#it’s the only thing I don’t like about him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

caramelkoo · 3 days ago

Text

no questions asked— jjk

Jeon jungkook wants nothing more than to get settled with his girlfriend, but what if her fear of commitment makes him take a step back? Will he do it, or will he be able to changer her mind for good?

pairing : Jungkook X reader

genre : established relationship, smut, fluff

word count : 6.6k (im begging for forgiveness)

Based on this ask <33

warnings : nsfw, strong language, mature, oc is an anxious girly (same), mentions of emotionally unavailable parents, jungkook is a man of dreams, simp boyfriend jungkook, car sex, unprotected sex (be safe), begging, reference of titanic if you squint, yeah that's pretty much it.

a/n : this took million business days lmao but finally it's here. the sweetest anon requested a drabble but i couldn't do it and as much as i tried to make it shorter, it got stretched to 6k words 😭 so im deeply sorry anon. the rest of you who enjoy longer fics, dig in. I love you guys so much, you might not know this but yall are my besties for resties. kisses. 💌

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

Your boyfriend is going to propose to you.

Oh god

Oh. my. God.

Anxiety is not a foreign feeling for you. Although this time, it’s an indescribable sort. Something which is lingering in the deepest pit of your stomach for a lack of better word. Besides, there’s a mayhem inside your head, the voices are loud and intimidating, causing you to bite your lip to a point where they bleed while also staring at nothing.

Jungkook has been nothing but secretive— the poor boy has no idea that you have already seen the navy blue box sitting inside his side of the drawer. You can swear it was totally unintentional.

In your defense, you had been searching for your glasses and that was the only place left to fish around. Nobody could have prepared you for the utter shock when your eyes fell on that box and so for a minute or two you just stood there, horrifyingly still and stunned. However, you recovered quickly, because to be quite honest it was about time one of you mustered up enough courage to ask the question.

It’s supposed to make you thrilled right? So why does something feel… off?

“Penny for your thoughts?”, as soon as Cherry’s voice reaches your ears, you snap out of it and flash her a forced smile.

“Yeah-” you begin, “Yeah uh- I’m just thinking about nothing in particular.”

“_____ you’re an amazing girl but you gotta work on those lying skills.”

A chuckle leaves your mouth. You shouldn’t even have bothered in the first place, the girl can read you like a book.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours huh?”

She picks up the book before scanning it with the barcode scanner all the while you marvel if you should tell her or just let it go, but then you also know how she would become a pain in the ass if you don’t spill the beans to her. Anyway, she can;t make you overthink it any more than you already have.

You bite your lower lip before saying, “I feel like Jungkook is going to propose.”

If looks alone could kill, you would have been buried deep by now with the way the man wearing an olive green cardigan, probably in his 50s, gives you side eye when Cherry drops the book with a loud thud on the counter.

You wince.

“I’m sorry what?”

When you subtly signal her to pick what she’s dropped, she takes a hold of the book, apologizes to the man who— you’re hundred percent sure hates your guts now, and resumes her work.

“This is why I didn’t want to tell you.”

“Ha! Girl you better start telling me more or none of us are going home today.”

She’s talking to you but her hands keep shuffling between scanning the books and expeditiously typing on the keyboard.

A spark of hesitation finds a way inside your heart. The thing is, you’re not sure. Do you want to marry the love of your life? Absolutely. Do you think you can keep the marriage going and stable? No.

There you said it.

And that kills you because jeopardising your bond and connection with Jungkook is the last thing you want to do.

Maybe, it’s because nobody in your family has been able to keep their inner spark alive after they had gotten married or you might as well blame it on the relationship your own parents have had before your eyes.

For everyone who couldn’t see past the walls of your house, your parents were an ideal couple. A pair who were equally efficient and successful in their respective areas of life. With your father being a renowned businessman and your mother holding the title of a world famous fashion designer, they couldn’t have been a better partner for each other, right?

Wrong. Too bad you had the honor of being an onlooker of their facade slipping away before getting replaced by their real impudent selves.

But that’s all you could do though. You were merely just an audience. Someone who could see everything shatter before her eyes and not do a single thing to put an end to it.

Constant fights, fuming with jealousy over one of them achieving more than the other, sabotaging each other.

All hell broke loose when they began making you take sides.

You think mommy is better don’t you, honey?

You should be proud of your dad, ____. You’re living such a luxurious life thanks to me.

For the love of god you were five. What does a five year old know about luxury or human ego? What could you have possibly known about who is better? In your eyes, they were your mom and dad and not some squish mellows placed side by side from which you had to take your pick. Let’s not even start with the emotional unavailability they provided you with.

A knot lodges in your throat and you struggle to get the words out. “I happen to see the box inside his drawer”

“You’re sure it had a ring inside- Wait, don't answer that”, she shakes her head as if she just asked the most ridiculous question ever.

No shit.

“But that’s a good thing right? I mean you guys have been seeing each other for a while now and marriage is the final stop.” she continues and you can’t help but feel terrible, because she is making sense.

A sigh leaves you, “Yeah no- I mean yeah it is but I didn’t expect him to take the initiative so suddenly. No hints were dropped at all. Marriage is, gosh, I can’t believe I’m saying this but it seems intimidating to me.”

The queue has finally dissipated at this point so she faces you fully showcasing her engrossment in your dilemma. The girl feeds off drama but refuses to get involved in one.

Her expression morphs into something between horrified and sympathetic. “_____, is that because of your parents?”

Your heart skips a beat. This whole time you and only you had authority over this thought that your fear of marriage is deeply rooted in your own parents’ fucked up relationship. A belief that lay sly and unseen.

Only after those words left Cherry’s mouth did you realise how venomous they sound. It makes you aware that the fear was not as concealed as you intended to keep it. What are you supposed to do when you find out that somebody else knows about your deepest terrors? Run? Hide? Or simply not say anything?

Your mouth feels suddenly dry. “What?”

Cherry takes a hold of your palm and rubs it gently, “If it is, I want you to know that it’s not the case for everyone. Marriage is a beautiful concept, a lovely commitment. Are there some pitfalls to it? Yes. But that’s the beauty of it. The way two people come together and resolve them-”

Your phone buzzes inside your pocket causing you to flinch. Releasing your hands from her hold, you take it out and see your grandmother’s number stare up at you.

“I’ll just be back.” you excuse yourself just as a woman places a stack of books on the counter.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

“Hey, beautiful” you greet her, a smile lighting up your entire face.

“My baby, did I catch you at the wrong time?” her voice is like a balm to your heart. So warm and comforting. It reminds you of your movie nights with her where you didn’t have to be anything or pretend. You just had to exist and she made it worth it. Always.

“Now you know even the devil himself can’t stop me from talking to you.”

A loud chortle reaches your ears and you imagine her throwing her head back, laughing.

“I was calling to ask if you and your eye candy of a boyfriend are visiting home this year for thanksgiving, dear?”

Dear lord, you can’t believe you forgot about that.

Your eyes widen, and just when you think you could bubble up some other lie, she speaks up, “You forgot, didn’t you?”

Yeah, bold of you to assume you can do that and get away. You actually need to work on your lying skills. For whatever reason. You want to pluck your eyelashes out one by one because of how gloomy she sounds.

“I’m genuinely sorry, grams.” pinching the bridge of your nose you continue, “I’ve just been busy with work and barely making ends meet. I promise this is the first and last time I let it slip my mind.”

With the job you have, there’s only so much cash you can count and while you would love to make a career out of writing, the thought of publishing your own book sends shivers down your spine.

Every time you open the draft a new mistake pops up, taking a percentage of your self confidence down the drain. You’re only human. A microscopic slip catches your attention and you start questioning your life choices.

“Honey, come home and give yourself some time off, what do you youngsters like to call it? Oh yes, grind. Yeah?”

It’s your turn to laugh. “Wow someone has been too into love island lately.”

Cherry raises her eyebrows from across the room and you mouth her the word ‘grandma’. She nods with a smile on her face, going back to work.

A long stretch of silence hangs in the air before you hear her ask, “_____, what else is wrong?”

The smile which has been adorning your face this whole time instantly drops. You blink.

Once

Twice

Thrice

“I don’t understand.” Liar.

“You know what I mean, baby. I want you to tell me more, because I know something has been bothering you. What is it?”

Humans are so funny sometimes. They can be as close to you as your own soul and not have a hint of your torment. Meanwhile, there is your grandmother, who despite being so far away from you just….. knew. But again, it has always been like this hasn’t it?

Whenever you got tired of your parents throwing stuff around the house, making each other lick the floors, trying to make their own and your life a living hell, she knew.

She was the one who allowed you to cry, and assured you that she would not call you dramatic if she happened to hear your sobs.

You were allowed to cry,

You were allowed to ask for help,

You were allowed to not hold back.

Sucking in a deep breath, you release it, “Everything else is perfect, grams.”

Mr William is always the first person to greet you everyday when you reach the apartment. He’s been working as a guard for years now and you’ve grown quite familiar with him. While being the sweetest man you’ve ever come across, he also brings his wife’s yummiest tarts for you whenever she makes them. Arguably, they deserve more hype than they get.

“She knows how much you love her tarts” he says, making you feel immense gratitude towards his kindness.

This particular night, he seems…. restless. He’s shifting from one foot to another as you shut the cab’s door behind you. Striding over to him, you mentally try your best to figure out his uneasiness.

Clearing your throat, your throat as you ask, “Is everything alright, Mr William?”

Only after he hears your voice, he gains his composure. Or so he tries.

He hands you a piece of paper which feels a bit wet and you wonder what could have been so intense that the man began having clammy palms.

It’s nearly concerning, not to mention it doesn’t help with your own anxiety at all. If not, shoot it up.

“Your boyfriend dropped by around lunch time, miss. He handed me this and asked me to give it to you as soon as you come back from work.”

He couldn’t have given it to you yesterday when he was with you in the first place? Weird.

“I see, but why are you so tense? Has something happened?”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “My wife has been sick and I was supposed to leave early but I figured it would be better if I gave it to you safely before going home to her.”

Fuck

“You could have given this to me later. Your wife comes first, sir.” you gulp, “Please, I appreciate your gesture but she needs you more. Thank you so much and please let me know if I can be of help.”

He releases an empty chuckle. “Thank you, Miss”

With one last nod you walk inside the building while also hoping he doesn’t call you for help. Not because you won’t do anything it takes to help him, but because you hope it wouldn’t come to it. The moment you shut the apartment door behind and turn on the light, the piece of paper steals your attention. Without waiting any further, you unfold it, coming across Jungkook’s writing.

The note alone feels like he whispered it into your ear before placing the softest kiss on your skin. Your lips stretch into a serene smile as you stride over to the bedroom, turning the doorknob as your gaze catches a purple bodycon resting on top of your bed. It is accompanied with a bouquet of pink tulips as well as a bar of Dubai chocolate.

Your head that has been nothing short of a commotion is now finally at peace. Not entirely but at peace nonetheless.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

Jungkook was 12 when he went on his first roller coaster ride. He was, like every other child, afraid. Afraid that he might fall and hurt himself so bad, he wouldn’t ever be able to get up. The roller coaster had a massive drop followed by a corkscrew which took him upside down. Until the moment Jungkook saw a woman in yellow dress buying a bunch of tulips from the flower shop he very often visited, he had never felt his stomach bottom out as strongly as it did during that drop back then.

There she was, chatting with the florist as if they’re best friends. He could see her behind the glass picking out the pink tulips before sniffing them. Meanwhile, Jungkook stood across the road, soaked and enchanted as he wondered if he should ask for her number or chicken out. Eventually, the latter won.

But here’s the thing, Jungkook is not one for losing. He hates losing, even the term makes him want to peel his own skin off.

He saw her hair first, becoming curly locks reaching down to her waist and just above her hips. Granted that his line of sight only allowed him to see her side profile, he assumed she was gorgeous. It was not unlikely for him to see beautiful women on a daily basis, but something about her just sucked him in. His eyes could not leave her face and he believed even if they tried, he would pluck them out just to punish them. Was it weird that his hands itched to hold a woman he doesn’t even know?

What’s her name?

Where does she live?

What’s her favorite color?

How does she like her coffee?

There’s a japanese phrase called koi no yokan which means that you eventually will fall in love with a person you meet. You’re going to grow so fond of that person that you would want to see no one by your side but them. She was that person for him.

He rubs his hands for the nth time in a futile attempt to warm them up, waiting outside ____’s building. How is this evening going so slow? He has been here for perhaps half an hour now, so why does it feel like it’s been a decade?

And funnily enough, the only person who can put him out of his misery is _____. At this point, the guy fears he wouldn’t be able to so much as look her in the eye, but not doing that will be the end of him too.

He looks down and lets his hands run over his black button down shirt, wondering if she would like it. She loved seeing him in black on the first date. A loud click clack of heels grab his attention, perking his ears up. He looked up and there she was in all her glory.

Jungkook releases a breath and rubs his chest as if his heart hurts. As if it’s telling him how unworthy he is of this woman who is walking up to him, who may be as nervous as him but still chose him as her man.

The woman who could have anyone she wanted wrapped around her pinky finger gave her days, nights and evenings to him. She smiled at him, for him and if he was lucky, because of him.

_____ stops before him while he’s still adjusting to the sight of her. “How do I look?”

Unreal, exquisite and way out of his league.

He shakes his head from side to side, thinking of a single word that would suffice the answer to that. He fails and so instead he runs his fingers down her forearm until he reaches her soft hands and takes it into his own cold ones.

Placing a chaste kiss on her knuckles, he begins. “My imagination of you in this dress has got nothing on this vision.”

Her face morphs into the softest expression of love, “And exactly how many times have you imagined me in this dress, Jeon Jungkook?”

He takes a step forward, his chest almost touching hers. “I can’t answer that. You want to know why?”

“Why?” Her voice is emotionless. His thumb grazes her lower lip as he tries not to smudge her nude lipstick. “Because if I do, we’ll have to go back into your apartment and try not to wake your neighbours up.” She swats his chest and softly pushes him back, dissolving into a giggle.

“You’re looking quite handsome yourself.” she says as her eyes shamelessly check him out. His sleeves are halfway folded stopping just below his elbow, beautifying his tattooed forearms.

He’s also wearing his favorite blue baggy jeans with his usual black chunky boots. The same ones he goes for when he knows _____ might not be able to bear the pain caused by her heels, so he ends up swapping them with the boots.

He would argue carrying her all the way to her apartment instead, but settles elseways.

Jungkook opens the car door for her and only after she’s well seated, he runs to his side and takes off.

The ride to the restaurant is quiet despite the obvious tension that doesn't go unnoticed by either him or her. As much as he would like to spend the rest of the night snuggled into bed with her, he knows there is something more significant than that. So instead he indulges in caressing her thigh.

“After you, angel.” He places a hand on the small of her back.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

The ambience looks straight out of the movies. Like a paradise. Violinists are playing a chorus of Fuck her gently by Tenacious D far across the room.

Jungkook catches an unknown look on her face. “Something’s wrong?”

She shakes her head, flashing him a smile. “I love this song.”

He places a tiny kiss on her temple. “I know, baby. C’mon.”

You know how women have this killer instinct of knowing if and when somebody’s watching them? It’s like they have a separate pair of googly eyes on the back of their head to protect them from creeps.

From the moment you have entered the place, the man in the wine shirt has been making a hole in your face with the way he’s been staring at you.

Is your dress too revealing? Are you showing too much skin?

“Oh I forgot to tell you. Your grandmother called earlier today.” Jungkook disrupts your thoughts.

You gulp down the last piece of steak before answering. “Let me guess she asked you to join her for thanksgiving?” He nods, a bright smile on his face. “I told her I would love to.”

A cheeky smile unfurls slowly on your face. Jungkook loves your grandmother. Maybe a little bit more than you do. Just a tiny bit though. Last year when you and he visited her, he was the first person apart from you to get a hug out of her.

Your grandma is not much of a hugger by the way. Her hugs are totally exclusive.

“I’m sure she loves having my ‘eye candy of a boyfriend’ there.”

Jungkook snorts, placing his fork down. “She called me an eye candy?”

He dissolves into a fit of laughter when you answer his question with a nod.

“See now that’s the biggest achievement I have had in a while. I mean what are the odds your wife’s grandma calls your an eye candy-”

Something sours in your stomach. The steak here tastes awful or maybe it’s just you feeling pathetic that as soon as he says ‘wife’ your expression morphs into something so dreadful that it causes him to stop. What are the odds that you just gave him a reality check and dragged him out of a fool’s paradise?

“Angel, what’s-”

You stand abruptly, cutting him off yet again. His eyes bob all over you, and then a sad frown puckers between his brows.

“I’ll just be back. I need to use the washroom.” You say as you grab your handbag as quickly as you can before leaving him there. Confused and wondering what the fuck just happened?

Few minutes later, just as you’re walking outside the washroom and making a way towards your table someone’s voice causes you to stop midway.

“Excuse me.”

Turning to face the person, you come face to face with the same man from earlier. The one wearing a wine colored shirt along with a nasty expression. You believe he’s trying to look cocky but is failing miserably.

“Can I help you?”

A slow smile spreads over his mouth. “I couldn’t help but notice that the man you’re here with seems to upset you in some way.”

An awkward chuckle leaves you. “The man is my boyfriend and I don’t think it concerns you if he’s upsetting me or not.”

He walks a little closer. Oh no, this is bad.

“Fair enough,” he shrugs, “But clearly he’s not being a good boyfriend, is he?”

The audacity of this man.

You huff out a frustrated breath, “Listen, you need to shut up and stay within your limits. It’s not healthy going around poking your nose into everyone’s business.”

His sly smile grows even more as he steps closer than before.

The hair on your body stands up, and not in a good way, but in a very uncomfortable way. You suddenly regret the idea of leaving Jungkook’s side. Bad, bad decision.

Currently, you have two options. You can either just walk off and act like nothing happened, which by the way, is a safe option or you can kick the man in the balls and then act like nothing happened.

Since you're much more accustomed to the former option, you decide to do just that but when his hands grip your wrist with an iron grip, you settle on the latter.

You knee him between the legs with an intention to hurt him as he grunts in pain, his hands gripping where you just kicked him.

“You fucking bitch.”

Before he can say anything further, you storm off. Your phone buzzes inside your handbag and you automatically assume it to be Jungkook’s call. As soon as you spot him across the room, you feel the clouds parting, there’s a feeling threatening to arise. It’s something between protected and anguished.

Anguished because you let your mind speak so deafeningly that it silenced the oh so loud love Jungkook has for you. And protected because you know for a fact that if he had any idea about what that man just did to you, he would not think twice before dragging him by the hair before bringing him to his knees in front of you to apologize.

He stands once he sees you and you waste no time running towards him. Your arms go around him as you nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck. His arms immediately embracing you in return, securing you against his chest.

It feels warm.

Concern laces his voice as he says, “I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you. Breathe”

You don’t even realise you’re panting unless he says that. You’re aware that at this point the way you flung yourself at him must have got everyone’s attention. But you genuinely don’t care. It might as well be an auditorium full of people watching you hug your boyfriend like an anchor, you just don’t care.

You realise that’s exactly what Jungkook is. Your anchor. Someone who didn’t even ask as to what happened before he straight away began consoling you.

His hand envelops the back of your head in a protective way while the other soothes your back.

“Do you want to leave? We can leave right now if you want to.”

“Yes, please.”

His body shakes as though he just nodded. “All right, let me pay real quick and we’ll leave yeah?”

Your voice is muffled against his chest. “Yeah.”

You suck in a sharp breath as he lets you go. The small folder on the table grabs your attention. He opens it only to find a note inside of it saying— “It’s on me, gorgeous”.

You can see the wheels in his mind turning, but before he starts asking you any questions which may or may not cause a breakdown of yours, you say, “I’ll explain it to you outside. Can we please go?”

“Let me see wh-”

“Please?” He lets out a defeated sigh and nods. “Yeah- Yeah let’s go.”

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

At first when Jungkook saw that note, the first emotion that he felt was rage and a very serious one at that. But it was soon replaced by realization. It doesn’t take a scientist to figure out that something nasty went down after _____ left to use the washroom. Something he can’t wait to get to the bottom of. Nevertheless, he didn’t want her to be pressured to answer the more obvious question.

Jungkook’s girl is attractive. She’s kind and empathetic and fucking stunning which makes her worthy of all the attention she gets. Of course men are going to want to be with her.

Initially, it bothered him. A lot.

Now, though? He’s grown rather used to it. However, it has never come to having someone pay for her in a restaurant. Even the thought of someone so much as speaking to her in an inhumanely manner makes him want to punch a hole through a wall.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

The silence is too loud inside the car. He can hear ____’s heart beating loudly or is it his own?

She’s leaning back with her head against the headrest. When she doesn’t respond, Jungkook speaks again, “_____ baby, will you please at least look at me?”

