in the same instance.

“The fucking worst,” He echoes, his hands crawling up the edge of your dress as you climb over the couch with his guidance, speaking through rushed exchanges of lips, his hot, beer-tainted breath against your skin as he situates the dress up at your hips, straddling him without a second thought, “you were right about the dress—”

“Fuckable,” You both agree in unison, sighing audibly at the kiss he places to your chin, neck, shoving his face between the valley of your breasts as you work silently at his jeans, the clang of his buckle, metal against metal as you loosen it enough to free his straining cock, his breath catching as you wrap your fingers around the velvety skin of his shaft.

“M-My wallet,” He chokes out, muffled as your tongue dips into his mouth, stop briefly to savor the touch as his hands cups your face, eventually drifting into your hair in a similar manner to earlier but then he’s tugging, “got—got a condom.”

“Of course you do,” You snort in merriment, “is that—is that what we’re doing?”

Javier nods eagerly, never separating more than a millimeter from your lips as you stare at him, his eyes staring right back, searching your expression for any minute twitch of deception.

When Javier fits himself inside of you it is with a broken grunt, a curse under his breath, and a hand squeezing tight at your hip, fingers digging into the bunched up cloth as he wraps his opposite arm around your back, pulling you toward him with a sharp snap of his hips.

You gasp, falling over the back of the couch as your hands grasped at the surface in desperation, the start of a quick but all consuming pace of his hips, his lips mouthing at your skin; arms, fingers, even over your ribs, biting gently through the velvety fabric of your dress, stifling his shaky moans, attempting to avoid the glaringly obvious fact that he hasn’t been able to release his stress like this in weeks.

A willing participant, a body, convenience. 

Deep down, you know. 

But, you found yourself in the same mix of issues.

Regardless, you both ignore it.

–

Javier is gone by morning—or, what is left of it. 

The exhaustion of the night and the sex catching up to you, coming undone on his cock as he gripped your ass, feeling the bruises he’d left in the process and remembering the soft, filthy words of encouragement he had whispered against your skin as you came.

He even locked your apartment and slipped the key under the crack in the door, stumbling toward the glinting gold piece on the ground and the folded up note on the ground, eyebrow creasing at the sight as you kneel to the ground, adjusting your dress hastily. You squint to read the hastily written note.

Got a lead. Money is for last night.

You peel the paper open and spot the money inside, eyes widening as you slowly realize that this was far more than he’s given you before, nearly double the first time, slowly you fold the paper back over and check the back, inspecting the item as a whole before you notice the writing on the back.

We should do it again sometime, chiquita. 

You look up at the door slowly, at the cash, before peering over your shoulder at the couch, still indented with sleep and a blanket strewn carelessly over the cushions.

He paid you for sex. He’d made it transactional. 

There’s a brief moment where you’re stricken with offense, half the mind to track him down and chew him out, but you remember how your exchange started and ultimately how it would end.

Plus, it was half your rent paid for from the result of the type of sex you haven’t allowed yourself to have in far too long, disconnected from feeling and fully freeing. 

Besides, it must be a regular thing for Javier and you couldn’t even blame him.

He was only doing his job.

–

A protection detail does work for a brief time, at least, it eases some of your worry.

It was a younger agent, Javier had told you, little to no responsibility outside of keeping his eyes on you and reporting back when necessary. As some of the leads start to blossom, Javier appears less and less, but still follows through on his payments when you have information to exchange, even if it’s only a name or time of day for something.

You do find the boldness to ask him about the money he’d forked over for sex, flowing lightly into conversation as he gives you a recount of his time with Escobar after a night of curiosity and lacking customers drags you into the booth beside him.

Always taking careful note of any personal tidbits he would offer. You knew he wasn’t married or that, at the very least, he was an expert at hiding it. No kids, no spouse, no baggage.

“Is it hush money?” You ask bravely, counting through your tips for the night as he sips gingerly at the glass half full of whiskey, “Because if so, I wasn’t going to tell anyone anyways.”

His brow creases, confused for a brief second before you mouth the words.

My couch, the sex.

“Didn’t want things getting confusing,” Javier admits, “If it’s any consolation, the sex was good.”

“You’re too complicated for me anyways,” You snort softly, separating the bills accordingly as you glance over at him briefly, a soft hum in his throat as his lips wrap around the edge of his glass as he downs the rest of the liquor, “Was it a one time thing?”

“Doesn’t have to be,” Javier admits, “figured I should draw the line early—you aren’t offended are you? Because if you need me to remind you how good it—”

As you finish, dragging the money into one pile, you shrug, “I’m off in thirty.”

The sway of your hips as you exit the booth and head toward the back of the restaurant is enough to have Javier suffering half-hard in his jeans, legs widening as he inconspicuously rubs his palm over the denim to adjust himself, awaiting the small nod of your head around the corner that comes half an hour later. 

–

Javier is efficient, you learn.

What first starts off as a casual trade turns into pure, unrestrained stress relief. 

It bleeds into work for both of you, finding time to drag him off into the back office when you knew it was available, fucking over the desk with any empty kitchen and diner as the hours waned into the early morning and everyone was either on break or asleep.

You never offer up much about yourself, very little about your life before moving to Colombia or why you’ve stuck around for so long—but he does know you’re disconnected from your family almost entirely, completely alone.

He has a huge family back in Laredo, people that clearly care about him, catching him on the phone with his father one night as they bickered lightheartedly, something about Javier needing to find time to vacation sooner rather than later.

When you have sex at your apartment, he always smokes afterwards, whether in your bed or by the open window in your living room, always careful about the barrier of clothing that remains, never entirely naked in front of one another.

He doesn’t look at you either, won’t kiss you further than something quick—a wet, sloppy exchange of tongues as he fucks into you from behind, pulled back tight to his chest as his hand strains and squeezes around your neck to turn your head toward him.

And he never stays, doesn’t stay hung up on goodbyes. 

He waits until you’re asleep, places the money at your bedside, and leaves.

But, there is a moment when you hear the tone in his voice switch, almost offended.

You’re both naked from the waist down and he’s thrusting into you lazily as his lips latch onto the section where your neck meets your shoulder, recounting the details that you’ve learned today, easily killing two birds with one stone.

He mentioned something earlier that night about a bust gone wrong, chewing frustratedly at his bottom lip as he spoke more with his eyes than his words before you had dragged him toward the back.

“Benny offered to take me on a date,” You address lightly, voice hitched as Javier used his palm against the inside of your thigh to spread it wider before it curls around the back of your knee and pulls up high over his lip, “he bought me an outfit and everything.”

He racks through the catalog of names in his brain.

Benny. Benny…Benito?

He wasn’t aware he’d spoked the name out loud until you’re responding with a soft acknowledgement as the desk bangs against the wall, your hand flattening out behind you for support, “Yes—same thing. I’m sure it’s for the—”

“The gala, yeah.”

He had spent the past few weeks trying to approach a way to get inside, knowing that this would be an opportunity to track the ever-expanding tree of sellers and suppliers, a front for the obvious drug trade that was happening, as you phrased it, right under his nose. 

The boat lead had only gotten them so far, knowing that there was much more nefarious shit going on that he was grasping at straws to collect off of, using you as his main source of information.

He knows it’s dangerous, but damn were you good at it.

“When did that c—come up?” Javier asks, grunting into your neck as his orgasm creeped in, his fingers drifting expertly over your clit as they had a dozen times before.

“Couple weeks ago,” You reply casually, both you falling into your eventual orgasms and only hearing him speak as he’s already disposed of his condom and was buttoning his jeans up.

“When were you gonna tell me that?”

