#nothing she could do to stop it and if she did stop it she would destroy everything but she still feels like she let him down i think | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

1d1195 · 2 days ago

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Pucking Rookie IV

Read Pucking Rookie here | ~8k words

From me: slow burning!!!

Warnings: ANGST violence. CW: Signs of abuse.

Summary: Harry is very hot. Very sweet. VERY protective.

“Hey everyone,” she greeted brightly. “How’s everyone today?” She asked while setting down a tray of eight glasses and two pitchers of water on the table.

“Wonderful, baby, so excited to have you.”

She nearly knocked the glasses over (fortunately, since they were water glasses, they were only plastic). She made eye contact with him and felt her heart completely stop for a few beats. Kael smiled wickedly in return.

Fuck.

She kept her smile in place. “What can I get you to drink?” She asked. After eight years, she already knew what he wanted so she focused on his teammates.

“We were hoping to see The Chargers tonight,” Kael told her. “Do they come here often?”

She didn’t respond. “We have a few specials tonight, so if you have any questions, please let me know,” then she sauntered away to place the drink order.

“Already know what I want, baby?” He called. “That’s so sweet!”

She ignored him. Taking deep breaths she headed to the kitchen. Louis wasn’t in yet. Harry didn’t know she was working. Which meant the rest of the team thought she wasn’t working too. Marc and Michael probably had their suspicions that she was with Harry. So, no one knew she was there. Not really.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

It was probably just going to be an hour. He had his team with him. It wasn’t like they could have a private conversation in the middle of a restaurant. Yeah, he would probably tease and torture her for the better part of that hour, but she could be civil. She could pretend. She had for ages. He didn’t know she was working for The Chargers—she was sure he had an idea that she might be. But the afternoon set it in stone.

He was such a dick. It was the first time she had seen him face to face since she moved out. Everything about him made her skin crawl and she hated it. Every touch and kiss between them seemed tainted now. All those good memories, dates, hockey games, everything felt ruined. Each interaction was colored now with the hindsight that he didn’t love her. Not the way she did. Not the way she expected him to love her for ever and ever. It wasn’t fair. She didn’t deserve that. She knew she didn’t deserve that.

So why did he make her feel undeserving of it ever again?

Kael and his teammates came and went fortunately. Just as she predicted. Only a little over an hour. She refrained from speaking directly to Kael and focused on the group as a whole.

When Kael left, she was well past the feeling of relief. There should have been a stronger word for how liberated she felt. She used the bathroom, splashed cold water on her face, and took a moment to process everything. It was just like Kael to come in and make her feel like shit without even trying. Louis was supposed to be in, so at least she had that going for her.

“Hey love,” Louis called. “Everything good?” She probably looked a little shaken, so she wasn’t surprised he asked. She felt shaken.

“Good,” she smiled assuredly. She flitted around the room, ducked behind the bar, and went about her day. It was a busy night, and she wasn’t going to let Kael sour her shift that he had next to nothing to do with. So she didn’t. The next hour ticked on quickly and she was feeling more herself as the time stretched between Kael’s departure and the present.

“Hi baby,” he cooed.

Her arms felt numb almost instantly, she was lucky she didn’t drop her tray. Her fight or flight swept her and just made her freeze. She turned as she had earlier in the day and looked at him. “Hi,” she said curtly. He was alone, which made her nervous.

“I figured you must get a break soon. I’d like to talk.”

“Not for a while. And it’s busy,” at least that wasn’t a lie. “So I might not take one tonight.”

Louis was hurrying about from kitchen to back room, to front of house. It was busy as it could be, but she wanted to keep an eye on him. If Kael got her alone, she wasn’t sure she would be able to control her emotions as well as if she had someone that knew she was not in a situation she wanted to be in just by looking at her. Louis wasn’t Harry, but he would know all the same that she was uncomfortable.

Kael smiled brightly.

Well, at least someone that cared ifshe was uncomfortable.

“I’ll wait,” he offered.

“Great,” she deadpanned.

She went to the back room and wished that there was a group of Chargers there. If she called any of them, she knew they would break curfew and be there for her in a heartbeat. The thought of Kael anywhere near her would make Callie incensed for ruining her day. Niall would be protective in his own way and focused on her. Asher and Lang would get her away from The Locker Room and make sure Kael never set foot there again.

She could hardly imagine what Harry would do to him.