Her eyes connect with his and he flashes her the softest of smiles.

Taking her hand, he kisses the inside of her wrist where he can feel her pulse.

Thump thump thump.

“I want you to give me something, angel. Anything.”

He can see her gulp before admitting, “There was um… there was a guy outside the washroom and he kind of tried to force himself on me,” she closes her eyes for a brief moment, “Maybe I’m just being dramatic, but I handled him.”

Jungkook’s stomach drops. He was right. His hands fly out to open the car door before _____ holds him back. “Don’t. I said I handled it.”

He turns back, his voice leaking with anger along with something more barbaric. “And I’m proud that you did, but if I don’t go in and beat that asshole into a new one I won’t be able to call myself a man worthy of you anymore. I need him to know that he can’t fuck with my girl and go about his goddamn day.” “Jungkook, please. I can’t take it anymore. Please stop.”

And he does. For now.

He leans back, running his hands over his face with frustration. For a few minutes he and ____ just stare outside the front glass of the car. The parking lot slowly gets empty as people leave for their homes one by one.

Just when he thinks _____ has dozed off, her voice reaches him. “Can I get one more hug?”

“Come here.”

He takes her into a warm embrace before kissing the top of her head, settling his lips there. His anger has yet not fully dissipated, but having her so close calms his heart. It calms his whole being. Her touch, her breath against his skin, her presence heals something in him.

Therefore, he made up his mind about spending his whole life with her. The little slip of words, which by the way was totally unintentional, soured _____'s expression and that didn’t go unnoticed by him.

She’s scared but he fully intends to let her know that she doesn’t have to.

______ unwraps herself from his arms and pushes back. Just enough for their noses to touch.

She shakes her head, “Don’t give me those eyes.”

Jungkook holds back a smile. “What eyes, angel?”

“The same ones you give me when you want something dirty to happen. Those big brown eyes of yours.”

He lets a chuckle slip out. “I’m down if you are.”

When she offers him her own laugh, gosh it’s as though he comes alive. If he could bottle up the sound, he would. Something passes in _____’s eyes. Lust? Desire? He can’t pinpoint.

He wants to kiss the hell out of her though and he wants to do it desperately. Her eyes drop to his mouth and he takes it as a sign to lean forward and press his mouth against hers.

Her lips part ever so slightly followed by her gripping Jungkook’s collar to bring him even closer. So close as if she wants their souls to intertwine.

The feeling is very much mutual.

She gets up from the passenger’s seat without breaking the kiss and straddles his lap. Her legs on either side of his thigh as their core’s touch. Jungkook is not sure how long he can endure this sweet pain of waiting.

In all sincerity, he’s been holding himself back from the very moment he saw her walking up to him in that dress. Do with that information what you will.

Now, he just wants to say fuck it and get inside her— only that he can’t, because he wants her to take her time and ask for it. Then and then only he will fuck her. If it’s inside this car then so be it.

The kiss is electric and filled with passion, tingling his skin in all the right places as she matches his enthusiasm with her own.

______ pulls back with a deep breath, leaving Jungkook panting heavily.

“Please.” she begs.

A strand of hair falls on her face. He tucks it behind her ear. “Please what baby?”

“Please fuck me, Jungkook. I want you so bad and I want you right now.” she whines.

He grins. “At your service, ma’am.”

He hears _____’s light chuckle as he gets out of the car, carrying her with him while also making sure she doesn’t hit her head on the hood. She detaches herself from him once they’re out and settles in the back seat. Only after ensuring she’s comfortable enough, Jungkook follows her.

His body lays on top of her and he wastes no time as their mouths collide. Her finger grip the hair on his nape and he groans with pleasure, his cock going thick. He rubs it on her lower stomach to show her how much he wants her, gaining a moan out of her.

Jungkook’s head goes fuzzy with every passing second. He almost comes when she lifts her hips up and rubs a slow circle against his cock.

“Fuck.” He groans, pulling back from the kiss. _____’s cheeks are heated and lips are swollen. He did that. Her man did that.

Suddenly, he’s grateful for the tinted glass and his big car.

_____ lifts her head up and kisses his sweaty cheek, swiping his forehead with her palm. “You’re sweating, honey.”

“Yeah, I tend to do that in your presence. Do you know how hard it was for me to stay sane after seeing you look so unbelievably gorgeous?”

She passes him a lazy smile, “You’ve always been so good at controlling yourself, haven’t you?”

“Not anymore.” He sits up, knees on either side of her body and starts unbuckling his belt all the while panting with excitement. His pants slide halfway down letting his cock spring free. Thick, angry and leaking with precum. His shirt goes next.

______’s eyes flash with lust as she bites her lower lip. The straps of her dress have slipped down, leaving her tits bare and open for Jungkook.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good, baby.” he leans forward as she runs a hand up his bare spine, hooking her legs over his hip.

“Please.” she whispers.

A loud thunder outside the car grabs Jungkook’s attention. Nice, he’s so horny he didn’t even realise that it’s raining. Another rumble of thunder drowns their panting breath but he still only focuses on the woman beneath him. The goddess of a woman who trusts him with her body. How lucky he is to call her his own.

She brushes his hair out of his face, her thumb dusting over the mole on the bridge of his nose before her hand follows the path of his tattooed arm, his rib, his ass, until she wraps a fist around his dick.

He pushes into her hand. “I need to grab the condoms from the console, angel.”

There’s a brief moment of silence, the car filling with the pants and whimpers before she says, “I want you bare. I’m on the pill.”

Jungkook has never gone without condom nor has he considered going without one, but this woman right here just asked him to get inside her bare and fuck if it doesn’t tempt him.

And so he gives in, but not before asking, “Are you sure?”

“As sure as one can be.”

He nods, bringing his lips back to hers. His hand finds her thong under the dress as he slides it down her legs. Then he strokes a single line up and down her slit, wetting his finger with her cum. When he brings the same finger to his mouth and sucks on it, _____ all but whimpers.

His cock follows next and he does the same with it, rubbing himself up and down her slit as he coats himself in her before he presses his thumb down on the head of his cock, curls his hips forward, and pushes into her.

Tortuously slowly, inch by fucking inch.

She’s so warm and tight for him. He’s not sure how long he can take before he shoots his load inside of her.

“More.” she pleads, her face morphing into the most beautiful expression of pleasure.

Jungkook pulls back and pushes again, watching more of a length disappear inside of her. He’s not even halfway in and she’s already crying out his name.

Leaning in, he bites her neck in an attempt to give her his all. All his love, all his nights and all his life. The question is at the tip of his tongue but considering what happened inside, he quickly holds himself back.

“You’re doing so good for me, my angel. Taking me so well,” He thrusts again. “You’re made for me, aren’t you?”

She cries out.

“What was that?” She throws her head back. “Yes. Oh my god”

Thrust. “Yes, what baby? I’m gonna need you to say it.”

Jungkook takes her nipple in his mouth, sucking on it until she cries out again, “I’m made for you. Fuck.”

He releases the nipple with a loud pop. “That’s right you are.” His pelvic bone is flush with hers, ____’s legs as wide as possible to accommodate him. She dusts her fingertips up and down his spine while he slowly kisses along her jaw.

When she pushes her heels into his ass, urging him to move, he pulls out part way before pushing back in again.

She lets out a moan quickly followed by his own. _____’s hands run over Jungkook’s abs, nipples, and wrap around his shoulders.

He’s fucking her slowly, taking his time, feeling her body and letting her feel his too. Every brush, every graze, every breath is precious to him.

Soft and intimate.

So when the next words leave Jungkook’s mouth, he blames it on the moment. “Marry me.”

_____’s eyes which were closed earlier, savoring the very moment, pop open and his movement halts.

“What?”

“Fuck. Okay, I know this is not a position or place a woman wants to be proposed in, but I have to say this before I go insane. _____, I know you’re scared and I also know the reason behind it. Of course, I won’t ask you why you kept that part a secret from me, because I respect you and want you to take your time. But baby,” he brushes his thumb over her cheekbone, “I need you to know that I will die before I let anything like that go down between us. I love you so much you don’t even realise. Sometimes I even shock myself with how much I cherish you. You’re a gift to me, a gift which brings out the best not just in me but in everyone she meets.”

He places a small kiss on her forehead before continuing, “I can go anywhere, see everything but it still wouldn’t match the level of affection I hold for you in my heart. Still wouldn’t match the beauty of your smile, you amazing woman. You’re all I have ever wanted. So please, make me the happiest motherfucker in the world by saying ye-”

“Yes”

‘What?”

“Yes, I’ll marry you. Now will you please shut up fuck me like you promised, husband?”

He bites her jaw, “Oh, I’ll fuck you so nice you’ll be begging for more, wife.”

Soon enough, _____’s lower lip trembles as her orgasm takes over, and he has the privilege to watch it all. The fluttering of her lashes, the marks of her nail down his arm and the way she calls him her husband again when she’s able to find her words.

He’s so gone.

About half an hour later when he asks her again as to what changed her mind about marriage, she says something so deep yet in such a casual way, he wants to cry.

“When I hugged you inside, you didn’t ask questions. You just let me be and that may seem like a miniscule thing for someone else, but for me it was enough. Enough to stay with you until I turn all wrinkly and grey haired.”

1K notes · View notes

mggslover · 2 days ago

Note

spencer and readers first fight ! can you possiblyyyy do something along the lines of spencer said something sassy/petty/mean which results in reader giving spencer the silent treatment and he crashes out begging for her to speak to him 🤓☝🏼

your first fight with spencer genre: slight angst, fluff word count: 1,7k a/n: i've been so excited to write this one! honestly way too long for a drabble, but i hope you enjoy it

“That’s okay. Your mind wouldn’t be able to comprehend a concept like this."

Spencer didn’t understand the gravity of his words before you huffed out a sigh, placing your hands on your knees as you lifted yourself up from the spot next to him on the couch. His eyes followed your body as you walked straight toward your shared bedroom, opening the door before shutting it behind you with a bang. The click of the lock echoed through the now silent living room.

Spencer sat frozen in place, his gaze fixed on the door as if you’d magically reappear in front of him.

Everything about your body language hinted at you being angry, but he couldn’t grasp why. He replayed the situation back in his head in an effort to decipher the reason.

You had cheerfully greeted him when he entered the apartment. He’d been away on a case for several days, not having had the time to speak to you over the phone or give you any updates on how he was doing.

As much as he preferred keeping clear boundaries between his personal and professional life, Spencer couldn’t resist telling you the details of some of his cases when coming home. Not when the psychology behind the unsubs fascinated him so much. And especially not when you eagerly pulled him toward the couch, pushing him down onto the soft cushions as you handed him a cup of freshly brewed coffee, ready to hear about his day.

You sat cross-legged in front of him, eyes twinkling with admiration as he told you about today’s case. He explained how he discovered a pattern in the way the unsub took his captives, using the numbers 11235 — the first five numerals in the Fibonacci sequence.

He noticed the frown forming between your brows as he got into more detail.

“Can you explain that to me? I don’t get it,” you asked.

“That’s okay. Your mind wouldn’t be able to comprehend a concept like this.”

Spencer wasn’t lying. He remembered how his coworkers had blankly stared at him when he analyzed his theory — how Emily made eye contact with JJ, their silent looks saying there he goes again, and how Hotch had to cut him off to tell him to get to the point. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to explain it to you, he just didn’t see the point in doing so, not when he knew this was a connection only he could understand.

After a couple of minutes, there was still radio-silence. Spencer got up and walked to the bedroom, knocking softly on the door. “Angel? Can you open up for me?”

“Just go away, Spencer.”

Your voice cracked, like you had been crying, and the sound made his heart sink.

“Please open the door so we can talk. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“What’s wrong?” Your scoff vibrated through the door. “I don’t even want to talk to you if you can’t understand what’s wrong.”

Spencer swallowed hard, his hands turning clammy. He didn’t like confrontations and especially not with you. You’d never fought before. Rationally, he knew fights weren’t necessarily a bad thing — conflicts usually stemmed from deeper fears and feelings that get triggered, and confronting these feelings could lead to creating an even stronger bond. But right now, all he wanted was to turn back time and make sure those words never left his mouth.

His mind blanked in situations like these, so the only logical fix he could come up with was to call Derek.

“Hey,” Spencer spoke through the phone, balancing the device between his ear and shoulder as he nervously paced through the living room.

“Hey man. What’s up?”

“I messed up.”

Morgan’s chuckle sounded through the speaker. “Our genius making a mistake. Who would’ve thought the day would come?”

Spencer sighed, losing his patience. “It’s serious.”

Derek paused before responding. “Alright, slow down. Tell me what happened.”

Spencer repeated the conversation for what felt like the hundredth time that day, his guilt accumulating with each repetition. He gulped when he heard Derek take a sharp inhale at the other side of the line. He could almost see him shaking his head.

“Okay,” Derek began. “Now listen to me. When it comes down to it, all women are the same, they just need some loving and appreciation. Go buy her some flowers before the store closes.”

Spencer didn’t need to be told twice. He glanced one last time at the still-locked bedroom door before heading out.

Thankfully, Spencer’s apartment was close to downtown. He hurried into the first flower shop that he spotted, his eyes scanning the bouquets until they landed on a pair of bright colored lilies. The outer corners of the petals shone with a radiant shade of pink, fading into a soft white at the center.

He cleared his throat as he placed the flowers on the counter. “Can I have these, please?”

The woman behind the counter started wrapping them in pink paper, reaching out for lint to tie a bow. “Trouble in paradise?”

Spencer blinked, not often experiencing someone seeing right through him. Besides his coworkers. And you.

“Ya know, I see so many men come in here on the daily. You can just tell they got in trouble with their lady; sweating bullets and rushing to pick a bouquet the second before the store closes.” She twirled the bouquet in her hand as she pulled on the strings of the lint bow. “At least you picked a nice one.”

“Do-,” Spencer hesitated, his voice softening in an uncertain whisper. “Will she forgive me after this?”

“Depends on what ya did,” she answered with a lift of her shoulders. “What I can tell you is that flowers don’t do much fixing.”

Damn it, Derek.

The florist turned around, rummaging through a drawer, before pulling out an envelope and sliding it across the counter.

“Write,” she stated in a single syllable. “We need words. We need to know that you care, and we need you to put more effort into it than paying ten dollars.”

With a new plan in mind, Spencer hurried home. The apartment was still silent when he returned, the door firmly closed and no signs of you having left the bedroom. He sighed and made his way to his desk, shoving aside piles of books and papers until he had enough space to write. He opened the envelope the florist had given him, and carefully pulled out a sheet of blank stationary.

My Lover Dearest,

It is ironic that I have read so much poetry and so many books in my life, and yet I cannot find the words to describe how much you mean to me.

Sometimes, I find it difficult to believe that someone as wonderful as you would want to be with me. That I’m allowed to deserve the love that you give me.

My mind works in strange ways, and as much as you’ve praised me for it, it can work as a curse as well. I am scared to overwhelm you, to talk your ears off (which would be a shame, because you have beautiful ears) to the point that you grow tired of me.

I never had the intention to cause you pain, or to initiate that you’re any less brilliant than you are. You are the brightest part of my life. I feel grateful every time I get to talk to you, and I would love nothing more than to explain any concept you’d want me to. I’m sorry for not having understood that before.

I love you. I love you. I have been wanting to tell you this in a special way, please know that I am not just saying this to ask for your forgiveness. I love you.

Sincerely, Spencer

The clock chimed 03.00 a.m. by the time Spencer finished his letter. His hand ached and he could barely keep his eyes open as he stumbled to the bedroom door. He turned the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. With a resigned sigh he slid the letter under the door and sat down against it. It didn’t take long for exhaustion to overtake him.

The repeated knocking of the door against his back woke him.

“Spencer?”

Your voice sounded like a siren, and he instantly scrambled away from the door, allowing you to open it fully.

You stood there, holding the envelope in your hand as your eyes softened when you glanced over him, mouth forming a small oh. “What are you doing here?” you asked in worry.

“The door was locked,” he answered, voice still hoarse from sleep.

A curse escaped your lips as you pressed your hands against your face. “I am so sorry. I must have fallen asleep with the door still locked.”

Spencer’s lips lifted into a small smile, relieved that you hadn’t locked him out intentionally. “It’s okay. Orthopedists actually recommend sleeping on the floor from time to time. Sleeping on a hard surface encourages a more natural position for your spine, which can reduce back pain. It even strengthens certain muscles, so the pressure on your body evens out. As a matter of fact, anthropological studies have shown that-”

He stopped mid-ramble, blushing when he noticed the faint smile tugging on your lips.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I’ll stop,”

“Don’t you ever stop,” you replied as you lowered yourself on the ground next to him. You reached for his hands, placing them into your lap.

Spencer’s blush deepened, and he struggled to suppress a grin. Your encouragement reassured him, and he went on about groups in Japan and Tanzania who experience significantly lower rates of back pain due to their minimal use of furniture.

“Spencer,” you gently interrupted after a while.

He blinked at you, seeing the gleam in your eyes as you adoringly stared at him. “Hm?”

“I love you too.”

829 notes · View notes

soaps-mohawk · 1 day ago

Text

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 44: Little Shit

Summary: John has left a mess in his wake. Can the pack pick up the pieces before it's too late?

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 9,659 words

Warnings: Alpha/beta/omega dynamics, a/b/o, angst, language, some fluff, kissing, Simon being an asshole, angst

A/N: I'm actually very excited for this one and I know you will be too

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

It’s cold out. It feels fitting, a mirror of the emptiness in your soul. They’re not happy about you being out here, but you don’t care. You don’t care about much right now. You’re wrapped in a blanket regardless, tucked into the chair, curled in, making yourself as small as you possibly can. There’s a need deep within you to feel protected and safe. Part of you had wanted to curl up in bed and lay there for the rest of time, but another part of you desired to sit outside and stare at the sea in the distance. A deeper part of you wanted to go, but you know they’d shut that down as fast as the words could come out of your mouth.

They don’t seem eager to do much of anything for you right now.

It’s a fair assumption. They’re all dealing with John’s absence as much as you are. There’s a definitive hole in your pack, and no one will be able to fill it, no matter how hard they try.

“If you’re going to sit out here, at least drink something warm.” A cup of tea is set down on the table before a figure lowers themselves into the chair next to you with a grunt. “’S cold out.”

“Feels good.” You murmur, ignoring the steaming cup. Of course he’d bring tea. He wouldn’t be caught dead drinking coffee after the playful rivalry that’s been ongoing between coffee drinkers and tea drinkers in the cottage. At least that can continue even in the tumultuous state of the pack.

It falls silent between the two of you, an awkward silence. He’s the last person you expected to join you outside. He’s been avoiding you like the plague, but then again he’s been avoiding you as much as possible since you arrived at the cottage. You know he doesn’t hate you, but you’d almost prefer it. The distaste he held for you back when you first joined the pack would be preferable to this quiet avoidance he’s wedged between the two of you.

“You...doing okay?” He asks, and you almost laugh in response.

Of course you’re not. He knows you’re not. He’s perceptive and aware. He knows what you’re feeling even without you having to say it. He’s asking purely because of societal expectations, but he already knows. He’s not stupid.

At least in his head.

“No.” You answer honestly, tucking your blanket up tighter around you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks hesitantly.

“Do you want me to talk about it?” You retort. “Feelings aren’t really your thing.”

He shifts in the chair, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “Because you trust Johnny and Kyle more?”

“It has nothing to do with trust.” You say, your brows furrowing. “You’re just not the most...open person to talk to. Didn’t think you’d be interested in talking about feelings.”

“I’m just trying to be supportive.” He says.

“Well you’re doing a shit job at it.” You snap back.

Things fall silent between the two of you again, the wedge pressing on the edges of your bond, the little bond you have left. He’s done a good job at laying that barrier between the two of you, driving the space further and further in his distance. He’s the last person you want right now, but he’s the only one you have.

You let out a long breath, the air steaming in front of you. “He just had to be the one to go after Shepherd.” You say bitterly, your thoughts coming out before you can stop them. “He really just up and left and for what?”

“To make sure the pack is safe.” Simon says simply. “Alphas leave all the time.”

“But he didn’t have to! Not right now,” You say, turning your head to look at him finally. “Not when things were finally starting to get better.”

“He thought he had to.” Simon says, glancing sideways at you. “You know how he is.”

“Yeah and it sucks.” You say. “I wanted him to be better, to try harder to not think about the big picture...to think about me.” You let out a shuddering breath as you try to hold the tears back. “Just...why? Why him?”

Simon is quiet for a moment. “You wish I had gone instead.”

You give him a look. “You know that's not what I meant.”

“Is it? Because it sounds like it.” He says. “Would have been better if I had gone anyway.”

“Why, because then you wouldn’t have to deal with me?” You say, hurt and anger starting to churn in your chest. You’re getting frustrated with him and his emotional constipation.