It feels like a heavy weight on your chest, the clear betrayal in his voice coming from absolutely nowhere, immediately forcing you into defense mode as you sneer at him, adjusting your top back into your jeans as you tie your apron around your waist.

“I’m telling you now,” You retort, “I wasn’t even sure he dropped the clothes off here yesterday.”

It couldn’t have been that crucial of a detail, given that the gala wasn’t happening for another week according to the information that had been figured out.

Javier looks stiff suddenly, shoving his wallet into his back pocket before your hand is twisting around his bicep and shoving him back until he faces you.

“Is there something you need to say?” Your eyebrows raise slightly, expectant of the harsh words that were bound to be slung your way.

“I’m paying for information—honesty, too.”

“Yeah, well, you’re also paying to have sex with me.”

Javier isn’t sure why he feels it—it isn’t jealousy, necessarily. Just betrayal, that over the last few months you didn’t feel comfortable enough to share the information with him immediately, weary of the temptations of the cartel and the idea that they could pull you in, flip you against him.

He worries for your safety and well-being, knowing that he would be the one living with that guilt if anything happened to you. You were a friend at the very least, something few and far between for Javier after Steve had left. If he wasn’t at work or his own apartment, he was with you.

Javier forces a breath through his nose and huffs, eyes flicking toward you intensely. 

“It’s important to know this shit, so we can prepare.”

“Well, I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure, alright? It’s not like I’m keeping secrets. I’m sure you could do your research on me if you wanted, if you haven’t already. I have nothing to hide and nothing to gain, Javier.”

His shoulders relax slightly, widening as he puffs his chest out and takes a breath, “Yeah, but they have plenty to gain from you—we have to stay ahead.”

Always one step ahead.

–

The gala comes and goes without much preamble—and you know you’re serving as mostly arm candy, dressed scantily as you hand on the arm of a man you barely know, paraded around as a prize he’s won and showing off to his friends, but he’s surprisingly respectful.

Or, biding his time. You couldn’t tell. 

You don’t force off his small advances, a gentle touch or something too close for comfort as he lips pressing against the shell of your ear, whispering something you don’t pay much attention to as you survey the event, spotting a flurry of faces familiar and unfamiliar, picking up on names and information as it arises.

Javier could still hear everything on his end with the small, nearly invisible communication device shoved into your ear, hidden underneath your hair similar to last time, careful of which side you allowed Benny on.

“My boss is sending us on vacation soon,” You didn’t pay much attention, but Javier was, “could be fun, if you wanted to go—I could talk to him, he’d like you.”

Perfect. Useful. You can already hear the words that would float around if the opportunity arises. You prayed it would never get that far.

“Change the subject,” Javier says tensely, knowing you were traversing into dangerous territory.

“I’m sure your boss won’t mind, I’ll talk to him, too,” You can feel the smirk over your shoulder before you turn, wondering if he had ever met the owner of the diner or he was purely assuming, regardless, you laugh it off quietly.

“I have to stick around and keep things going, they wouldn’t survive without me,” You switch gears easily, “I don’t see you often, just your friends—why don’t you come around more?”

He’s only appeared a couple times and both were brief, first to ask you to the gala and then to give you the dress, almost like he’d rather avoid the place entirely. You were careful of giving him any personal information outside of where you worked, knowing that it wasn’t already accessible information.

“Is that what you want?”

“I don’t think it’s about what I want, is it?” You retort playfully, a smirk growing on his face as his thumb slides over your chin, careful how deep of a jab you make, “It’s up to you.”

Benito’s hand rubs over the back of your dress and down, fingers modeling against the loose wrinkles in the fabric as he moves over the curve of your ass and squeezes, a small squeak escaping your lips as you bite down at the inside of your cheek, ignoring the knee-jerk reaction to elbow him in the stomach.

“Not much longer, chiquita,” Javier reminds, seeming to hear your discomfort immediately. 

The next hour drags painstakingly slowly, but eventually Benito drops you off at the diner at your insistent request, despite his pressuring you to invite him back to your apartment.

When you step into the threshold of your living room, Javier is already opening up the dinner had ordered at your subtle request earlier that evening, a smug smile on his face as you shake your head in exhaustion, sleeping over you hills in and instant and half-way stripping out of your dress before you even make it to your bedroom.

Javier grins in amusement as you thrust the device that you rip out of your ear into his chest, quietly tucking it away on the table as he prepares the food.

You’re dressed for comfort when you return, a shirt reaching beyond your thighs as you settle the bare skin against the barstool, underwear peeking out as you sit, immediately shoveling the food into your mouth.

You ramble out the names you caught onto, watching as Javier scribbled them down, rubbing at your temples to soothe the growing headache as you finish up your food and shove it aside, eventually slumping against the counter as you groan weakly.

You can feel Javier’s hand graze your knee, squeezing gently at your thigh, a silent invitation.

“I’m so tired, Javi,” You admit, “You can keep your cash, don’t worry. The whole thing was a bust, anyways.”

The chair creaks as Javier leans toward you, whispering against your ear, “Ven aqui,” He beckons as he pulls at your arm, guiding you silently to your room, half-expecting him to tuck you into bed and leave, but then he’s guiding you backwards toward the mattress and spreading out between your legs on the duvet as he removes your underwear, your lips forming into a subtle pout until he’s splitting you open with his tongue, a gasp escaping at the sudden sensation, fingers twisting into his hair roughly.

“Javi, what are you doing?” You inquire—it was new, a careful line drawn between you both earlier on that it was strictly sex, disconnection, but now he was trying to leave the impression of his tongue against your cunt as he devoured you all at once, squeezing at your thighs to spread them open further, a sated expression on his face that had to be a mix of his own exhaustion, delirious with want.

“Where did he touch you?” Javier asks casually, eyes closed as he pressed gentle kisses to the inside of your thigh, pushing your shirt up higher as you guided his hand over your hip and down toward your ass and squeezing gently.

“There,” You admit before guiding his hand further up, alongside your ribs and around your back, another gentle squeeze before guiding his hand around and over your breasts, “and there—here,” You squeeze down tightly as your eyes fall shut, his mouth sucking over your clit as your back arches off the bed.

You come faster than you expect and had you known his mouth was so talented, you would have suggested this earlier, but through the waning of your orgasm you feel his tongue drifting over your skin in the wake of his previous touches, lapping at the salty skin before his tongue eventually finds the way toward your breast, swirling around the sensitive skin as your nipple hardens against his mouth, innately curious of his actions but not voicing them.

There was never any predicting with Javier, figuring that maybe he needed a little more distraction tonight, but as your orgasm dissipates and the hand in his hair stays, he never moves, only a low rumble to his breathing as you attempt to catch your own breath before you’re slowly leaning up and realizing his eyes were shut and he had fallen asleep.

Whatever was ailing him had finally taken hold, able to squirm away through his heavy sleep before you’re draping a blanket over his frame, still dressed from the day.

You can’t find the courage inside yourself to disturb him as he took up half of your bed, opting for the couch in the off-chance he woke up in the middle of the night to you beside him, stirring up another list of issues you didn’t feel like dealing with.

–

Surprisingly, you wake before him. The sky barely fading out of night as you stir, rising from the couch as the bulky phone on the counter—it was Javier’s, you knew that.

But still, you answer it. It couldn’t hurt, just tell them to leave a message.

Instead, as you hear the familiar voice on the other end, you find yourself pulled into an unsuspecting conversation with his father that drags into the morning hours as the sun rises, meandering over breakfast before you here him stirring in the other room, trying to ignore how pleasant but telling the conversation with Javier’s father was as you place the phone down on the counter and begin cooking breakfast, silently, still half-dressed in the clothes from the night prior, minus your underwear strewn somewhere on your bedroom floor.