But she lied. She told Harry that she wasn’t working. The routines the boys had had in place prior to her arrival with the team had been disrupted more than she ever anticipated. It was nice they cared but it wasn’t fair to them to upheave their lives for her. She was just the photographer for the team. Their coach’s niece. They didn’t ask to have someone they needed to babysit.

She was an independent, self-sufficient person.

“You okay, love?” Louis asked.

She nodded and flitted around the room taking order and tried not to think about the feeling of Kael’s stare on the back of her head.

It was perhaps another hour, and Kael was true to his word in staying put. Fortunately, The Locker Room remained steadily busy. She didn’t have to lie about not taking her break. She foisted him off on another waiter who grew a little tired of him asking for her each time he went over. “Baby,” he snatched her hand as she went by.

She pulled away. “Kael, I’m busy,” she marched away before he could reach for her again.

Without warning a multitude of memories where he snagged her hand over the years filtered through her mind. His grip tight on her arm or hand. Never in a way that any outsider would notice. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she whispered to herself. She was going to call Harry. His wrath would be well worth it. At least Kael was scared of Harry and the team. Especially if he was outnumbered. She was shaking a little as she headed for the kitchen hoping to catch Louis at least.

“Hey,” Kael said grabbing her again as she passed too close to his table. This time he caught a real hold of her arm and pinned it to the table. To any other onlooker it would look like he was just keeping her in place holding onto her hand in almost a romantic kind of way. No one would see how his fingers dug into her skin, how she was feeling the ache of the hard wood against her knuckles and wrist bone like she just lost an arm-wrestling contest. “I just want to talk.”

She wanted nothing less. “Hey, Louis!” She called quickly and loudly enough so that he would be able to hear her over the din of the whole place regardless of where he had gone off too.

Within seconds Louis was there from the back room.

Harry was right beside him. His eyes narrowed at the sight of her arm on the table. Her mouth popped open in shock. She had no clue he was there. Most obviously, she didn’t want him to see this. “Oh fuck,” she whispered and tried to pry her hand away from Kael’s. She squirmed slightly as he refused to release her. He cupped his other hand gently on top of her arm trying to get her to stop.

Harry wasn’t supposed to be here. He was only supposed to come to her rescue because she couldn’t figure out what else she was to do. She was going to hide in the kitchen and wait.

Harry wasn’t supposed to be around Kael.

“Styles,” Kael practically sang. He didn’t release her arm. “Didn’t know you were here. Tough loss today. I hope it’s the same tomorrow, to be honest.”

He didn’t take the bait. His nostrils flared. “Let go of her hand Crowe,” Harry snarled stepping closer to him.

“We were just talking, right baby?” Kael smiled and took his free hand to cup the side of her face. She turned her face away and brushed it away from her skin.

Harry continued to approach him—up close and personal. If they were on the ice the cages of their helmets would have been touching. “Let her go, right fucking now,” his shoulders were heaving.

“It’s fine,” she croaked. Harry didn’t even acknowledge her.

Was he trying to keep it together? Not make a scene, maybe? Harry was quick to anger—like most hockey players. He probably would have torn Kael limb from limb by now if this wasn’t a local place where fans and the rest of the team went.

“Let go of her,” her he repeated, his voice was so deep. His body shaking.

“Harry, I’m fine—”

He ignored her still and Kael continued keeping her in place despite her squirming. She wanted to whimper as he squeezed her tighter and pressed her hand harder into the table. To the untrained eye, you wouldn’t know. But Harry was watching like this was his favorite movie and they were at the climax of the plot. He saw the way she winced and her body bend slightly as he pressed harder. “Mind your fucking business, Styles,” Kael shook his head. “This doesn’t involve—”

“She is m’business. Especially when you’re fucking hurting her,” the whole bar area went silent as they realized one of their favorite celebrities was about to punch the lights out of one of the best names in hockey. “If y’don’t let her go, m’gonna rip your hand off, Crowe. And m’gonna enjoy it,” he promised shaking his head. “Let go of her.”

She wanted to move more but was utterly terrified. Harry could get in serious trouble. Kael wasn’t particularly dangerous, but his grip was making her whole arm ache. Harry’s threat made her stomach swoop; he was so ready to protect her. Of course that was nice, but she wanted to cry. Hurting one of the top professionals in the league (even if Harry was also at the top) was a great way to get a hefty suspension and fine if he was caught.

Just another way she was going to upend his perfectly normal, happy life.

“Harry, stop,” she begged.

“Yeah, Harry, stop,” Kael mimicked. But she inhaled sharply, pulling and moving again uselessly to try and get away from the grip he had on her wrist. She whimpered despite herself as the pain continued. “Mind your business Harry,” he snarled. “M’talking to my girlfriend.”