“That’s not what I said.”

“Well it sounds like it.” You throw his own words at him, turning fully to face him now. “You really don’t want to be stuck here with me, in charge of me. Be honest.”

He’s silent for a breath, obviously trying to figure out how to answer in a way that’s going to hurt you the least. You don’t care. You want him to be honest and open, even if it does hurt. “It’s complicated.”

“That’s not an answer.” You say, letting the blanket drop from around you. You’re worked up enough from the emotions coursing through you, you don’t need it anymore.

“It’s the only answer I have.” He says, his voice firm.

You let out a sharp breath through your nose, pushing yourself up to stand. Some deep, twisted part of you wants to throw the tea at his face in anger, but you don’t. You won’t. You’re not brave enough for that. Instead you shove at his shoulder, barely making him budge. “You’re so fucking frustrating!”

You turn on your heel, storming back into the house.

“Well you're certainly not winning any popularity contests.” Kyle says, leaning against the door frame.

“Piss off.” Simon growls, his shoulders hunched and tense like a coil ready to spring.

Kyle glances over his shoulder as something thuds in your room. He wonders what it is you’ve thrown this time. Maybe yourself. That’s Johnny’s problem for now. Instead he steps out the door, sliding it closed behind him before making his way over to the tense alpha.

“You really are shit at this.” He says, sinking down into the chair you were sitting in. It’s still warm from your body, and so is the blanket as he drapes it over his lap. “You’re going to have to try harder than that.”

“I shouldn’t have to try at all.” Simon snaps.

“But you don’t have a choice right now.” Kyle says. “I know you’re scared.” He cuts off Simon before he can protest. “Shut up, I know you’re scared of having this much power, of doing something wrong, of hurting her, but you’re not doing anyone any favors being all moody. You’re throwing her off and you’re throwing the rest of us off.”

Simon stays silent, staring out into the distance as Kyle continues to speak.

“John did what he did and we can’t change that. There was no changing his mind. You know that more than the rest of us. Now you have to step up. He trusts you to do that. He trusts his omega with you. That speaks volumes of his trust in your ability to take care of his pack.” Kyle reaches over, putting a hand on Simon’s shoulder, rubbing it gently. “We’re right here with you. You don’t have to be scared.”

Simon slowly begins to relax, his shoulders lowering and jaw unclenching as Kyle continues to rub his shoulder, projecting his scent to try and diffuse the tension that had built in your exchange with the broody alpha.

“I hate it when you do that.” Simon grumbles, sinking further into the chair.

“It works, though.” Kyle says with a soft smile. “You’re the alpha in charge now, so start acting like it.”

“I don’t know where to start.” Simon says softly.

Kyle squeezes his shoulder. “Maybe with an apology.”

“He’s just so...emotionally constipated.” You say, throwing another pillow at the wall.

“He’s just...goin’ through a lot right now.”

“So are the rest of us!” You say, spinning on your heel to grab another pillow. “And we’re all doing just fine at trying to adjust!”

“Are we?”

You let out a huff as you stare at him, disheveled from the fit you’ve been throwing. Johnny grabs the pillow you’re bee-lining for, holding it out of your reach instead.

“That’s enough.” He says, letting the pillow drop to the floor before he reaches forward, wrapping an arm around you. He drags you up onto the bed, sitting you down between his legs.

“I just don’t get it.” You murmur as you sit there, drawing your knees up to your chest as Johnny starts to comb his fingers through your hair. “Why John had to leave, why Simon is being so difficult.”

“Ye want the truth?” He asks, tugging lightly at your hair. He’s starting to braid it, something to keep his hands busy.

“No.” You say, resting your chin on your knee. “I already know.”

“He’s just as scared as the rest of us.” Johnny says anyway. “He’s never been in this position before. None of us have. Sure, John’s left on solos before, but things are different now.”

“Because I’m here.” You murmur, leaning into his touch as his fingers brush your ear.

“A lot has changed.” Johnny says. “Not just because of ye.”

“A lot because of me, though.” You say. “If I hadn’t been here, if I hadn’t been added to this pack…”

“Things would have still gone to shit eventually.” Johnny says. “The truth would come out, Shepherd would run for the hills, John would chase after him. Difference now is there’s something tae come back to.”

Guilt churns in your stomach as you sit there, unsure what to say as Johnny finishes braiding your hair.

“You really think he’s coming back?” You say quietly after a moment, that guilt still chewing away inside your stomach.

“Course he is.” Johnny says, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you back against his chest. “He loves ye, he loves all of us. He has to ensure Shepherd is gone before he’ll feel safe again, before he’ll feel it’s safe fer you.”

He’s doing it for you.

It’s not the first time you’ve had that thought since your alpha left you.

You lean your head against Johnny’s arm, staring out the window at the grey world outside. It feels so dull and oppressive. For once you miss the sun and warmth of summer, the feeling of life instead of the chill that’s settled in your bones. It’s not cold in the house, yet you can feel a chill seeping down beneath your skin and into your very soul.

You curl up tighter in Johnny’s arms, pressing closer to his chest as if you might be able to sink deep into his very being. Maybe there you’ll finally be warm and that ache will ease just a little. His arms tighten around you, trying to offer you comfort, but it’s not enough. It’ll never be enough, not so long as John is gone. Your omega yearns for her alpha in a way you’ve never felt. You know separation can be hard on an omega, yet you’ve never quite experienced something like this.

Despite your hurt and anger and frustration, your omega longs to be in her alpha’s arms again. You want John to scoop you up and hold you tight in his arms and keep you there forever, safe and warm and protected.

Johnny’s trying his best, trying to offer you comfort but even he has to know it’s not enough. You need an alpha, you need someone there to offer some semblance of balance in the pack and for your omega. She’s not angry like she had been, but she’s restless still, pacing in her cage, waiting for something.

You let out a quiet breath, letting your eyes flutter closed for a moment as you sit there in Johnny’s embrace.

The quiet moment is broken by your stomach growling.

Johnny’s chest moves as he huffs out a quiet laugh, squeezing you tightly. “Come on, kitten. Let’s get ye some food.”

He finally lets you go, letting you slide off the bed. You grab a sweater from the closet before heading out into the main living area. Simon has disappeared unsurprisingly. Probably upstairs brooding, where he spends most of his time when he’s in the cottage. He almost spends more time outside the cottage now. He has to be going stir crazy laying low for this long. They all have to be.

Johnny passes by, brushing his hand across your back as he heads for the kitchen likely to harass Kyle while he tries to make lunch. Dr. Keller is nowhere to be seen, likely taking as much time to herself as she can. She’s been helping as much as she can while your pack tries to adjust to this sudden change. Mostly she’s been helping you, but the others have been utilizing her knowledge and understanding as well. It makes you feel guilty, making her work so much, but of course she’d never admit to being tired or worn out by the constant state of crisis within your pack.

You stand there for a moment, lost in thought until something warm presses against your back. You tense, slowly turning around to look up at Simon. He’s looming over you, staring down at you with his face hidden behind that stupid mask. You wish you could see his face and read him, but you know deep down his poker face is impeccable and you wouldn’t be able to read him anyway.

“You’re doing it again.” He says, and you know what he’s talking about.

“Sorry.” You say quietly.

“Stop apologizing.” He says rather harshly, making you flinch. His shoulders slump just a little at your flinch, a quiet sigh leaving his lips. “You shouldn’t be the one apologizing.”

You blink up at him. This is rather unexpected.

“We’re all going through a lot right now, a lot of changes...but that’s no excuse to be a dick towards you.” He lets out another breath. “I’m sorry.”

You continue to stare up at him in shock, not expecting him to go so far as to apologize for his actions. Especially not right now. “Are you...apologizing?” You ask him in disbelief.

“Yes.” He says simply.

You stare up at him for a long moment, staring into those chocolate brown eyes. He’s so big and imposing, yet he seems so vulnerable in this moment. Something stirs in the back of your mind, your omega starting to preen a bit at the idea of him finally bowing down before you and allowing you to be in charge. He’s lowered himself enough to apologize...what else can you get out of him?

A low rumble echoes in his chest as you stare up at him, a slow smile tugging at your lips. “You really mean it?”

“Stop it.” He growls, his eyes narrowing. “That’s not fair.”

“What’s not fair?” You ask innocently, batting your eyelashes at him.

He clenches his fist, his shoulders squaring. “I hate this new side of you.”

Your grin only widens as you step up closer to him. “Doesn’t smell like it.”

“Alright you two, come eat before you stink out the house.” Kyle says, breaking the tense moment between the two of you.

You give Simon a wink before turning on your heel, leaving the reeling alpha in your wake as you make your way to the table.

“How are things going?”

It’s an innocent question, but it almost has you in tears. How are things going? Your pack is on the fringes of a breakdown, the bonds have never been more tense, you have an alpha that doesn’t want to be an alpha. How are things going? Not great.

“They’re okay,” You lie, your fingers tightening around the edges of the book in your lap. “It’s an adjustment.”

“I bet.” Ashley says sympathetically. “I can’t imagine this would be an easy change.”

“They’re doing well all things considered.” Dr. Keller swoops in, saving you from having to come up with a response. “The separation of an alpha can be a hard thing to cope with.” Her eyes are on you when she says it, making the guilt in your stomach twist itself into knots.

“You’re a lot stronger than I would be in this situation.”

It’s directed at you, and you bring yourself to offer a small smile in response.

In truth you feel like falling apart. You doubt either women would care. They’re both betas, caretakers. You’ve cried in front of Dr. Keller so many times you’ve lost count, and you doubt Ashley would look down on you for showing such weakness. It might actually feel good, letting the emotions out in front of two people who understand.

“You need anything, you let me know.” Ashley continues. “Even if it’s getting the boys out of the house.”

They are out of the house currently, well, Johnny and Simon left. Well, it was more like Johnny dragged Simon out of the house. Going on a run, they said. A long run. Maybe to town and back. A run to clear the head. A run to get those emotions out.

How you wish you could go for a run right now.

Kyle is somewhere in the house. Kyle. You feel guilty for how much you’ve withdrawn from the beta. You can only imagine how he’s feeling. His alpha has deserted him too. You both share that closer bond because of John and yet here you are keeping Kyle at arm’s distance. You have something to bond over, something to bring the two of you closer together in your confusion and the adjustments you both have to make.

Yet here you are holding him at a distance.

It only adds to the twisting of the guilt in your stomach.

The room has fallen silent, Ashley and Dr. Keller both staring at you. You blink yourself back into reality, looking between them. You got lost in your mind again, a habit you still can’t break. It’s gotten worse in your isolation, often left with nothing but your thoughts for company.

Whose fault is that?

“Sorry.” You say quietly, adjusting yourself in your chair.

“Welcome back.” Dr. Keller says, giving you a soft smile.

“A fellow over-thinker.” Ashley says, giving you a wink. “I understand 100%. Why don’t we move on to less intense conversation.”

You glance down at the book in your lap. In truth you haven’t read much of it. You haven’t felt like reading much in the last few days. You haven’t felt like doing much of anything these last few days. Life has gotten impossibly hard with the desertion of your alpha. You hadn’t expected it to feel like this.

You hadn’t expected it to be so hard.

Everything has been thrown off, even your desire to function as a member of the pack. If you can even call what you have a pack. You’re more like four independent planets all stuck in the gravitational pull of the black hole that is the bond you share. You’re slowly inching closer and closer to the event horizon, the point of no return when the gravitational pull will be too much and you’ll be sucked in and spaghettified in the intensity of your bond.

You’ll all be sucked in eventually. There’s no escaping.

Well, that’s not entirely true.

There is an escape, a way to find the velocity to pull yourself free of the looming event horizon, but the pain of it will be far greater than the pain you feel now. There will be no recovery, no promise of a future for you. It will be the end of everything. You’ll fall into a different black hole and there won’t be anything waiting on the other side.

“So what do you think of the main character?” Ashley asks, drawing you from your thoughts once more.

“I think she could use a break from everything she’s been through.” Dr. Keller says.

You and me both.

As the days continue to pass since John’s desertion, things don’t improve much. Simon is still fighting his new role, driving Johnny to recede into himself again. Kyle is like a lost ghost, floating around the house like a specter. You...you’re going insane with it all.

You can’t take much more of this up and down, this lack of surety, the pain throbbing in the back of your head from the constant tugging of your bond. Their lack of motion has you spinning out of control. You need to take control, you need to help them and yourself. The pack won’t last like this, so you have to make things happen one way or another.

Looks like you have to do everything yourself again.

“Where’s Johnny.” You ask Simon as he passes by you in the living room.

“Upstairs I think.” He says, skirting past you.

“Will you go get him please?” You say, turning around to face him. “We need to have a pack meeting.”

Simon stares down at you for a long moment before nodding. “Fine.” He grunts.

You step out of his way as he heads for the stairs, his footsteps thudding up the steps. You let out a long breath, half expecting you’d have to fight him harder than that. You move to stand in front of the fireplace, a few seconds passing before you hear movement upstairs.

Three sets of footsteps make their way down the steps, the other members of your pack appearing one by one.

“Sit.” You say, pointing in front of you.

They move silently, sitting themselves down on the couches. Simon by himself on one, and Johnny and Kyle on the other. They’re sitting further away than they have been. It makes your chest constrict as you stare at them.

You clear your throat, the words you had planned vacating your mind as you stand before them. You have nothing to be nervous about. They’re just the members of your pack, men you’ve been around for almost a year now. You know them in and out, better than they know you. Yet you can’t hide the nervous twisting in your stomach as you stand there vulnerably.

You close your hands into fists to hide them from shaking as you look across their faces once more.

“I’ve gathered you here today to have a serious conversation.” You say, trying to keep your voice from wavering. “About us as a pack.”

Johnny shifts in his seat at your words, all of them staring at you intently.

“I know John leaving has been hard on all of us, but we can’t keep just floating around like a bunch of ghosts. It’s eating me alive and I can’t take it anymore.” You swallow the lump in your throat. “So, seeing as how no one else wants to do so, I’m taking charge of this pack.”

Simon shifts slightly at your words, just a flinch but you catch it out of the corner of your eye.

“My alpha is the one that left, so I should be the one to step up in his place.” You state firmly, not letting the thickening of Simon’s scent throw you off. “You can call me alpha now.”

Simon’s hands clench into fists, his scent nearly knocking you off your feet. “You think it’s that easy, do you?”

You steady yourself. You prepared for such an outburst from the broody alpha. “Yeah. I do.”

“You’re just going to step up and play alpha while yours is away?” Simon rises to his feet. “What gives you the right?”

“Well, you won’t do it.” You snap, steeling yourself as he steps closer. “So someone has to.”

His eyes narrow at your words. You’ve hit a nerve and he doesn’t like it. Good, you think. Serves him right.

“We can’t keep going on like this.” You continue, trying to reason with him. “Someone has to take charge and since you won’t, I will.”

“That’s not your place, omega.” His scent slams into you again and you feel the urge to drop as your status slips out of his mouth.

“Then do something!” You’re shaking now, fighting off his dominance. He’s using his own status against you. It’s not fair, but it’s what you want. “Man up and be an alpha.”

“Hey!” Kyle is between you before Simon can take another step forward, pushing the alpha back. “You’re not helping anything getting all puffed.” Johnny is on his feet too, halfway between you and the couch. “She’s right.” Kyle continues. “We can’t go on like this. John left and we can’t do anything about that. We need a leader.”

“You want that to be me?” Simon scoffs.

“Well, yeah.” Kyle says. “You are second alpha. It’s your job to take John’s place in his absence. We need you to take his place.” Kyle pushes him back another step. “You have to decide. You can’t fight our omega on wanting to step up because you don’t want to step up yourself.”

You feel like passing out as you stand there, still trembling from the onslaught of alpha you had just faced. You’re proud of yourself for facing it as long as you did. Months ago you wouldn’t have even approached the subject, much less stood up to him like that.

If you were stronger, you might have fought him back.

“It’s me or you.” You say, stepping out from behind Kyle. “It can’t be neither of us.”

Simon stares down at you, his eyes hard. His scent has dispersed a bit, the heavy ozone of it fading. The scent of beta is pushing it aside, but your nose still burns from his anger. He’s still frustrated, but you can see the tension in his body lessening. You imagine his jaw unclenching, his shoulders lowering just centimeters. You’ve got him right where you wanted him to be.

You step around Kyle, putting yourself back in his space. Kyle doesn’t move, inches away from your back. He and Johnny are still as statues, waiting and watching what’s going to happen next.

You reach for Simon, putting your hands on his arms. You gently guide him back before pushing him backwards onto the couch again. He goes easily, slumping back into the cushions. You stand over him and he lets you take the dominant pose this time. You move yourself so you’re between his knees and you bend down to take his hand in yours. It’s rough and calloused, even time away from handling weapons unable to soften the roughness of his skin. It’s the first time you’ve touched his skin since the day he rescued you. It’s the same hand he used to scruff you, the same hand that saved your life.

“I don’t want to have to do it.” You say softly, tracing the back of his hand. “I’d prefer it were you.” You lift your gaze from his hand to his eyes. “I trust you to do it. I know that probably doesn’t mean much, but it’s the truth. John trusted you to save my life once, and you did. He trusts you to take care of his pack, and I do too.”

He stares up at you for a long moment, his chest rising and falling with even breaths. You’re projecting your scent just a bit, trying to ease it deep into his brain where his alpha lies, use your power against him to convince him to take on this role so you can stop going insane.

“I need you, alpha.” You whisper.

His eyes darken, his hand tightening around yours. You’ve got him right in his soft underbelly.

He pushes himself up to stand, forcing you back half a step. Your chests brush as he looms over you, his scent thickening in the air, but not in the way it had before. The leather and natural muskiness invades your senses, seeping deep into your brain. You stare up at him, waiting for him to make the next move.

“Fine.” He breathes, dropping your hand. “I’ll do it.”

A small smile tugs at your lips. You got him hook, line, and sinker.

More days pass and slowly your pack begins to settle. Simon has shifted into his role easily, taking over as alpha. Johnny and Kyle no longer seem so weighed down, and the tumultuous energy has subsided a bit. You feel lighter, like some of the pressure has been lifted from your shoulders.

It has.

You’re no longer the only one holding the pack together, desperately clinging to the strings of your bonds. Simon is right there by your side, gluing them down so they no longer slip away.

You quite like him being alpha. He wears the title like a king and you find yourself feeling a stirring of excitement in your stomach every time you think of Pack Alpha Simon. It fits him, being in control of not just Johnny but everyone. Even Kyle seems a bit more at ease despite the missing link.

Your missing link too.

“Kyle?” You say softly, almost afraid to disrupt him where he sits on the couch reading.

“Hm?” He hums, glancing up from his book.

“I...was just wondering...how you were doing?” You wince at the awkwardness of your own words.

“Fine.” He shrugs, marking his place in the book.

“You’re sure?” You ask, slowly lowering yourself onto the opposite side of the couch. “I mean, our alpha is gone.”

Kyle nods slowly. “Yeah, he is.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “I miss him.” You hate to admit it, but you do.

“I know.” Kyle says, reaching out for your hand. “I do too. He may be a shit alpha, but he’s our alpha.”

You can’t help but laugh a bit at his words. “That is true. You really think he’s coming back?”

Kyle nods. “I think so. I doubt he’d leave us high and dry. He loves both of us too much for that.”

You stare up at him. You forget just how much John cares for you and Kyle. It’s easy to forget with how he’s been acting lately. He left for you. He left for the good of the pack, to go eliminate the last threat hanging over your heads. Once Shepherd is gone, then you can finally move forward. You can finally decide what comes next.

What does come next?

Will they return to the military? Will they go back to the way life was before? You can’t expect them to give it up. You’ve come to that conclusion easily. They won’t leave that way of life without a fight, and you can’t ask that of them, not matter how badly you want to. You’ll go back to life on base, life the way it had been before. The constant worry and stress will always be a part of your life, no matter what. They’ll always put the good of the world above everything else. Even your pack.

They promised they’d start putting you first, but you can’t ask them to give up their livelihood for you. It’s been their whole lives. They’re all career soldiers, they all started early and haven’t known anything else. This is what they do and it will always be what they do until they die or are forced to retire. You’ll always be there, waiting for them back home, praying they come back breathing and not in a coffin.

You’ll always have nightmares of that phone call, of getting that news.

“You okay?” Kyle asks, squeezing your hand.

You look back up at him, staring into those deep brown eyes. “Yeah.” You nod. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“Simon?”

Simon glances up from his phone, turning his head to the side. No word from John yet, but then again it could be too soon. He doesn’t know anything, and it’s driving him insane. He doesn’t like not knowing. He knows Shepherd had been found, though captured or spotted he’s none the wiser. John could have been going on a stakeout for all he knows. It could be weeks, months.