He’d asked how Javier was doing when you told him your name, surprised that he was familiar with you, learning that Javier had spoken about you to him, though briefly.

Probably in passing, maybe. You try not to dwell on it.

“He seems fine,” You told him, “Busy, though.”

He’s always busy, he tells you. Cuidar a mi hijo.

He was worried, rightfully so. But, Javier was an adult, his own person. 

He wasn’t your responsibility and you weren’t his.

And you try to ignore the strange sensation in your chest at the immediate elation from his father hearing your name, like an old family friend hearing from you for the first time in years, even though you knew very little of his father.

You’ve learned enough about Javier, at least. His likes and dislikes, vague interests that he commented on, the grimace in his face that would grow deeper the harder he got stuck on something, a thought or idea.

Javier clears his throat as he enters the kitchen, avoiding your gaze as you slide the meat and eggs onto two separate plates before passing it to him.

“You could have woke me up,” He said, looking up at you briefly with mused hair, his shirt wrinkled from sleep.

“Your father called,” You ignored his comment, “you should call him back.”

“You talked to him?” Javier asks blankly, no distinct emotion shining through.

“For, like, half a second,” You lie, “I just told him you were asleep.”

He didn’t need to know his father’s worry or how much he’d given away about what he knew of you, secrets that were obviously meant to be kept between them, but as Javier chews with thought, eager to break the lingering silence, he asks.

“He mentioned it, didn’t he?”

You shrug your shoulders cluelessly, “I think you’re gonna have to be more specific.”

“That I’ve talked about you, or at least, he knows who you are.”

“It’s none of my business, really.”

“He hears you, at the diner—he’s nosey. I’ve mentioned you in passing. I just…I know how he gets, I don’t want you thinking anything is going on,”

“I’m not paid to think, Javier,” You tell him.

It’s disparaging, his nose scrunching up slightly at your words and the emptiness with which you throw them. This is where he always seemed to fuck up, distinguishing work from his life but somehow maintaining the balance of peace and humanity.

Do you want to explain last night? You mind screamed, but instead you offer him his coffee, the usual black with minimal or no sugar, giving him the option as you slide the mug and container in his direction. He fishes blindly for his wallet but your hand stops him.

You sigh, “That’s not—I wasn’t implying you need to now. I—I just think we should maybe reframe what we’re doing, given that things have…progressed,” The word lingers on your tongue while you bite at your bottom lip. “I’m worried they might find out where I live or about you—or the fact that I’m literally helping the DEA catch them and praying can only do so much and I’m here alone—”

“Hermosa, slow down,” Javier urges, shoving his wallet back into his pocket at your guidance and avoiding the obvious domesticity of having slept overnight in your apartment and ate the breakfast you cooked him. 

It was in his nature to care, to a degree. It was his downfall sometimes, to a devastating fault. He striked while you were vulnerable and roped you into his own mess, now paying for it with guilt that had seeped into his personal life, spending the entire night prior picturing how Benito was handling you, how he could step in—how it could have been him instead.

“She doesn’t sound like work,” His father had told him a week ago, returning a flirtatious quip as you had passed him his usual coffee and offered him a light for his cigarette after his hadn’t worked, that sort of boyish tone in his voice that his father picked up on in a second.

The lines had blurred with Helena after a while, a similar circumstance that he continued to find himself in—paying for info, paying for sex, attempting to make it impersonal. But, here you were, staring at him with wide, fearful eyes, and he didn’t know how to fix the mess he had made. 

He couldn’t see you hurt or send you into danger like he had with Helena, the helpness he’d felt as he discovered her near lifeless body, covered in blood and bruises after she had been beaten and traded around—it couldn’t happen, it wouldn’t.

–

Javier returns with a phone later that day, similar to his with his number attached to a piece of paper he shoves into your hand as he directs you to pack a bag in the case of an actual emergency, something quick to grab that you wouldn’t have to second guess about. 

“You’re making it seem like I should be leaving now,” You tell him, taking the items he passes into your hand as you fold a stack of clothes and toiletries into the bag.

Javier shakes his head, “It’s better be safe,” He explains, “I…doubt—I don’t think they would be. We have someone listening around the clock, people on the inside, there haven't been any red flags.”

“What if something does? What if I can’t reach you?”

“I hope you’re okay, please come home.” He tells you simply, your face contorting in confusion. “It’s a code—a phrase only you and I know. If you use that, it means danger. Through a note, or that phone. I just have to hear it.”

You zip the bag up in silence, feeling the weight of the web you had tangled yourself in finally settling, curious if you would be back at square one, fleeing to a different country to escape your problems.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” Javier promises, suddenly closer than you’ve ever known him to allow himself outside of sex, his finger drags along your chin and forces it up, looking at him, “¿Entiendes?”

You nod, a subtle motion but Javier sees it.

“Javier, we should talk,” You echo once more, though with different meaning, “about last night.”

“I’ll still pay, hermosa—that isn’t a problem.”

You could handle the way it was eating at you.

“No, I mean—I mean why did last night happen? Why is your dad telling me to keep you safe?”

His face hardens at the mention of his father.

It’s just sex, you can hear the words before they roll off his tongue, ignoring your second question entirely.

Tell me where he touched you.

“You started this, you know?” You remind him, “You made this transactional.”

Was he scared of you?

Eerily silent he remains, you speak for him.

“I’m not a whore either, so if that is how you view me—I really don’t want your help at all.”

The keys in hand are gripped tight as you chance a glance toward the floor, his body entirely unmoving, his eyes downturned and staring in a similar direction, almost like he couldn’t find the words.

I”m not asking you to give a shit about me, but—”

His answer is a kiss, searing and intense, keys tossed to your bed as his fingers dive into your hair, curling around your head as you make a sound of surprise, steadying yourself as you grip his biceps and stumble backwards, tripping over the dress you had stripped yourself of last night.

You still hadn’t dressed from earlier, his hands flattening against your hips as he molds the soft flesh under his grip, his teething biting into your bottom lip as he murmurs, “Belt, get my belt,” without question, your fingers go to work, ripping the leather away in a practiced motion as you continue to unbutton his jeans, “—think I don’t give a shit, are you fucking insane?”

“A little,” You jest, “I mean—I’m helping you, aren’t I?”

This felt strangely vulnerable, his fingers pulling at your shirt with a deliberate endgame.

Naked in the natural lighting of your room, his fingers reaching for his own shirt as you work his jeans down his hips, appreciating his tanned skin as it shines with a thin layer of sweat. Despite the sticky heat that permeated throughout your apartment, his touch is cooling, comforting even.

“Another freebie?” You tease him further, hearing him snort as he reaches for his wallet and crowded you on the mattress, opening the tight leather before he grabs a wad of cash and shoves it into the sheets before tossing his wallet aside and diving between your breasts.

“Making me a poor man,” Javier retorts, peeking up through your tits as he squeezed them in his grip, mouthing delicately along the skin, “shit—but this, s’fuckin’ priceless.”

“I’m—fuck, I’m kidding, Javier. I don’t want your money. Never wanted it.”

It had always been about convenience, never expecting things to end up like this.

It was a mess, both of you were.

He’s seeing all of you, for once, and you him. 

And you know he needs, wants, without saying.

He fucks you slow, legs hitched around his hips as buries his head into the space beside yours, only rising as your noises grow with intensity, the bluntness of your nails digging into his skin.

“Inside,” You beg, “inside of me, Javi.”

He moans pathetically, lips squished against your cheek as his hips falter.

