#its at least bottom third surely | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

phyrestartr · 7 months ago

Text

Icarus Drabbles (Pt.2) | Sukuna x M!Reader

W/C: 3.7k [#Modern AU, ABO dynamics, bottom!reader, top!sukuna, Mob Boss!Sukuna, Alpha!Sukuna, Street Doctor!Reader, Omega!Reader, toxic relationships, age gap, sukuna is mid 30s, yuuji gang and reader are mid 20s, sukuna and yuuji are brothers, sukuna has FEELINGS, but he is BAD AT FEELINGS, nsfw, fluff, hurt/comfort, cheating, zenin family mentioned, lightly edited lmfao]

Note: There will prolly be a third drabble thingie lol I just wanted to post SOMETHING

tag: @better-imagination-9

1. Restless

Sukuna finally bagged you, the omega he pined over and hunted down for over a decade, and knocked you up, made you move in with him to ensure he could keep an eye on you and that growing baby bump. His alpha had rejoiced, running its victory lap around Sukuna’s chest, but then it slowed, yawned, and curled up, satiated.

Now, his human side was left to its own devices, and it was bored.

Probably because you were boring. Or, well, you’d become boring–you and your omega seemed more in-tune with one another, both settling down as soon as you both agreed on staying with Sukuna, with your mate. To Sukuna’s human instincts, that meant you were about as exciting and fun as doing his taxes. Yet, at the same time, he couldn’t fathom letting you go. Whenever the hypothetical crossed his mind, that second set of eyes would open and stare, tear bared, anger rippling. And Sukuna would agree with it. He didn’t want to lose you, yet he didn’t always want you either.

And he was bored.

“Hey,” you cooed, leaning over his shoulder as he stared into space on the couch. “You okay?”

Sukuna blinked a few times and rubbed his face tiredly, finding himself growing pissed off at the dull delight your presence brought him. “Yeah, ‘m fine. Need something?”

“Well, Christmas’s coming up,” you reminded. “Wanted to make sure we were still–”

“Can’t.” Bitterness rose in the back of Sukuna’s throat. God, he didn’t even want to look at you right now. “Gotta work.” He finally spared you a glance, but only after a long stretch of silence. You didn’t look perturbed or mad, not really sad or disappointed, just…placid.

You looked at your phone, staring at something just for a moment before returning back to him with a slight nod of acceptance. “Alright.”

Sukuna's other bristled. “Alright.”

“I knew you couldn't really be taken ‘n tied down, Sukuna-sama,” Yorozu cooed as she cozied up into the spot between the man's legs, her hands smoothing up and down his thighs before deftly unlatching his belt and ripping it off. “You're too good for that sort of life.”

“Don’t you have somethin’ better to do with that mouth?” The nice part of Sukuna asked. The less nice part of him wanted to rip her head off and punt it at the stupid fucking moon. Luckily for her, he was trying not to throw as many things at the horizon these days.

Yorozu's eyes shone with pure delight. “Oh, of course, of course.” She unzipped his slacks expertly quick and pulled free his half-chub, excitedly stroking it to get him to full-mast.

Sukuna sighed and sank back in his chair, trying to focus and enjoy the attention and spice he so sorely missed, but it was hard. Well, not hard, which was the problem–his mind wasn't finding this (cheating, getting a blow job at his desk, having a woman with tits on his knees for him) exciting. Thankfully, though, his body reacted in his mind's stead, and decided to not embarrass him.

He closed his eyes and focused on the small hands grasping his base and holding his thigh–but your bigger, stronger hands held him better, digging in without the lethality of acrylics threatening harm. At least her mouth was warm, her lips soft--but your lips were soft, too, and you knew where he liked to feel your tongue press down. Her hair was silky and thick enough to fist his hand in–but yours was just…better. He couldn't describe it, but–

Knock it off, he growled. He needed a break from you, from how mundane you made everything, that was the whole fucking reason he ditched you in the first place. You were boring. You were making life boring. You–

What were you up to, actually?

Sukuna sighed, this time in defeat, and snatched up his phone while Yorozu gave him head. He scrolled through whatever socials he knew you had, but saw nothing new, nothing Christmas-y.

Who the hell is he visiting again? He looked to the side, gazing through the huge windows looming behind his desk as he thought, and then remembered.

Sukuna tapped open your text thread and grimaced–it was so blatantly one-sided. The sight of his flippant convo-killing responses hit him with a wave of psychic damage that probably couldn't be fully healed for as long as he lived. He wasn't a fan of texting, but he was a fan of you. But-wait, didn't he loathe you?

5:05am went to see my mom for christmas

5:05am getting picked up dw

5:06am hope work doesn't suck too much

Right. You went to see family. Right. Sukuna was supposed to meet your mother.

Damn.

“Fuck's sake,” Sukuna muttered moments before fisting his hand in Yorozu's hair and pulling him off his softening cock. “We're done.” He stood and tucked himself away, ignoring the indignant scoff the woman sent his way.

“Sukuna–”

“Leave.” He sent a text your way instead of tuning in to whatever Yorozu said as she picked herself up off her knees:

10:49pm When should I pick you up?

Of course he was gonna pick you up. He wasn’t about to let someone else take care of you for a second longer.

“Clearly you're unhappy,” Yorozu finally cut in.

Sukuna saw a read notification pop up in the chat.

“Clearly that other one isn't satisfying you fully.”

He watched the three dots pop up as you replied back.

“After he has your pup–”

10:52pm you can come now

10:52pm if you're free

“--you should reconsider your choice in mate–”

Bang.

10:53pm Send me the address.

He stepped over her and the pooling crimson on his way to the door, texting Uraume to call the cleaners to take care of a mess in his office while he went to pick up his baby mama.

Picking you up had been eventful.

Firstly, Maki and Mai had refused to open the gate for Sukuna in favour of mocking him and exclaiming, “are you kidding me? You're the baby daddy?” while incessantly prodding him for information. You'd managed to bat them aside to let him up to the house, though it took some effort on your part.

Next, Toji Zenin himself was waiting at the front door, arms crossed, totally unbothered, dressed in his hideous Christmas jumper that his woman had apparently made him wear as punishment for something. Sukuna ribbed him, hiding just how confused he was about the entire thing–he didn't fucking get why there were so many Zenin assholes here. The outcasts, sure, but what the fuck was that about?

“Oh. Toji's my stepdad,” you said when you had finally squeezed your dragon's hoard of gifts into the car and got in the damn thing to go home. Sukuna left it at that for the time being–he didn't want to think about what the fuck that meant now that the two of you were together. He had time to ask a thousand questions another day.

His mind still whirred in the elevator, though, and when he helped carry your only-child gifts into the penthouse like a servant put under a spell. You said something to him that he only realized a solid fifteen minutes later was, “I'm taking a bath. There's room for two,” and a fire suddenly lit under his ass.

“Huh, so you can bear to look at me,” you hummed from the bath. It was large and oaken, filled with yuzu thanks to Uraume's thoughtfulness, and it overlooked snowy Tokyo and all its bustling, light-filled glory and–wait, what.

Sukuna scoffed as he pulled off his clothes methodically. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

You watched him undress shamelessly. “It means you still have lipstick on your dick.” You poked away one of the yuzu that bumped into you. “It's not really my colour.”

Sukuna clenched his teeth and kicked aside his clothes before grabbing the showerhead to wash off before joining you because he was going to join you. No matter the case. No matter the objection.

But you never objected. You leaned back in the tub and watched him while you rolled another yuzu between your palms. “Did you have fun fucking her?” Fuck, you could be so scary sometimes. And you didn't even have to try.

Sukuna found it hard to answer. He found it hard to even speak. Christ, was this shame? “Look–I didn't fuck her. Didn't even get close.”

“So she just sucked your dick.”

“Tried. Didn't finish. Couldn't.”

“So sad. Why not?”

“‘Cause she's not you.” Sukuna finished with the shower and slipped into the bath, sitting across from you with a content sigh. “You give better head.”

“That went from being somewhat meaningful to annoying,” you grumbled. Still, you scooched over to him and pressed up against his side, clearly in the mood to forgive his stupid little attempted fling. “So. Then you're sure about this.”

“Sure about what?” Sukuna wondered, suddenly feeling more at ease with the rich scent of you pooling through his senses. He leaned into you when you carefully smoothed his hair out of his face with that usual, simple gentility he'd come to desire so desperately every day. “Sure about you?”

“Yeah. Us. Everything.” You nuzzled at his neck, dutifully scenting him up with kisses, nips and licks. “You started pulling away like a pussy, so I figured you regretted it.”

Sukuna had to laugh. “You're callin’ me a pussy?” He half-growled before yoinking you into his lap and squeezing you up against him. His grin widened when he saw you hold back a smile. “I think you should apologize.”

“You cheated on me with your stalker. Why do I need to apologize?”

“You hurt my fuckin’ feelings.”

“Oh. Hm. I see.” Your fingers, bigger than a woman's yet still elegant as a piano player's, danced across his firm shoulders in thought. “I think you need to have feelings for me to hurt them.”

His hands found their rightful place (on your ass) and kneaded your skin thoroughly, squeezing and pinching wherever he felt most enticed. “You know I have feelings, sweetheart. Why do ya think you're here in the first place, huh?”

Your scent flared with bashful approval. “Guess that's good to know. These days, you've left me wondering.”

Sukuna grew placid gazing upon your features, listening to your words. If he really tried, behind that diamond mask of nonchalance most Zenin brats wore, there existed soft, vulnerable skin--tired and ragged, worried and creased. He'd done that to you. Why had he done that to you?

He lifted a hand from your curves to cup your face gently, his touch breaking through the shields you so bravely put up to tell the world to fuck off. And you leaned into that touch so eagerly, so hungrily, with a sigh that sounded like you just remembered how to breathe.

“‘M sorry,” Sukuna mumbled. The word felt foreign on his tongue. He didn’t know if he even said it right.

Your eyes squeezed shut just a little tighter, holding onto whatever you could of your crumbling shell as your hand rose to rest on his. “You know I love you,” you said while diamond dust turned to quicksilver.

Sukuna wiped the glimmer from your lashes. “Love you too, runt. Mean it.” Those words still felt strange, too, but he loved those words. He loved the way they made you glow from within, how they solidified you and stopped you from collapsing into a melted mess in the face of his betrayal and swift try at redemption.

You nodded a little, the hard line of your mouth softening. Sukuna relaxed and hugged you close to him, purring deep in his chest in rhythm with you as you wholly accepted him in return and buried your face into his neck. He did the same, scenting you the way you had him, enjoying your company and weight against him. Because he loved you. He really did.

So, he said once again, “Sorry.”

2. Family Matters

“Sukuna,” Wasuke warned. The attention of the younger alpha, leaning against the counter, was on you as you yapped on about this and that with his little brother.

Sukuna grunted and looked over his shoulder at the old man, though, silently and curtly asking, what? even though he already knew what was coming.

“Leave that boy alone.”

Sukuna stared at his grandfather. It'd become more and more common, the way the young man challenged his elder, maintaining hostile eye contact that threatened the beginning of the end if the older broke first–but he never did. The old fuck was too tough. Molded by whatever his own colourful irezumi put him through.

Once, when he was younger, Sukuna wanted to know how to break his elder. He wanted to crack him open and rip those secrets from him, find out how he could use that knowledge to his advantage to never feel so small in the eyes of another ever again. He hated it. He hated the dominance held over him, the humility that came with it.

But, like always, Sukuna broke first, looking away with a grumble, reinforcing his place in the food chain.

Sukuna sighed. The old house was the same–far too traditional, too plain, too normal. It irked him to his core. Here, amidst all the boring normal shit of his past, his status in society no longer mattered; here, he forfeited first place, and took up second.

“Hey,” came your voice, muffled by the car window separating you from your lover. When Sukuna looked over at you, he saw his little nugget tucked safely in your arms, only half-awake as she nuzzled into the warmth of your chest.

But then there was you. A face full of confusion, annoyance, and exasperation greeted Sukuna. You went for the door handle to wrench your man out of the car, but he locked it, watching you yank on the handle a handful of times before you knocked on the window incessantly.

“Get out of the goddamn car, you little shit,” you hissed, looking between Sukuna and the front door of the house frantically. You stared at him hard, then, your frustration building every second your alpha refused to budge and end the embarrassment crashing down on you.

A terrifyingly calm expression took over your face, before you adjusted the little pup in your arms and fished something out of your pocket. Sukuna didn't realize what it was until you leaned over and slammed your fist into the hood of the car, tearing into it easily with the fucking key in your hand.

“You gotta be shitting me–” Sukuna scrambled to unlock the door and swing it open. He hopped out and slammed the car door closed. “You little–”

“Oh, good, you found your balls.”

Sukuna groaned as he looked at the damage you left. “Baby, you know how expensive this is gonna be to fix? Fucking hell, why're you such a crazy bitch?”

“Well, look who I'm stuck with,” you said lightly. “Obviously you've corrupted me. It's not my fault.”

Sukuna grumbled and turned to you, grabbing you and pulling you close; but instead doling out a punishment as his past self was so accustomed to doing, he aggressively nuzzled the top of your head, viciously scenting you up and squeezing you against his solid frame while he grumbled and growled.