It’s been just over a week and he doesn’t know anything yet.

He hates it.

He turns his head to the side, staring at you. You’re standing there, looking small and timid next to the couch. So different from how you stood up to him days ago when you forced him to finally accept he’s in charge. He had to take on that role because John wanted him to. That’s why he knew first, that’s why John spent so much time preparing him. Simon have to take on this role eventually, whether he wanted it or not.

“Have you heard anything from John?” You ask, shifting on your feet.

It’s the first time you’ve asked about John. Sometimes he wonders what’s going through your head. You’re angry and frustrated with John, he knows that much. He can read that on your face. He knew from the teary goodbye, the look of despondency hidden behind the quiet confidence on John’s face when he walked out the door that something had transpired between the two of you when he told you. Maybe you already knew. Maybe you already understood this would happen eventually.

If John would have let him, he would have gone instead, if only to save you from having to face this.

It would have been easier for him to play the soldier and assassin. He’s done it many times before.

“Nothing.” He says honestly. Better to give you the truth than false hope.

John will return, even if you told him not to. He’s too stubborn for that. He won’t give up that easily. He’ll know you’d change your mind if you told him to stay away. You didn’t. He can tell that much, but he knows. He understands.

“Oh.” You say quietly, almost as if you’d had a false hope that there was word, some small message to let you know he’s alive, he’s well, he’s coming home.

He can’t come home soon enough.

You slowly inch around the side of the couch before sitting gingerly on the edge of the cushion. You’re moving like you’re approaching a wild animal, but in your mind you might just be. He’s not a wild animal. If anything he’s the opposite of right now. He’s tired, worn down from the sudden weight of responsibility. He wouldn’t even bare his teeth if he could.

You’re holding a book in your hand. You clutch it to your chest as you slowly lean back, scooting until you’re comfortable on the opposite end of the couch from him. Why you chose there and not across from him, he doesn’t know. You could have sat anywhere in the house and yet you decided to sit next to him.

Perhaps it’s some deep omegan need for comfort and security. You certainly need a lot of that right now. You’re going through a tumultuous time and you’ll need all the comfort you can stand. He’s the one that’s supposed to give that to you, yet he finds himself withdrawing from that desire, that need. You won’t want his comfort because he’s not your alpha. He’ll never be your alpha, he’ll never be good enough.

Simon sits there, still as a sniper as he watches you slowly inch your way into a comfortable seat. You haven’t spoken a word since your small, quiet acknowledgment of his answer to your question. Maybe you’re too afraid to speak more, ruin the moment, drive him away when you’ve so obviously sought him out for more than word on your absent alpha.

He stays there as you move, slowly shifting yourself on the couch until you’re curled up in the corner. It’s reminiscent of how you used to sit in the rec room all those weeks ago, curled up on the couch while he sat as far as he could from you, at least until those bonds began to grow, those steel-bound threads of alpha and omega began to wind themselves around you like nooses.

Bonds are like nooses. One fails they all do. That’s why he’s always hated them, why he’s always avoided them.

Why his mother never gave in.

His hand curls into a fist, nails digging into his palm as he forces the thoughts away, shoves his past down into the recesses of his mind where it belongs.

You seem ignorant to his inner struggle as you sit there, book open in your hands. You’re lost in a fictional world, ignorant of everything going on around you. How easily you slip into a realm of distraction, he’ll never know. There will always be a part of him that’s aware, hypervigilant to the world.

Maybe you can drift off so easily because you feel secure enough to do so. You feel safe enough with him there to sink deep into a stupor brought on by words on a page. It stirs something inside of him. Pride? Honor? Guilt?

You’ve sought him out for safety and security and here he is blocking you out more and more. You had to face him down to force him into this position when he should have stepped into it in the first place. He should have done more, been more. From the start he should have been a better alpha, even if he wasn’t yours, even if he’d never be yours. He’s an alpha in the pack, he should start acting like it.

The vulnerability that takes. The weakness he’ll have to show.

It’s okay. The soft voice of his mother floats through his mind. Better to be soft than hard like your father.

A shiver runs down his spine, making his whole body tense. It draws you out of your book, your head turning to look at him. Not quite so lost as he thought, then.

“Simon?” You ask quietly, concern lacing your voice. “What is it?”

Your omega must be sensing some sort of danger. He’s on edge, your omega is responding, looking for reassurance that there’s nothing wrong, there’s nothing there.

“Nothing.” He answers, forcing himself to relax. He has to put his hackles down, otherwise the moment will be ruined. “Just thinking too much.”

He’s not sure why he said it. Maybe it was because he knew it would draw that small smile on your face.

He likes it when you smile. You haven’t been doing much of it lately, but then again, you haven’t had much of a reason to. Why smile when the world is crumbling around you? Yet there are still moments when he sees that side of you, you let out on base. Those happy moments when life was good and easy and predictable. Back when he allowed himself to feel, to touch, to smell, to devour your very being.

He misses it.

No he doesn’t.

It’s too much of a risk, too much of a vulnerability to allow that again. He can’t open himself up to that when it will only lead to more hurt on your part. Everything ends in hurt. It’s all he can do, all he’ll ever do. He’s hurt Johnny, he’s still hurting Johnny. You’ll crumble in his hands too, slipping through his fingers like sand.

He sits there still as you begin to slowly shift yourself so you’re facing him, putting your back to the fire. He watches you from the corner of your eye as you begin to stretch out, joints cracking as they straighten. His eyes lower to your feet as they slowly slip across the couch, inching closer and closer to him. His hand twitches, his breath stilling in his lungs.

He can’t move. He’s stuck there, stuck watching as you slowly press upon the barrier between the two of you, breaking down that boundary he’s set in place with just a simple movement. He can see it crumbling as your bare toes inch closer and closer until they press against the soft fabric of his jeans. Just a brush, just a tickle against his leg.

“Do you have to do that?” He asks, still staring down at your toes.

“It’s a small couch.” You say simply, not even looking up from your book.

“There’s an empty one right there.” He nods towards the empty couch across from him.

“I like this one better.”

His hand closes into a fist as you push against his leg with your toes. That boundary is crashing down, crumbling brick by brick as your toes bend, feet arching as you push against his leg.

“What are you doing?” He still hasn’t moved. He can’t bring himself to.

“My toes are cold.” You say, turning a page in your book.

“There’s a fire right there.”

“I don’t want to get up.”

Little shit.

He swallows the growl crawling up his chest, swallows down the emotions threatening to choke him. He’s right back in the rec room with your toes on his arm as the two of you read in silence. You’d gone toe to toe with him then too, the snarky remarks flowing like water between you. How easily it came, how easily it flowed, how easily you faced him on and didn’t back down.

Fucking hell how he’s missed this.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t get up like he once might have. Instead he sits there, letting you rest your toes against his leg, even though he knows they aren’t cold.

Something draws you from the sweet edge of sleep and forces you back into the world of the living. You’re not sure what it is at first, unaware enough you can’t think rationally. You had been so close to the sweet bliss of sleep for your morning nap when something woke you. You try not to think about it, chasing that edge of tiredness that’s quickly fading from your mind.

A pain in your stomach pushes it even further away. It takes your breath away, pulling you right into the world of wakefulness. For a moment you think you might be dying. Appendix burst, GI bleed, some sort of horrible gas cramp. You did have a big breakfast after all.

No, it’s none of those things. That pain begins to shift, morphing into a gnawing feeling that grows until a low rumble sounds.

You’re hungry.

For a moment you wonder if you did sleep and you’ve slept through lunch. A quick glance at the clock tells you it’s only eleven. Not quite time for lunch yet.

You try to ignore it, try to curl up and go back to sleep, but that gnawing pain continues, keeping you from finding that tiredness that drove you to seek out your bed in the first place.

Instead you sit up with a huff, shoving the blanket off of you. A snack it is then.

The gnawing pain continues as you rise from the bed, padding quietly over to your half closed door. You slip through the gap, the living area empty. Upstairs or outside then, you think.

You head for the kitchen, digging through cupboards as the pain in your stomach continues to intensify. If you don’t eat right this minute you might die. You want something fast, but all you’re finding is cans and packages of food you’ll have to cook. You don’t have time for that.

Desperately you search, your hands starting to shake as you comb through the cabinets for something that might calm the uncomfortable growling in your abdomen.

Finally you find an unopened package of cookies. Tea cookies, you think, but you don’t care. You nearly rip them open in desperation, shoving one in your mouth. They’re dry, but you don’t care. They may as well be manna from heaven in this moment.

You carry the package over to the sliding door, staring out at the yard as you continue to shove cookies into your mouth. It hasn’t rained in a few days, the deck starting to dry out finally. It’s still cloudy and grey though, the sea reflecting the sky in the distance.

You stand there, lost in space and time until you reach into the packet of cookies only to meet air and crumbs. You stare down at the package, your stomach still rumbling hungrily like an insatiable monster.

Insatiable. Hunger.

“Oh fuck.” You say, staring down at the package still.

“What?” Kyle says, approaching you from behind.

You turn on your heel, hand still in the package. “I’m hungry.”

“It’s almost lunch time.” He says. “What would you like to eat?”

“No, no.” You gulp. “I’m hungry.”

He stares at you blankly for a moment before realization crosses his face. He stares at you wide-eyed, shifting on his feet nervously. “Oh shit.”

“Sedation is an option but I’d have to get the supplies for it.” Dr. Keller says. “We’re not equipped here for something of that caliber. I can get the supplies, but we might not have enough time, even with Kate’s help.”

“It might be risky, drawing that much attention.” Kyle says. “People will have questions.”

“You’re not even nesting yet.” Dr. Keller says with a sigh, glancing at you. “This is bad timing.”

“It’s not like I can control it.” You say around a mouthful of chips.

You’ve already downed three sandwiches and you’re working on polishing off an entire bag of chips.

“I know.” Dr. Keller says softly.

“Is there any way to stop it from happening?” Johnny asks.

“Not without considerable risk.” Dr. Keller says. “Especially this close.”

“What do we do then?” Kyle asks, looking at you.

“It is possible for a beta to help, but it’ll be a long and painful heat without an alpha.” Dr. Keller says.

A hand lands on your shoulder as they continue to brainstorm. You look up from the bag of chips, a handful halfway to your mouth. Simon is standing over you, his hand on your shoulder. He tilts his head in the direction of your door before removing his hand. You blink at him as he walks towards it, pushing the door open before disappearing into your room. You shove the handful of chips in your mouth before putting the bag on the coffee table. You lick the crumbs off your fingers as you make your way towards the open door.

It’s bold of him, entering your room just like that, but your interest is piqued.

He’s standing next to the bed, fingers toying with the edge of the blanket tossed haphazardly across the mattress from your attempt at a nap.

“Simon?” You ask quietly.

“Close the door.” He says, turning around.

You pull it closed behind you, turning the nob so it doesn’t make any sound. Something tells you he wants to keep this as quiet as possible. Nerves start to rattle inside of you. What does he want? Why does he want to keep things quiet? They must notice you’ve disappeared, but Simon doesn’t seem to care either way.

“Come here.” He says, holding out his hand.

You approach slowly, a bit hesitant from the alpha being in your space. It is your space now, your room. Even if you haven’t nested yet, it’s still your safe, sacred space. He hasn’t been in your space yet. You haven’t even invited him in, and here he is just walking in and making himself at home.

Your fingers tremble as you slip your hand into his, letting him pull you closer. He toes off his boots before turning back towards the bed. You watch as he stares at the giant bear for a moment before he shoves it off onto the floor on the other side of the bed. It almost makes you laugh, it would have had you not been so nervous. What he’s doing is bold, and it’s leaving you unsettled.

He climbs onto the bed, sitting in your spot. He uses the hand in yours to pull you up onto the bed as well. He relaxes back against the headboard as you wind up in his lap, straddling his waist.

“What’s happening?” You say, staring at him wide eyed. You haven’t been this close to him in months, and here he is just sitting you right in his lap like it’s nothing.

You’re going to get whiplash if he continues this.

“I did you a disservice.” He starts, tilting his head back to stare up at you. “That time I made you use sedation for your heat. I was too afraid of hurting you to see what it really meant, to understand the risks and what it would be like for you.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” You say quietly, trying not to jump as his hands come to settle on your thighs.

“I do.” He says, his eyes soft as he stares up at you. “I wasn’t man enough to face down my fears. I’m not making that mistake again.”

“Simon-”

“Don’t.” He says quietly. “Don’t talk me out of this.”

You shake your head. “You don’t-”

“I want to.”

His words have your protests dying in your throat. You stare at him wide-eyed. This feels like it’s coming out of left field. Things have shifted since his ascension into pack alpha, including the distance that had wedged between the two of you. Though he’s still been spending the least amount of time with you, you can’t deny he doesn’t feel quite so distant anymore. It’s comforting, just knowing there is an alpha there that would catch you if you fell.

Still, to go to this extent, to move this fast feels uncharacteristic for him.

“Simon,” You say softly as his hands trail up your thighs, reaching for your own hands.

“I should have done more, I should have been more for you.” He continues, almost as if he’s talking to himself. “You were right. I should have stepped up as soon as John said he was leaving.” He lifts your hands until they’re resting on either side of his neck. “I want to do this for you.”

You swallow thickly as you stare down at him, your fingers trembling where they rest against his mask. It feels strange being this close to him after so long. He’s being so...vulnerable suddenly and it’s making your head spin.

“Take it off.” He says.

“What?” You blink at him in surprise. You didn’t expect this at all.

“The mask. Take it off.”

“You...you’re sure?” You ask.

“Do it.” He says firmly.

Your fingers are still trembling as they curl around the bottom of the fabric. You can hardly believe this is happening, this is real. You’re really going to see his face. You had resigned yourself to only ever seeing him in his mask for the rest of your life, that he’d never willingly become that vulnerable with you. Yet here he is, coming into your space and opening himself up to this vulnerability.

Slowly you tug the fabric upward, revealing his scruffy chin. It’s the most you’ve ever seen of him when he tugs his mask up to eat. You continue pushing the fabric upward over his lips, your thumb tracing the scar there for a moment as you try and gain the courage to continue. It’s really happening. You’re about to see his face for the first time.

You push the mask up over his nose, thumbs gliding over his cheeks as you continue, pushing it up higher and higher. You take a deep breath in before tugging it upwards, pulling it completely off. He blinks up at you, leaning his head back against the headboard. You stare down at him in shock and awe, taking in his full face for the first time.

“You’re so...British looking.”

It’s the only thing you can think of to say. His face falls slightly, his brows pinching.

“Not-not in a bad way, it’s just...I’d know you were British if I saw you walking down the street.”

You wince at your own awkwardness. You’re not making it any better.

“You’re a handsome British man.” You say, cupping his cheeks.

He stares at you blankly for a moment and you worry you’ve fucked this up before his lips twist up in a smile, his arms wrapping around your waist.

“Like what you see?” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“Very much so.” You say quietly, cupping his cheeks.

You want to kiss him. You want to lean down and press your lips against his. You’re not sure where the desire has come from, when this sudden shift and change happened, but you can’t deny the desire you feel towards him. Maybe it’s your looming heat, maybe it’s because he’s the only alpha around, maybe it’s because he’s finally stepped up into what you knew he could be for you, what he could do for you.

He doesn’t stop you as you start to lean down, giving into the impulsive need. You wait for him to push you away, wait for him to change his mind and walk out the door, but he doesn’t. His arms tighten around your back, pulling you flush against his body as your lips touch his in a gentle, hesitant kiss.

A low growl rumbles in his chest as you kiss him, his hand flattening against your back. Shivers run down your spine, a quiet whine leaving your lips. His hand slides up your back, sinking into your hair to stop you from pulling away.

“Missed this.” He murmurs against your lips.

“Why did you wait so long?” You say quietly, kissing him again.

“Couldn’t stand the thought of hurting you again.” He says, pulling away. “I did it enough times before.” He stares up at you like you hung the moon and the stars. “I wasn’t fair to you.”

“You seriously don’t have to apologize.” You say, putting a finger on his lips. “I know you were being Mr. Emotionally Constipated So I Have To Make Myself Suffer For No Reason. It works for you, though.” You shrug. “Pairs with the Mr. Dark and Mysterious well.” You smile down at him. “Who knew Mr. Dark and Mysterious would also turn out to be Mr. Very British. Should have known with all the tea talk.”

He tightens his grip around you before suddenly pushing himself up. He flips you over onto your back, his hand squeezing your side, making you giggle. You trust him not to hurt you, his movements done in jesting not anger.

“You little shit.” He chuckles, resting on his elbows above you.

You smile up at him, pulling him down for another kiss. “I missed this.”

“So did I.” He says before kissing you deeply.

The kiss has electricity shooting down to your toes. Your whole body feels alive as your lips move against his, your arms wrapping around his neck. One hand slides into his hair, the short soft strands slipping through your fingers. You rake your nails across his scalp, a low growl rumbling in his throat. He pushes his body down against yours, squishing you into the mattress but you don’t care. He’s so big and warm it makes you feel safe and secure and for the first time since John left, your omega has settled contently.

You pull away begrudgingly after a few moments, staring up at him. You still can’t believe you’re seeing all of him, that he’s honored you with this chance to see his face fully.

“You really mean it?” You breathe, the hand in his hair sliding to cup his cheek.

“Of course.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your palm.

“We should go let them know so they can stop stressing.” You breathe.

“Good idea.” He kisses you one more time before he pulls away, letting you get up off the bed.

You grab his mask, handing it to him. “Here.”

He stares down at it for a long moment before pocketing it. “I don’t need it.”

You stare at him in surprise. “What?”

“I’ve been hiding long enough.” He says. “There’s no reason to now.”

You give him an incredulous look. “What happened to you?”

He shrugs. “Had an epiphany I guess.”

“One hell of an epiphany.” You say as he opens the door.

“It might be our only option.” Dr. Keller says as you step out of the door. “It’s going to be a rough heat though.”

“I’ll do it.” Simon says, standing next to you.

The three of them look up, Johnny doing a double take. Dr. Keller’s face slowly morphs into a smile as she stares at Simon. She’s seeing his face for the first time as well. It speaks volumes to his sudden new-found trust that he’s letting her see him as well. Or, maybe he’s solidifying her place among the allies of your pack. He knows how much she means to you, how much she means to the others.

It almost makes you want to cry.

The room is silent as Johnny and Kyle stare at Simon in shock. You stand next to him, a small smile on your face. Things are finally turning around, things are finally starting to shift and heal within your pack, even with John out of the picture for now. He’s going to be surprised when he comes back.

Simon shifts on his feet next to you, his hand squeezing yours gently. It grounds you, keeps you steady as he speaks the next words, the words you never thought you’d hear from him. They’re sincere, not born out of necessity or need. He really does mean them.

“I’ll help her through her heat.”

To be notified about new chapters, please follow HERE and turn on notifications

#call of duty #call of duty fic #cod fic #poly 141 #task force 141 x reader #john price x reader #captain price x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #soap x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #a/b/o #omegaverse

666 notes · View notes

oceantornadoo · 3 days ago

Text

ch7 something borrowed something blue (mafia!price x simon's sister!reader)

tw: oral sex both ways

masterlist | next

John Price thrives on routine. His days are filled with meetings and bloodshed, negotiations and betrayal. Routine keeps him sane.

Unfortunately, that resolution crumbled the moment he gained a wife. It’s getting harder and harder to leave in the morning, to ignore the fluttering of your eyelashes as you feign sleep. That’s what he blames for this break in routine.

The morning after, he stays for ten minutes instead of five. Counts the ticks of the old clock in the corner of his room as he memorizes the scent of your skin. You always end up with your head in the crook of his neck, legs tangled around his torso. He’s never been much of a back sleeper, but now it’s the last thing he cares about. It’s the sound of your breathing, the plushness of your skin, the brush of your chest against his. When he eventually gets up, he doesn’t look at the bed until he’s ready. If he glanced back at your eyes in half-slits, shifting closer to his pillow to soak up the remaining warmth he left in the bed, he would never leave the room.

At night, though, he succumbs to his weakness. He creates a new routine.

It’s the start of a new week after the getting-off confession. John had business in Glasgow over the weekend, lonely and cold in his hotel bed, but now he’s back.

“So Laswell sent me the contract. I definitely have enough to pay in full, but I’m thinking of paying half and then doing installments for the rest so I can have enough for immediate repairs. What do you-John?” John’s nodding along to your rant, disappearing under the covers to the place he’s been thinking about all weekend. The blanket’s a bit heavy, limiting his breathing, but it’s worth it for the sight of your clothed cunt, waiting for him.

“Keep talkin’, sweetheart.” Instead of following his orders, you peel back the cover until his head peeks out. “What are you doing?” He rubs circles into your thighs, reveling in their softness. John moves upwards, teasing the fabric of your pajama shorts. “You miss me this weekend?” He murmurs, not sure if he’s talking to his wife or her cunt. Both seem happy to see him, if that’s any consolation.