“Yeah?” He grunts, “Can I?”

You giggle airly at his question, nodding fervently.

“Mierda,” He curses brokenly, groaning softly into your skin as he pumps himself inside of you, the warmth of his cum filling you to the brim, oozing out as his hips slow, his hands kneading into your skin as he rests, breathing rapidly against your chest.

“We should—should talk, Javier.” You tell him again, after a moment of silence. “Like, really talk—you know?”

Javier hums in acknowledgment, “Tonight—give me until tonight, okay?”

Tonight was good enough, for now.

–

The first thing you feel when you rouse from sleep is pain.

White-hot and persistent, restrained by your hand as they’re tucked behind your back. You feel more hands, the sound of stiff leather and the smell, overwhelming as it invades your senses.

“I see why he keeps you around,” The voice comes from behind, eyes bleary as you blink before the hand in your hair grips tight, only catching the fist coming at you from your peripheral before your world goes dark.

When you wake again, you’re upright and in a chair, head slung back uncomfortable as you attempt to stretch, feeling heavy and groggy as you move, remembering the moment from earlier you become alert within seconds, eyes searching around frantically as you spot two men.

They were strangers, faces covered, but obviously sent here for a reason.

“Benny thought he could get it out of you,” The man says dismissively, “you foreigners—stupid, messy, predictable.” He grabs the fabric of your dress and plucks the small, miniscule device from the fabric that you missed, squinting to see it before the man breaks it between two fingers and tosses the dirtied fabric aside.

“We got her to ourselves, plenty of time to—”

“No,” The other man replies sternly to the obvious subservient man, “her boss—that’s what we came here for.”

“My boss?” You croak eventually, “At the diner? What do you want with—”

The gun he pulls from his back silences you in an instant. He reaches for the phone on the counter, the yellow sticky note still attached, “That him?”

“It’s mine,” You reply with ease, “I’m forgetful and—”

Your throat swells as he ignores you, dialing the number.

You hadn’t let the reality of the situation settle until you heard Javier’s voice on the other end, careful to not give anything away as his voice comes across more energetic than usual. They didn’t seem upset at the lie, but the finger on the trigger squeezed slightly as his voice came through, a silent order to play along.

“Hola, chiquita,” Javier greets smoothly, “¿Todo bien?”

You laugh softly, “Yes—yeah.”

You know what they want, what they need.

“I hope you’re okay, please come home.” You beg, voice unwavering as you stare the two men down, both of them seeming satisfied by your ploy to get Javier to the apartment without much argument.

The line falls dead without a response, the phone tosses aside to the floor as it shatters into pieces. 

Unfortunately, they weren’t going to get it easily.

–

You wished you could warn him.

One wrong move and the blade at your throat, the gun to your head—they would be your undoing.

You stared blankly at the broken lock and hinge of your door, footsteps approaching as you whimpered, the sharpness of the knife pressing against your skin as Javier whips around the corner and into the apartment.

The white-hot pain returns as you’re met with the butt of the gun, slumping from the chair as chaos whirls around you, curled up on the floor and crawling desperately away from danger as someone screams, gargling as it sounds, probably on their own blood. 

You couldn’t look back, breathing panickedly as you hid behind the couch and huddled in on yourself, a gun going off unexpectedly as your ears ring, gasping as you hear the sound of a blade puncturing skin once, twice, before it clamers to the floor.

You wait a moment, although it feels like eternity, expecting the cold press of a gun against the back of your skull, but instead it was a hand and eventually another, the faint smell of a familiar cologne that brought you comfort and warmth.

“Baby, we have to go,” Javier urges, “I have to get you out.”

Out?

You look up, his eyes wild but lacking any indicators of violence.

“It isn’t safe here.” He reiterates, “Can you walk?”

You nod weakly, feeling his hand wrap around your waist as he assists you in rising to your feet, still discombobulated and wobbly, he sticks by your side as you grab your things, silent as he eventually, alongside the crowd of presumably agents and police that pass by, invading your apartment, Javier is a guiding light of reassurance before you’re barricaded in the safety of his car.

“It was a tracker,” You mumble eventually, “when he was feeling me up that night—it was because he was trying—well, he—he did, he put a—”

You blink, feeling the sting of tears as you look up at Javier.

“Things are getting worse. It isn’t safe for you here, not anymore.”

“Here? What—what do you mean?”

–

Here meant Colombia.

Which is how you ended up in Texas two weeks later. Laredo to be specific. 

Javier had a place close to home. His family.

And you had talked extensively, it was the only thing that kept the panic from consuming you that night as he drove you to the embassy, tying up some loose ends before he drove you to the airport without any explanation until he was shoving the ticket into your hand.

His father had been waiting for you, as somber in expression as his son. 

They were so similar it made your heart swell, an unfamiliar feeling. 

Javier couldn’t explain what he was feeling for you and you could accept that, but he was careful and adamant in the idea that you would spend your time at his home, already setting you up with a similar job in town, a seamless transition that felt strange, but oddly easy to settle into.

“What if I just left?” You tease him one night, hearing his desk creek as he head slumps into his unoccupied hand, “Would that be easier for you?”

“No,” Javier says sternly, “I’m—this…I think I might be done. Feels like I’m fighting a battle that I’ll never win, feelings fucking pointless.”

It had been months now, curled up on his couch as you stared out the window and toward the empty road, wondering if the chill of fall was creeping in as the cool breeze hit your skin, “No more waitresses to help you out down there, huh?”

Javier snickers at that, though it was quiet.

“Stop that,” He chastises, “It’s not funny.”

You giggle in return, “I know, I know—just remember who’s keeping your bed warm every night, yeah? Oh—and your dad, he keeps asking when you’re gonna call.”

You hear him huff at that, clearing his throat awkwardly as he mumbles an apology to someone on the other end, the faint hum of the office around him feeding through the receiver. 

“I hope you’re okay, please come home.”

It wasn’t a cry for help this time, but still a phrase that was special.

A code, a message. A lifeline.

Javier was barely surviving amongst the cartel as tensions had pulled taut and drug trade seemed at an all-time high, nearly unstoppable anymore. 

It was beyond him, out of his control.

And for the first time in a long time, he has a reason, a want, to come home.

“Soon, chiquita. Soon.”

You could hear the exhaustion in his voice and it worried you immensely. 

“Don’t let it consume you, Javi. You’ve done enough.”

On the other end, his brow furrows. Disgruntled and annoyed at how right you were, echoing the similar sentiment his dad had told him a thousand times. 

He was done, he wanted out.

-

"El envío llega el domingo." / The shipment arrives on Sunday.

"¿Cómo te va? ¿Lo estás pasando bien?” / How are you doing? Are you having a good time?

"Cuidar a mi hijo." / Take care of my son.