“I'm splitting you in half when we get home.”

You sighed, dramatic. “Oh no. I'm so afraid. But I guess I deserve such a brutal punishment. Sigh.” You nuzzled him back before tiptoeing up to kiss his chin, then his lips when he leaned down to meet you the rest of the way. “Ready?”

Sukuna took a deep breath and looked over your face, running the back of his fingers against the rise of your cheekbone. He loved touching your face these days (more than usual). You still held onto a bit of pregnancy plushness that filled in the hollow angles of your handsomely beautiful face and other once-bony parts of your body. You'd never panicked about it, but you bitched and moaned, loudly lamenting about the way your clothes fit a little differently or how you just had to keep stealing Sukuna's shirts to replace your own.

Touka, your little one, mewled from her spot smooshed between her parents. Sukuna sighed as he pulled back to look down at her, hoping she'd take most the heat off of him when he faced his grandfather again.

“Let's just get this over with.”

Yuuji was the one who answered the door. He lived with Wasuke, claiming it was just easier and cheaper than getting his own place, but most knew the younger was a worry wart; he couldn't stand by and let his grandfather get put in a home or quietly tough out everyday life on his own in his elderly years. Yuuji stayed for the sake of family, and Wasuke quietly welcomed it. His brother's goodness nearly struck Sukuna with guilt.

But any chance at guilt died the moment he met the old bastard's stony gaze.

“Itadori-san,” you cooed pleasantly, a far cry from the demon that'd keyed Sukuna's car. “It's good to see you again.”

Wasuke quirked a brow and walked up to you, nudging Yuuji aside so he could get a good look at you and the pup nestled to your chest. Sukuna took a breath and looked away. He didn't need to see the critical stare of the old man while he processed the fact that Sukuna had indeed not stayed away from you. Ugh, the idea of being scolded made the alpha itch.

“We're far beyond honorifics, boy. You know that,” Wasuke lightly scolded, and you beamed. Sukuna could imagine a little shiba inu tail on you, wagging fast enough to take flight. “I'm glad to see you in one piece after taming my grandson. It must've been a damn ordeal.”

Yuuji cackled impishly, pointing at Sukuna. “Oooh, burn.”

“Sorry, who got the omega in the end?” Sukuna quipped back, making Yuuji sprout a grumpy look and cross his arms with a mumbled you suck.

“Quit the fighting and come in,” Wasuke ushered. “And you,” he snapped, looking at Sukuna with chronic disapproval, “Take off those sunglasses. You're trying too hard. Look like an idiot.”

You stifled your laughter as Sukuna grumbled and plucked his shades off. His very cool, very neat, very fancy, very expensive shades.

Wasuke ushered you all inside, gesturing to the kotatsu prepared with food and drinks and starting off on a grumbling rant about the shitty cold mornings and warm afternoons that came with Spring. Obviously, he'd complained to break the ice, and it worked.

Small talk turned into easier conversation. Whenever Sukuna seemed to struggle with being cordial, you would lean into him more, squeezing his hand tightly whilst purring under the radar. That worked, too. As much as Sukuna was an asshole, he didn't want the afternoon to fall apart. Better he stay quieter than say something to regret.

“They've calmed you down,” Wasuke said, snapping Sukuna's mind to attention. It was then that he finally noticed Yuuji had effectively kidnapped little Touka and was giving her a tour of the house like she actually gave a shit.

“Hm?” He grunted, so eloquent.

You rolled your eyes and shook your head, leaning into your partner more with a sigh. “Words, not grunts, Sukuna.”

He huffed. “You grunt at me all the damn time.”

“Not at our elders.”

“Tch.” Sukuna rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Whaddaya mean they've calmed me down, huh?”

Wasuke, for once, looked somewhat amused. “Your pup. Your mate. They've made you human.”

“Ha? You're actin’ like I was some four-armed, two-faced freak or some shit.”

“Some days you acted like it,” Wasuke scoffed. “Doesn't matter if you agree or not, I can see the change in you, kid–that wild thing inside of you is finally settling down.”

You hummed and looked up at him. “I've noticed, too. You're less pissy. More tolerant. Still annoying, but that's just a personality flaw.” Sukuna growled and nipped at you, but you faced him so very bravely and suffered no such nip.

“I'm glad for you, kid,” Wasuke interjected, breaking up the petty fight that was about to go down. The two of you looked back to the eldest. “You were a real pain in the ass, and you fucked up a lot along the way, but you made things work out. You should be proud.”

Sukuna would never be able to put his feelings, the utter rush he felt getting his grandfather's approval, into words.

“So where does this end, kid?” Wasuke asked.

“What?” He asked before he could properly think it through.

“This life. Your ‘profession.’ How long're you gonna keep that up, huh?”

Sukuna could feel you lean into him more, letting more body weight ease your shared worries about the life you shared and the professions you'd taken up. Both unpredictable. Both in the crosshairs of dangerous beasts.

“You think we'll end up six feet under like mom ‘n dad, that it?” Sukuna rasped. He looped an arm around your waist and squeezed you against his side in reassurance as Wasuke's expression grew gloomier.

“You're more like your mother than you know, kid. You don't–”

“‘Course I don't know,” Sukuna interrupted, firm but not vicious. “Mom was a fucking moron ‘n knocked up whoever the fuck she could to get an in into one of those big-name clans. No shit they'd get pissed off and kill the bitch.”

Wasuke scowled, but didn't argue. It was hard to when his daughter in-law was in the wrong, when she dug her own grave with every child sired before slipping and falling in on her own. A sad story. An incredibly stupid one, too.

“That won't happen,” you offered mildly. Sukuna looked down at you, suddenly feeling the urge to shoot another baby into you as you spoke up on your own. “I trust Sukuna as much as I trust myself; he's worked hard to create an untouchable empire, and I have the connections to supplement it.” You glanced up at him. “If it's not Sukuna, then it'll be someone else running Tokyo. I couldn't think of a better king.”

A beat of silence passed before Wasuke asked, “And you, kid?” You afraid?

Sukuna willed his mind out of R-rated territory to look at his grandfather. “You know me,” he started with a troublesome grin, “I can't stay away from what I want.”

#sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x male reader #sukuna x m!reader #sukuna x you #jjk x you #male reader insert #male reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen reader insert #jujutsu kaisen x male reader #jujutsu kaisen x you

496 notes · View notes

kiwicopia · 1 month ago

Text

MDNI | Themetober: Warmth

Incubus!Gojo x Warlock!Male!Reader

CW: spell gone wrong, mentions of deal making, power siphoning via sex, hickeys, marking, bottom!Gojo, cock rubbing, anal prep, tail fucking, creampie.

tags: @sweetchildcloud

Themetober Masterlist

Accidents weren’t uncommon when it came to new spells, however, they were typically ones that caused issues on a level so miniscule that it could be overlooked. This particular spell, sadly, had the opposite effect, and you were left dumbfounded when staring at an incubus rather than an imp, which you originally intended to conjure up. Still, this little mishap wasn’t without its own reward—one that ended up satisfying both parties.

Like clockwork, he appeared yet again at the stroke of midnight. Conjuring him one time had made it incredibly easy for the incubus to simply come to you himself. “Your scent is all that I need,” he once told you. Still, it amazed you that a creature from a different dimension could track you on scent alone, and with such ease.

“Does it not tire you to see me so often?” You asked, watching as the creature prepared himself on your bed. “Surely your body must require rest in-between our nightly sessions?” The incubus flashed a devilish grin before chuckling, and his head gave a slow shake as he beckoned you forth with a clawed finger.

Once close enough, Gojo reached out and pulled your naked form down on top of him. His lips latched onto your neck, gently sucking as the tip of his tongue circled against the flesh. Your head tilted to the side as you groaned softly from the pleasure that it gave you, and you slowly rutted your hips against his.

A low growl rumbled in the incubus’ throat, causing him to nip at the skin he sucked on when feeling your cock sliding against his own. The pleasure from it was delicious, and he craved more—just as he always did from these sessions. With one of his hands gripping your shoulder, the other slid around to the back of your neck, pulling you flush against his chest.

Your hips never ceased their movement, still humping against him at a slow pace, drawing another growl from his throat. Gojo’s cock twitched as arousal leaked from his angry tip, only to be smeared in-between both phalluses. The incubus knew you were teasing, as you always did, but now was not the time for it. Not when he desired you so badly tonight.

A shaky breath fell from your lips, hot breath fanning against his pointed ear as his hand left your shoulder and wrapped around your dick. Your movements ceased, hips freezing on the spot before following along as he shifted his hand down to his ass, smearing your arousal against his awaiting hole. After he did that, you slid a hand down and used the precum to slip a finger inside, then two, and slowly prepped him for entry.

Gojo moaned against your neck, his canines pinching the flesh as your fingers scissored inside him, and he couldn’t help but grind his hips upward, rubbing his cock against your abdomen as you pushed a third digit inside. Your fingers stretched him out, little by little, causing him to nip and suck on your neck even harder—to the point a visible mark could be seen.

Once the preparation was complete, you leaned back on your legs and stared down at the incubus. His half-lidded, lustful gaze and the way his tongue poked out between his lips made your dick twitch, and as you leaned back down again, your hands carefully eased his legs back. Gojo moved his arms behind his knees, holding his legs up and out of the way as you lined your tip against his hole before easing the head inside.

It was more than the pressure three fingers gave, but the creature endured, having leaned his head back against the pillow as your cock slowly, but surely, stuffed him. Oh, he missed this feeling—at least with you. Sexual pleasure was his natural sustenance and he thrived off of it with others, but with you, it felt different. It was a comforting warmth like no other, and the incubus would be damned if he let something like that slip from his claws.

His legs rested over your shoulders as your hips began to move, slowly easing yourself in and out of his hole. “Still so tight, even after all of these sessions,” you muttered. His tail flicked across the bed beneath him, smacking against your thighs teasingly before sliding up and prodding against your hole, teasing it with the tip.

“You’re just as tight,” he teased. Gojo’s tail soon eased inside of you, wiggling against your walls the further he got. A moan fell from your lips, and you pressed your face into the crook of his neck while now slamming into him. The incubus matched your moan, the sound having a slight growl to it as his claws raked down your back, scratching the flesh with every repeated thrust as you fucked into him.

The movements of his tail matched your own, fucking you at the same pace you did him. The tip slammed against your prostate, just as your cock did his, and you both groaned at the sudden flood of pleasure that swept over your bodies. Again, and again, and again—it was fucking heavenly, just as all sessions were.

The closer you came to your release, the more you felt that familiar tingling of power that came from the creature and seeped into your bones. It was part of a deal that had been made after accidentally conjuring him up from his dimension. An incubus needed sex as a means to live and, well, you couldn’t turn down the power that could be siphoned from him and used for other spells. Still, you had expected to be the one in Gojo’s place, not him, but it didn’t matter. You both got what you wanted in the end each and every time.

Your cock twitched as you pistoned into him one final time, spilling yourself inside of him. At the same time, Gojo came undone, with his cum having spurted out along your abdomen and up your chest. The incubus closed his eyes and eased his tail out of your ass while you rode out your high, thrusting slowly whilst kissing along his neck.

Honestly, it was a good deal to the creature. Getting fucked for once, despite this being the umpteenth session with you, felt so good. It wasn’t like with any other mortal or supernatural being. It was a warmer, cozier feeling; it was something akin to a home he couldn’t remember the last time having. The pads of his clawed fingers gently ran along the marks he made across your back, causing your body to tense.

You were like a home he had been searching for, despite this being merely a contractual agreement. Something that the incubus wouldn’t let slip away.

163 notes · View notes

ataraxiaspainting · 1 month ago

Text

Morningstar's Road.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader x Yan Feitan.

Synopsis: Your routine is average, to say the least. But due to Chrollo’s orders, Feitan cannot snatch you up yet – so he simply mirrors your behaviors instead for self-satisfaction. His boss does so too.

Warnings: Yandere themes, stalking, kidnapping, a few suggestive actions, manipulation, some descriptions anxiety/depression for the reader, animal death, and violence/some gore.

Word Count: 4.4k.

*~*~*~*

Feitan is so close to you that he can just about hear your beating heart. He could only see the back of your head, hair loose and surely will be knotted by the morning sun, but he can smell you whenever he is this close.

You always smell so nice, but for some reason, you smell even better – of that floral-scented oil you put on your neck and wrists before you go to bed. Maybe you added extra because it is the weekend.

You are on your right side – the fetal position was always your favorite – and hugging a plush that resembles your childhood cat. This was typical behavior for you; you had cried for days when your older sister called to say he had passed from old age. You weren’t weeping anymore, but you were when you saw the stuffed animal near the window of that dollar store you pass by daily on your way to work. You named it Silky, the same as the real thing, and tuck it in whenever you are in and out of bed. Feitan somewhat wished he could get the same treatment, to be in your arms as you sleep and to feel just a hint of your comforting warmth.

Feitan brought his own blanket.

It isn’t pastel pink like your sheets or your pillowcases or your pajamas and it has holes from moths and years of being stretched as he grew and his fights came to have higher and higher stakes.

If he had recalled correctly the bloodstains from the first time he was stabbed were just under the giant white skull pattern, although since most of the blanket is black it wouldn’t show even in the brightest of lights.