“No, I actually got the best sleep of my- hey!” He shoves his face into the triangle of your lap, sniffing with wonder. “Fuck, I missed ya.” You’re silent at his admission, but your hand finds a hold in his hair. “You did?” It’s soft and unsure, forcing him to rip his focus away from your pussy. “I did.” You bite your lip adorably. You tug him forward, gripping his scalp hard, until his face is in front of yours.

“Maybe next time, you take me with you.” Absolutely not. He was meeting with a new prospective manufacturer, shady and dangerous. He was not putting you in any sort of danger. John shakes his head, heart clenching as your face falls. “Not the kind of place fer you, baby. Gonna let me eat you out now?” You nod, but your face is still hard with repressed emotion. He kisses your forehead, trailing down to your cheek, then nose. “Give us a kiss then.” It’s the first time you’ve ever kissed him first, the notion sending blood straight to his cock. The kiss is short and sweet. Can’t believe how quickly you’ve gotten him under your spell. Two bloody weeks. He pulls away, a final kiss laid to your jaw. “Keep talkin’. Don’t mind me.”

The new routine continues for weeks. He gets you off a different way every night, from fingers to tongue to plain old grinding. And then he goes to sleep with you tucked to his side, taking care of himself in the morning. John needs you to be the one to ask to fuck, to reciprocate. The alternative leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. Plus, every time he gets you off, you fall asleep immediately, like it’s the only way you’ll go to bed. It’s terribly endearing.

A month in, he starts noticing changes. The furniture in the sitting room, for one. They used to be 18th century relics, designed to make sure a guest didn’t overstay their welcome. Except now they’re eclectic, blue and green against the cream walls. The couches look comfortable, like you could spend a whole day there. The paintings change as well, from Rembrandt to Monet and Picasso. The impressionist works, blues and greens and yellows, work well with the new furniture, making his flat seem like a home. When he asks you, all you do is shrug and say something smart about updating his old man apartment. He leaves bite marks on your thighs that night.

It’s a beautiful Friday night when John gets home early, around 9. He usually gets text updates from Terrance, your commandeered security guard that Price assigned to you full time, about your movements. You’ll usually get home at 7, but nothing yet. Two hours late. He calls Terrance and gets his voicemail. Highly unusual. Calmly, he presses on your contact's name, and it goes to voicemail. Three times.

Fingers shaking, he calls Kyle.

“Sir?”

“Where is she?”

“Who?”

“My fuckin’ wife, Garrick.”

“Isn’t she with Terrance?” “No one’s answerin’ their goddamn phone.” Gaz sighs on the other end, like this is an inconvenience and not his wife they’re talking about. Keys click, then a mouse, before Gaz answers. “They’re at the bookstore. Been there since this mornin’, sir.” John drags a hand down his face, then grabs the keys to the car he barely uses.

“Garrick, this is the last time you take more than three seconds t’ know where she is. I want a full team on ‘er at all times. I won’t hesitate t’ assign someone else as my Head of Security, someone who isn’t lettin’ their judgement take over their goddamn job. Copy?” He hasn’t dressed down one of his men, especially Kyle, but he’s tired of the man’s judgement on this marriage. What’s done is done. “Yessir.” John hangs up, too miffed to say goodbye. He’s got a wife to find.

Your bookstore is coming along well. It’s been over a month since you’ve been married, a month of John’s fingers and tongue loosening you in more ways than one. You swear you’ve developed stronger thigh muscles, simply from the orgasms he coaxes from you night after night. And then he just goes to sleep. You’ve felt his cock in fleeting touches, brushing against your thigh or hard in his lap as you grind on him. He never takes it out, never drags your hand in that grueling way men do with shady eyes and slimy smirks. Every night, he asks you if you hate him, and every night, your lie convinces him less and less.

And every night, you think of how adamant he was against you joining him. His insistence that it “wasn’t the kind of place for you.” Your old problem with him has faded, a mess of childhood fears rolled into new ones. In its place are your insecurities, the word bastard floating through your head every time you think of his rejection. The clause in the marriage contract. It rolls together into a simple thought: he doesn’t trust you. That’s why he’s barely let you in on his business, content to stick with late night chats and orgasms. It should be fine, it should be what you wanted, but instead you feel a hollow hole in your heart where the word ‘friends’ lives. Even friends should share their secrets.

But back to the bookstore. Your new baby. This first month was full of cleaning, dusting out odd corners and greasing creaky door hinges. You listed a hiring notice on online job boards, looking for an assistant to help with the grunt work. Which landed you Phil, a wonderful addition to the team. He was around your age, an American with sandy blond hair. Handsome in a basic way, something you noted and never thought of again. Terrance ran a background check on him, something you gladly consented to, and insisted on helping you interview him. It took a week of recon, but he was officially your new assistant as of two weeks ago. An amazing help around the store, handy with tools. You’d told Phil that you were the daughter of a lord, a minor lie to explain the bodyguard. He shrugged it off, the ex-pat seemingly used to the oddities of London.

Now that the space had been cleared, it was finally time to paint. Terrance insisted that he couldn’t help too much, his main duty too important, but with the help of Phil, you convinced him to paint the walls with you. You all left your phones in the half-fixed office, donning plastic sheets to protect from paint splatter. Your business plan, formed from your downtime during the day and shaped by your late-night conversations with John, was to have a store section and a community section. The community section would be at the front, with a beautiful light blue accent wall, perfect for book influencers. It would be surrounded by comfy couches and warm lighting, complete with a cafe space you intended to build out. Your idea reminded you of the library waiting hours away, with its own fireplace and furniture. You decided to recreate that cozy feeling and bring it to the public.

Farther into the building there would be bigger shelves for rows and rows of books, organized by type. The color scheme was influenced by the one in your home, as you decided to hand paint metal shelves light blues, greens, and yellows. Most would be bought, but you were planning a book drive far out for people to donate old books and get discounts on new ones. It’s an idea you had wanted to do in Manchester but never got around to.

Now that the front of the store was cleared out and bare, it was time to paint. The hours fly by as you paint the light blue wall while Phil and Terrance work on a cream wall on the other side. When you blink, the sun is already down, and your watch is flashing 10PM at you.

“Guys it’s almost ten! I think we ought to lay down the brushes for tonight.” Phil opened his mouth to respond but is cut off by a harsh pounding at the locked front door. It was supposed to be clear, but there was newspaper on all of your windows to prevent the glass from getting paint on it. Frowning, you moved to open the door, but Terrance stopped you with his arm out, his other hand reaching for his gun. “Go into the office, ma’am.” You followed his command reluctantly, Phil following on your heels as you went into the back office. It didn’t have any windows, so it was a space you did not want to be in for a while. Phil looked nervous, running his hand through his hair and tapping his foot on the ground.

“I’m sure it’s fine, Phil. Probably one of the neighbors complaining about our music.” You insisted on a jam session as you painted, blasting music from a speaker you stole from the Castle. “Shady things happen in London no matter what time, boss.” You shrug, picking up your phone to quell your nerves. A glance at your notifications explains everything.

Oh no.

You burst from the office, phone already returning one of your many missed calls. That’s when you ran into your husband, face hitting his hard chest with a harsh oof. “Christ, sweetheart, gave me a near heart attack.” John steadied your shoulders with his large hands, anchoring you in his grip. His brow was furrowed, eyes crinkling in worry as he scanned you up and down like he was looking for injuries. “You didn’t answer-” “Everything good out here?” Fuck. Phil.

“Who are you?” It was a tone you’d never heard come out of John’s mouth. You imagined it was his mafia man voice, gruff and short like he had a better place to be. John shoves you behind him, reaching for his gun. You rolled your eyes, hand covering his to stop a potential shoot-out.

“John, he’s my-” “Assistant, sir. Good to put a name to the face, I’ve heard a lot about you.” You could practically hear Phil winking, laying on the Southern charm. You wrestled out of John’s grip, stepping out from behind his back. Phil’s hand was out for a handshake, but John hadn’t taken it, scanning the man up and down with suspicious eyes. “Funny, ‘cause I’ve never heard about you.” John tore his gaze away to catch yours, eyes slanted in anger. “I don’t have to tell you everything, John. I’ve got my own life, you know.” He looked almost hurt at your words, which couldn’t be true. Sure, you were fucking, but it’s not like this was a normal marriage. You knew he wouldn’t have wanted Phil working with you, just on the basis of him being a man. You didn’t want to be micromanaged by your own husband, so you simply hadn’t got around to telling him.

“C’mere.” John tugged you towards the office, his grip hard. You could hear Terrance telling Phil to go home and wait for an update. Probably for the best. You imagined Terrance following him out, then debriefing with John’s driver about how much of an asshole their boss was.

“Why didn’t ya tell me?” John asked, arms crossed and face red. He’d shut the office door but remained standing since there wasn’t any furniture yet. “Because I knew you’d get like this.” You spit out, crossing your arms to mirror his. “Fuckin’ concerned fer the security of my wife? Tha’s a bad reaction?” You took a step back from him, crossing your arms tighter so you could pinch your waist, a reminder to stay strong.

“Controlling and caveman. This is my place of work, John, and you’ve embarrassed me in front of my coworker.” He doesn’t meet your eye, staring at the door so hard it might burst into flames. He looks like a predator ready to pounce, muscles trembling from restraint. “Ya don’t realize how many enemies I have. Every person needs t’ be checked.” Did he think you were stupid? “I had Terrance check him out. I know you don’t want me around your work, but I’m not an idiot, John.”

His rejection of your offer to travel with him weeks ago had stung more than you cared to admit. He clearly didn’t trust you, only seeing you as someone to fuck around with. You didn’t realize how far that lack of trust went.

“He should’ve reported it to Gaz.” John mutters. “He did. I know that for a fact.” John ran a hand through his hair, then dipped down to tug at his tie. “He didn’t fuckin’ tell me. Christ, he’s worse than I thought.” You wanted to ask what that meant, but you bit your lip instead. He obviously didn’t want to tell you.

“Look, I know I’m a bastard and you had that goddamn clause in the contract, but you can trust me. I’m not running around behind your back.” That got John’s gaze to snap back to you, eyebrows raised in disbelief. “Tha’s wha’ ya think this is about?” You nod, suddenly unsure. “Sweetheart, that was Gaz’s idea. T’ see if you’d argue. I intended for you to ask fer another cheatin’ clause fer me, but ya didn’t so I let it go. ‘S nothin’ like tha’. Plus, I didn’t know ya then. I know ya now.” Oh.

“So you trust me?” What about the trip? You wanted to ask, but you figure that would show your hand too much. John nods slowly, uncrossing his hands to put them on his hips. “Don’t care tha’ yer a bastard. ‘M not fuckin’ anyone else, either. I’m just concerned fer yer safety.” He takes a few steps towards you, gauging your reaction to see if you step back. You don’t, uncrossing your arms and praying they don’t shake. He grabs your hands in his own, blue eyes swimming with openness. There are so many things you want to ask him about: your childhood, his father, the future. They all fall to the wayside when he leans down to kiss you, a gentle brush of his lips against yours. “If I didn’t trust ya, ya wouldn’t sleep in my bed.” He kisses your forehead, then cheek, before pulling back. “I need ya t’ believe me.” He demands it seriously. A sudden rush of affection hits your heart. He looks so truthful, so concerned, and you want to show him that same care back.

You lower to your knees. John steps back, unsure. “Sweetheart, ya don’t have to.” You shake your head, beckoning him to come near. “I want to.”

John tugs off the blazer he’s wearing, folding it into a light pillow. He squats down on his haunches, eyes on yours. A warm hand brushes your knees, urging you up so he can slip the blazer under them. He then stands; blue eyes dark as he brushes your cheek with his thumb. “Go’on, baby. Take whatever you want.”

You reach for his black belt, unfastening it with trembling hands. It unclips with ease, and John’s hands, hairy and veiny and strong, cloud your vision as he unfurls it from his belt loops. You continue downwards, undoing the midnight black of his button. You unzip slowly, licking your lips in anticipation. His fingers brush back the creases on your forehead, trailing down to brush the shell of your ear. “Feel ok?” You nod at his question, cupping him through his boxers. John releases a sharp exhale, a heady sense of power coming over you. You work the pants down fully to give you room, petting him this way and that.

Finally, you peel down the dark fabric of his boxers. He’s hairy but well-maintained, similar to his fuzzy torso you’ve felt in bed. His cock is thick and heavy, wet with precum as it slaps against his upper thigh. You tuck his boxers down to give you room, then start exploring. Kitten licks to the base of him, his hair tickling your nose. Your hand joins you to squeeze his balls, eliciting a sharp groan. John tugs on your hair, more out of instinct than control. “You feel ok?” You throw his words back at him, a cheshire smile growing as he moans again.

“Christ, those fuckin’ hands.” He responds. You move to start stroking, licking him from base to tip. He tastes like salt and musk, but clean with the scent of pine. It’s the most addicting scent on earth. After he’s wet and leaking, you steady yourself with a hand on his upper thigh and the other on your husband’s cock.

You finally take him in your mouth, tongue swirling around his tip. You hum and his grip on your hair tightens. “‘M gonna fuck yer mouth sometime.” You let go of him with a pop, leaning backwards. “Not tonight?” He shakes his head, reaching down to pump his cock in your absence. “I’m a few strokes from cummin’, sweetheart. You look too goddamn good on yer knees.” That earns a grin from you and a renewed sense of vigor.

You suck him hard this time, your hand making up the length you can’t cover. You work yourself into an easy rhythm, up and down as he cradles your face. It’s much softer than you’ve ever experienced from a man, careful and protective. He wasn’t kidding about how close he is, harsh pants emitting faster and faster from his chest. “Where d’ya want me, baby?” You don’t respond, keeping him in your mouth. All you do is blink sweetly, willing your eyes to look bigger than usual. “Fuckin’ perfect, my wife.” That sends a jolt to your heart, and you have to stop yourself from accidentally biting down. Instead of responding, you stroke faster and faster. His abs tense, and you pull back just slightly, letting him coat your tongue and lips. It’s salty but not bitter, a marker of how fucking healthy he is. You lick your lips, swallowing thickly. His thumb brushes off a bit from your nose, pushing his thumb into your mouth. You suck hard, like you did the night he first fingered you. He continues cleaning you up, careful and quiet in his movements. John tucks himself back into his pants and offers you a hand to help you off the floor.

“Your knees sore?” He whispers. You shake your head, suddenly feeling exposed despite not having taken your clothes off. “C’mere.” He tugs you into his arms, tucking you under his chin. “We good?” He asks. You want to say no, want to ask him all the questions swirling around in your head, but all you do is nod and hold him closer.

In the car, John’s hand on your thigh, your phone vibrates. It’s Phil.

Everything ok?

Yep! Marital problems, all good.

Your husband is intense.

He’s a sweetheart for me, all that matters 🙂

Good to know. See you tomorrow.

His tone is odd, but you shove that thought from your mind. John squeezes your hand, and you tuck your phone away, content to focus on your husband. Phil is the farthest thought from your mind.

um. smut. now they're like friends with problems? idk enemies got boring.

@heretoreadanddrinktea

@peachyxrosie

@joufrance

@galactict3a

@exactlyyoungchaos

@trulovekay

@alleycc

@abox-of-rocks

@orangehibiscus

@mismatchsposts

@nova-willow-541

@throwing-up-butterflies

@grossitsluca

@evans-dejong

@popcornlauncher

@earthcole

@backfromthedeadhehehe

@baduzzxy

@thegreyjoyed

@cutelibrariangf

@dearghostling

@mrsmalfoy1005

@all-by-myself98

@snburntandsad

@baklovers

@rmikaelson01

@leon-thot-kennedy

@the-gods-gloted-but-they-burned

@barcelonaaababe

@brokenandemptyhearts

@sleep101

@ontopofthefridge

@lilynotdilly

@teenagellamaangel

@harperdoodle

@ii-angelsrolltheireyes-ii

@violetisheresworld

@lolwey

@polyfandom-blogs

@burrowedinnature77

@sharkerino

@ashy-kit

@aikojwhpa

@thriving-n-jiving

@krispymagazinepizza-blog

@grayskel

@rpgsandstuff

@hisuccubus

@lumi-kalyke

@gimmeabreak1

548 notes · View notes

my-castles-crumbling · 3 days ago

Text

fire - Jegulus Microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - word count: 1367 (whoops)

There were few things Regulus Black valued more than sleep. Perhaps reading. Or music. Or a nice dark roast coffee. But either way, sleep was of the utmost importance. He was even more prickly than normal without at least eight hours of it, and miserable as well, so he always prioritized getting his rest.

Which is why he was ready to kill everyone in his path when the fire alarm was pulled at 2:47 am on a Tuesday night in his university dorm, and he was forced to evacuate into the parking lot.

Not only was the whole thing infuriating, but to make matters worse, it was also freezing outside. The September air was chilling him to his bones, and he could feel his body screaming for shut-eye. It was his definition of hell.

As he stood shivering, a tall, dark-haired, tan-skinned, hazel-eyed boy walked up to him and offered him his coat with the most obnoxiously beautiful grin he’d ever seen.

Too cold to play stupid games, he just hissed, “Fuck off,” and turned away.

As soon as they were all allowed back inside, Regulus curled under his blanket and fell asleep, keen to put the whole miserable experience behind him.

No such luck.

It took one week before the alarm went off again. This time at 1:19am on a Thursday, he found himself trudging down the stairs and into the cold, cursing himself for once again being too sleepy to remember a coat.

So furious that he was about to scream, he didn’t see the same boy walk up to him right away, until he felt a tap on his shoulder.

“I brought you an extra,” the boy grinned, making Regulus’s frozen knees melt as he offered him the jacket.

“Do you make a habit of giving your clothing to strangers?” he bit out, giving in and grabbing the offending garment, immediately throwing it over his shoulders. He figured if he was going to be harassed, he might as well be warm while it happened.

“Only the pretty ones,” the boy said with a wink, walking off and leaving Regulus both pissed off and flustered.

The third time happened only three days after the second, and Regulus bit back a scream when the alarm roused him from his slumber. At this point, it felt like a pattern, and he was at least smart enough to grab the oversized, frayed, horrifyingly maroon, disgustingly warm jacket he’d thrown over his desk chair three days ago.

He was only outside for a few minutes before the boy walked up to him again, looking completely comfortable in the frigid night.

“So, do I get to know your name?” he asked, sending Regulus the same stunning smile.

Frowning, at both his current whereabouts and the way his stomach flip-flopped, Regulus scoffed. “I don’t know yours.”

“James,” he answered easily, kicking at a random rock on the pavement. “Now, I’ve given you two things. It makes sense that you should give me one, yeah? Only fair.” And he batted his long eyelashes, making Regulus nearly choke on his spit.

He pretended to ponder for a moment, getting ahold of himself, before rolling his eyes. “No,” he said shortly. And he walked off.

“What about your major, then?”

Ten days. It took ten days before the alarm was pulled again, and the school had started sending out cryptic notices threatening consequences for the party responsible. But still, Regulus was here, in the parking lot in the middle of the night, sending a death glare at James.

“Why does it matter?” he asked with a huff.

“Because people tend to care about their majors,” the taller boy shrugged. “And I want to know what you care about. Mine’s education, by the way.”

Education. It fit, strangely. James’s sunshiny disposition warmed the surrounding air even during the cold night, and his smile seemed like the type of thing that would put kids at-ease.

Regulus sighed, giving in. “English. With a minor in creative writing,” he mumbled, looking down.

“Hmm. That suits you,” James replied vaguely, smiling. What the hell was that supposed to mean? “And your name?”

He thought about it for a moment, but at this point, it almost felt like he would be giving in to some sort of weird, unspoken battle if he shared his name. And he had to admit, talking with James passed the time during these stupid evacuations. “No,” he answered, sending the boy a smirk, heart skipping a beat at his own nerve, and turning to find someone else to speak with.

It became a game. Every time the alarm was pulled, James found him. He asked him questions, and Regulus answered every one, shocked at the way James listened. It was actually nice to talk to someone who seemed genuinely interested. He hadn’t made a lot of friends on campus, yet, and James felt…safe. But every time James asked his name, he refused, grinning as much as James did, before sauntering away.

One cold night in November, though, he couldn’t sleep. Stress about classes had his mind going wild, and anxious energy flooded his body. So, he decided to take a walk through the dorm, to clear his head. He drifted through the floors and halls, no destination in mind, when he happened across one of the more-quiet areas of the building. This area happened to have a fire alarm in a dark corner of the hall, almost hidden in shadows. It was as he turned a corner to this spot that Regulus saw a hooded figure slowly approach the alarm, arm outstretched, intentions clear.

Eyes wide, Regulus watched as the figure pulled the latch and began to run, turning and smacking right into Regulus.