[shorthaltsjester]

endlessly thinking thoughts about cr characters, morality, and selfishness (likely place for me to be, given that my day job includes endlessly researching ethics and meaning of life) but in light of bell’s hells most recent illustration of their insularity and individualism, I’ve been really like. Trying to unpack why I find it particularly egregious in this party when obviously mighty nein were notoriously self-interested, especially at the beginning, and when vox machina had quite a few moments where their horses were far higher than they had any reason to be. And again, I really want to make it clear her that I don’t hold self-interest or selfishness to be some abhorrent and unforgivable thing, in fact I think its incredibly normal especially given the context of main characters in a story told through game mechanics that flourish on the interest of the individuals making the choices. I’ve written before about how one of the throughlines that I’ve seen in laura’s pcs (since I’m someone who particularly enjoys looking at the moral outlooks characters develop) is a common thread of morality that’s highly dependent on their own interests. And like, this is a positive throughline to me! Without getting into my own views on morality, it is particularly compelling to me for characters with isolated upbringing (which applies to vex, jester, and imogen, each in different ways) to develop a moral code informed by that isolation, and in vex we see her moral code is ‘anything goes if it protects those I hold dear’, in jester we see a moral code that doesn’t care about morality as much as it cares about the chance to care and be cared for, and in imogen we see a moral code developed in response to her very unique experience of hearing the darkest parts of people and judging them on those (which to be clear, i am not judging her for that fact, I think it makes extreme sense for someone who hears the thoughts the people have to be horrified by those things, but it does mean her moral system is almost completely backwards, where intention holds more weight than action, which perhaps makes sense of the popularity of defending all of her ideas and choices and the Right Ones by certain parts of the fandom that insist leftism is hidden in the dnd real play). And that’s all to say that, out of the cr parties we’ve seen, I don’t think any single member of bell’s hells is uniquely more or less selfish or more or less of an asshole than previous characters. And in fact, I tend to be quite fond of selfish characters, I have a well documented history of cherishing them well beyond the cr fandom. But the point is that my calling something or someone self-interested is not a value judgement in this context, it's a descriptive claim about the traits a character exhibited.

Imogen, who has insisted time and time again re: the values of the accord that she would not be swayed by the temptation of predathos because she recognizes the importance of this fight, only to turn around and pretty immediately open herself up to predathos to fulfil the most threatening part of ludinus’ plan is self-interested. I cannot conceive of any other way to describe her choices. And her being self-interested doesn’t mean she can’t also be altruistic at times, but I will be clear that I don’t think her risking killing herself as she attempts to bring down the god-eater that she released is particularly selfless. In my best faith interpretation I’d say she’s pretty middle of the road in that choice. But I bring all this up because a comparison I’ve been seeing is that bell’s hells aren’t as mean as the mighty nein or even vox machina in certain moments and that it doesn’t make sense for the fandom to view bell’s hells as likely to be villains when the same wasn’t true of the previous two campaigns, and I think I have to pretty emphatically disagree, and not because I don’t think there aren’t moments in both campaigns that feature extremely high levels of assholery and villainry from pcs – I mean, some of my favourite cr characters are percy and jester, both of whom i’d say are ‘good guys’ due to the pure luck of the found familys they fell in with and both of whom often suggested plans that were. Not okay. To say the least. But ignoring the difference between suggesting fucked up plans and walking your god-eater infused bestie back towards the troops sent to support you in keeping that entity contained, the other big difference I’ve noticed in my own introspection on how I react to bh vs mn and vm, as well as which things i cherish about previous campaigns that were really missing from c3 to what I think is the story and the character’s detriment (staying away from the shape of the narrative, just because others have made posts that put words together better about that than I can) is that while members of vm and mn remained self-interest to the end of their campaigns and have reasserted those habits in appearances since, the parties as entities working in exandria had both, to echo ashton’s apt suggestion to ludinus, grown up.

Like one moment I think of is beau and fjord’s convo in the nein hells episode, because beau is being her asshole self and fjord is being his ‘I care about My People and I’ll think about the rest later’ self (i say affectionately but certain parts of the fandom I recognize would view derogatorily) – clearly they’re not the kindest people as they discuss bell’s hells, but two notable things are (a) they still treat the hells with the respect and use their means to help them prepare for the battle coming, even when they hear the horrifying thought that the hells aren’t certain they’ll choose to save the gods, all the nein request is that they choose the kind option (b) they say none of their doubts to the hells themselves – likely because they have the empathy to realizes that its a high stress situation that won’t be made better by a reminding the hells how small and likely ineffectual in the universe they are – and their comments about cannon fodder are ones made in jest to each other. Even taking that in the worst faith interpretation, the jokes that beau and fjord make in a private conversation has absolutely zero influence on bh. This is quite different than bells hells, after like. as clearly betraying the accord they promised to assist (even if their intentions are ‘good’) as is possible, belittling the religious armies sent to support their endeavor to keep predathos sealed as they all feel the weight of an irrevocable change occurring in exandria, one bells hells has first account knowledge now that it IS incredibly willing to eat mortals, and laudna and ashton, the members of bells hells most often cited by certain fandom spaces as characters who have gone through so much and it only made them kind and strong, look into the faces of people facing literally existential threat and laugh and mock them. That is, mighty nein as individuals is comprised of some of the, perhaps, most asshole pcs, but The Mighty Nein as a party is committed to treating others the best they can, to leaving things better than they found them (a quote that I think is particularly exemplary of the dynamics of self-interest at play in the mighty nein, since it originated as a blatant illustration of molly’s notion of self-importance but developed to become a kind of commandment that the nein became committed to fulfilling). The opposite is true of bell’s hells, where orym and dorian at least both seem to have motivation beyond themselves, imogen’s changes but has shown she is capable of letting go of her ‘intention reigns’ requisitely individualistic perspective, and chetney plays up his selfishness but has shown himself to care quite a bit for people beyond their party but bell’s hells as an entity is uh, pretty self-interested.

To clarify some of my thoughts here in the spirit of the wicked renaissance happening rn, I’ve always felt that for good was an incredibly apt song for the mighty nein, because it really nails that feeling that perhaps they didn’t change each other as individuals to become better people on the grand scale, maybe they’ve just changed each other permanently, but they (and I would agree with this) view each other as having changed each other for the better (e.g., I don’t know if I could say whether jester is a morally better Individual at the end of the campaign, but I can say with certainty that she fulfils and makes moral choices in her work as a member of the mighty nein). And I don’t know if this can be said about bell’s hells – I think they have certainly influenced each other and changed how alone many of those characters felt, and that is not a slight on the story, it can be a great centre for a story to focus on how a relinquishment of the feeling that one is alone in the world can change them. But for the most part, that hasn’t been bh’s story, their story instead has been about validating their refusal to become anything beyond what they insist was out of their control. And not to get to annoying philosophy student about it but bell’s hells are maybe some of the most explicit examples of sartrian bad faith I’ve seen in fiction in a hot minute, because their insistence that they treat their wounds as incurable and entirely out of their hands has led to them limiting their own potential because many of them ignore their responsibility as people to make choices in their own lives. In contrast, at the end of the campaign, mighty nein are still assholes as we all like to refer to them as, but in the context of an apocalypse, I think I’d prefer the assholes like fjord – who is certainly being truthful when he says he doesn’t care about what harm comes to 200 people when jester is at risk but who also, as they traverse into aeor, is insistent that their group won’t be running away from whatever apocalyptic threat awaits them, even if that means dying in the fight – than I would an asshole like ashton – who promises to fight for the little guys but who then turns around and acts upon a philosophy that says the strongest will survive. When you look at the mighty nein, it is incredibly easy to see the fingerprints of change they’ve left upon one another, and even to see the boundaries they place on one another’s asocial behaviours through their presence in one another’s lives (more recently the group chastising jester’s fond words about ludinus is a good example, but others are yasha’s pressuring caleb and essek to move on from their wizard talks as they collect paper in aeor instead of venturing further toward the battle they have to fight, or fjord and jester’s frustrated conversation in the ukotoa reunion about how fjord made a stupid decision and he doesn’t regret but he feels dejected and jester checking him on the fact that they still need to figure out a solution). It takes some extrapolation to see how bells hells have changed each other in more than aesthetic ways, if they have at all. Because the catalyst for change is pressure to do so, and aside from moments where it was truly change or be left behind, bh doesn’t challenge each other unless forced to by morri’s trials or delilah’s interruption and on the very odd occasion an interesting game of rollies-spin-the-bottle. 