If he had recalled correctly the bloodstains from the first time it was stolen are still there too; on the bottom right corner.

“This type of nen won’t last forever, Fei.”

Feitan turns his neck, his bandana doing little to hide the slight scowl on his face. “I know.”

“Now, now… I never said you did not.” Chrollo responds while giving a small smile, still having the Bandit’s Secret in his right hand while your diary is held in his left. He turns to the next page while Feitan goes back to snuggling up beside you.

If Chrollo had a third arm, he could have the rest of your coffee you didn’t finish and left in your fridge. There is a lipstick stain, the color of that tint you often sport when in your office space. A light taffy color, he muses.

Very fitting.

“I simply wanted you not to fall asleep too slow or too deep, we do have to leave by dawn after all.”

Feitan said no answer. Chrollo is used to that – a little too used to it, maybe, but Feitan has always stood out from fellow people from Meteor City even by the Phantom Troupe’s standards.

“Same oil?” He asks, and on cue, Feitan gives a loud sniffing sound.

“Yes.”

“Cute.”

Around your waist Feitan’s left arm lays, and his right hand holds the blanket tighter than a noose.

If Chrollo were to guess, if Feitan had a third arm he would put two of its fingers on your lips to feel how soft they were. Chrollo had done so before, but his friend hadn’t. He almost chuckles at the irony. The member of the Troupe the most intimate when it comes to matters of anatomy and torture felt that his fingertips having pink on them was a line he could not cross. It’s almost funny in a way. It’s adorable.

“Boss.”

“Hm?”

“For just a while,” Feitan starts. His tone is shy, like a little boy about to ask his classmate crush for their hand in marriage. “Can you read it to me?”

“‘It’?” Chrollo teases slightly, yet he knows what Feitan is talking about.

“The thing in your hand.”

“‘Thing’?”

Feitan huffs a bit and follows it up with a sigh.

“The… diary. Please.”

*~*~*~*

I think I’m getting worse and wondering if I have ever been happy with myself.

There is this girl that sits at the desk across from mine, Lyra is her name, and I don’t hate her by any means.

I just wish I was her, you know? She gets along with everyone in our office, Her hair is always nice. She has only been here since February and has already been promoted to the status it took me three years to get.

Don’t get me wrong, she is incredibly nice and I always have a few laughs with her from time to time. Maybe it’s just my insecurities getting to me.

I wonder if sometimes she has similar thoughts when with other people, or even me if that were possible. I know she has a habit of procrastination and has a record of not handing in her work until a few days or weeks later – those are qualities I don’t have, but maybe she doesn’t feel anything negative about herself.

I’m known as the quiet and sweet girl at my job.

I’ve always had a bone to pick with the title, in a way. All my life that is what I was labeled as. People come to me for advice, and it does make me feel good, but I wish I could be a jokester like Lyra too.

That’s all I have… at least for now, I guess. I’m going to drink tea with honey and go to bed.

May 8th

*~*~*~*

The duo entered through the front door this time. You were gone tonight, as evidenced by the messy pile of umbrellas and house shoes that flooded the entrance, so they could break in without much sneaking around. They know where you headed to – and for now, Chrollo orders Feitan not to slit the man’s throat and gouge out his eyes. Your boyfriend, the only one of your past romantic interests not yet dead. Francis.

He’s quite the simple fellow as Chrollo had noted. Feitan was only focusing on where his organs started and ended when they both saw you with him near midnight months before.

“Not yet.”

Chrollo turns his head and looks down at Feitan as they walk down the hall.

“I know you’re still thinking about it, but your actions may cause our plan to fail.”

No verbal response, though Chrollo notices how Feitan’s steps get slightly louder.

“Fine.”

“Are you saying you’re fine? Or are you still agreeing to not go haywire on the man yet?”

“New one.”

“Hm?”

“New word.” Feitan’s nails retract slightly from your walls as he rolls his eyes. “Hay… wire.”

His hand stops at a photo of your dead cat framed on the wall – he’s a kitten in this one, with his first collar and teenager you hugging him – but your face is cropped out.

He moves the hand away from it for just a few steps. Chrollo finds it polite of him – as polite as Feitan can be with others, anyway.

At the same time, they consider bringing the photos you took off your walls and onto whatever penthouse walls Chrollo has rented out for the next few months or so. It would be cute seeing smiling pictures of you all over, especially since you’ll be switching locations soon enough, and in turn, that expression will soon enough become rare.

But when Chrollo thinks about the idea further, a problem arises. Your photos aren’t focused on you. They’re focused on your friends and family. You are always in the corner or hidden behind someone else. It’s of your own volition. Chrollo is sure of it. Perhaps he can get Shalnark to work his magic on them and ignore the teasing. Feitan would do nothing more than threaten to bash in his teeth, as with friends he is nothing more than a ‘grumpy wet cat’ – those are Shalnark and Uvogin’s own words. Not Chrollo’s.

“No.”

“Hm?”

“I’ll cut ‘em,” Feitan suggests while putting his sharp nails on your bedroom’s door frame.

“How do you intend to do so when there’s near nothing to cut out?” Chrollo asks. Feitan goes silent until he sits on your bed.

It’s still unmade. You must have ignored that chore list of yours again and opted to work extra hours instead.

Chrollo sits down at the small part of your room that is clean; your desk. It’s mainly used for just reading and video games, hence why the only two things not neatly in piles are a book and your computer. Shalnark told them both the password, but neither of them had decided to tread into that territory for multiple reasons. Firstly, neither of them knows a single thing about the internet and simulations. Secondly, Shalnark can just get whatever information they need without them looking inside it themselves anyway. Thirdly, they already know you enjoy wholesome things on there – the opposite of what you’re reading, if the books on your unfinished read pile mean anything to Chrollo – so there is no point in venturing for unneeded facts about you.

You’ll surely tell them yourself one day.

Eventually. In maybe weeks. Months. Years.

Eventually.

It’ll feel like forever and a day if you decide not to talk to either of them. Chrollo and Feitan have agreed without any argument that if you want something, you will ask them. Nicely, of course.

Broken fingers aren’t necessarily something people flaunt.

You wouldn’t brag about being forced onto a lap for hours out on a balcony either.

You’ll eventually tell them. You have to. For your sake.

Eventually. Nothing lasts forever, after all.

“Fei. I promise you that this will be worth the wait.”

Feitan shakes his head, scoffing. “Will it? It would have been easier to just grab her and run.”

“I know,” Chrollo leans in a little, putting his elbows on his thighs. “I know. But you’ll lament it. I would have too if I had agreed with you to go down that route.”

A stare is the response.

It isn’t anger, Chrollo knows that much.

No.

In all the years Chrollo has known Feitan, Feitan has never gone back on his loyalty to him and the Troupe.

But. But.

Chrollo hasn’t ever seen him have such a concurrence when there is still such division in his eyes.

“Are you sad?” He asks.

“No,” Feitan replies, looking at your cat plush instead of his leader of the full moon outside.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

*~*~*~*

Francis lives outside the city in a farmhouse. It’s up a tall hill with no pathway aside from little rectangular stones here and there – and if you ignore the animals and their housing, people would think that the place is deserted.

Feitan and Chrollo make their way to the white picket fence surrounding the chicken coop. They continue to bite down into the soil for worms or leftover grain. All female. Only three were brown; the others were smaller in frame and white.

“I’ve heard his eggs go for high prices in markets,” Chrollo grins a little. “Maybe I’ll raise some chickens of my own in my later years.”

Feitan raises an eyebrow at him.

“I was joking, Fei.” He clarifies.

“Ah.”

Feitan continues to walk with his hands still stuffed into his coat pockets.

Chrollo looks at the farmhouse up at the top of the hillside. The lights are still on, meaning you were most likely still up and about in there.

The rooster resting on top of the mailbox makes eye contact with him for a few moments.

“Don’t scream,” Chrollo murmurs, his words sweet as sugar.

“What?” Feitan asks, not even bothering to turn around.

“I’m talking to the rooster.”

“[First]’s rubbing off on you too much.” His friend rolls his eyes and makes sure not to step on a twig.

“Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed how these animals look at us.”

“They’re animals now. What came before… that doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Maybe to you – but I find it intriguing.”

“Talk later,” Putting his hand on the fence gate that leads to Francis’ garden, Feitan turns his head for just a moment. “Near. Quiet. Look.”

For once, Chrollo is the one that does the nodding.

The gate gives off a little squeak as it is opened. It reminds them of Francis’ prized pet pig Annie – though she is only allowed to be inside.

There are all sorts of vegetables and some fruits back here. Cucumbers, chili peppers, watermelons, corn, tomatoes, peaches, pears. They’re all in pristine condition, and so are the flowers growing in pots near the far-off window sills.

Feitan considers giving you the daisies.

Chrollo considers giving you the marigolds.

They both look at the pig’s head hastily buried under the soil, her ears still popping out and facing the moon. Despite the interment being new, perhaps even being dug today, flies have already spread to the top part of the head and ears. They’re happy you didn’t see her because that would be quite an awful gift from your boyfriend.

Francis is probably happy too, not that they care.

From what Shalnark was able to gather from someone who barely has any social life, Francis moved here from another country about four years ago. He acquired this farm and its land almost immediately afterward.

From a lottery, Shalnark had explained to them. Or an inheritance. Either way, man’s life is going pretty dang good. Too good, actually, because my senses are tingling too much.

Shalnark was right in that regard. Francis may adopt animals from time to time from farmers’ markets, but a majority of them suddenly appear a few days or weeks apart. There were three white chickens he had purchased. Then after a month or so, there were twelve. The three brown ones came all at once one day.

“Where’s Annie?” They hear you ask as you open one of the windows to get some fresh air. “She usually runs to the door to see me…”

Using hatsu to conceal their presence, the pair aren’t detected among the plants.

“She ran away.”

Feitan almost snickers at your boyfriend’s answer, looking down at the flies and corpse rotting beneath his feet. He didn’t mind the smell of rotting flesh – he has almost always enjoyed it since he was in his teenage years.

Chrollo’s feet don’t dig into the soil – he has opted to instead stand on the few pieces of stone that are by the cucumber plants. He makes a note to go to the laundromat after this; even though it has already been the third time in a row this week alone.

If he can convince Feitan, they’ll steal some things from your place to wash up too – Francis has always been touchy, after all.

“That’s weird,” You say worriedly, not looking into the garden anymore but instead inside; to Annie’s little bed huddled next to the window. “Did you leave the gate open?”

“Yes, I’m still rather upset about it but I’m sure she’ll be found soon.”

Soon. Chrollo grins a bit as he closes his eyes, imagining the moment he’ll save you from this man. Soon isn’t enough. No. This…

This is the moment.

This is the day.

This is the time.

“Feitan.”

“Hm?”

Francis will die today. Or tomorrow maybe, Chrollo isn’t completely sure.

“Don’t make it too bloody,” He instructs, getting off the stones and onto the dirty tiles of the garden’s path to the back door. “I’ll focus on her. We’ll leave the others alone.”

“Fine.”

“Thank you, Feitan.”

Feitan looks confused for a moment. If Chrollo were someone who hadn’t grown up beside him, he wouldn’t have noticed the small millisecond of his friend showing emotion. ‘For what?’ He wants to ask.

Chrollo knows it. He knows it so he answers the silent question. “For being more vulnerable with her and I. [First] seems to have rubbed off on you too much too, huh?”

“I don’t like your jokes,” Feitan replies as he stuffs his pockets even more – perhaps to hide his balled-up fists. Whether they were made from the hatred of Francis or the annoyance of everything else is up to interpretation. No one will be getting an answer anyway, even Feitan himself. “You’re very happy lately.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Chrollo’s grin widens just a smidge more. “We’re about to rescue a princess.”

From that look, he knows Feitan agrees with his reasoning and is happy as well.

*~*~*~*

“You’re beautiful, darling.”

You’re laid out on Francis’ bed. It’s rather large for a room this size, but it is comfortable to undress on. You picked a periwinkle blue dress today with buttons on only its top front side. Francis wanted to help but you declined. You don’t decline a lot of things, especially when it comes to him. Francis is annoyed by that but he tries not to let it show. He hides a lot of things from you.

“Thank you.” You sheepishly smile, a light flush on your cheeks as you start to undo your buttons.

“Of course,” You’re his favorite by far. You aren’t stuck up or are with him just for his money. You’re so nice to him. You’re so sweet to him. “I wouldn’t lie to you, honey.”

You aren’t like those whores, those sluts, those fucking cheap little bitches.

“I’ll take it slow since it’s your first time and all.” He promises.

You look up at him.

Your frown is just barely noticeable – but noticeable enough for him to see.

“What’s wrong?” Francis asks.

“Lyra’s still missing… I’m worried.”

“Why?” Francis asks, getting more annoyed the more time you spend covered up. “Why are you so worried about her right now? It’s not the time for that.”

“I don’t know,” You look at the open window, cool air still blowing in along with the slight scent of flowers. “I really don’t, I just… have suddenly gotten a little sad just now.”

You’re shivering a little.

“Ah, you must be cold.” He deflects. Having only his shirt on now, he walks up to the windowsill and looks at the vegetable patch. With both hands, he pulls the window closed. “Better?”