“Ouch!” He cried out, nearly falling over.

“Fuck!” The person yelled, losing their balance as well.

And then the hood fell. And Regulus would have recognized those hazel eyes and that beautiful hair anywhere.

“James!?!”

The other boy looked terrified, mouth open, his body frozen in place. He uttered a few syllables as if he was trying to form words, but no sound came out. Scoffing, Regulus grabbed his hand and led him down some nearby stairs and out the emergency exit, alarm still blaring overhead.

When they got into the quiet, freezing air, he turned to the taller boy. “It was you?” he hissed, resisting the urge to slap him across the shoulder. The amount of sleep he’d lost in the past two months was abhorrent. “Why?”

James grimaced. “Well…the first two times, it wasn’t! But, y’know, the first time you didn’t have a coat…”

“I remember,” Regulus frowned, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah. And…I couldn’t stop thinking about you. So the second time, I just…grabbed my old one. And when you took it and you looked so…” James gestured to Regulus, eyes wide, cheeks pink. Regulus blinked, trying to understand. Was James saying he looked good in his jacket? “…I couldn’t stop thinking about you, so I just…”

Regulus gaped. “You’ve been pulling the fire alarm to see me?”

“It was only supposed to be a one-time thing! Just to get your name!” James defended himself, looking almost scared. “I didn’t know how to find you, and I just….you have to understand, you’re fucking stunning, you know?”

Blushing furiously, Regulus sputtered, “That’s…well, that’s not…”

“But then you wouldn’t tell me your name! So I had to keep pulling it, you know?” James explained, a desperate look on his face. Like it obviously made sense why he’d been breaking the law for two months. “...Just until I found out.”

He blinked several times before biting his lip. Nobody had ever gone to such lengths to get to know him before. It was stupid, and risky, and idiotic, and so damn romantic.

“My name is Regulus,” he sighed, wondering if he’d regret this. “I live in room 743. And if you ever pull that damn alarm again, and wake me up, I will never speak to you again. Understood?”

James grinned sheepishly. “Yeah. Your name is as beautiful as you are, by the way.”

Regulus could only sigh. What had he gotten himself into?

I also posted this here if you want to go give it some love!

486 notes · View notes

strnilolover · 2 days ago

Text

dealer!chris takes care of soft!reader after she accidentally takes an edible

warnings : edible. weed. reader is high for the first time. little bit of a freak out. and more?

“chris,” you murmured, your voice shaky as your body leaned up against the wooden frame of his bedroom door. your wide eyes darted around the room, not quite focusing on anything. “i don’t feel right.”

he was on his feet instantly, crossing the room to you. “what do you mean? what happened?”

your bottom lip quivered as you clutched the edge of the doorframe for balance. “i… i ate something. from the kitchen.” you paused, trying to collect your thoughts, though your words came out slow and slurred. “it was a brownie… in a bag… and now i feel weird.”

chris froze. he didn’t need to ask which brownie you meant. he’d left them on the counter for a friend to pick up later—edibles that were definitely not meant for you. his stomach dropped.

“angel,” he said cautiously, running a hand through his hair. “that wasn’t a normal brownie.” your brows furrowed in confusion. “what do you mean? it tasted normal.”

“it had weed in it,” he explained, his tone gentle. “a lot of weed. those are for people who’ve, y’know, built up a tolerance. not for someone who’s never smoked in their life.”

you blinked at him, the information processing in slow motion. then, your hands flew to your face. “oh my god. am i gonna die?”

chris bit back a laugh, his worry softening into affection. “no, babe. you’re not gonna die. you’re just really, really high right now.”

your shoulders sagged in relief, but only for a moment before panic set in again. “i don’t like it,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “i feel like my body’s not mine, and my thoughts won’t stop racing.”

his heart ached at the fear in your eyes. “okay, come here,” he said softly, guiding you to the bed. “sit down. i’ve got you.”

you leaned away from the door fran, your feet dragging against the floor as you made your way to the bed. you sat obediently, but your hands fidgeted in your lap. “chris, everything feels… big. like my hands, my feet, my head.”

he crouched in front of you, his hands gently covering yours to still them. “hey, look at me,” he said, his voice steady. “you’re okay. i promise. you’re just feeling things more intensely right now, but it’s all in your head. i’m here, and i won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

tears welled up in your eyes, and you nodded, clinging to his words. “promise?”

“i promise,” he said, brushing a stray tear off your cheek. “i’m gonna help you through this, alright?” you nodded again, leaning into his touch. “okay.”

“good. now, first things first—water.” he stood, turning and walking out of his door—disappeared into the kitchen, returning a moment later with a glass of water, a cold washcloth.

“drink this,” he said, handing you the water. “and take small sips, okay? don’t chug it.” you followed his instructions, the cool water soothing your dry throat. chris sat beside you, his arm draped over your shoulders, grounding you with his presence.

bringing the glass away from your lips, you hand it to chris. he takes it gently, setting it on his bedside table before returning his attention to you.

you managed a weak laugh, leaning your head against his shoulder. “i don’t get how people like this. my brain won’t shut up. i keep thinking about… about how time feels stretchy. Is that normal?” you ask, your words coming out slowly.

“yeah, that’s normal,” he said reassuringly. “it’s just the weed messing with your perception. it’ll pass. you’re safe.” you let out a shaky breath, sinking further into his side. “you’re really good at this,” you mumbled.

chris smiled, his fingers tracing gentle circles on your back. “i’ve been around enough people to know what to do. next time, ask me before you eat random stuff, yeah?” you groaned, covering your face with your hands. “this is so embarrassing.”

he laughed, pulling your hands away to press a kiss to your forehead. “nah. it’s kinda cute, honestly. no need to be embarrassed baby.” his hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “now lay down. rest a bit. i’ll be right here if you need me.”

you did as he said, turning out of his hold to crawl up in the bed—chris following as you curled up on his bed. his body slotted next to yours, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close. the water started to help, and his steady presence calmed the storm in your mind.

“chris?” you murmured after a while, your voice drowsy. he looked down at you, tugging you closer. “yeah?”

“thanks for taking care of me,” you said softly, your eyes fluttering closed as your body shifted—laying on your side as your own arms wrapped around his middle. your face snuggling into his chest.

he smiled, brushing his fingers over your cheek. “always, baby. always.”

453 notes · View notes

frid4y · 3 days ago

Text

the big brick frat house that you always pass on your walks to class, seemingly silent during the day time. mainly because your class is at 8 am sharp. but the loud party music and sound of drunk college kids buzzing in your ear after 10 pm every night never goes unnoticed.

you've been inside a few times, always during a party, and while you were on the verge of blackout drunk. your memory is very faint on the boys in the frat, only knowing of the most notorious, satoru gojo. he's the apparently typical whore, the rumors of him fucking everything in sight swirling around. you never took the time to listen, it wasn't any of your business.

until you met him at one of his parties. you got a vibe from him, and it didn't scream slut. although his attempt of it was painfully obvious. the subtle attempts to talk about how rich he was, how he's always partying with girls, how everyone is dying to hang out with him, how "experienced" he was..if this was his way of attracting women, they must all be fucking idiots. and you mayy be one of 'em.

it wasn't until you were in his obnoxiously large bedroom, straddling his muscular thighs in an intense make out session that you realized.. "he's anything but a whore, he's a little virgin..” what made it obvious? his nervousness when you entered his bedroom, his inability to figure out where on your body to keep his hands, and the wet patch forming at the front of his jeans. he came in his pants, just from kissing you.

"o-okay.. i may have exaggerated.. but i can figure it out! i'm a fast learner! just s-show me what to do.." he stammers out, the space between his brows creasing as he stares up at your expression. you giggle at his flustered reaction, i mean.. it was obvious to anyone who paid enough attention past the facade.

"it's okay... for now, just sit there and look pretty. k?" you say, your fingers at the hem of his shirt, lifting it off his upper body. he obediently nods while watching his t-shirt quickly be thrown somewhere in his room. fuck, you were gonna have fun with him.

and that he did, along with his loud incoherent moans and whimpers about how good your pussy feels. satoru lays under you, his eyes glazed over as he stares into your eyes while you ride him. he keeps his hands on your hips to guide you up and down his length, seeing how it was a struggle to get his thick cock inside you. it's always the virgins, isn't it?

“n-nghh, so good..fuck I cantt—be gentle..” satoru whines, his toes curling at the newfound pleasure he’s experiencing. his fingers dig into your skin as he babbles on, his mind foggy and only focused on the feeling of you wrapped around him. his white lashes fluttering as he struggles to keep his eyes open.

his delirious words of encouragement trail into soft moans as his grip slips from your hips to your thighs, using his big hands to guide you along his dick again. his abs flex as he feels your cunt clenching around him, causing his lips to part in pure desire and arousal.

satoru’s moans get louder at every roll and bounce of your hips. his brain is genuinely fried, reduced to base instinct. he whimpers as you slow your movements, feeling every inch of his cock while it throbs inside you. “shit.. j-just like t-that. i’m gonna c-cum baby—don’t stop..” his voice gets higher as his eyes get low and glossy.

“fuckfuckfuckfuck—” is the last thing you hear before you feel his cum fill you, his cock twitching inside you and his hips bucking up to chase the feeling. such weak pullout game. satoru lies there, his chest heaving as he comes down from his high.

“i think i love you-“

744 notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 1 day ago

Text

tumblr is hiding only the request I want from me again :(

request: would u be able to do a poly emt marauders x reader where the reader is iron deficient cause she doesnt eat properly (always eating like "girl dinners") and the boys tell her off for it

cw: poor eating/nutrition intake, potential ed triggers although portions aren't mentioned and the boys aren't concerned about reader's general relationship to food, Sirius being a bit prickly because he's worried+protective

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 821 words

It’s only just past dark, but your head longs for a pillow. Sirius’ shoulder does well for now, his fan of cards held in his other hand to avoid jostling you as he plays rummy with your boyfriends. You’d surrendered your own cards to the discard pile a few rounds ago, content to watch Sirius on your one side and Remus on your other as they both try to beat James, who’s better at the game than any of you. He radiates a smug self-assurance as he looks down at his cards that bodes poorly for your other boyfriends.

James looks up and catches you watching him, his instinctive smile tinging with sympathy as he notes your drooping eyes. “Sleepy, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, sorry.” You try to blink yourself to alertness. “I’ve been tired so early lately, I don’t know why.”

There’s a brief moment of silence wherein you think to regret your statement. Then, Sirius sing-songs, “I know.”

You groan, transfering to Remus’ shoulder in a show of dissent. He chuckles and takes you in, wrapping an arm around you. His cards fold over your shoulder.

“He’s right, you know,” Remus says.

“Angel.” James sets his cards down, looking at you imploringly. “Let me make you something, please.”

“I already ate.”

Sirius scoffs. “You had a snack.”

You turn your forehead into Remus’ shoulder sulkily. You know any arguments will only be rebuked.

Your boyfriends came home from their shift just in time to find you finishing up your dinner. On your plate was everything you could want—sweet, savory, and just enough to fill you up—but evidently it left something to be desired for them. Remus had looked down at it and said, “That’s not your dinner, is it?”

“Yeah,” you replied, warily.

“Baby,” Sirius laughed, picking up a grape. “This is not a meal.”

You stole the grape back from him, popping it into your mouth. “It’s girl dinner.”

“I’m fairly sure girls need just as much nutrients as everyone else, gorgeous.”

“There’s nutrients in this.” You waved demonstratively to your plate of grapes, cheese, and crackers. That was practically half of the food pyramid, you were pretty sure. “Leave my dinner alone.”

Remus had begun talking about the necessity of balanced meals, and things devolved from there into a debate about health and nutrition which you’d tabled by telling your boyfriends (with love) to mind their own business. You doubt you’re getting out of it again quite so easily.

“It’s not like I had a chocolate bar,” you mumble. “It was healthy.”

“It was healthy,” James agrees, tone placating. “It just wasn’t everything you need in a meal, sweetheart. You’re probably tired because there was no iron in there.”

“I’ve been tired for days, though.”

“And when was the last time you had an iron-rich meal?” Remus asks.

You’re silent. Sirius laughs.

“It can be hard to keep track of.” James is ever forgiving. “How about some eggs, yeah?”

You turn your face again to look at him. “I’m already pretty full,” you say honestly.

“One egg, then. With spinach.” He stands, leaving his cards flat on the table and stooping to drop a kiss on your head as he goes by. “Thank you, m’love.”

“Thanks,” you say back, sheepish.

You fall quiet again after James goes. You listen to the sound of the cupboards opening and closing in the kitchen, the crack of an egg, the stove being flicked on. After a while, Sirius snickers and pokes your ribs.

“Don’t pout,” he says. He pokes you again until you smile, hiding it under Remus’ arm.

“I hate it when you guys are right.” You heave a sigh, affecting a tone of mopiness. “It’s never any fun for me.”

“Awe.” Sirius leans over to rest his head on your shoulder. Remus chuckles, shifting his arm to accommodate the both of you. “I’m sorry it happens to you so often, baby.”

That makes you laugh, though you try to muffle the sound. “Mean.”

“I’ve never claimed to be anything different.”

“It’s important to be sure you’re getting everything you need from your food, dove,” says Remus, at one soft and stern. “You need to choose more carefully.”

“Okay,” you acquiesce. In truth, the fight left you long ago. “Sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry, though.” He kisses the top of your head.

“You can totally make it up,” says James, coming back with a small plate, “by eating these delicious eggs.”

You take the plate from him with a small smile of thanks. “Eggs, as in plural?”

He grins, caught. “There may be two. Sorry.”

“This is how you earn your forgiveness,” Sirius teases, sitting up so you can eat. He bumps your shoulder lightly with his.

“Yeah, yeah.” You roll your eyes, but scoop up a forkful of eggs. After your first mouthful, you say, “These are really good, Jamie. Thanks.”

His beaming smile is worth the stomachache.

556 notes · View notes

satellite-evans · 2 days ago

Text

farmers market

Pairing: Harry Styles x pregnant!reader

Summary: Harry takes his pregnant girlfriend to the farmers market :)

Word count: 1k+

Warnings: fluff

A/N:

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

Saturday mornings had become your favorite part of the week, especially now that you were six months pregnant. There was something about the air in the fall that made everything feel crisp, fresh, and alive. You breathed it in deeply as you and Harry approached the farmer’s market entrance, the golden sunlight filtering through the trees and creating a beautiful radiance on everything. The sounds of the bustling crowd, the chatter of vendors, and the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze all added to the charm. For you, this was the perfect way to spend the morning—slowly strolling through the stalls, picking out fresh produce, and taking in the delicious aromas that surrounded you.

Harry, on the other hand, loved watching you. There was a joy in your eyes every time you came across something that caught your attention—whether it was a basket of perfectly ripe peaches or a bouquet of wildflowers. He found himself smiling more, simply watching you enjoy the little things. Though his schedule was often packed with work, he didn’t mind these outings. In fact, he insisted on them.

"I can't believe you actually woke up early for this," you teased, nudging him playfully with your shoulder as the two of you made your way through the market entrance.

Harry adjusted his sunglasses, his hand still wrapped around yours. He squeezed it gently before responding, "Hey, I have my priorities straight. You, our little one, and fresh strawberries."

You grinned at him. "I knew you were just here for the food."

"And the company," he corrected, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. He lingered for a moment, his fingers brushing your skin. "You sure you're up for this? We could’ve just ordered everything online."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. "Harry, I’m pregnant, not fragile. I’m not going to break. Besides, I want to pick things out myself. You know how picky I get when it comes to cravings."

He chuckled, his hand gently resting on the small of your back, guiding you as you walked. "Yeah, I remember. The great pickle debacle of last month."

You groaned, covering your face with your hand in embarrassment. "Don’t remind me. I still feel bad for that poor store clerk."

"He survived," Harry teased, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face as you reached the first stall. "And now we have a whole shelf stocked with pickles at home. We're prepared for the next craving, love."

As you approached the stall, a burst of color filled your vision. Strawberries. Plump and bright, their sweetness practically radiated from the basket. You couldn’t help yourself. A soft gasp left your lips as you reached for a carton. "Oh my gosh, look at these strawberries! I need them."

The vendor, an older man with a wide grin and a straw hat, chuckled at your enthusiasm. "Good choice, dear. These are the sweetest berries you’ll find this season, grown just down the road."

Harry smiled at the vendor, then at you. "Perfect. We’ll take a few cartons, please."

The man winked at you as he handed over the strawberries. "Craving strawberries, huh? Must mean you’re having a sweet little one."

You laughed, resting your hand on your bump. "Seems like it."

Harry watched you carefully, his hand brushing yours as you inspected the fruit, a soft chuckle escaping him. "You know, love, if you keep eating them like this, our little one is going to come out looking like a strawberry."

You raised an eyebrow at him, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. "Should be no problem for you, since you only sing about fruit and... other things."

Harry’s face broke into laughter, shaking his head as he squeezed your hand a little tighter. "Alright, fair point. Guess we’re a perfect match then."

As you both moved down the market path, you spotted a stall selling honey, its glass jars glistening in the sunlight. Your eyes lit up, and without missing a beat, you tugged Harry toward it. "Ooh, fresh honey!"

The elderly woman behind the stand greeted you with a warm smile. "Well hello, dear! Looking for something sweet today?"

Harry wrapped his arm around you protectively, as if to shield you from the bustling crowd around you. He glanced down at you, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand. "She’s been craving everything sweet since she got pregnant," he said, his voice soft, his gaze lingering on you.

The vendor’s smile widened. "Ah, a little one on the way! Congratulations, dear. I’ve got just the thing for you—this wildflower honey. It’s perfect with tea or drizzled over yogurt."

You took one of the jars into your hands, turning it over in your palms as you inspected it. "We’ll take two jars, please," you said with a smile. You could already imagine the honey paired with some of the fruit you had bought.

Harry leaned in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispered, "At this rate, we’ll have an entire pantry of honey, jams, and fruit."

You nudged him with your elbow, a playful glint in your eyes. "Says the guy who could probably live off protein shakes and fruit."

He grinned down at you, leaning his head against yours for a brief moment. "Hey, fruit’s good for you. And clearly, our little one agrees."

As the two of you continued down the market lane, Harry remained ever the protector, placing a hand gently on your lower back whenever the crowd got too dense or people brushed by too closely. He made sure to stay close, watching you like a hawk as you darted from one stall to another, carefully selecting items that would satisfy your cravings. His protective nature seemed to grow stronger with each passing day, and you couldn’t help but feel a flutter of love in your chest every time he touched you.

You stopped in front of a stall selling freshly baked bread. You picked up a warm loaf, its crust golden and inviting, and breathed in deeply. "Look at this bread, H!" you said, holding it up to him. "It smells amazing."

The baker, a jovial man with flour-dusted hands, beamed at you. "Fresh from the oven this morning, love. It’s a market favorite!"

Harry inhaled the rich aroma of the bread and nodded. "Alright, we’ll take two. One for you, and one for the baby."

You giggled, shaking your head at him. "You’re going to use the baby excuse for everything now, aren’t you?"

He shot you a mischievous grin. "Absolutely."

Next, you came across a stand selling handmade baby clothes. Harry’s eyes softened the moment he saw a tiny knitted sweater. His hand lingered over the soft material before he held it up to you, his voice barely above a whisper. "Look at this. Think our little one would like it?"

An elderly woman behind the stand smiled warmly at the two of you. "Oh, that one’s made from the softest wool, dear. Perfect for a little bundle of joy."

You felt your heart swell in your chest as you looked at Harry. Your voice wavered slightly. "I think they’d look adorable in it."

Harry’s fingers gently traced the top of your arm, sending a warm shiver through you. "We’re really doing this, huh?" His gaze softened as he brushed his thumb across the back of your hand. "Baby, family, all of it."

You smiled, your heart full of emotion. Resting your hand over his, you looked up at him with a soft, affectionate smile. "Yeah, we are."

As the morning wore on, your bags filled with fresh produce, honey, flowers, and baby clothes, Harry remained a constant presence at your side, his protectiveness never wavering. He kissed your forehead whenever you stopped to look at something, always keeping a careful eye on you as the crowds grew thicker.

You were about to make your way to the car when Harry glanced at the overflowing bags in his hands, a playful grin tugging at his lips. "Think we went a little overboard?"

You laughed, shaking your head. "No such thing when it comes to fresh fruit."

He raised an eyebrow at you. "You and your fruit obsession. I’m telling you, if this baby’s first word is 'peach,' I’m blaming you."

You shot back with a laugh. "Alright, but if their first word is 'kiwi,' or ‘watermelon’ or ‘cherry’ then I’m blaming you!"

Harry pulled you closer, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. "Alright, love. Truce. Let's go home and make something delicious with all this."