And it’s interesting because the asshole behaviour of the mighty nein, like bell’s hells, stems from being left on the outskirts of society and the mistreatment that comes with that, so seemingly the change from being alone to being with others is one that actually insists upon being challenged to grow and change. I mean, just looking at the starting points of the characters, there’s an intriguing amount of stark similarities between their pasts; jester and fearne were both people loved dearly by the family they grew up with but who were loved within the confines of a gilded cage, ashton and beau both have an glaring self awareness that their anger at the world has a very particular source (their parents) but use that as justification rather than a means of self reflection, yasha and orym are trying to navigate a world in the wake of an incomprehensible loss and a sense of duty, fjord and imogen are both seeking out knowledge of their own powers and unknowingly retreading the paths of their missing and presumed dead parental figures. The idea that bell’s hells are uniquely mistreated by society in the history of cr player characters is, politely, laughable. Absolutely they’re mistreated, and I think it could be fair to say these characters are more defined by their isolation than others but I think that has more to do with the lack of downtime rp than it has to do with the context of their suffering.

What I have loved about the mighty nein is that in their realization that the bonds they forge with each other are undermining the truths most of them had taken to be true – that they were alone and without a place in the world – they are also forced to realize that no longer being alone and isolated comes with the weight of social responsibility. And this was born out of a willingness the mighty nein had to call each other out and that the players had to allow their characters to be wrong and get called on it. Because that’s the friction of living with other people on the small party scale and the large world scale – in the mighty nein’s ability to survive as a people who cared for each other even when they didn’t agree or when they made decisions that they couldn’t understand, they were constantly developing their ability to care for the very same world that left them alone. Because in campaign two, the world as a whole had the role that the gods have in campaign 3 – why should a party of nobodies, treated like shit by the world and the people in it go through the effort of saving it?

And the mighty nein answered, in their own imperfection and assholery, that nothing is ever just one thing – one of the things I cherish most about campaign 2 is its commitment to ambiguity, allowing the complexity of the world to go unsolved because there is no solution to the fact that life is immense and sometimes incoherent. I don’t think its a coincidence that I’ve seen some of the people lamenting the idiocy of fandom members like me who think that it actually isnt a leftist win to destroy the world in the hopes of spontaneous justice arising in c3 are the same people who criticised c2’s conclusion with the cerberus assembly for not being leftist (a word which for them means . the aesthetic image of a rebellion sparked and not the unending commitment to doing what you practically can to make life more just for those around you – whether they’re particularly kind to you or not) enough. The conclusion of c2 emphasizes that the choice to make the world a better place isn’t something that can be achieved in one single sweeping action that will wipe the boards clean – there is no murder of all the members of the cerberus assembly that would’ve solved the problems that caused the assembly’s power. There is no forcing of the god’s out of exandria that will deal with the actual issue undergirding both bh and their blorbo-moralized fans' criticism of the gods, which is that mortals are cursed with the burden of free will, and being mistreated by other mortals means constantly having to try and make sense of the fact that someone chose to do something cruel to you (and, sometimes, that you made a choice that allowed that cruelty to occur) – a burden made much heavier when the person who hurt you is your cult-indoctrinated mother, or your cult leader father, or the person in the mirror. The mighty nein take up this fight, and the complexities of their individual identities begin to heal in the light of a commitment in their relationship as friends and as a team to improve the world, even on the small scale. Bell’s hells remain gridlocked and stagnant and unwilling to change in an unspoken turf war of self-interest because they’ve insisted (influenced in part by the context of the campaign 3 narrative but, as others have aptly pointed out, that narrative was much more influenced by bh’s lack of curiosity regarding anything except their own minds) upon finding a solution to a problem they’ve decided is earth-shatteringly (quite literally, to the people of ruidus) unjust based on, aside from encounters where fellow mortals were the primary oppressors, their own testimony of the god’s not listening to them and the obvious villain’s parallel testimony. Something I’ve really been chewing on lately is caduceus words to fjord about his role as a paladin of the wildmother – that maybe it just means that someday, someone will pray for a miracle, and there fjord’ll be and the weight that has given that fjord’s bond to ukotoa came from his desperation not to die and his willingness to accept whatever help would be offered, that fjord could now be the person that reaches out to someone in need, and that the hand he offers won’t come with a curse.  And I think that’s really the poignant difference between bh and mn for me, that for bh, their experiences of injustice, though did make them personally bitter, did not make them morally misanthropic.

Comparatively, Bell’s Hells chose to ensure that, because the gods never answered their prayers, they shouldn’t be permitted to answer anyone else’s. Is this an understandable position? Sure, for the walls of a preschool, not really for a group of characters that I will ever be in any way inclined to view as something close to heroes. While it’s true that there are parts of life that are beyond our control – somethings happen to us that we have no say in, and they cause injuries both physical and mental that we are left to heal without any rhyme or reason, it is still our responsibility to heal them. And if you choose not to, well, then you’ve chosen not to, and are responsible for the consequences and judgements that choice might amount to.

Anyway, sorry this is all over the place but TLDR: calling bell’s hells as a party self-interested is actually just descriptively correct – they can save members of the party made up of their close friends and still be self-interested – and while the individual members of bell’s hells actually aren’t all that uniquely self-interested in the history of cr pcs, the party is uniquely self-interested in how they’ve chosen to navigate the world an their responsibility to the people in it.

[yourlocalangeldoll]

- ❀.ೃ࿔* RV!Friendgroup au !

- ❀ in which You and your team, Nam Gyu, Thanos, Se-mi and Min-su all left after the forth game but didn’t separate. ❀ -

After the fourth game, O’s finally managed to lose the vote, resulting in everyone being practically kicked out. They were decent enough to leave you’s in your… ‘friend groups’. And let’s just say when it finally came down to it, it was harder to say goodbye to this group of losers than everyone thought. So why not merge all their money together, pay off each other’s debts, and move into an a big double story RV together?

- Thanos is the one who came up with the idea of living in an RV all together. Despite being the one to suggest the idea, he tries to act all nonchalant and uncaring, however everyone see’s through his facade. Being out of the games has chilled Thanos out a bit, not being high off drugs all the time, but unfortunately that also means facing what happened while in the games. For a while after the games Thanos couldn’t help but feel guilty for his behaviour during the games. But don’t think he’s some calm angel now, it’s still Thanos after all. Still rapping and making a now steady income. Doesn’t really try to stay on the lowkey about all the money he’s got, but doesn’t, however wouldn’t hesitate to brag if someone asked, brought money up or annoyed him. Kind of the ‘father’ of the group at necessary times.

- Nam Gyu is kind of like the edgy older brother at times. He pretends not to care about what happened at the games- but as anyone who was in such a situation, it fucked him up. May or may have not apologized to Min su in private for being an asshole then proceeded to ‘threaten’ Min su to be quiet ‘bout it. Doesn’t care about what’s going on most of the time. A regular weed smoker. Chilled down with the intense drugs a bit. Has a silent care and protectiveness for everyone. Started ‘working’ by helping Thanos out with his rap career. It’s still Nam Gyu, so he’s still an asshole. Will brag about all the money he has whenever he feels like it.

- Se-mi is the mom or older sister of the group. She’ll gladly put the losers(Thanos and Nam Gyu) in their place if needed. Her area of the big upstairs bedroom is filled with various grunge or alt bands. The one who tends to clean up and make breakfast, lunch and dinner. What’s surprising about her to everyone is how firm she is in eating healthy and properly. After leaving the games she’s gathered up some more piercings, for example nipple piercings. Works as a cashier at the local grocery market just a couple minutes away from where the RV is usually parked. Now more inclined to participate in drug usage.