You must not have heard him, because you keep playing with your buttons instead of being fully undressed already.

“Could you…”

Ah. You did hear him, but you seem concerned for something else. That’s fine, as long as you aren’t playing with him and will soon attempt to run away.

“Close the curtain? Please? I’d really… appreciate it.”

“Sure,” Francis replies, his smile returning to his face. “Anything for you. Just get comfortable, pumpkin.”

The wicked thing came all at once before either of you could blink. Shards of glass flew into Francis and into the bedroom walls. Francis screams as his bleeding hands are quick to go to his eyes, his fingers attempting to get the glass shards out of them before his vision is gone for good. In front of you was a stranger in a suit – he pushed you out of the way in a fraction of a second and onto the floor. The bed had shielded you and him.

“Are you alright?”

You’re too shocked for words, peeking from behind the bed to where Francis is still screaming.

In front of him was a man in all black stepping on the back of his head with one of his feet. The soles of his boots seemed lodged into Francis’ scalp, and it takes you a moment to realize why. There were spikes on them; not that you could see them much because of how hidden they seemed to be right now. They’re silver judging by the color of their slight sparkle, but the rusted kind. No. Maybe that’s just the bloodstains.

The feeling in your chest is so horrible like you’re very sick. There’s pressure on your heart. It’s strangling you, despite the taller stranger’s grasp on your shoulders being so pleasant. So tender.

“What are you doing?” You screech. The sound doesn’t make either of the intruders flinch. Francis does instead. “Let go of him!”

The shorter man doesn’t look at you, opting to wedge the spikes of his shoes further into Francis’ brain. You try to get up but the man in the suit pulls you back down, shushing you as you protest and cry. “Don’t… it’ll be over soon. I told him to be gentle, you see.”

“Gentle?” You repeat.

“Yes, my dear.” One of his hands rises from your shoulders to where your eyes are. You struggle some more and the stranger whispers something in your ear. “Behave – I can always tell Feitan to torture him the amount he deserves if I wanted to. I know he wants to.”

You deflate and your eyes are forced shut by his palm. “Please stop… I don’t know what we did, just please-”

“You didn’t do anything,” The other man – Feitan if the taller man had named him right and he wasn’t just some assassin he hired; he said his name so tenderly too like he is an old friend – interrupts you. “He did.”

You feel like you’re about to throw up all the wonderful food you just ate. Chicken pot pie, beef tenderloin, roasted pork belly – it all feels like it is about to release from your throat and onto the wooden planked floor below.

“Oh dear,” Another hand covers your nose and mouth. Instead of blood you now smell cologne – sandalwood and amber. “Can you please hurry up, Fei? She looks like she’s about to collapse.”

*~*~*~*

“It’s a wonderful time to be alive,” Chrollo says as he puts the key into his car’s lock. It’s embedded with little multicolored jewels – he had commissioned some artist to customize it for him a week or so ago while Feitan went into your home on his own. “Or at least a wonderful night. Wouldn’t you say so?”

You’re in the passenger seat. You fell unconscious after Francis’ barely alive body got its fingers broken one by one. Some of his blood got on your skirt, but Chrollo is sure that the laundromat will fix that just like the workers will fix his clothes. As long as he pays them enough or threatens them enough. The latter would be more fun for Feitan but the former would let him be seen as a kind patron. Whichever way the coin flips.

He doesn’t blame you for fainting. If he hadn’t been born in Meteor City and hadn’t been raised in a constant state of fear and a constant battle for power over others, he would most likely do the same.

Feitan is in the back, silent. His hands now have gloves on them and are now brushing through your hair.

“Should we make the pit stop or go straight?” After the second question, the car’s lights turn on.

“Bed.”

The car starts moving into the barren street.

“Alright,” Chrollo chuckles a little at the insistence in Feitan’s tone. “We can get some of [First]’s clothes tomorrow then. She’ll probably sleep throughout the day.”

He doesn’t explain why because they both already know the reason. There is a short chain attached to the main bed. Depending on your behavior early on, it will either lengthen or become briefer.

There are also some syringes in the mirror vanity that Feitan asked him over and over to keep in case of an emergency. He doubts there will be any real threat where they would have to use them.

Feitan doesn’t. Feitan doesn’t doubt many things.

“Blankets too.”

Feitan doesn’t ask for many things either, much less demand them.

“Ah,” Chrollo makes the left turn as his fingers tap on the steering wheel. It’s a song you enjoy listening to on your avenue home. He knows you aren’t listening to it but that doesn’t matter right now. He’ll continue to do so until your mind associates the tune with small controlled adventures to and fro and not you having a life of your own. “All of them?”

“Yes. Please.”

“You don’t say that word very often,” He teases, looking at the flat glass mirror overhead.

“Hmph.”

Putting his hand on your thigh, Chrollo continues to drive while still glancing upward now and then.

*~*~*~*

Your heartbeat has calmed down. Feitan is now able to look at your face as you sleep.

You look at peace now. When he had placed you on the bed, your eyebrows furrowed for a moment – perhaps your subconscious being afraid – or disgusted – by him.

The flowery scent of your perfume vanished long ago and has been replaced by a stinging one. Feitan doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind a lot of things when it comes to you.

Unlike the bodies of those who have died by his hands, Feitan places the white blanket on top of you gently like you would shatter if he was just a tad bit rougher.

Well… Body bags don’t really count as blankets, do they? They are meant to be ripped open and stuffed full of parts no wandering soul hopes to find.

Chrollo decides to break the silence. “After she adjusts a little, we’ll leave. Or you can stay if you want. I can carry her things on my own.”

Feitan turns to look at him.

“Pictures.”

Chrollo sighs. “Alright. But we’ll get Shal to edit them. No cutting.”

“...Tch. Fine. Silky too.” A thumb is pressed against your lips. After it is lifted, there is a light pink that covers its print.

“It’s a pretty color, isn’t it?” Chrollo muses, hanging his suit jacket on the edge of his sofa as he holds his book. “I’ll try to get the same shade for her when she runs out of it. Though I suspect it will be a while before then, huh?”

“It’s fine,” Feitan states, rubbing his thumb against your lips more. “She will always be pretty to me.”

“Never took you for the romantic type, Fei.”

“Hmph.”

216 notes · View notes

24carathoney · 10 months ago

Text

Fan Calls | C.SC | 18+

Pairing: Idol!Choi Seungcheol x FemReader

Wc: 2.7k

Genre: Smut // Established Relationship

Warnings: minors do not interact // dom!Seungcheol // Seungcheol in glasses (yes it's a warning) // daddy kink // reader is a bit of a brat // f. masterbation // fingering // oral m. receiving // oral f. receiving // pussy slapping (only like twice) // choking // orgasm denial // unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) // creampie // use of pet names (princess, baby, gorgeous)

Summary: Seungcheol's fan call cuts your steamy afternoon short so you do something about it.

You narrowed your eyes at the man setting up at the table. His computer starting up and his stupid glasses on his face. He was literally right on top of you, kissing you softly, prepared to do unspeakable things to you before his alarm went off for his fan calls, which he has to do from home today. So now you're covered in hickeys and horny. You scowl deepened as he sent you a wink.

“We'll pick up where we left off as soon as this call is over.” He chuckled, kissing your forehead as he popped open the soda in his hands, making his way to the table. You rolled your eyes, turning away from him to pick something to watch on Netflix. “I've told you about rolling your eyes at me princess.” The change of tone sent a shudder down your spine and straight to your pussy. Clenching your thighs together to get some relief you remained silent as he spoke to the first fan soon after. After a while the ache between your legs slowly intensified and you mentally cursed as he still had at least 3 more calls. You took your bottom lips between your teeth as you slipped a hand past your thighs to where you needed it most. A subtle sigh left your lips but Seungcheol knew that sound more than anything. His head quickly snapped over to where you sat on the couch, still listening to the fan on the call. You caught his predatory gaze as a small grin made its way to your lips when you heard your phone buzz.

Knock it off. I'm warning you Y/N.

I have to find relief somehow sweetheart and you're busy, soooo.

You continued with your hands as you grabbed at your chest, squeezing and pinching, sending shivers up your spine. You kept quiet so he could continue work but how could he when you were so close to slipping your fingers in your tight hole. You debated on whether or not to relieve yourself until he was done. But the wetness pooling in your panties was enough to counter your doubts. You slid your hand past the waistband of your shorts, hips jolting as you brushed against your clit. You bite down on one of your fingers to suppress your moans as you run a digit along your slit coating it with your arousal.

“I'm glad you enjoyed the concert! We worked hard to make sure it would be fun for you guys.” His voice cheered, masking his words with glee just as you pushed a finger past your slit. You saw the way his jaw clenched and found yourself even wetter than before. You slightly arched off the couch, leaning your head back and your eyes fluttering closed. You started at a slow pace tuning out the world around you as the rubbed against your walls, your cool palm slamming into your clit. It wasn't enough so you used your other hand to rub quick circles around the bundle of nerves, your breathing speeding up into short huffs. A small whine left your mouth as you felt the familiar knot start to tighten in your belly, not even noticing that the third call had finished. Seungcheol could see the way your head lulls back over the arm of the couch as you work yourself closer to your release. He'd be a liar if he didn't want you to face him while you fucked your fingers. Every memory he has stored away went straight to his dick, twitching in his pants.

Just as another one of his calls ended, you curled your finger to push against that one sweet spot causing your body to shake, pushing you over the edge into your nerve wrecking orgasm. When you came down from your high you pulled your hand out of your shorts, licking your release from your manicured fingers, not realizing your boyfriend's dark eyes were glued to your form. Once you relaxed a bit you shyly caught his gaze before standing up from your spot, hobbling over to where he was sitting.

“You almost done?” You asked over his shoulder before you pecked his cheek. His dark eyes stared into your own brown orbs and you felt your stomach flutter. He didn't say a word causing you to poke out your bottom lip in a pout. He's giving the silent treatment? You sat in the chair next to him with your arms folded across your chest as the last call came in. You sat patiently waiting for him to finish up but didn't miss how his eyes flickered over to you every now and then, as if daring you to pull something like you did earlier. You found yourself fidgeting with your now dry fingers as he waved goodbye to the fan before shutting off his laptop. You watched his every move as he made no advances towards you and made a glass of water at the counter. You bite the inside of your cheek not knowing if he's actually upset about earlier so you stared down at the table in shame. Just when you stood up to go to bed he was behind you with a hand wrapped around your throat. He didn't squeeze hard enough to hurt you but just enough to get his message through to you, straight to your pussy. He kissed your temple before moving down to your ear.

“You wanna play gorgeous? Let's fucking play.” He growled, pushing you down so you were bent over the table. He held your arms behind your back by your wrists watching you squirm below him. He yanked your shorts down your legs, quickly moving to rub your clothed pussy with his fingers.

“Cheol! I liked those.” You whined as he ripped your panties clean off, chuckling at the way you're clenching around nothing. It's a good thing you're drenched now because without any warning he shoved two fingers between your folds, thrusting in and out at a speedy pace, abusing that perfect spot just enough for the knot in your stomach to quickly return.

“Cheol!” His mouth started to water watching you squirm underneath him. Hips jerking, chasing the release you so dearly craved. His pace was relentless and you kept pushing back to meet his fingers, your heat clashing with the cool sensation of the rings that decorated his hands.

“You want it so badly, you can't even behave for 30 minutes.” He wanted nothing more than for you to cum but he knows he has to make you work for it first. After that stunt you pulled, he was ready to fuck you stupid. But not yet. He felt the way you started clenching around his digits and shook his head. Just before you could reach your second sweet release he snatched his hand away from you causing you to whine in frustration.

“Seungcheol what the hell?” You shouted as he kept you pinned to the table with one hand.

“That's my name now? You think I'd let you cum just like that after your little show on the couch?” His breath fanned over your ear as he stuck his fingers in your mouth, letting you taste yourself. You rubbed your slick coated thighs together while nothing but filthy insults left his mouth. “A cock hungry brat like you shouldn't get to cum after testing my patience like that.” He reached around to grab you by your neck and lifted you to stand to your full height. His lips latched onto your neck and sucked along your skin while his free hand undid his jeans. Ever thought in your brain began to disappear as he manhandled you and he hasn’t even made you cum yet. Just the sheer feeling of having his hands on you was enough to send you to cloud nine. Every nerve in your body wanted him deep inside you but you know you pushed it earlier so you have to play your cards right for him to give you what you wanted.

“On your knees princess.” You did as you were told and watched as he stroked himself before slapping your cheek with his cock. “Look at that, you actually can follow directions. You really want my cock that bad?” His vulgar words usually have you hiding your face but all you wanted at this moment was his cock down your throat. “You need to use your words baby. What is it you want hm?”

“D-daddy's cock. Inside me.” There it is.

“Maybe if you act right I'll give you what you want.” As he tapped your cheek, you slipped your tongue out of your mouth waiting for his next move like the obedient girl you were. His lips curled up into a smirk as he sat his tip on your tongue before moving to pull your hair up in a puff taking notice of how easily you slipped into your sub headspace. You rested your hands on his thighs, with him giving you a nod before taking him all the way to the hilt.