Harry didn’t acknowledge the comment. “Stop fucking touching her, Crowe.”

“She’s mine. I’ll do whatever I want to her.”

Harry stared at him, his gaze flicking to her wrist still pinned to the table. She was still squirming, looking to get away. Louis reached for her and Harry put his hand on his chest and pushed him away. He walked to the bar, grabbed a shot of whatever the bartender was pouring. His head tipped back as he sucked the liquid down. The quiet clink of his glass hitting the bar was the only sound in the room. Silently, Harry plucked the rings he wore when he wasn’t playing hockey off his fingers. He tucked them into the inside pocket of his jacket. It felt like the seconds were ticking by in slow motion. Not even the pain from Kael’s tight grip on her hand was enough to draw her attention away from Harry’s movements.

She swallowed, her eyes pleading with Harry not to do it. It wasn’t that bad. She could take it. The pain she was feeling now was hardly anything in comparison to what he could do. This was nothing.

“One more time, Crowe... Let go. Of her,” Harry’s voice was even. Measured. It had the tone of I’m not asking again.

“She’s mine, Styles. Find someone else to stalk.”

Harry smirked, shook his head, and his eyes flickered to hers for only a second. Then they were back on Kael. “Oh. No. No she’s very much not yours.”

As slow as the seconds had ticked by, they all came rushing back at full speed; maybe time even sped up. Harry delivered a lightning-fast punch to Kael’s nose causing him to gasp and drop her hand as he instinctively reached for his face. With the toe of his boot, Harry tipped his chair before Kael could get his bearings, and he fell flat to his back. The chair broke into pieces with his weight. He gasped, trying to right himself and protect his nose from bleeding everywhere. Harry reached down before Kael could get a grip. He yanked him up by the collar and front of his shirt. A stupid, ugly orange and blue sweatshirt that Harry was delighted to wrinkle hard in his hands. Before Kael was barely on his feet, Harry hauled him backward. Shoved him hard into the bar so the edge dug into his spine, no doubt. Without pause, Harry delivered a solid punch to his cheek, a heel stomp to his foot, and knee to his stomach.

Kael bent forward, gasping for air and Harry’s breathing was as even as if he was sleeping.

Her hand went to her mouth and the other to her stomach as she tried to hold herself together. Everyone looked in pure shock. Surely someone was supposed to try and stop Harry. Even if he was a hockey player for the town that everyone loved. But given he incapacitated Kael in a matter of thirty seconds it wasn’t like anyone wanted to try and stop him. Even Louis was speechless and looked in horror. “Are y’gonna touch her again?” He didn’t say anything, which was the wrong answer as Harry twisted him in an instant, pressing his face down into the bar, pulling his arm back behind his body. “I said, are y’gonna touch her again?”

“No,” he rasped.

“M’letting y’keep your hand. Don’t make me regret it,” he snapped and shoved him a final time into the bar. He dropped a few hundreds on the bar for the damage and his drink. “Louis, keep the change,” he muttered over his shoulder without sparing another glance at Kael. “S��time t’go, Bunny,” he murmured lowly for no one else to hear but her. He placed an arm around her waist, and tugged her toward the exit. Every pair of eyes followed them.

“B-but m-my shift—”

Without missing a beat, he grabbed his wallet from his back pocket and stuffed it in the front pocket of her apron. “Let’s go,” he repeated and ushered her outside.

Harry opened his passenger door and gestured for her to get in.

She looked nervous, which made Harry uneasy. This strong, brave woman who bantered with unruly hockey players and dealt with fans and drunk patrons looked a bit lost. “What about my car— I mean... your other—”

“Get in the car, Rookie,” he ordered.

She followed his direction. Harry waited until she was safely buckled inside before closing her in. He locked the door for the short walk around his car, only unlocking it so he could slip inside. Once seated and buckled, he turned the car on and immediately exited the parking lot. After driving in silence for several moments Harry dropped his hand on her thigh like it was an instinct.

He didn’t ask if she was okay. Which was kind of him, because how could she be? Her heart was thudding in her chest, her wrist hurt, and her brain was a mess. Harry’s hand on her leg should have made her uncomfortable given he didn’t ask. But it was almost too comforting, and she dreaded the idea that he would have to let go of her eventually.

“Don’t y’dare cry over him, bunny,” his voice was tight.

She sniffled, not realizing she was, in fact, crying. She swiped her hands across her cheeks. “Sorry,” she whispered looking toward the window.