- Min-su is the one who listens. Just listens whenever someone needs something. He tends to take care of the outdoor of the RV. Still shy and intimidated easily. For a long while he felt Nam Gyu was forced to apologize by Se-mi until he asked her and she was like “..huh?”. He was the most hesitant to move into the RV with everyone. After the games he didn’t immediately get a job, instead opting to go to school for Youth and child care courses. After afterwards he started working as a child special needs caregiver. Has never touched drugs or shown interest. Since the games he seems more comfortable with Thanos, but is doubtful of Nam Gyu.

- Y/N is the ‘innocent’ one next to Min su and seen as such to everyone. Doesn’t do much around the RV unless you count all the sweets she bakes for everyone or blankets ‘n clothes. Occasionally does laundry. Currently doing online school for fashion design, so she doesn’t have a job yet. When she partakes in drug use, let’s just say she gets high as fuck. Her appearance is innocent, so no one expects her to make dirty jokes or think of such too much. Is she really innocent? or is she just good at acting like it?

- The RV is large and expensive, having two floors. The bottom holds the washroom, kitchen, living room and just an… indoor outdoor area. What is the ‘indoor outdoor’ area? It’s a plain room at the end of the RV that’s all window and then wood floor and ceiling. Has a peaceful ambiance to it. The RV despite being modern and expensive, isn’t actually too… ‘technologized’? it has a homey feeling. to say the least. The second floor is home to everybody’s bedroom, one largee empty space with beds along the edges. There’s a bed at the floor, then the ceiling and down a couple inches is cupboards for clothes or simply storing your stuff. Stuffed between the bed and the cupboards is plain open window. There’s unfortunately, no privacy between the beds. The upstairs is usually messy with clothes thrown about.

is the seemingly innocent and normal friend group really that innocent and normal?

- ❀ written by yourlocalangel, 2025 on tumblr! © do not repost on any third party website or repost as yours. Doing so will result in me blocking you and reporting.

- ❀ This will be smutty and very suggestive on one side, but can also be read as a funny lil sfw au 💞 feel free to send reqs

- ❀ This idea is from a dream lmao, may or may not also have character-on-character action 😫 idk if i’m in ovulation week or not but uh yeah i’m lowk feeling 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂

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MASTERLIST

[the-meme-monarch]

i do kinda have a little head canon for shrimpo in your verse

that I think shrimpo thinks everyone just hates him and maybe at garden view he tries to act nice to the kids but the kids don’t wanna talk or be near him because of how the show petrayed him and so becomes lonely he hates the other toons because they don’t get hated like he did or be ignored like him he also might not like deliliah because after watching her interaction with other toons he feels like she is just happy with them then with him

looking back this is not what you were saying i don’t think. but this was the idea this gave me NDJSJJD

but like yeah i kinda do think shrimpo has like. self image issues. ans legitimately has difficulty expressing anything other than his brand of anger. he can’t really help but act the way he does and he doesn’t really Like that he’s like that. like the character posters around his room COULD just be to cover holes in his walls or bc he’s full of himself but idk. why put up the same poster over and over with words implying nobody likes him. i think he’s got hardcore “why was i made like this” type feelings. iirc qwelver said he likes One Thing and like. if it were himself i think it would’ve just been said so bc that just feels like such an easy answer? (my idea for the one thing he likes is it’s something he can be bribed with. and that’s why in-game he’d be going on these runs at all. bc otherwise I don’t know why he’d participate HDHDJRJDJ)

so uh. maybe this is the eventual aftermath of my ‘shrimpo punching delilah in the face Immediately after being brought to life bc she scared him’ comic. shrimpo feels legitimately guilty about it bc He Didn’t Actually Mean To and thinks delilah really truly hates him over it. arthur Pried this information from him. and is trying to get delilah to reassure him. i think delilah doesn’t have much capacity for emotions Period so she got over getting punched to begin with pretty quickly. or she doesn’t even remember at this point bc of my ‘toon creation wears down your soul’ headcanon idk

last line is a reference to this post

[mimiiiiiiiiisstuff]

ok y’all i promise i’ll reply to asks tmrw but rn i just got the funniest idea ever. ok so yk how in HOT TO GO i mentioned readers daddy issues leading her to older men?? imagine one day when she’s being forced to have a family dinner after she’s been take back to the manor, bruce announces they have a guest that’s gonna stay the night and it’s readers inappropriately older bf/ situation ship that’s like Dick’s age almost walks in!! imagine reader is just over the moon, finally after weeks of being cooped up she can finally get some action! as they’re eating dinner everyone’s chatting and all the batfam is suspicious of readers ransoms good mood and think that maybe it’s bc of the food….

that changes when reader casually looks up from her food and casually says “daddy, can you pass me the salt?”

bruce is CHEESING from ear to ear thinking she’s finally beginning to see him as a father figure and looks around for the salt muttering an “of course honey” and blushing out of sheer joy, when he hears a raspy voice say “here you go sweetheart” from across the table.

everyone’s in just utter disbelief and shock. literally no one knows how to react.

bruce is in denial and is still looking for the salt to pass you it, dick’s jaw is nearly on the floor and he looks close to either puking or stabbing readers bf, jason is LIVID, i mean seriously?? in front of his chicken??, tim is disgusted and disappointed, damian is confused because it doesn’t really register what reader meant, duke is also surprisingly mad and the girls don’t know if they should laugh, scold reader, or kill her bf.

meanwhile reader herself can’t believe she just said that and her man is just sitting next to her with the world’s smuggest grin

anyway, safe to say they are NOT getting alone time later!

[cthulhus-curse]

Play-Pretend

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,016

Warnings: Mommy Kink, Agatha has a penis, Blow Jobs, Exhibitionism, Public Sex, Degradation, Dom/sub Dynamics, Breeding | 18+ Minors DNI

Summary: In which you and your girlfriend find yourselves in quite the sticky situation in the middle of a club.

You should have known better, really. But then again, you always did like it rough. Well, she always gave it to you in such a way. Not that you would complain — never again. 

The lights scatter over your skin. At times they are red while others come as purple, but they don’t help you enough to see through the crowd. You blindly stride through it, head held up high as you make a frail attempt to catch a glimpse of what is far from you. But all you can see is a head of brown hair you know so well. Strands that you often run your fingers upon on display.

“Fancy seeing you here,” You almost have to scream. The bustling club is one your partner had picked out, and all you had to do was show up and sit pretty.

But Agatha is not amused. Quite frankly, she doesn’t tear herself away from the whiskey on her hand until she fully downs it. Minutes pass and you remain standing there, curious eyes gawking at your outfit that leaves little to nothing for the imagination of others. 

It is a game the two of you play. Something of a distraction from your busy shared lives that leave you going to bed as early as you leave the house in the morning. Roleplaying of sorts, Agatha had called it, and you went along with it joyously. Because while she often presented herself with unabashed sweetness and softness, when it came down to your shared pretend-time, she let go of any inhibitions. 

“You look like a whore,” she spits out, and your knees just about buck. 

“Well, I-”

“That wasn’t a question,” Agatha husks, her tone fueled with pure disgust. But by the gods does it do wonders to heave your chest. “Nor did I give you permission to speak. You’ve been a very bad girl today, Y/N. Looks like someone will have to make it up to mommy.”

The club suddenly goes quiet as your sole focus lands on the other woman. She stands tall over you, her heels high enough that she is able to tower over. A predator hunting its prey. And all you turn into is a frail little gazelle who instead hopes to be devoured all night long by the demanding lioness that is Agatha.