“Fuck.” He had his head back relishing in the way you moaned around his cock, the vibrations turning his brain into mush. He held your head still as his hips sped up to a brutal pace, gaze locked onto you. You did your best not to gag as he repeatedly hit the back of your throat, tears stinging your eyes. He suddenly stilled with your nose against his pelvis and you held your breath. “That's it. Hold it right there for daddy.” You shut your eyes tight to not concentrate on the way your throat started to flex before he pulled you off, giving you a chance to breathe. A low growl left his throat when his eyes zeroed in on the string of saliva connecting your lips and the tip of his dick.

“You can do better than that. I know you can.” Within seconds your mouth was back on his cock and he started fucking your face for a minute, sinking in the sensation. The feeling of your warm mouth was one he could never get tired of. He pulled you forward back onto the hilt and you sat there moaning around him as he pulsed against your tongue. He couldn't cum yet, but the way your tongue wiggled against the vein under his dick would instantly make him lose it.

He pulled you off again, lifting you up onto the table in one swift movement. He places your hands onto the back of your thighs, pushing them up until you are spread out, giving yourself to him on a silver platter. You sucked in a deep breath as he swiped his tongue along your slit, pushing two fingers past your wet folds. “Fuck......fuck that feels so good!” The slurping sounds bounced off the walls sending you into a turmoil of pleasure. He always ate you out with the most gentle of touches, holding you like you could easily break. His devotion to your pleasure always made you feel like a queen. A queen he’d put on a pedestal any day. But today you were his brat that he had to discipline. Your hips jerked to chase his tongue as he made figure eights around your clit prepared to pull your orgasm out of you. Or so you thought.

“F-fuck! Cheol I'm close.” As soon as the words left your mouth he pulled away and you couldn't help but scowl before a slap sounded. You moaned out at the slight sting coursing through your pussy.

“Wrong name baby. Have you nothing in that pretty little head of yours.” When you didn't respond, another slap to your pussy sent you spiraling.

“D-daddy! Daddy I'm sorry….fuck!” He held down your hips before easily bottoming out inside you and your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head. His eyes glued to the slight bulge poking from your stomach and a familiar switch flipped in his mind. Every time he sees where he's nestled so deep inside you it shuts off any other logical thoughts he would have. You rubbed over the small bump with your hand, whining at the sensation. All other thoughts vanished from his mind until the desire to fuck you stupid was the only one that remained. He sucked in a deep breath as he leaned over you, holding himself up on one arm. He pulled out to the tip, brushing your hair out of your face giving him a better look at your face expression. Your eyes are in a daze as your pussy tried to suck him back in. Before you could question him, he started to pound into you without saying a word. “Ah…….. fuck.” Your hand slipped to the edge of the table to ground yourself to something, anything before your legs started to give out from the burning sensation.

“Where are your hands supposed to be princess?” He grunts from above you and you quickly move to hold the back of your thighs, keeping you open for him. He smirked as he pushed your knees back up to your chest, his palm rubbing over the rose and cherry tattoo that rested on the back of your thigh.

“Holding….open for daddy.” Your words became slurred and he chuckled at how fucked out you looked. “So disobedient. I should just make myself cum and leave you here.” He used his free hand to rub your clit and you jolted, hips wiggling to meet his own.

“N-no!” He smirked at your protest, not missing the way one of your hands flew to his arm to hold him in place. You knew very well that he would cum and walk away from you. “I'm sorry daddy, please let me cum! I'll be good!”

“You're sorry? But you seemed to have so much fun earlier without me. You wanna be a good girl now?” He teased rubbing your bottom lip with his thumb as your body bends to his touch on muscle memory. You immediately sucked his digit into your mouth, moaning as you could feel yourself on the brink of an intense orgasm. He enjoyed just how much power he held over you. And you let him have that power. Everytime. “I'll let you cum, but your bratty ass has to make it up to me tomorrow. Deal?” His words fell into a whisper as his stomach started to flex, his own release nearing. “Where you want it pretty?”

“Inside, ah fuck, deep inside.” His hand quickly left your mouth, wrapping around your throat as you arched off the table. He groaned as you fluttered around him loving the way your hips jolt at the feeling of him fucking you through it.

“That's it, eyes on me. I got you princess.” Locking eyes with him was the only thing keeping you from passing out. His deep brown orbs keep you rooted to the overwhelming pleasure rushing through your being. Your orgasm triggers his own and with one last sharp thrust his hips stilled against your thighs as long strings of his cum paint your walls, a steady stream of profanities shooting from his mouth. You reached to pull him down for a passionate kiss as the two of you rode out your highs together. When he went soft he let a hiss leave his lips as he slipped out of you, the mix of your cum leaking down the crease of your ass.

“You still with me baby?” Your eyes were glazed over and you were in a daze but you nodded nonetheless. “I need to hear you say it princess.”

“I'm still with you Cheollie.” He quickly scooped you up and carried you to the bathroom where he started a warm bath. Once the two of you were in the water you couldn't help but cling to him with a pout, bringing your arm to hook around his neck. “I'm sorry.” He kissed your forehead bringing his arms around your middle.

“Don’t apologize, even after acting out, you did so well for me. I didn't hurt you did I?” Even after an intense session he always makes sure you're alright. And that was one of the things you loved about him.

“Of course not. You know I can take whatever daddy gives me.” You smirked and he raised an eyebrow down at you. But you didn't miss the way his eyes darkened for the second time today.

“Careful what you wish for gorgeous.”

#choi seungcheol #scoups x reader #seungcheol x reader #seventeen #svt #scoups smut #seungcheol smut #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #scoups imagines

789 notes · View notes

meazalykov · 3 months ago

Text

gold or silver

laura freigang x reader

summary: you say words you don't mean.

warnings: reader's mentality is.. harsh in the beginning. jealousy. bits of angst.

it's the 40th minute and you were frustrated.

as an attacking midfielder, it seemed like you were doing everything.

you were helping the offense with your creative chances, you were clearing goals to help with the defense, picking up any pieces that horan or coffey failed to receive.

your body was tired and your mindset started shift into playing aggressively, anyway that will help you win against the germans.

by now, you'd start your aggressiveness with any other team-- but the germans had something special with you.

having two german parents made you eligible to play for the german national team. you were born in the United States and were raised in the US for your entire life-- the decision to pick a national team was hard.

back in 2018 when the united states promised to put you on the 2019 World Cup roster, you accepted.

it didn't help that they were the best team in the world at that point.

it made it special that you played for bayern munich, a bavarian club. most of the german girls on the gerwnt were your bestest friends, you've considered them to be your non-biological sisters.

one of those non-biological sisters, sydney, introduced you to laura back in 2021.

the both of you hit it off, the chemistry was undeniable and you've been with the older girl for 3 years now.

mallory swanson shoots the ball towards the goal in the 44th minute but it deflects off of the goalpost, the ball lands on your foot and you shoot the ball-- only for it to launch into the crowd.

you yelled in frustration as sam reassures you that you'll get it next time-- again. this was your third huge opportunity of the night and you didn't make a single goal yet.

nobody did. its nil-nil.

when the referee blows the whistle for halftime, you groaned out in frustration. hearing this, trinity jogs by your side as you both head back to the dressing room.

sitting down by your locker in the dressing room, you cling onto the bottom of your red shorts and take a sip of water out of your gatorade bottle.

the entire dressing room was frustrated-- the many missed chances wasn't acceptable.

after emma came in the dressing room, surprisingly calm while talking about the switches in play, you look up to the ceiling in silence.

"hey y/n." sophia places her hand on your right knee. you look towards her and raised your eyebrow, signaling for her to talk to you.

"are you okay?" sophia asks with a light smile.

"not really, are you okay?" you ask back.

sophia shrugs her shoulders, "I've been better."

that response breaks a smile from you.

"I just want to help you guys score, or at least score myself, I hate this deadlock we are in." you speak, going to take another sip of your water bottle after.

"I'll score for you and the team in the second half, I promise." sophia says.

"but honestly, I thought that your bad mood might've been about playing against laura and your german friends." sophia continues.

"no-- not really." you place your water bottle down and bend down to fix your cleat laces.

"huh?" sophia says, surprised.

"I mean, I am determined to help us get a medal. I'm not letting a relationship get in the way of our dreams." you say.

"and I know laura thinks the same way. yes, I am a little scared that she will resent me if we win and she doesn't-- but if that is a huge problem for her, maybe we aren't meant to be." you continue.

sophia knits her eyebrows together as you finish tying your cleats.

"she wouldn't resent you. are you saying that you would have resent for her if germany wins tonight?" Sophia asks.

"no, because I'll make sure they wouldn't win." you say, standing up and jogging out of the dressing room.

in the 61st minute, you push down and block a huge chance coming from nicole-- your girlfriend's frankfurt teammate.

seeing her fall after her failed chance, you walk up to her and help her when you realize that she had a cramp in her leg.

laura is subbed on her nicole afterwards, which made you feel nervous.

seeing her come onto the field, your tough façade faded away at the sight of her. you couldn't play mean when it came to her-- she made you feel loved and soft.

you didn't think it, but subconsciously, you make a note to be aggressive towards every other player except for her-- unless you absolutely had to.

in the 72nd minute, laura gets the ball and nearly gets the goal against the united states. noticing the position between her and crystal dunn, you reached your hand up because she was offside.

when the ref called for it offside, laura walks closer to you frustrated.

something inside of you feels heartbroken when she walks by you without bothering to look at you-- or gives you a signal that she notices you.

did she hear your conversation with sophia? no way, the American locker rooms aren't near the german ones.

was it because you were the first to urge the referee to call off-side? maybe.

in the 94th minute, you ran the ball up the field and passed it to mallory.

mallory, seeing no free space thanks to feli and kathy, passes the ball back to you. as you get the ball and dribble around feli, you pass the ball over to sophia.

berger fails to grab the ball from sophia's feet as she shoots the ball into the undefended goal.

1-0.

you feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins as you dart towards sophia, who’s grinning like she’s just won the entire tournament.

she practically tackles you in the celebration as you both crash to the ground, your teammates piling on top of you.

the scoreboard flashes 1-0, and the realization hits you—you’re just minutes away from securing a spot in the gold medal match.

you finally stand up, breathless and exhilarated, giving sophia another congratulatory hug. you gave the assist and she got the goal.

she smiles at that thought, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she points at you and says, "i told you i’d score a goal for you."

"and it was perfect, soph!" you laugh, your heart swelling with pride and affection.

your voice carries your excitement, and for a moment, the world seems to pause around you, focusing only on the joy of the moment.

but then, out of the corner of your eye, as you’re jogging back into position, you catch sight of laura.

she’s not far, standing near the center circle, her posture stiff, eyes fixed on you with a mix of confusion and something else—something you can’t quite place.

her brows are knitted together, and she’s biting the inside of her cheek, a habit you know all too well.

you feel a pang of guilt but push it down, focusing on the game at hand.

laura’s mind races as she replays your words in her head. "scoring a goal for you?" the phrase echoes, unsettling her.

of course, she trusts you—she has to. but seeing you so close to sophia, hearing the way you cheered for her, stirs a gnawing insecurity within her.

she shakes her head, trying to rid herself of the thoughts. now’s not the time. there’s a game to win, and the germans are still in it—barely.

the game restarts, and you see laura moving with renewed determination. she’s pushing forward, trying to lead her team to an equalizer. every touch she makes on the ball is sharp, decisive, but there’s an edge to her play now, something almost desperate.

you can’t help but feel a twist in your gut every time she gets close to the goal. she has to be stopped, even if she doesn’t want to be.

in the 96th minute, laura receives the ball just outside the box. she fakes a shot, sending emily off balance before cutting inside.

your heart skips a beat as you watch, silently praying she doesn’t score. it’s a terrible thought, but you can’t help it. the idea of seeing her disappointment if she misses, or the tension if she scores, is almost too much to bear.

laura shoots, the ball curling towards the far post, but it’s just inches wide. the ball goes into the crowd and you exhale a breath you didn’t know you were holding. the sight of laura with her hands on her head, staring at the missed opportunity, brings a lump to your throat.

when the final whistle blows, the stadium erupts in cheers for the USWNT, but your gaze is locked on laura. she’s sitting on the grass, staring at the ground. your feet move before you can think, crossing the pitch to her.

you should be celebrating with your team, but that's not your main concern. as much as you said it did in the locker room.

“laura,” you whisper as you reach her, crouching down.

laura looks up at you, her eyes tired and exhausted, and for a moment, the world falls away. it’s just you and her, and the weight of the game feels inconsequential compared to the heaviness between you.

“i’m sorry,” you say, knowing it’s not enough, but it’s all you have at the moment.

“it’s okay. you deserved the win.” laura shakes her head, managing a small, sad smile. her voice is soft, but there’s a crack in it that makes your chest tighten.

“it’s just a game, laur. we’re still us. and i believe that you guys will go and win bronze.” you reach out, gently brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

she nods, but her eyes tell a different story—a story of doubt, of worry, of wondering if the game really is just a game, or if it’s something more. something that could wedge itself between the both of you.

“i saw how you looked at sophia,” she admits, her voice barely audible.

“what did she mean by ‘scoring for you’?”

you open your mouth to respond, but the words catch in your throat. how can you explain that it was just a friendly promise, a moment of celebration? that it means nothing compared to what you have with laura? you can see the doubt in her eyes, and it scares you.