And as the two of you walked back to the car, the morning sun warm on your skin, you knew that these were the moments that would stay with you forever—simple, quiet, full of love and anticipation.

#fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x pregnant!reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles x y/n #harry styles blurbs #harry styles fic rec #fic rec

426 notes · View notes

scap34 · 3 days ago

Text

No one touches what’s yours ♡

sub! sugar baby! Toji x sadistic! rich! dom! younger! male! reader

warnings: cussing, mild daddy kink, oral sex, dirty talk, degradation, implied sex, mild manipulation, mention of murder

Another shitty gala. What was this one for? A charity? Who even cared? If half the money wasted on flaunting wealth actually went to the cause, he was pretty sure there wouldn’t even be a need for charity anymore.

Instead, it was just another popularity contest. And lucky him, you happened to be the star of the show—the hot, rich jock everyone loved to worship.

What did that make him? Your cheerleader?

Toji scowled as he downed the wine in his glass. Expensive, yet it tasted like shit. He’d already had three in the last half hour, and the buzz was barely there—a waste of both time and money.

But that wasn’t what bothered him. It was all the eyes on you. The overly flattering tone, and greedy eyes people looked at you with. His fingers itched for his blade. To paint the shiny white floor red with their blood.

You were his. So why the hell were people so fucking close to you?

Then your cold gaze met his, and for a moment, that disinterested look melted into faint amusement. Without hesitation, you made your way toward him, leaving behind a trail of disappointed murmurs and bitter faces, none daring to voice their complaints aloud.

Toji stayed rooted in place, arms crossed, waiting for you to come to him. When you finally did, he didn’t bother hiding his irritation. “Why the hell did you drag me to this?” he grumbled, his tone bordering on petulant—not that he’d ever admit it outright.

You had the audacity to chuckle, a soft, amused sound that only annoyed him more. “I didn’t.” You replied smoothly. “I told you, you wouldn't like it, but you insisted on coming anyway.”

Did he say that? Yes.

Did he care? No.

“What was I supposed to do? Sit around at home like some miserable housewife?” He snapped back.

You didn’t respond immediately, but the gleam in your eyes said everything. It was that look—the one you got right before one of your ideas. The kind that left him sore in all the right places and utterly, blissfully wrecked.

Was it the housewife comment? Fuck, would you care about fucking him here?

“Yeah, baby? Need your husband to make you happy?” you practically purred, your voice low and husky, dripping with amusement.

The tone alone had him shifting in place, a rush of heat racing down his body. Damn tux was too tight, but he knew better than to blame it on the suit. Knowing you, the control freak you were, you’d probably had it tailored perfectly to his measurements ages ago. Made perfectly to hug every curve of his body, all on display for your eyes.

Getting a fucking boner right now would like public exposure.

You must have been rubbing off on him, cause the thought only served to make him more aroused.

“Y/N! What a delight to see you here!”

Your eyes shifted lazily from Toji to the man approaching, your expression unreadable. He was in his late forties, with hair that was clearly dyed to hide the gray creeping in—an attempt to cling to his youth. Everything about him screamed smug, from his tailored suit to the self-assured smirk plastered across his face.

The man practically radiated envy as he took you in. Of course he did. You were everything he wasn’t—young, rich, and devastatingly handsome. Flawless in a way that made people resent you the moment you walked into a room. And you were all his.

“I wasn’t planning on coming,” he said, voice dripping with fake humility, “but luckily, I managed to find a spot in my schedule. I’m sure you didn’t have that problem. After all, you always attend these things, don’t you?”

He spoke loud enough for others nearby to hear, as if trying to gain some kind of upper hand in the conversation.

You didn’t look fazed by it. The coldness in your eyes was sharp, daunting even as your lips curled into a fake, practiced smile.

“Isn’t it customary for the host to attend their own gala?” Your words were curt and polite to the point of biting cold. Throwing his words right back at him with chilling precision.

Toji could almost hear the man’s teeth grind together in outrage at being one upped in the rich people dick measuring contest. Not that you were playing along. You didn’t need to. He could attest to how big your dick was.

He let out a huff of laughter. The man’s eyes landed on him. The annoyance in his eyes shifted to interest as he took in Toji’s body. The tux, obviously not doing anything to hide his body.

If this had happened anywhere else, he would’ve beaten the shit out of him. But this was your fancy gala, surrounded by those rich assholes who eyed your wealth like pesky flies. He wasn’t stupid enough to mess up your business. You’d be pissed at him, and not in a good way.

“And who is this? Your date?” The man’s slimy gazed trailed down his body. Toji had to resist the urge to shove a wine glass into his throat.

“Yes. This is Toji.” You replied seemingly unbothered but he could see the way annoyance crept into your eyes. The way you shifted slightly closer to him. You didn’t bother introducing the man to him like you couldn’t bother with it.

Toji bit down on his tongue, fighting the smug smile that threatened to tug at his lips. The man wasn’t important? Good, he didn’t want to play nice anyway. Toji’s eyes didn’t leave you.

Fuck. He didn’t think you could get hotter. But you were hell bent on proving him wrong weren’t you?

The confident, uninterested attitude of your that pissed everyone off was such a fucking turn on. Why the hell were you so hot?

Your eyes met Toji’s heated look. Your eyes rovered down his body, sending pleasant shivers down his spine. “My sugar baby.” You added on as an afterthought.

He hated you. You knew exactly what you were doing to him. That confident smug gleam in your eyes. You sipped your wine with a smug smile.

Damn you. You had fucked him before coming here. So why was he getting horny again? He got less boners as a teenager during puberty.

“Then do you mind if I have a taste? What’s a bit of sharing between business partners?” The man’s slimy voice cut between the tension.

Your smile disappeared in a flash. Before he could react, you had an arm around his waist. A possessive hand pulling him to you. Half his body pressed against your warmth.

“He’s not a toy.” You half snarled the polite facade in your face slipping. Your arm wrapped around Toji’s waist, a possessive gesture.

Toji’s mind short circuited at the firm possessive touch. All he could hear was his heart thumping in his chest, and feel your firm muscles against his. Your fingers felt like a brand, marking him, claiming him as yours.

He knew he was yours. But this just cemented it. It wasn’t something that had been there but never acknowledged anymore. It was real. He was yours. And you were his.

He barely remembered anything past the man paleing at the thunderous look on your face. Stuttering half apologies even as his face burned with embarrassment and anger. Leaving as soon as possible.

Toji didn’t give a fuck about him anymore.

The innocent touch of your hand on his waist, made heat pool in his stomach. Your gesture was possessive, and demanding. He loved it.

Despite the fact that he could have easily defended himself, or even killed that scumbag, this was better. You defending him with possessive anger burning in your eyes. A scowl on your lips as you protect him. This was so much better.

He didn’t even notice when you led him out the hall. Only when your eyes met his, did he kiss you. Pushing you up against the wall, body grinding against yours.

His lips pressed against yours, hungry for more. You easily took back control, after your initial surprise. Kissing back ruthlessly, plundering Toji’s mouth. Fucking his mouth with your tongue.

He pulled away panting softly, and leaned his body against yours. The hard line of his erection pressing against your thighs. He resisted the urge to grind against you.

You recovered quickly, a sadistic smile spreading on your lips. “Hard from a kiss, baby?” You cooed, your hand moving to cup his clothed cock. Your thumb flicked the head of his cock. The movement had him moaning, expensive fabric rubbing against his sensitive head in delicious ecstasy

“It’s your fault.” He whined, shifting his body to hump your thigh, more dog in heat than an experienced killer. Need burned in his body like a drug. He wanted you. Wanted your cock in his hole, taking what was yours. Making him yours inside and out.

“What a needy slut.” Your eyes were dark, all consuming. He wanted you so fucking bad. He humped against your thigh, pants falling for his kiss swollen lips. “Need to be fucked that bad?”

“Yes,” he practically whined. The thought of your cock had him salivating. His hips rolling against yours. You didn’t even look bothered, the dark look in your eyes only gave it away.

“My needy cock whore,” you cooed lowly, your tone anything but sweet. “Don’t worry, daddy will fuck you good.” The nickname and the way your fingers squeezed his ass, had him melting into your arms like putty.

“Mhmm yes please.”

…

“Who was that guy anyway?” He asked suddenly, a few days after the gala. You looked over at him, your fingers paused typing. All your attention on him, he almost wanted to change the topic, just so your focus stayed on him.

A live horse race played on the tv. Like a typical day, you spent your time working near him, like the possessive asshole you were.

“What guy?”

“That asshole who tried to hit on me.” He said vaguely unsure how to describe him. All he could remember was getting fucking into the sheets. Your voice muttering praises into his ear each time you started a new round.

“Him? Don’t worry about it. I got rid of him.” You said turning back to typing on your computer. He blinked at you incedulously. That was it?

You got rid of him?

“What,” his throat felt dry, he licked his lips. “Did you do?” He didn’t even know what he was expecting to hear.

You didn’t even look away from your laptop to answer. “Exposed a few scandals and destroyed his company. His reputation and business are gone now.” You retorted coldly, working on your laptop.

He blinked at you, dazed, bewildered by your words. He knew you were cruel. The words tycoon most commonly used with you. You had to be cruel to make it to the top at such a young age. He knew that too. But it felt different experiencing it firsthand. You’d destroyed someone’s business and reputation for him.

He didn’t want to bring up that he could take care of himself. That he was the sorcerer killer. A weak human was nothing to him. He’d been taunted all his life for being the black sheep of the Zen’in family. For running away. For all the money he lost gambling.

But you were different. You were a bastard. He knew that. You’d humiliate him. Push his body to the limit. But you’d also caress his cheeks and praise him. He was yours and you found nothing wrong with him. You were an oddity he didn’t mind.

He tugged your computer away from you. You let him, looking a bit bemused. He gently placed it on the table and straddled your thighs, his knees on either side of you.

His hard cock pressed against yours. You looked up at him with a raised brow. Your hands wrapped around his waist, rubbing circles. He grinded down on your cock, making your breath hitch, eyes darkening with lust.

“Toji? What are you doing?” You asked huskily. Your hands encouraged his hips as he grinded down. Your cock rapidly growing harder.

“Nothing,” he replied mischievously. His hands ran up his thigh, and disappeared under his shirt. Under your hungry gaze he played with his chest. Moaning when he pinched his dusty pink nipple, the pain mixed with pleasure.

“Yeah? How about I give you something to do then baby?” you muttered huskily. Your hands held his hips as you smirked. “Why don’t you suck my cock, baby?”

His grinding nearly stopped if it wasn’t for your hands moving his hips, in slow circles. His cheeks flushed pink in embarrassment.

Suck your dick? He’d never done that before. But he couldn't help but want it. The idea made him harder.

You could see his reluctance and palmed his clothed cock. “Be a good boy, Toji and suck me off.” He flushed darker, at your blunt words. His cock strained against his flimy pants, pre-cum smeared onto it.

He nodded weakly. There wasn’t any chance he’d refuse anyway. He was weak for you.

…

“I can’t,” he sobbed, around your cock. The sound sent bolts of pleasure. Red marks on your thighs, where your baby dug his fingers in too hard. The pain barely registered to you. Not when the pleasure was so strong.

You held back a smirk and frowned. “Already baby? I haven’t even cum yet.” Toji let out another frustrated sob. The sound reverberated through you making you bite back a groan.

“Please please ple’se can’t,” he begged, rubbing his cheek against your cock like a puppy. Like it would make you give in. You wouldn’t say it’s Toji’s fault for not making you cum. That was all you. Making him take a dildo as he sucked you off. You conveniently forget to tell it was also a vibrator. He’d came immediately when the vibrations started. And again when you increased it.

The view didn’t help you. Fat pecs bouncing with each movement, trembling thighs parted lewdly, showing off his useless cock. His own cum staining his thighs messily. You had half a mind to turn him around so you can see the way his hole took the toy.

But then you’d miss the dumb slutty look on his face. The fucked dumb look on your baby’s face. Cheeks flushed red, tears clinging to his lashes too stubborn to fall, lips bitten red and swollen, expression scrunched in pleasure and overstimulation.

His pretty lips stretched obscenely around your cock. Messily sucking your dick, licking it like a pathetic kitten. The sight of his face could make you cum but you were holding out. After all, you had a goal in mind.

“Come on Toji. You’re really going to leave me hanging?” You usually never called him by his name during sex. Your baby caught on. His hands clenched tighter and he tried to please you. Messy and sloppy. You loved it.

“Ple’se t’rn it off,” he pleaded looking at you with desperate tear filled eyes. It just made you want to shove your cock back into his mouth and fuck his throat till his voice was hoarse.

“Make me cum first, baby.” You replied like that other times he asked. He let out a choked sob, body trembling when you turned up the vibrations. Desperate and wreaked was the best look on your baby.

“That needy, baby?” You can see the conflict in his eyes, all his previous confidence thrown out. Only a hazy of need and wanting to please in his eyes. He nodded lips around the head of your cock.

“I’m going to fuck your throat then baby. Can you take it for me like a good slut?” He shivered from your words and nodded quickly. Opening his mouth obediently.

You smirked. “Use your words baby.” He flashed a pretty red.

“Ple’se, fuck my throat,” he pleaded weakly voice a bit hoarse.

“As you wish, baby.” You smirked, your hands holding his hair a bit roughly. He barely winched, his cock twitching with interest.

You had to hold back a grin as you pressed your cock into your baby’s mouth. He didn’t even gag. The perfect cock slut. You let out a groan and started to face fuck him.

Toji barely protested, his moans sending heat pooling. Within minutes you finished onto your baby’s tongue. Toji obediently swallowed it. Hazy adoring eyes meeting yours, begging for praise.

You chuckled and wiped your cum off his lips. “Good boy.” Your perfect baby.

#sub male character #dom male reader #male reader #top male reader #mean reader #sub male yandere #sadistic reader #dom reader #sub toji #toji smut #jjk smut #toji x reader #sugarbaby toji

870 notes · View notes

cheer-nympho · 1 day ago

Text

Thinking about Eddie driving up to the quarry one night to try and sell to the teenagers that usually hang around here,

But when he gets there only one car is parked and hidden behind the bushes framing the road.

A very familiar BMW with it’s windows steamed up.

‘Of course Harringtons getting some again. Lucky fuck.’ Eddie thinks as he lights a smoke, if only to warm him up a bit in the cold night.

Damn. From the condensation dripping down the BMW windows, they’re having no problem keeping warm.

Even from the distance it takes effort to not startle when the hand slams against the back window, creating a messy handprint on the white glass. Even from here he can see it’s a mans hand. Steve, he assumes. Jesus, whoever he has in that back seat is clearly getting railed practically through the seats.

He should look away, really. Knows that this is a bit fucked up. But…he can’t actually see anything. And really, Harrington shouldn’t have brought her out to the towns most known hangout. And its not like he was straining to hear, they were just SO loud. And…deep?

Eddie’s not exactly a connoisseur in the different noises of women, try as he may, but he’s pretty sure he’s only hearing a man right now. Sure, its still a pretty high pitched and punched out sound but noticeably a dudes- which confuses Eddie for a minute.

Harrington must just be really sensitive and loud. Maybe that’s why he had so many girls falling over him, the noises certainly weren’t turning Eddie OFF the interaction.

He can physically see the change in the cars bouncing when he assumes they’re…’finishing off’

Eddie doesn’t know why he’s still here. He could have- no, he SHOULD have left ages ago. But not long after the bouncing stops, the car door swings over and 2 legs swing out, hands coming down to fix their socks- clearly having hastily thrown his clothes back on.

The only thing is…Eddie doesn’t remember Harringtons legs being so long? The body looks out or place sitting in the open door, not like the familiar and practically famous silhouette of Steve against his vehicle. And it hits Eddie square in the face when the guy stands upright.

Cause Eddie DOES know the guy. He’s just stomach tippinglys aware that it is NOT Harrington.

That’s Johnny. Eddies (admittedly one sided) rival at the hideout. A fucking punk. Not in the way the adults of Hawkins use the term, he’s literally a punk rocker.

And his punk rocker ass is currently stepping out of Steve Harringtons freshly christened back seat. Well that…can’t be right. Harrington must just…rent out his car to couple or something. That must be it. Rich people are weird like that.

His theory is very quickly destroyed as Johnny knocks lightly on the roof of the car, cigarette already in the other hand, and pokes his head into the back. He laughs before a pair of legs flop out of the door. Legs attached to someone clearly too tall for a backseat. Legs attached to someone very male.

He should go. He needs to go. If not because of how his stomach feels like it’s trying to eat itself, then because his best-buddy Johnny just tipped his head non-subtly towards Eddie’s van.

‘Shit shit shit shit-‘ He puts the keys in as fast as he can with shaking hands.

— And he so nearly got away too. So nearly never had to look at that BMW or its occupants again, live his life carefree.

All hope of that was cruelly dashed when he left hellfire to see Steve leaning against his van.

He scanned the area, in hopes someone else had stayed late because he was pretty sure Steve was about to give him the “talk and you’re dead” followed by a beating up. And that would suck.

Nowhere else to go but forward, he clutched his DND bag and hobbled over to Harrington- who hadn’t offered him anything other than a blank stare.

“Harrington.”

“Munson.”

“Pretty late to be lurking around school. People might get the wrong idea.”

“Don’t lecture me on lurking, man. We both know you were at the quarry.”

“I don’t really-“

“Johnny told me, would recognise your beat up ride miles away he said.”

Thankfully Eddie had enough brain power in him to add that to the list of reasons to fucking hate Johnny. In the time he had to scowl at the ground, Harrington had rounded behind him. Eddie span to meet him but was met with a rough hand to the chest.

He was pushed up against his van with a sharp movement, pulling a winded breath from him followed by a large ‘bang’ as Steve’s hand slammed to the side of his head.

“So, Munson. What did you see?”

“I didn’t see-“

“Try again.” A hand crept into his hair, not pulling but clearly threatening it with the way it was clasped.

“I saw…you and Johnny. In your car.”

Steve hummed and looked away from Eddie. “That’s not very specific, Eddie, try again.”

“Wha- I don’t know what you-“ The hand in his hair yanked, pulling his head so that even with their similar heights he was forced to look up at Steve, hands gripping uselessly to the side of his van.

“Try again.”

Oh.

That’s what he wanted.

“I saw Johnny fucking you.”

He managed to lift his gaze to look at Steve and was met with an almost dopey smirk, his eyes barely focused as they stared down at Eddie half closed. Eddie melted right into the wall of his van because Steve Harrington was looking him like he’d never been hornier in his life.

“Fuck. He was Eddie, he really was and it was so good. You saw it right? Saw the car moving? Shit, man, it’s hard to get it moving like that. He was so rough.” Eddie just stared as Steve started falling further towards him, sinking into the weird little hold they both had.

“But there’s just one problem Munson.” Steve said into the side of Eddie’s neck, making him shiver and use all his willpower to keep his head where Steve’s grip had moved it.

“What- What problem?”

“My car is just too small. We needed more space, I needed more space.”

He brought his free hand up and slammed it to the other side of Eddie’s head. “Do you think you might know anyone with something more…spacious?” And when Eddie clocked exactly what he was implying, what he was begging for- he had never been so thankful for his shitty van.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #mini fic #my writing #flirting #how do i tag this kinda stuff on here i dont know the etiquette #prompt #eddie x steve

415 notes · View notes

hyunjins-orange-slice-too · 2 days ago

Text

do you have any kinks?

pairing: daddy!chan x fem reader

genre: fluff, smut

warnings: daddy kink, breeding kink, pet names, oral (f.receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie

an: the pictures i chose for this banner.. are just pictures ive been obsessing over. they’re my favorite pictures atm. need him so so bad. okie here 🤲🏻 have this. love you.

masterlist

‼ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⚠︎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ‼ adults only • mdni ‼ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⚠︎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ‼

“can i ask you a question?” you had just taken your shower, your hair still slightly damp. chris was reclined on the bed, one arm behind his head, one hand holding his phone, wearing nothing but his boxers. upon hearing your question, he tossed his phone onto the bed beside him.

“of course. you can ask me anything.” he smiled. but you were still nervous. you had been dating chris for a few months now, and things were going great. he had been spending the past few weekends over at your place. and today, this saturday night, was no different. you really did feel like you could talk to him about anything. but still your stomach churned with anxiety.

“do.. you have any.. kinks?” you couldn’t look at him, instead opting to search through your dresser for your favorite pajamas. he was silent for a moment, though it felt like an eternity.

he cleared his throat, embarrassed by your question.