“I-”

But before you can dare respond, a hand moves to your throat. Its grip is strong on you, holding on for dear life as fingernails dig into your skin, forcing bits of blood to decorate your flesh. You try to break free, to challenge Agatha, but the woman refuses. She won’t let go, especially not when you so pathetically try to get her to do so nor when the bartender eyes you both curiously from afar. 

The crowd around you both is loud enough so your gasps for air are drowned out. No one is looking, nor would they care much, as Agatha pushes you away into the depths of the club. Far enough where no one can hear you, but still somewhat visible if one were to wander far beyond the life of the party. 

“I want you on your knees,” Agatha orders. She isn’t asking, but instead forcing you downwards in a matter of seconds. “It’s not a fucking question, Y/N. Get on your knees for mommy now.”

Sinking down to the floor, your knees gathering dirt from it, you nod. Your mouth salivates as you look up at the older woman with a fire in your eyes that she shares. Not even as she begins unzipping her formerly tented pants do you break eye-contact. Those icy blue orbs have a magical way to hypnotize you without even meaning to. 

“How dare you? You’re my property, understood? And only I get to see you like this,” Agatha growls. “Stupid pet. I’ll have to remind you who owns you, huh? You’re far too stupid to remember it on your own. Doesn’t surprise me.”

And for good measure, Agatha spits upon your face. The saliva lands right on your cheek, instantly making quick work to travel downwards. But you don’t clean it up – of course, unless you want your girlfriend to truly give you something to cry about. 

The sight of her cock springing free from the violet pair of briefs makes you hazy. It is semi-hard, enough that it slaps your cheek slightly before remaining halfway standing. But the more you bore your eyes into it, hungrily planting little kisses along its head, the further it grows. Agatha can only stare down with pride at her girthy member that her hand can barely wrap itself around. 

“Open up, sweetheart,” Agatha says, this time softer than the last. But she doesn’t need to say anything as you already kiss your way up and down every single inch of her dick. Kissing the small veins that make themselves known, fondling her balls before oh-so gingerly sucking them. You give her the utmost attention she requires. “There’s a good fucking girl. Just like that, baby. Worship mommy’s cock.”

And that you do. 

Your mouth opens wide enough to invite the massive intrusion inside. The salty taste of pre-cum becomes apparent on your tongue as it begins leaking from the rosy tip you enclose your lips around. Grabbing onto her thighs, you steady yourself before slowly moving your head forth. Every passing second, it is as though you take an inch, then another, then another.

Bobbing your head back and forth, you find yourself easily taking almost all seven inches given your years-long preparations. A hand moves to the top of your head, sitting there at first before following along with your movements. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Until it forcefully moves you further down Agatha’s penis, your lips brushing along her pelvis before you begin to gargle. And even then, she forces you to enjoy it before letting you find a breath of fresh air. 

“You look so pretty, baby. You weren’t meant for this. Only to suck off your mommy where anyone can see,” Agatha teases. For added measure, she thrust her hips forth slightly, forcing her thick penis further down your throat. “Mommy’s little dick-sucker. Now that’s a fitting name for a slut like you, eh?”

Her balls ghost over your chin as you vigorously suck her off. With your relaxed throat, you are soon able to take more than she can give you, and you want it all. Her dick begins twitching wildly inside you as Agatha holds onto the nearby wall for dear life. Yet none of it dissuades you. No, you keep drilling her cock into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you tease her flushed head with your famished tongue. 

It does not take Agatha long to cum, and by the time she does, your head is left pinned between the wall and her body. Copious drops of cum ooze out of her tip, every single one forced down your throat. And you take them all, not daring to waste even a smidge of the special treat you adore tasting. Swallowing it whole to make your girlfriend proud. 

“Did you take all of it?” You watch the woman raise her eyebrows even with the near-lack of light around you both. 

“Yes, mommy,” you promise, opening your mouth to show off its emptiness as you took all her cum for yourself. “I’m a good girl.”

“Uh-huh,” Agatha, with flushed cheeks, hums. She motions you upwards, holding out a hand to help steady you along with the wall. “Now, turn around for mommy, baby.”

Frowning, having thought it was over, you begin to protest. “But-”

“Now, Y/N. Mommy still wants to use her best girl,” Agatha feigns a pout. “Be a dear and let me use your pussy, yeah? I promise I’ll make it up to you.” Her arms help you face the wall, hugging you from behind as she presses her messy dick against your ripped jeans. “Mommy just needs to use her little whore for a bit. So stand there and look pretty for me. Maybe put on a show for anyone that wants to watch.” She nearly tears apart your clothes, ensuring that your backside is clear of any fabric while having tugged on your see-through shirt enough, your breasts jiggle out. “Sharing is caring, after all.”

You would be lying if you said it didn’t make a jolt of need flow down your body. “Of course, mommy.”

The bulbous tip of her dick spreads your juicy folds apart as soon as it touches you. Agatha is desperate, refusing to take it slow let alone for wishing to admire her handiwork. To see you so wet, your slickness drifts down your shaky inner thighs. She smacks your cunt with her meat once or twice, giggling at the lewd noise it makes. Yet still not nearly loud enough compared to the music the club plays. 

The remainder of the club-goes are oblivious to the way Agatha slams her cock inside you with one swift movement. Such roughness is one she has leisurely been building up to. Her fingernails dig into your hips as every delicious inch of her penis forces itself into your pussy which welcomes it with a tight hug. 

“Fuck,” Agatha grunts, a sentiment you soon echo. “Oh baby, your pussy feels amazing.” Her curious hands begin traveling upwards, not ceasing their movements until they find your breasts to grope. “Look how well you’re taking me. You dumb cock-whore.” She slams her waist forth, the head of her penis hitting your sweetest spot. The mewl you let out only heightens her pleasure. “Mommy’s fleshlight.”

The two of you are lost in your own world as you become one. The moist sounds of your pussy being repeatedly abused by your girlfriend’s cock booms across the remote corner of the club you share. The thought of having anyone simply walk far enough to see you being destroyed makes you moan. To be shown off to the world as nothing but a brainless toy for your mommy to use. 

Finding the proper tempo, you begin matching Agatha’s ministrations. At first you are awkward, but with each harsh thrust that comes, you grow more confident. Your skins slap together as nails scratch hips further. A haze overcomes your sights, not that you can see anything around you in the first place, as a warmth settles on your lower belly. 

“Harder,” you plead, and Agatha is more than willing to listen. “Please, mommy.”

“Anything for you, my girl,” Agatha mumbles, gripping your tits as she fucks into you with might. Slow, yet harsh attacks which stretch your cunt out further. “I’ll fill you up so well, baby. I bet your pussy will look gorgeous. Nice and full of mommy’s cum.”

She explodes within you, her cock jittering once against as it begins spurting out drop after drop of white. You try to move away, to find some solace from the warmth that seeps into your cunt which you are to take. But Agatha does not allow you to do so. Instead she continues moving her hips, forcing her penis to your depths as you are fully bred with her seed. 

Her breathlessness is apparent as she stands behind you, peppering sweet kisses along your shoulder. Agatha is quite touchy after the matter, always enjoying a closeness to you after having played pretend with such roughness. And as she moves away slightly, her cock gradually slipping from the hold of your cunt, small droplets of cum begin oozing down your thighs.

“Oops,” Agatha chuckles, shaking her head as she admires the mess the two of you, primarily her fault, created. She rubs her dick over your slit once more, this time garnering an obscene amount of your juices mixed with her seed. “Looks like mommy made quite the mess. Nothing short of what a slut like you deserves.”

With your head already high up in the clouds, you share her amusement. “And who is to say we should stop now?”