“it was nothing, i swear,” you say, squeezing her hand.

“sophia’s just… sophia. she’s engaged to michael and i do not have feelings for her outside of platonic ones. you’re the one i’m with, the one i love.”

laura takes a deep breath, nodding again, but you can tell the seed of doubt has been planted.

the victory feels hollow now, and as you pull her into a hug, you can’t shake the feeling that this game has cost you something far more important than a spot in the gold medal match.

so much for what you said in the locker room at halftime. you’re terrified that you might’ve manifested something.

you hold laura close, feeling the tension in her body as she tries to keep her emotions in check.

the cheers and celebrations around you fade into the back of your mind, replaced by the sound of her uneven-- and tired--breathing.

you hate this—the way the game has twisted something as pure as your love for each other into a source of tension.

“laur,” you murmur against her hair, trying to comfort her as you sit on the grass,

“you’re the one i’m going to go home with after this all ends. none of this changes that.”

she pulls back slightly, her eyes searching yours, trying to find reassurance in your words.

“but it does, doesn’t it? we’re always on different sides out here, and it feels like… i don’t know, like we’re not on the same team anymore– i mean we aren’t physically– but i mean with us.”

the vulnerability in her voice breaks your heart. you never wanted this—never wanted to be the reason she felt insecure or doubted what you have together.

you cup her face gently, your thumb brushing away a tear that threatens to spill over.

“we’re always on the same team in this relationship,” you say firmly, hoping your conviction can bridge the gap that’s opened between you.

“what happened on this field stays here. it’s just a game, but you and me? it exists everywhere else.”

laura looks down, her lips pressed into a thin line. “it’s hard to separate it sometimes, you know? watching you celebrate with her, hearing what you said echoing outside of the locker room at halftime… it hurt, y/n.”

the honesty in her words cuts deep, your heart drops and you feel a huge wave of guilt hit you. she heard what you said.

you wish you could go back, change how you reacted, change what you said to sophia, change how you celebrated. but you can’t. all you can do is try to make it right now.

“i didn’t mean to say that.. or to hurt you,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion.

“sophia and i—we’re just friends. she was just trying to cheer me up, that’s all. i don’t think that you’ll hate me like I said in the locker– the emotions of this game were just–” you cut yourself off, finding no excuses.

“you’re the one i care about, the one who matters to me.” you say with full sincerity.

“I know that, but it’s hard when we’re out here, competing like this. i don’t want to feel like i’m fighting for you.” laura’s eyes soften, but there’s still a shadow of doubt lingering.

the feeling of playing against you all of the time is starting to catch up to the german girl.

she's never been your teammate on the pitch, just an opponent or rival.

“you’re not,” you insist, your grip on her tightening as if you could physically hold her fears at bay.

“you have all of me, laura. there’s no one else, and never will be.” you stare into her eyes.

she nods slowly, taking in your words, and you can see the conflict in her eyes begin to ease, if only slightly.

“i want to believe that,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “but this… it’s just hard.”

you pull her into another hug, wanting to shield her from the pain, to show her that nothing has changed between you.

“i love you, laur,” you say, the words a promise as much as a declaration.

“we’ll get through this, together. when you win that bronze medal, i promise i’ll be there to celebrate with you.”

laura lets out a shaky breath, her arms wrapping around you tightly. “i love you too,” she murmurs against your shoulder.

“i just… i don’t want to lose you and three years of us to this– to a football match if anything.”

“you won’t,” you assure her, pulling back just enough to look her in the eyes.

“we’ll figure it out. we always do.” you say. this is true, you guys have solved small disagreements before and have made compromises.

a small, fragile smile forms on her lips. not caring about any cameras or teammates that could see it– you lean in, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

the sound of your teammate, sam, calling your name pulls you back to the present. you know you have to go, to join them in celebrating the victory, but you’re reluctant to leave laura’s side.

you’d stay by her side forever if you could. ninety minutes of rivalry exhausted you.

laura notices your look at sam and gives you a small nod.

“go,” she says, her voice steadier now. “you deserve to celebrate. i’ll be okay.”

“are you sure?” you hesitate, searching her face for any lingering doubts.

“i’m sure. we will talk more later back home, okay?” she smiles, a bit more convincingly this time.

you nod, pressing one last kiss to her lips before standing up.

the joy of the journey towards gold feels muted, but as you jog back to your team, you glance over your shoulder at laura.

she’s watching you, and there’s a small smile on her face, one that tells you she’s trying to be okay..

as you rejoin your teammates, the cheers and laughter envelop you, but your mind is still on laura.

the victory with your national teammates is bittersweet, a reminder of the delicate balance you have to maintain between your love and your rivalry when playing on the national level– even club level since you play for bayern and she plays for frankfurt.

but you’re determined to make it work, to ensure that no game, no matter how important, comes between you and the woman you love.

you’re determined to show laura that she’s the most important part of your life—on and off the field.

well, after you win that gold medal for your team.

my master list is here if you want to read more fics <3

#laura freigang #woso community #woso fanfics #woso x reader #uswnt x reader #gerwnt #woso imagine

200 notes · View notes

daisyblog · 3 months ago

Text

Mini Us

Young Love Masterlist Summary: Louis and YN welcome their baby into the world.

Warning: childbirth, labour, unexpected home birth, mention of blood

10th of November 2009

In the quiet bedroom, YN laid in the bed still sore and uncomfortable from the trauma her body had been through earlier in the day. She looked down at the sleeping newborn that laid upon her chest. She admired the little one that was equally half of her and half Louis.

The little ones blue eyes were identical to Louis, whilst their little petite nose and lips mirrored YN’s. YN brought her finger up to their cheek, admiring their precious gift.

“I’m the luckiest mummy ever that you chose me”. She spoke to the sleeping baby who was content in her arms. “Me and your dad are gonna give you the best life possible…we’re going to spoil you with love and make so many memories together”. YN could feel the tears begin to form in her eyes because now that she was a mother herself, she couldn’t understand how her family could have treated her in that way.

---

Earlier that day

The third trimester had certainly taken its toll on YN. She was tired to the point that she could come home from college and take a nap, and still go to bed early and sleep all night. Her heightened hormones caused her to snap at anything, big or small. Louis had been walking on eggshells at the inconsistency in her mood swings.

Four days had passed since YN’s due date, but she had tried everything to kick start labour but unfortunately for them nothing worked. The only thing left to do was take a long walk. That morning YN and Louis had walked around Doncaster at least ten times until YN said she was tired and her feet were hurting.

As soon as YN’s body hit their bed, she was fast asleep as she cuddled up to the pillows. After a while Louis had noticed that YN’s body began to tense for a few minutes but then relax again. Seeing as she was still sleeping, he hadn’t thought much about it.

Louis realised he must have dozed off to when he woke up to YN’s scream. The sound was piercing, sacred and terrifying. He shot up from his sleeping position and the sound of YN crying caught his attention.

“Lou…Lou..there-there’s some-something w-wrong”. YN stuttered out the words in between her sobs, her body still almost like she was afraid to move.

Louis gulped heavily, feeling it travel down his throat and into the pit of his stomach. He looked at scene in front of him and his body froze. The bottom half of YN, including the bed sheets, was covered in red. Blood everywhere, something he would never forget the sight of.

“Lou…please…I need help!”. YN broke him from his frozen state, and without saying a word he called for his mum.

Jay came rushing in and although the sight shocked her and caused her to panic, she remained calm and collected on the outside. “Everything’s going to be alright darling okay…Lou go and get loads of towels and blankets”.

“Mum is the baby okay?”. Louis looked for his mother’s reassurance, but Jay gave nothing away and instructed her son to go and get the stuff quickly.

Once Louis had left, Jay moved quickly. “Alright YN, love…am I okay to check what’s going on?”. When YN nodded, shaking with fear, Jay removed the blood stained clothes and gasped. “Oh my…I don’t know how you’re not screaming in more pain…I can see baby’s head!”.

“I feel numb…and weak”. YN admitted, and it was in that moment that Jay realised that an ambulance wouldn’t arrive in time because this little one was on their way.

Louis walked back into the room, folded towels and blankets gathered in his hands, but was more shocked than before because he could see the top of his baby’s head.

“Is..is…is that?”. Louis eyes were as wide and in shock as the could be.

“Yes! That’s the baby’s head…you need to get over here and support YN…you’re about to have a baby!”.

---

The next hour felt like a lifetime. Jay stayed in the same position, watching to make sure her first grandchild was safe coming into the world. Louis was by YN’s side, moving her hair back from her face whenever she pushed through a contraction.

“YN…darling…you’re doing amazing my love…listen to your body and any minute now you’re about to meet your baby”. Jay spoke calmly, as she reached up to give YN’s hand an encouraging squeeze. “You’re doing so well love”.

Louis felt like a spare part, he wanted to take the pain away, he wanted to be the one that was doing all the hard work so YN didn’t have to experience it.

“I’m so proud of you!”. Louis left a gentle peck to her forehead. “You’re so strong…and me and the baby are so lucky to have you”.

YN felt an immense pressure down below, and like Jay had said, she listened to her body and pushed as hard as she could whilst squeezing Louis’ hand.

“AHHHHH!”: She let out an exhausted scream, hoping this would be the last push she needed for her baby to be born and in her arms.

Jay quickly picked up the crying little baby and placed them on their mother’s chest. Louis and YN both had tears in their eyes as they peered down at their newborn.

“I’ve never felt love like this”. Louis spoke into the room as he held the little ones tiny hand.

“She’s beautiful!”. Jay spoke, carefully revealing that they had a daughter.

YN looked up at Jay, tears still soaking her eyes and cheeks. “A little girl?”. With her own tears matching her sons and YN’s she nodded as she soaked them precious moment.

YN and Louis shared a look, knowing they had already chosen both a girl and boy names ready for the birth of their baby. A smile appeared on both of their faces.

“Welcome to the world Mia Rose Tomlinson!”.

Taglist:

@ell0ra-br3kk3r @slaymybreathaway @wh0s-nadii

192 notes · View notes

sapchat · 1 year ago

Text

We Are Not Our Fathers

Azriel x Reader

Summary: You get summoned to your mate and Cassian whilst they are on a mission, only to find out there was a surprise at the end of it.

Warnings: mentions of a fight, children, and an argument between two lovers.

Words: 5k

Part 1: You are here! Part 2

Fun fact: this is technically my third fanfic now, cuz I’ve got a part one for something else and I’m writing part two, I just got this idea yesterday while listening to this playlist and was like “I need angst, azriel, his mate and a child.”

Azriel and Cassian had been at one of the Illyrian camps investigating rumors of… something. You hadn’t been paying attention when your mate told you why, he’d been getting dressed while telling. So, you could see the distraction at the time. It had been at least two hours since your mate had left and you got summoned down the bond, and a shadow seemed to tug at your hand.

So, following the bond you appeared in a typical Illyrian Steppes living room, with Azriel at the top of the steps.

“Hey, we uh, need you up here. We thought we were done but Cass found someone.” Azriel said meeting me at the bottom of the steps and grabbing a hand, rubbing his fingers on my wrist. He picked the habit up a few years into our bond, he says it keeps him grounded, especially after or during missions like these. Nodding my head, I followed the narrow steps behind him to see Cassian standing in the doorway of one of the rooms, there was a smidge of blood on the side of a wall, so I wasn’t sure what I was going to walk in on.

A little winged child was not what I was expecting. Cassian looked at me sheepishly then nodded to the side so the three of us could talk.

“So, I’m going to assume we didn’t know there was a child here?” I asked leaning against the wall.

“From what we could tell there were no reports of a child when we first started getting reports of the retaliation happening. My shadows also didn’t pick up on a child when we got here, so either he was just hiding really well because of the guests in the house, or he snuck in.” Azriel responded.

“Any idea how much he heard? Or what does his parental situation look like?” I asked, I needed to know how bad this situation could be. Especially if this child doesn’t have a family because of its father’s or mother’s choices.

“For the most part, some of them went easy. Only three of ‘em put up any real fight, hence some of the blood there by your head,” Cassian started.

“Ew, thanks for telling me that one.” I’ll just shuffle to the side.

“As for a possible guardian, he hasn’t answered any questions. He did call me a bastard though, so I guess he has listened to something while around them.” Cassian finished. He seemed almost more stressed than I. I assume because he’s become quite partial to being babysitter for Nyx in the last few months for Feyre and Rhysand to be able to go out.

“What do you think, he’s probably what four, maybe five. You have more experience in working with kids, and with Madja, what do you think his outcome is with what he’s been dealt.” Azriel asked, dragging a scarred hand down his face.

“All children are different. One could experience something awful like the death of a parent and not remember anything about it. Others could never recover from it and grow up acting out the rest of their lives. It’s just a matter of how they get help. And knowing this camp, they probably won’t get much mental help at all. You two should know that” It’s not what they wanted to hear I imagine, but it was the truth. “So, what’s the plan? I assume if you have summoned me here you want me to go talk to him?”

“Yea actually, that’s exactly what so thanks for offering that so we don’t have to ask.” Cassian states rubbing the back of his head. Little shit.