“you don’t have to answer that if it makes you uncomfortable.” you blurted out, grabbing your pajamas and slamming the dresser drawer closed. you were starting to rethink this conversation, wishing you had kept your mouth shut. but you couldn’t ignore the way you felt. couldn’t ignore your desires. couldn’t ignore the way he treated you.

you spared a nervous glance in his direction. he was smiling at you, his ears were a little red, but mostly he was just enamored by you. he chuckled. “i don’t mind to answer. like i said, you can ask me anything.”

you dropped your towel, leaving you bare before him for a moment, only to slip your pajamas on. his cock twitched, but he ignored it. focused on the conversation. “i guess.. i don’t have any kinks? or maybe i do and i don’t know about them?” he thought about it some more and couldn’t come up with anything. “why do you ask?”

you tossed your used towel into the hamper and nervously climbed into bed next to him. “uh.. no reason.” you said, pulling the blanket up over your body and laying back onto your pillow.

he sat up, looking over at you. “suuree.” he said. he knew you were lying. you wouldn’t just ask that for no reason. he wondered what made you think of such a question. “do you?” he asked.

“do i what?”

“have any kinks.” he clarified. “you.. don’t have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable.”

you were silent. contemplating whether or not you wanted to be honest with him right now. should you just blurt it out and get it over with? like ripping a band-aid? or would he think you were weird, and should you keep it to yourself..

“it’s.. nothing.” you said, cursing yourself for even starting this conversation in the first place.

“i understand if you don’t want to tell me yet.” he reached for your hand, which was holding onto the blanket for dear life. he gave it a reassuring squeeze. “i would never judge you though. i’m very open minded.”

he snuggled under the blanket, his body next to yours. he held his arms out, inviting you to lay in your favorite spot. you turned over, your head against his chest, his arms wrapped securely around you. you could hear the thumping of his heart in your ears. he gently grazed his fingertips up and down your arm, lazily tracing designs into your skin. a long while had passed. so long that you thought he may be asleep, though you didn’t hear his signature snores.

your arm that was wrapped around his middle, squeezed him tightly, in preparation for what you were about to say. “i want to call you daddy.”

it fell out of your mouth, in a not so graceful way. you squeezed your eyes shut, hugging his body tightly, afraid he may push you away.

but he didn’t.

instead, you heard a low hum radiate through his chest.

“you have a daddy kink?” he asked. you couldn’t tell by his tone if he was excited by your confession, or disgusted.

“i.. guess?” your voice was quiet. though he could hear you just fine in the silent room. “it’s been on my mind recently.”

his fingers continued their trails along your arm. “what’s been causing you to think that?”

you took a moment to think about your answer. “uh.. i think about it when you call me princess.. and when you do stuff for me.. like that time you helped me brush my hair.”

“i see.” he said. it didn’t feel dismissive. it just felt like he understood and was formulating his next thought. “but isn’t a kink.. something sexual?” he asked. “what you’re talking about isn’t sexual.”

“well i think about it when we’re having sex too..” you confessed.

he made a hmph sound. “well that’s disappointing.”

your heart sank. disappointing? he hated it. he thought you were gross.

“i.. im sorry.” you said, your voice mousy. “just forget i said anything.”

he squeezed you tighter. “no, no baby. i don’t mean i’m disappointed that you think about that.” he explained. “i’m disappointed that you can think at all while i’m fucking you. i’m not doing it well enough.”

you huffed out a laugh. “oh you’re doing it well. believe me.”

he giggled, rocking your bodies back and forth. “oh yeah?” he teased.

you looked up at him, giggling too. “yeah.”

he leaned down, pressing his smiling lips to yours. his giggles died down, and his tongue slipped into your mouth.

it didn’t take long for the kiss to deepen, for his panting breaths to be mingled with your desperate ones. kissing chris was one of your favorite things to do. maybe it was his lips, so plump and kissable. or maybe it was his skill. he clearly knew what he was doing. you didn’t like to think about how many girls he may have kissed before you.

he turns you over so you’re on your back again, and he is hovering above you. his kisses travel down your jaw, down your neck. his beautiful hands slowly found their way under your shirt. his index fingers finding your bare nipples. he pushed the material up, exposing your chest to him. he latched those kissable lips around one of your nipples, sucking and licking on it gently.

your right hand found it way into his hair, not tugging or pushing, just feeling him. trying to ground yourself by touching something with texture. when he was done with your breast, he migrated down further, his lips and tongue exploring your tummy. he looked up at you through his lashes as he hooked his fingers in the waistband of your shorts. he was looking at you for approval. you silently lifted your hips off the bed, aiding him in removing your shorts, permission granted.

his fingers found your folds before his lips did. his middle finger dipping in gently and playing in your arousal. “look at your little flower, baby..” he cooed. “so messy for me..” his lips followed shortly after, finding their way to your clit, his tongue taking long strokes across it. your eyes closed and your head fell back as you focused on the way he was making you feel. he loved to watch you while you were like this. loved to see you feel good because of what he was doing to you.

he carefully guided two of his long fingers inside your drippy hole. he slid them in as far as you would allow it, and he curved them upward, gently thrusting. the moans and whimpers falling from your lips were music to his ears. the sweetest sound he had ever heard. he would do anything to have you make those noises. he wanted to record them so he could listen to them whenever he wished.

“please..” you whined. your glassy eyes looking down at him, his tongue working quickly against your bud.

“please what, princess?” he said, his breath warm against your skin.

“need you..” you breathed. “please.”

“need me?” he played dumb. he shoved his aching cock against your leg, grinding against you so you could feel how hard he was. “need this, baby?”

you squirmed underneath him, nodding frantically. “please.. please..” you begged.

he slowly removed his fingers from inside you, bringing them to his lips. he sucked them clean, groaning at the taste. you felt you may explode. spontaneously combust. no one had ever made you feel the way that he does. no one had ever turned you on so much.

he pulled his boxers down, his cock springing free. he kicked his boxers off the bed, and knelt in front of you, spreading your legs. “ready, princess?”

you nodded, your big puppy dog eyes begging him to please just fuck you already.

he ran his tip up and down your folds, tapping it against your sensitive clit before finally sliding inside of you. you took him in easy. he had prepped you well. “fuck.. baby..” he exhaled. his hands gripped your hips harshly as he began to thrust. his slow and gently demeanor didn’t last long once he was inside you. he couldn’t handle himself anymore. it was no time at all before he was pounding into you, tapping your cervix with each thrust.

“fuck..” you moaned. “feels so good da-“ you cut yourself off, suddenly overthinking things. the D word almost slipped out. you clamped around him, seizing up at your mistake.

“relax for me, princess.” he said, rubbing your skin gently with his fingers. you exhaled a long breath, relaxing your body.

he started fucking you again, quickly working up to his previous pace. “feel good baby?” he asked.

“yes. yes.. so good.” your hands explored his muscled body. your fingertips brushing over his abs and his pecs and his biceps.

“mmm” he moaned. “say it.”

you were nervous again, but he didn’t slow down. wouldn’t let you clamp around him.

“say it.” he ordered.

your eyes were focused on where your bodies were connected, how easily he slipped in and out of you. how much of a mess you were making of the both of you.

“look at me.” he growled. your eyes quickly snapped up to meet his. “you’re okay. i’ve got you. say it.”

you continued to stare into his beautiful brown eyes, but your mouth refused to move. your vocal chords refused to make the sounds. you were scared. but you didn’t know why anymore. you didn’t want to be scared anymore. you just couldn’t make your body listen. there was too much going on.

“princess..” his tone shifted to one of warning now. “say it or i’m going to stop.”

“no! please..” you begged. “please don’t stop.”

“then say it. be a good girl for me and call me by my title.”

“fuck..” your breathing was ragged, your orgasm on the edge of release. “daddy..”

his eyes rolled back, his head leaning to one side before straightening again, his tongue in his cheek. “again.”

“daddy..” it fell from your lips easy now. you loved the taste of it in your mouth. “daddy.. gonna cum.”

“you’re gonna cum on daddy’s cock, baby?”

“yes, please. fuck, daddy, please.” your body was on fire, every nerve tingling.

“i.. fuck. i have a confession to make.” he grunted. “i do.. have a kink.”

your pleasure ridden mind was trying to process his words.

“do you wanna know what it is, sweet girl?” he asked, his thrusts getting sloppy. “wanna know daddy’s kink?”

you nodded, gripping his biceps. “please tell me, daddy. please.. fuck.”

“i’ve got a breeding kink.” he growled. “wanna fill your little pussy up baby. can i do that?”

you were nodding before he even finished his sentence. “gonna let me pump my cum into you? hmm? can’t.. fuck.. can’t waste a drop.”

“yes please daddy.. please cum in me.” his eyes looked wild now, sweat dripping off his face and onto your chest. “please daddy, fill me up.”

his grip on your hips tightened, sure to leave a bruise. “cum with me, baby.” he panted. “cum with daddy.”

and with one last thrust, he stilled inside you. your orgasm crashed over you as his cock twitched inside you, filling you so full, it leaked out around his balls and onto the sheets.

he slumped on top of you, his head on your shoulder, his lips against your neck. he placed soft kisses there. you ran your fingers up his back, then to his hair, trying to brush the sweaty strands out of his face.

“was that okay?” he breathed against your skin, out of breath. “are you okay?”

“i’m okay.” you nodded and smiled. “are you?”

he raised his head and looked at you. he looked completely fucked out and you supposed you did too. “i’m so okay. better than okay.” he giggled, kissing you quickly. “we should have had that talk a long time ago.”

he slowly pulled his softening cock out of you. he went to the bathroom to grab a warm washcloth to clean you up. he gently wiped at your sensitive skin, careful to not overstimulate you. the D word came to mind again.

“i’m thinking it again.” you said quietly.

“thinking what, baby?” he asked, still cleaning you, making sure to get every drop of your shared release.

“thinking about calling you daddy.” you confessed. his hand stilled and he looked up at you. “how can i not when you take such good care of me?”

he smiled, finished his cleaning, and then kissed the tip of your nose. “you can call me daddy whenever you want to, princess.” he said. “i love it.”

“really?” you asked, your heart beating fast.

“really really.” he kissed your lips before throwing the washcloth into the hamper and cuddling close to you. he pulled your body against his, kissing the top of your head. “i love taking care of you. it would be an honor for you to call me daddy.”

you smiled. you were so incredibly happy. so proud of yourself for starting the conversation. your heart felt so full. you cuddled close to your daddy, nuzzling your face into his chest. your eyes closed, heavy with sleep that was about to pull you under. and you thought the next conversation would have to be about the L word.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

♡ pls reblog if you liked it! it truly helps a lot and makes me smile :) ♡

©hyunjins-orange-slice-too i do not give permission for this work or any of my work to be translated, copied, or reposted.

#daddy chan supremacy #daddy!skz #stray kids #bang chan #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids smut #bang chan stray kids #bang chan x reader #bang chan smut #bang chan imagines #bang chan x you #stray kids bang chan #bang chan hard thoughts #bang chan hard hours #stray kids hard thoughts #stray kids hard hours #hyunjins orange slice too

415 notes · View notes

moonlitwitchdaisy · 1 day ago

Text

virgin loser bff!nanami had been your closest friend ever since the time in preschool when your doll’s head broke, and he came over with his toy truck, offering to play together instead.

the fact that you had such different personalities never got in the way of your friendship. you were always the most popular and social person at school, while nanami didn’t even have any friends other than you. whenever you called him over to join you, and your friends asked, “how are you even friends with this guy?” he thought it might bother you. but when you’d respond, “ken is the most important person in my life. if you have a problem with him, you can fuck off,” it made him realize just how much you truly cared about him.

to nanami, you were the most precious and beautiful thing in the world. even if he knew he didn’t deserve you, he would do anything for your affection.

it didn’t take long during high school for him to realize his feelings for you had shifted from simple friendship to what he could only describe as “real love.” the way his dick would get hard whenever you hugged him, the way he’d sweat with excitement, and the constant desire to kiss you — these were definitely not things a friend would want.

the more time he spent with you, the harder it became to suppress these feelings. he thought about confessing to you, just to get it off his chest, but he knew you’d reject him. someone like you would never look at a loser like him. besides, it would mean the end of your friendship, and he couldn’t risk that. so instead, he chose to endure it silently, watching you hang out with other guys and resigning himself to a life filled with pain and self-loathing.

until tonight.

he had no idea how it happened. maybe someone had slipped something into his coffee because there was no other explanation for why he was inside you right now. you were supposed to be out with that handsome guy from the university club, but apparently, you could only stand the date for an hour before coming home.

“you’re such an idiot, ken. how can you not see that i love you? every guy i meet, every guy i date—i’m looking for you in them, but none of them are you,” you yelled at him through your tears, and all he could do was stare at you in shock.

had you wanted him all along?

“i don’t understand…” he muttered.

you cupped his cheek with your hand, your tearful eyes locking onto his. the heat in his face was unbearable as he felt your fingers gently stroke his skin. you’d never touched him like this before.

“why don’t you see me as a woman, ken? i want you to touch me. i want to touch you.”

he wanted to—more than anything.

“you’re only doing this because your date didn’t go well. otherwise—”

“otherwise what, ken? you think i’m lying?” you snapped angrily.

nanami sighed deeply, his voice breaking as he said, “how could someone like you love someone like me? i’m just a loser.”

you never saw him as a loser. to you, he was the funniest, kindest, and most handsome man in the world. who wouldn’t fall for someone like him? you knew people didn’t want to get to know him because he was shy and quiet, but the real nanami was so much more than that.

you said with longing, “ken, kiss me.”

he tried to ignore how painfully hard he was as he stammered, “i can’t…”

“shut up and kiss me.” standing on your tiptoes, you placed your hands on his shoulders and leaned in closer. whispering again, you said, “kiss me…”

when nanami finally pressed his lips to yours, he closed his eyes. it was his first kiss, and he had no idea what to do. thankfully, you guided him, moving your lips against his, teaching him. he followed your lead, sometimes using his tongue, sometimes tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth, making you moan into his mouth as the kiss grew messy and heated.

“let’s go to your room,” you managed to whisper when your lips finally parted.

that’s when nanami started to panic. he had just had his first kiss—how was he supposed to satisfy you in bed? if something happened and you regretted it, he’d never forgive himself.

“i-i’ve never done this before,” he admitted, embarrassed.

you smiled softly, pressing a kiss to his lips. “it doesn’t matter. i just want you, ken. just kissing you is enough to make me cum. but if you don’t want to—”

before you could finish, nanami scooped you into his arms, silencing you. as he carried you to his room, he said, “of course i want to. i’ve always wanted to, angel.”

he loved calling you angel.

and that’s how it happened. now, here he was, fucking into you with uneven thrusts, his cock buried deep inside the tight heat of your pussy — something he’d dreamed about for years.

you couldn’t understand how this man hadn’t had sex before. when he was preparing you, he was like a professional. sure, his excitement made his movements a bit clumsy now, but his mouth had worshipped every inch of your pussy, giving you exactly what you needed.

“ken… you feel so good,” you moaned, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist as the thickest and biggest cock you'd ever seen stretched your tight walls with audible intensity, his face buried in your neck.

“angel, this is so—so…” nanami pressed kisses to your neck, pumping into you with desperate, erratic movements.

“k-ken, i love you,” you whispered.

if this was a dream, nanami never wanted to wake up. having you like this, feeling you so deeply while you told him you loved him, it couldn’t end.

lifting his head from your neck, he straightened up, moving your legs to rest on his shoulders. gripping your thighs for support, he began thrusting faster, his hips slamming into you with a rhythm he didn’t even know he had.

“oh my god, ken—this is too much—ugh…” you could feel him in your stomach, his cock reaching places no one ever had.

“i saw this position in a porno… i always imagined fucking you like this—shit,” he confessed, his voice full of raw emotion.

“ken…” his words made you blush even harder because, for years, you’d wanted this too.

you had always wanted his thick, 8-inch cock to pound into the deepest corners of your pussy with a merciless rhythm, his sweat dripping onto your body as he claimed you completely.

“i-if i’m doing something wrong, tell me,” he said, throwing his head back with a groan. the muscles in his neck were taut, making him look unbelievably sexy. “teach me, angel, please…”

if anyone needed to be taught, it wasn’t nanami—it was you. despite his inexperience, he was giving you the best sex of your life.

“ken, if you insult yourself again—ahhh—i swear…” you gasped as he kept hitting your sweet spot over and over, your back arching off the bed. your fingers moved to your nipples, trapping them between your fingers and playing with them as you kept grinding against nanami’s cock.

“angel, i—i can’t last much longer.” your pussy was gripping him so tightly he could barely hold himself together.

still pinching your nipples, you gasped, “cum, ken.”

“fuck, i’m sorry…” he muttered.

after pumping his thick, sticky cock into your delicious pussy a few more times with quick and uneven thrusts, his grip on your thighs tightened, and he emptied himself inside you, filling you with his warm seed.

breathing heavily, he slowly lowered your legs from his shoulders to the bed and gently pulled out of you. his lips left a trail of kisses from your waist to your neck and finally to your lips. as he nuzzled his nose against yours, you closed your eyes and inhaled the scent of his woody cologne.

“you didn’t cum, did you?” he asked, regret evident in his voice.

opening your eyes, you kissed him and pulled back slightly. “you made me cum twice with your fingers and mouth, ken. trust me, i got everything i wanted.”

his cheeks flushed red. “i’m sorry, angel.”

“don’t apologize, idiot. even though you’ve never done this before, you gave me the best sex of my life. and this won’t be the last time—you’ll have plenty of chances to make me cum again.”

“do you really love me?” he asked, still unable to believe it.

“ken, if you ask me that one more time—”

“okay, okay” he said quickly, pressing a kiss to your neck before whispering, "i love you."

you looked into his bright, honey-colored eyes, placed your hands on his cheeks, and pulled him closer for a kiss. “those rumors from high school were true.”

nanami furrowed his brows. “what rumors?”

“the girls used to call you the big-dicked loser,” you said, biting your lip to keep from laughing.

nanami looked at you, utterly defeated “big-dicked loser?”

“uh-huh.”

“they talked about me?”

“ken, no matter what you wore, there was no hiding that massive thing, but thanks for giving us the view,” you said, finally unable to hold back your laughter.

“you’re welcome?” his confused response only made you laugh harder.

“i love you, big-dicked loser,” you said between laughs.

nanami didn’t respond. instead, he flipped you onto your stomach, pinning you under his weight.

“we’ll see who the loser is. get ready, angel, because this time, i’m gonna make your pussy squirt.”

you didn’t protest as he slid his still-hard cock back inside you, burying your face in the pillow and screaming from the sheer pleasure.

tag: @aishi-toru

all rights belong to the @moonlitwitchdaisy do not copy, reproduce, or translate my work.

dividers by @aquazero

#nanami kento headcanons #jjk headcanons #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #nanami kento #jjk x you #jjk x reader #nanami kento smut #jjk smut #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x y/n #kento nanami x you #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x y/n #nanami x you #nanami x reader #nanami x y/n

399 notes · View notes

lurkiestvoid · 16 hours ago

Text

13k+ notes and we've all already failed #8.

The "advice" has no public author, this version is both edited and redacted from the original version, and this is not even close to the version amended and posted by MLK Jr's daughter.

This is an excellent demonstration of how we're less likely to double-check things that already affirm our worldview. 13k+ notes and I couldn't see anyone that bothered to try.

King's amended version, posted to Twitter and FB, found through the relevant Mashable article someone linked in the comments:

Amended Post (especially related to #1 below):

Some Wise Advice Circulating:

1. Use his name sparingly so as not to detract from the issues. I believe that everyone, regardless of their beliefs, deserves the dignity of being called by their name. However, this is a strategic tactic. While we are so focused on him we are prone to neglect the questionable policies that threaten freedom, justice and fairness advanced by the administration.

2. Remember this is a regime and he's not acting alone;

3. Do not argue with those who support him and his policies--it doesn't work;

4. Focus on his policies, not his appearance and mental state;

5. Keep your message positive; those who oppose peace and justice want the country to be angry and fearful because this is the soil from which their darkest policies will grow;

6. No more helpless/hopeless talk;

7. Support artists and the arts;

8. Be careful not to spread fake news. Check it;

9. Take care of yourselves; and

10. Resist! Keep demonstrations peaceful. In the words of John Lennon, "When it gets down to having to use violence, then you are playing the system’s game. The establishment will irritate you - pull your beard, flick your face - to make you fight! Because once they’ve got you violent, then they know how to handle you. The only thing they don’t know how to handle is non-violence and humor."

When you post or talk about him, don't assign his actions to him, assign them to "The Republican Administration," or "The Republicans." This will have several effects: the Republican legislators will either have to take responsibility for their association with him or stand up for what some of them don't like; he will not get the focus of attention he craves; Republican representatives will become very concerned about their re-elections.

#us politics

13K notes · View notes

bluetimeombre · 1 day ago

Text

☽｡⋆ 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.

#a court of wings and ruin #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #acotar #rhys acotar #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel x reader #acotar x reader #acotar x you #acotar x y/n #a court of frost and starlight #booktok #books and reading #azriel acotar #azriel acosf

373 notes · View notes