Sighing, I turn my eyes to my mates, who just shrugged. I’ve been left here with the two most awkward people when it comes to random kids. Such a surprise came from the man-child Cassian himself. I roll my eyes, but send something to calm down the bond, and turn to go into the room.

The child is on the smaller side, evidence of the winter that’s still in the mountains so it’s evident his family doesn’t have much money for food. He’s got some dirt on his clothes so he’s either been out playing today or he just doesn’t have many clothing options. His wings were on the smaller side for what we assume his age group is, so he either is just going to have slightly smaller wings, or he’s developmentally delayed for his possible age. Probably due to the lack of food and hygiene.

I step slowly into the room, trying to make my slightly tall frame smaller. “Hi there. What’s your name?”

The little boy looked at me with wide hazel eyes, a twinkle in it that I couldn’t tell meant he was scared or intrigued by my presence. “Hawthorne.”

“Hawthorne huh?” You ask, then tell him your name, “Are you okay Hawthorne?” I ask him, he sits up just a little taller, a twitch in his bat-like wing following after.

He nodded his head in response, and I nodded back in understanding. “I was wondering who you were here with buddy? It’s okay if I call you buddy, right?”

“I was with my daddy. and I don’t know if you can call me buddy. Daddy’s usually the only one that does. Daddy said it’s cause we’re friends, but I don’t know you.” He answers sheepishly looking around my body towards the end, telling me I have a shadow, likely two of them.

“Well, if I tell you something about me, and then you tell me something, then we would be friends, wouldn’t we?” He hesitates, thinking about the question then nods his head quickly.

“Okay, well you know my name already,” I say then move to sit on the corner of the bed and make it seem like I’m thinking about my fact, “One of my favorite things ever, is getting to go and watch the sunrise or sunset as it comes up or down, and it shine on the soft snow. It’s really pretty.” I say, his head perks up a little at what I tell him.

“I like that too! I also like it when it storms, 'cause that means I don’t have to go out and I get to stay inside with my daddy.” He says. I smile at his enthusiasm of getting to share something we both like.

“I’ll tell you another secret then.” His eyes get really wide, and I feel a questioning brush through the bond. “I also like it when it storms. Because that means I get to stay inside with my friends.”

“Are they your friends?” Hawthorne asks looking at Cassian and Azriel behind me.

“Yeah, those are my really good friends, Cassian and Azriel. They… came to talk to the people that were downstairs. Did you know them?” I ask, glancing at the two males behind me, who are trying to seem small, but with the size of Cassian and Azriel’s wings. They’re failing.

“It was my daddy and their friends. I heard lots of yelling. And that they called your friends bastards. So, I did when they came up here. Where is my daddy?” I looked at Azriel for an answer, he looked down and then at Hawthorne.

“We took your father somewhere so we could talk with them. Do you have a mother we could take you to? Or anyone else.” Azriel answered the child.

Hawthorne shook his head no, “Daddy says mommy died when I was little, even smaller than now. And daddy says I’m the only thing he has left. But I think that’s silly 'cause we have neighbors!”

I sigh and look at my mate and Cassian, I then look back to the hallway and back to the child, “Hawthorn I’m going to go talk with my friends really quick, are you okay here?” The boy nods his head and watches as the three of us leave the room.

It’s now my turn to rub my hands down my face. “What do we do with him? I assume mom either died in childbirth or from sickness. And now we’ve got dad where he’s going to probably be punished for what they’ve been planning.”

Cassian almost winces at the last part, “His father was one of the people to put up a fight. We’ve got him in Hewn City right now, one of the others said he’s the ring leader for wanting to try and get rid of Rhys, and ‘go back to the old ways.’”

“Gotta love males and their ever-needing reason to be on top,” Azriel said laying back against the wall across from me, one of his feet resting between my ankles.

“We asked Rhys what he thought. He thinks it should be up to you.” Cassian said.

I processed the question for a second. Thinking about the options that are available. If Hawthorne stays, he’ll be homeless, wandering the streets like Cassian did; and based on how he looks already, he probably wouldn’t last long. Or taking him with us. To Velaris and trying to find him a place there. He could stay in the House of Wind until we find somewhere or someone.

I look at Azriel and he nods, knowing what I’m going to decide. If I had it my way, there would be no children wandering the roads here in the camps. But the orphanage idea has been slow, Devlon the only one wanting to even entertain the idea.

“Take him with us. He’ll be better off in Velaris, and until we can find somewhere permanent, he can stay in the House with us all.” I say, Cassian nods knowing I’m making the decision based on what he’s told me of his past before Rhys and his mother.

“Looks like you’ll get a friend Cassian, I’ll be sure to set up playdates.” Azriel says pushing off the way and patting his brother on the back.

Cassian had a shocked look on his face, eyes following Azriel as he followed me back into the room Hawthorne was patiently waiting in.

“Hey, Hawthorne? How about you come with me and my friends for a little bit, until we can see if your father gets into trouble, okay?” I asked going in and sitting on his bed, angling my body to be eye level with the winged boy. He seemed to sit and think about it for a second, then spared Azriel a questioning look before looking back at me.

“Will I still get to do my training?”

My eyes widen just a tad. Training at five? I look over my shoulder to Cassian and Azriel in question.

“Yeah me, and Cassian can help with that. We’re both really going at flying so we can help you learn some.” Azriel told the child, putting a lot of emphasis on them being so good at flying. This seemed to make the boy happy.

“Okay then. I guess I’ll come with you. But I get to bring my toys!”

“We wouldn’t expect you to leave them behind buddy. Now where are your clothes?” I said standing from the bed and ruffling my fingers through his dark brown almost black hair.

Hawthorne jumped from the bed, his little wings flapping as he did, and ran to the dresser in the corner of the room. He pulled open a drawer almost at eye level and grabbed what little clothes sat in there. “Here they are!” He ran back over and handed them to me. He only had two shirts and another pair of pants, plus only a few pairs of undergarments.

I looked in the direction of my mate and he nodded at what I was thinking. We’ll have to get him some more clothes. I held my hand out and Azriel summoned a bag from the shadows and handed it to me. I usually use it for the farmers market, but I’ll just get a new one.

“Okay, bubs, come here and I’ll hold you while Azriel takes us back to the house.” The boy hopped over with a questioning look on his face.

“He’s going to fly both of us to your house?”

“Nope! He’s going to do something called winnow, which means,” I sat for a second thinking how to explain this to a child, “he’ll grab my and Cassian's hand, and then we’ll disappear and then reappear in the house!” Yeah, that was a great explanation.

Hawthorne seemed to question it for a second, then came over and all but crawled up into my arms. I moved the bag to my shoulder and then joined Azriel and Cassian. The three of us all looked at each other as if questioning what I’d decided.

And into the shadows we went, only for Azriel to then grab onto me tighter to glide us down to the balcony of the House of Wind. Hawthorne gripped my neck tighter looking around at all he could see of Velaris. And I knew I had made a good decision for the boy.

Feet touching the ground Hawthorne all but leaped from my arms to run and look over the balcony, pulling himself up by using his feet on the spindles to gain leverage to look out. Mouth opening by the second, I leaned back against Az watching the boy. He’s never seen so many people at once living in such a beautiful place.

“Hawthorne, wanna go get a quick snack before we get you cleaned up in a tub?” I asked leaving my mates front to join the boy at the railing. He looked up at me with wide eyes before looking back out towards the Sidra. “It’ll all still be here when we’re done. And if you’re not tired then you can even see it once the sun goes down. It looks even better.” He turned back with a slightly toothless grin and nodded enthusiastically, jumping from the side, and gripping my hand swinging from it.

Walking into the sitting room I walked the boy towards the kitchen. Already sitting on the counter was a little dinner for the boy, the House instantly knowing what was needed of it. I helped him up onto a stool he quickly dug into his dinner.

“Easy now, don’t want to eat too fast and make yourself sick,” I advised brushing a finger across his back. I walked around the counter and grabbed a small cup and filled it with water so he could drink as well.

Once he was done eating, he quickly gulped down the water and brushed his mouth on his hand, then proceeded to wipe the hand on his shirt. Boys. I grabbed him before he had a chance to run off and walked him up to mine and Azriel’s bathing room where Az sat pouring a few drops of bubbles into the bath.

I set Hawthorne down on the ground and allowed him to undress so he could climb in the bath and gave my mate a quick peck on the cheek in thanks. Admiration flowed down his side of the bond as I leaned over and started wetting Hawthorne’s hair. He splashed around a little playing with the bubbles as I washed the grime off of him.

Once I was done, I grinned and grabbed a handful of bubbles and placed them on his head. The little Illyrian quickly looked up at me and proceeded to grin. And without a moment's notice he flapped his wings in the water spraying water all over me.

We both sat in silence for a little bit, me in shock and him with a look that said, ‘Uh oh’. Then I started laughing, and Hawthorne quickly realized he wasn’t in trouble for getting water over me.

After his bath, and the fight of drying him off, and the battle of getting him dressed. I did as I had promised and walked him back to one of the balconies so he could watch the ending of the sunset and all the lights of Velaris come on. We sat quickly, him in amazement, me writing down some reports to send to Rhys in the morning.

It was in the middle of the night I was awoken to one of Azriels shadows, Azriel rousing from sleep himself and moving a wing off of me to see what was happening. Then I heard soft padding down the hall, and a shuffling of wings. I then heard the door move a bit as someone jumped and grabbed the doorknob, and the door quietly moved open.

Raising our heads, we were greeted with Hawthorne sniffling as he waddled into the room. He looked up at the two of us from the foot of the bed, glancing back and forth. I glanced at Azriel and silently asked if he’d allow the boy in the bed with us.

Azriel looked at me, then flopped back on his stomach and grumbled “Once you feed them and let them sleep in the bed, they end up staying. Look at Cass.”

I lightly slapped his arm and raised up more and nodded to my side of the bed. Hawthorne quickly shuffled over and climbed his way into the bed and my arms. “Wanna talk about it?” I quietly asked.

He shook his head and placed his wet face into my neck. I hummed an okay and moved the blankets back over us and went back to sleep, Azriel’s wing shifting back over as he moved around.

In the morning I awoke to an empty bed, not unusual with Az doing morning training, but I distinctly remember a little boy crawling into the bed in the night as well.

Climbing out of bed, a shadow greeted me happily and started leading me in the direction of the living room; and was greeted by Cassian holding the boy in the air telling him to get ready, and Azriel sat in a chair drinking tea.

“If he breaks something Cassian, you get to tell Rhys.” I said, walking further into the room and joining Azriel on the armrest, his hand wrapping around my hip and patting it. Azriel tilted his head in a way saying, ‘That’ll be fun’ and went back to his morning readings.

“Hey, we learn to fly by being dropped from different heights, I figured you prefer it in the living room, where he could land on the couch.” The general replied, letting go of the boy and allowing him to flap-glide his way to the couch in question.

I let the two continue and looked down to my mate, “Wanna join me in the kitchen, so we could talk about H-A-W-T-H-O-R-N-E’s F-A-T-H-E-R?” He nodded his head and took my hand to lead me in the direction of said room. Already on the counter was my breakfast, courtesy of the house which I thanked, and a steaming glass of coffee.

“I went earlier this morning. He’s not wanting to give us anything. Rhys wants to make an example of them.” Azriel said going straight to the point. I looked up from putting jam on my toast, my eyes trailing to the sounds of the child’s laughter and Cassians' praise.

“What about Hawthorne?”

Azriel sighed, already knowing I wasn’t going to let this go without a fight. Either with him or our High Lord. “Rhys is going to leave that up to you. His recommendation thought was to find someplace around Velaris so he wouldn’t be in a camp where issues may arise in the future. When he’s older.”

I looked sharply up at what he said. “What is that supposed to mean?” I made sure to keep my voice somewhat low so as to not raise attention to us.

“We both know what he means. He’s just trying to cover future bases because he has Nyx now.” Azriel tried to calm down, resting a hand on top of mine. I pulled it back from him immediately.

“No Azriel I don’t know what you mean. He’s a child what are you two trying to say?” I was angry. He’s five, if that. What was there to possibly worry about to ‘keep an eye on him in the future.’

Azriel said your name then continued, “His father was plotting to get a group of people to kill Rhys. Maybe worse.” Azriel almost seemed angry at the position I had taken, in defending this threat against his High Lord. But the threat was a child.

I glared at Azriel and all but snarled when I said, “Sons are NOT their fathers Azriel. You of all people should know that.” I even pointed in his direction for emphasis on my statement, his hazel eyes going wide in surprise at it. Shock and hurt flowed down the bond, and I pushed my feelings of anger towards him.

Turning I leave my breakfast to go join Cassian and the deemed threat in the other room to watch him stretch his wings.

It was later in the evening, after playing with the child and having Cassian take us down to the shopping district so he could have more clothes that I had finally let myself think about the argument from earlier in the day. I had already put Hawthorne to bed almost two hours ago and was down in the kitchen sipping wine. Setting the glass down on the counter I ran my hands down my face in frustration, and then came some shuffling.

Turning my head, I expected Azriel but found Hawthorne. Bleary-eyed from what little sleep he got. “Hey, what are you doing back up, it’s late.”

The little dark-haired child rubbed his eyes, his other hand gripping a little black cat stuffed animal he begged to have. “I have trouble sleeping in the bed. It’s super soft.” His eyebrows furrowed together and then he said, “The shadows also keep me awake by playing with my hair.”

A few of Azriel’s shadows had taken a little liking to the boy, much unlike their master, it seemed. “Well. Since you’re awake, want some hot chocolate?” I asked, the boy seemed confused at my words and asked what hot chocolate was. “Hot cocoa?” He shook his head in confusion again.

“Come on, I’ll make us some cups and you can try it,” I said lifting him up to sit on the counter and wiped my finger at some of the dried drool on his cheek.

Turning to a cabinet, I grabbed two mugs to set beside him and continued to pull supplies out to make the cocoa. Hawthorne watched every move I made, measuring out the ingredients, putting them into a pot to warm up, and even helping stir every now and then. Once it was done, I moved it over to the side to allow it to cool a bit more before putting the drink into the mugs.

“Now here’s the fun part. I like to add some extra things to mine.”

Hawthorne seemed interested in whatever it was I was going to add.

“I like to take this white stuff, called whipped cream, and put it on top, then add this stuff here called cinnamon. Do you wanna try mine and see if you like it for yours?” I asked, Hawthorne seemed to think deeply about it, furrowed eyebrows, and all then eagerly nodded his head. I carefully handed him my cup and he took a little sip, whip cream getting on his upper lip and nose, then made a loud ‘ahh’ sound after gulping it down.

“I’d like some please!” The boy eagerly handed my mug back and watched me add it to his smaller mug.

We sat side by side sipping at our drinks, Hawthorne’s eyes drooping more and more as he drank before he set his almost empty mug on the counter and yawned.

“Ready to go back to bed?” He seemed a little hesitant and then said something that broke my heart.

“I don’t wanna sleep by myself, I’m scared someone’s going to come and get me.” He didn’t want to make eye contact.

I looked at him a little inquisitively, “Why do you think someone’s coming to get you?”

“Well, I really liked being with Daddy, even if I didn’t get much food. And then you guys came and took my daddy and me, because daddy was being bad. But you have been really nice, and Cassin has been helping me fly, and even though Azzie don’t like me he still lets me play with his shadows, and you guys have food and it’s warm-“ I stopped him before he could continue working himself up.

“Hawthorne, you don’t have to go back to the camp if you don’t want to. You know that right?” I said rubbing his hand in a comforting way.

He seemed sheepish as he nodded then asked, “I would get to stay here with you? And Cassin and Azzie?”

I sighed trying to think of an answer, “I don’t know if you’d get to stay with us. You could go to another place that would love you very much.”

Hawthorne didn’t like that answer. Tears forming in his little hazel eyes, lips wobbling, and I knew I needed to backtrack.

“Hey, how about this buddy?” He sniffed and ran a hand over his eye, “How about we pause this conversation, and me and you go sleep? Then we can talk when I get some answers.” Answers only the Inner Circle could answer.

It took Hawthorne only 20 minutes to fall back to sleep in his room and me another hour lying beside Azriel. It was early morning when I awoke to Azriel getting up himself.

“Think you could call a meeting about little bits?” I asked rubbing my hands down my face.

Azriel sighed and sat back in the bed beside me. “You shouldn’t get attached to him; you know that. And it’s not that I think that he’s going to become his father or that I hate him. I heard you guys’ last night, and what you both talked about.” He sat there for a second licking his lips as I cringed knowing he heard us, “I do like him. He’s a sweet kid, and I’m glad he’s had a better life than most Illyrians-”

I stopped him, “I didn’t mean what I said yesterday. I know you’re not your father and I should’ve never. Ever. Compared you to him.”

“I know. You were angry and believed you had to defend him. I’m proud of you for that. But if you really want to discuss what happens with him, then I think we should talk.” Azriel said, grabbing my hand and holding it as he laid back across my stomach.

I nodded, and we started talking. About all outcomes for Hawthorne. What would happen to him, how he’d be raised, all of it. Then we went to the River House. And I joined the Inner Circle as we talked about him. Rhysand’s concerns, Amren’s and Mor’s surprise, Feyre’s support in what would happen, and how it would all be dealt with.

At the end we had an answer.

It was later in the day that I asked Hawthorne if he wanted to go walk around town with Azriel. I was slowly walking behind as Azriel walked somewhat awkwardly with the boy, talking with him as Hawthorne was eagerly pointing around at different shops.

Hawthorne’s eyes widened and grabbed Azriels’ hand, the older Illyrian tensing up at the innocent little child grabbing his scarred hands and dragged him over to a bakery to press his face into the window and stare at the sweets.

“Can we go in there?” Hawthorne asked eagerly looking between Azriel and me. Azriel looked to me for some guidance, letting me control the situation. Nodding my head, Azriel led the three of us into the bakery and let the boy pick what he wanted and got me my favorite treat too.

I led Hawthorne back outside so we could eat, take in the sights, and talk to Hawthorne like we needed to.

“Hey Hawthrone, remember the conversation from last night? Can me and Azriel talk to you about it?” Hawthrone seemed more downtrodden at the reminder of last night but nodded his head.

“Hawthorne, I got to visit your dad before we left, and I just wanted you to know that he isn’t going to be able to come home. And because of that, we need to find you a good home.” Azriel started out, not telling the boy his father wasn’t going to come home. Rhys did have to make an example and couldn’t just pardon him because he had a son.

“Azriel and I have been talking with some people, and we’re wondering what you want to do,” I said, handing the boy a napkin to clean his face as he ate. He glanced between Azriel and me, then down at the table.

“Where would I go if Daddy can’t take me?” he asked shyly.

“Well, we could find you a loving home here, in the city. Where you would be cared for and get to learn all kinds of things with kids your age and everything. Another choice is we find you a home back at your camp, somewhere that’d be able to care for you, and you’d get to be with other Illyrians your age.” Hawthorne seemed to think the two options over. Then Azriel looked at me and I nodded.

“Or” Azriel started, “You could stay with us, and we could raise you. Then you’d stay with Cassian and us, get to meet the High Lord and Lady, and all our friends, while going to school here in Velaris. And in a few years, we’d take you to a camp called Windhaven and you’d train to be a warrior.” Hawthorne’s eyes got wider and wider as Azriel continued, looking back and forth between us two, his grin starting to match mine.

“So. Which would yo-“ Azriel didn’t finish as the tiny Illyrian lunged over the table into both of us.

“YOU I WANNA STAY WITH YOU!” Hawthorne yelled excitedly, gripping the both of us as I laughed.

Azriel looked at me, love flowing down the bond and him receiving the same back from me at the new addition to the family.

851 notes · View notes

angelickisscs · 4 months ago

Text

i’ve been waiting for you ~ blurb ‧₊˚

୨ ୧ ˚₊ pairing ~ jude bellingham x reader

summary: your sisters poor time keeping abilities lead you to seeing a childhood crush once again !

y/s/n: your sisters name

THE DROPLETS OF water sliddown your windscreen, racing one another to the bottom but rarely did they make it, your wipers soon intervening with whatever fun they were having. With each second that passed, it became increasingly obvious how much time had passed since you had text your sister that you were outside.

You had decided to be a good older sister and offer to pick her up from her friend’s house. Though with the knowledge you had now, you would never be doing that again.

It felt creepy lingering outside of this family’s home, staring up at their front door in hope that it would finally open. You were yet to meet any of them, only just getting back from university, a fact that did not help with pleading your unfortunate case.

With one final glimpse of effort, you attempted to ring your sister once again. You watched as it got further through the familiar song that you had subjected yourself to listening to at least ten times by now. Only on the final ring did she pick up, her voice honeyed.

“You alright?” She asked upon answering obviously forgetting about your previously made deal to pick her up at eleven.

“Yeah, I’m outside.” Your voice was short as you leant your head against the headrest. Not only were you tired, but you were also annoyed. It had already been a long day and it was slowly stretching itself out even more.

Hearing a small gasp come through the line, the sounds of a duvet rustling coming afterwards, there was nothing to do but wait.

“Shit, my bad sorry. I will be outside in a second.” Your sister hastily said, hanging up not second later. With that small hint of hope returning to you, you turned back on your engine having decided to warm up your car slightly for her.

But your body soon blocked its entrance, a text pinging loudly through your phone. At first you ignored it, thinking it was one of your friends or even your parents but a second and third following forced you into reluctantly picking it up.

Can you come to the door pleaseeee?

With an umbrella preferably

I’ll pay for your petrol and everything if you do it :))

All were from your sister, her attempts at bribery leaving you ever so slightly proud but the fact she had decided to use them on you was mildly insulting.

No??I’m not knocking at a stranger’s door at 11:30 at night. You responded and without a second thought, you put your phone back down.

This time, it was your phone that was ringing.

“We are the only ones here, swear.” Yet again, you had no time to say anything before she was speaking. “Well, his older brother might be here but he’s not sure and even if he is, he wont care.”

One thing you were not good at was turning someone down so only five minutes of convincing later you had your hood up, strolling down the driveway you had parked a mere five metres away from. You tucked an umbrella away in your hand, having no use of it as you had been smart enough to put on a coat before you left.

Your mind was afar, not in the current but rather anywhere but. You were alert to sounds still however, your head snapping up upon hearing the door open. Words prepped themselves to take part in a harsh scolding though, when a man stood putting on his own coat in the doorway, they found themselves useless.

He noticed you only when you paused in your tracks, the gravel you had forgotten you were currently walking on creasing under your trainers with a loud noise.

The mans head turned to the side, his eyebrows furrowing into one line. “Can I help you?”

His words were slow with hesitation, it becoming painfully clear that you were not the only one unsure of what to do in this situation. He moved out of the wooden doors’ way, closing it behind him as he closed it behind him.

You could feel nothing but full body paralysis in that second, your mind whirring as even you were confused as to why you were here, as to why you ever let your sister talk you into this.

“Oh, I am y/s/n older sister. I am here to pick her up.” Shoving your hands in your pockets, you shuffled around on your feet in discomfort. The man continued to stare at you, as if he was validating your excuse as to why you had to be standing outside his house so late at night.

A part of you recognised him, having gone to the same primary school basically a decade ago. The two of you were in the same year but not class and for that reason had failed to ever do more than send each other a smile. Maybe it was during lunch or a mixed PE lesson where they forced the two classes to merge for whatever reason, they both had one thing in common, it never went past a smile.

Even if you did have an eight-year-olds crush on him for the span of a day, or two if you wanted to push facts, you never cared to learn his name.

A part of you knew when your heart speeding up when you saw his confusion riddled, bambi-like eyes once again was paired with the instantaneous jelly like feeling that riddled your leg, that sadly enough for you, the childhood crush hadn’t stayed so childish.

“Right, of course. Jobe told me you were coming.” He nodded slowly, taking in your dishevelled appearance. Making no attempt to hide his actions, his eyes had started on your face though soon they were heading downwards even if it was with the speed of a snail. Never had you felt this embarrassed before, having failed to change out of your Disney themed pyjama before leaving your house that night. On top of that, you were wearing a thick, baggy jumper with yet another thick coat on top.

Upon finishing his look-fest, his eyes met with yours, a pink hue settling within his cheeks. “Jude, nice to meet you.”

He held his hand out for you, a silent offer that you only caught onto when he cleared out of his throat awkwardly.

“Shit, yeah. I’m y/n.” You panicked slightly, those words of harsh reprimand that were in preparation for your sister coming back with the speed of light to hide underneath your tongue until it was time.

Jude laughed slightly as your wobbling hand met with his for a handshake. He could feel the anxiety radiating of your body as if you were a lamp. Although, he was in no position to talk, feeling a similar sense of nervousness at the shock of finally having the chance to be in front of you.

He had failed miserably at recognising you at first, having not seen you since the end of primary school. But there was only so much he could forget a face like yours no matter how hard he tried to.

“I love your pyjamas.” He nodded his head downwards, pointing towards them.

You were about to respond when the door opened once again, this time being the person you were expecting to see. With no umbrella, your sister walked out of the door with a deep frown on her face.

She approached you, snatching said object out of your hand so she could lift it above her head. “I have been waiting for you. Hey Jude, nice seeing you.” She took a second to look behind her at the man across from you.

“I cannot believe you took so long.”

Your head recoiled backwards. This time, you were at fault for forgetting the sass that your sister had within her. You had not been a victim of it for quite a while so you would have to give yourself a break this time around.

“Nice to meet you too.” Finalising your almost-conversation with Jude with the first thing that came to your mind, you followed your sister’s almost stop like movements towards the car.

“You made me linger around in their house so you could flirt with him?” She asked immediately when she had slammed the car door shut, looking at you pointedly.

Whilst you started the car for the third time that night, you dedicated a second to rolling your eyes at her with as much energy as you could muster. “Firstly, I was sat out here for like fifteen minutes before you picked up and secondly, I did not know that saying hello to someone was classified as flirting.”

She sighed heavily at you as her head shook side to side like a disappointed mother.

“It is not. But by the way the two of you were blushing at one another, it would have a high chance of either classifying itself as flirting or just embarrassing.”

You lifted your hand up to slap the back of head despite the nagging feeling of butterflies in your stomach.

If there was one thing you were certainly doing for a second time in life, it would be picking up your sister.

#୨୧ angelickisscs ࿐#jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham blurb

342 notes · View notes