Harry shook his head and sighed. His hand squeezed her leg while he pressed his head back into the seat hard—if the head rest wasn’t there and he didn’t have to watch the road, she was certain his eyes would be facing the ceiling of his car, searching for strength somewhere above him. His jawline seemed sharper than ever as he clenched his teeth. “Y’don’t have t’apologize.”

“Thank you,” she croaked quietly. “For doing that, I...” she swallowed hard. “I don’t really know what I would have done,” she admitted. The scenario didn’t seem to play out in full if Harry wasn’t there. Yeah, Louis would have helped, but this was different. Harry didn’t say anything. She pulled his wallet out of her apron and placed it in one of the cup holders between them. “I don’t want—”

“It’s yours.”

“Harry, it’s not that—”

“Bunny, I haven’t stopped thinking ‘bout you all afternoon. Since I met you, really. I can’t stop. I used t’think ‘bout nothing but hockey. But s’like you’re the only thing on m’mind now. M’happy when I see you around the rink taking pictures. M’happy when y’try t’skate on m’pond. I love our lessons, and I want t’have y’in my house all the time. M’happy when you’re around. Happier than I’ve been in years, and I didn’t even know I wasn’t completely happy. I can’t have one-night stands anymore. I tried, I did. You’re a long shot. I know that. Someone who deserves a guy so much better than a hot-tempered hockey player as evident by the piece of shit that hurt you in so many ways,” His voice is quiet. “S’not a secret I like you. A lot. If we can only be friends and roommates—because m’sure as hell not bringing y’back to that sorry excuse of an apartment—then s'what I’ll do.”

There was only a brief beat of silence while she contemplated all he said. “I worked really hard on my apartment,” she whispered.

This seemed to soften him a little. He sighed. “It’s adorable, Bunny. It is. But m’constantly worried you’re going t’be kidnapped, robbed, or worse. You can move in this week,” he insisted. “I have the day off after tomorrow and I was going t’spend it at the gym t’lift with the guys so we can pack and move your shit all the same instead.”

“Harry, I don’t think that will work... I have to pay out the rest of my lease if I move out early.”

“That’s bullshit,” he scoffed. She didn’t say anything. Because she kind of agreed that it was bullshit. But she couldn’t move in with Harry. Not when he just admitted he liked her the way she did. It set her heart into a dramatic flutter. Being legally bound would hopefully be enough of a reason for Harry to agree to let her stay until her lease ran out. Then she could figure out her next steps. “Fine,” he decided after a moment. “The black debit card in m’wallet will take care of it.”

She snorted unable to hide her shock. “Harry, you can’t—”

“M’done arguing with you ‘bout this, Bunny.” She frowned and looked at her hand, turning her wrist and wincing ever so slightly. “Is your wrist okay?” He asked.

She shrugged and answered instinctively. “It hurts; but I’ve had worse,” she gasped at her own mistake almost instantly. “Oh fuck, I mean—” she stopped speaking. It didn’t matter. It was too late. Harry saw through it and understood exactly what she meant. He clenched the steering wheel tighter and he swallowed. The bob in his throat looked like he was drinking a glass of nails.

“Did he ever hurt you like this before?” Harry’s voice was an octave lower than she ever heard it. His eyes narrowed as he stared forward.

She didn’t want to make matters any worse, so she didn’t speak. Didn’t move. For several seconds, the car seemed so silent it was as if the tires weren’t even on the ground anymore or if she was breathing.

“Harry,” she whispered eventually.

Harry took a deep breath not liking the tone of her voice and pulled off to the side of the road.

“What are we— Harry!”

Before she could understand what was happening, Harry was outside and opening his trunk and the car doors locked her inside. Instantly, he pulled out one of the back-up sticks he had in case his two in the locker room broke in the middle of a game (or if he wanted to practice while he was home on the pond out back). He slammed it hard on the pavement multiple times grunting as he did until the stick snapped. Then he grabbed a second and repeated this process again, swearing and cursing like he was imagining Kael was under the stick.

Once satisfied with his destruction, he collected the broken pieces and dropped them in the back before sitting in the driver’s seat again, his breathing only slightly elevated.

She stared at him wildly. Her eyes were wide and beautiful. “If he touches you again, m’killing him,” he said simply. It was a promise. His breath was heavy from the exertion.

She nodded; Harry put the car in drive and continued back toward his place. His hand went right back on her thigh, which she still found comforting and warm, even though she had only had the luxury of his hand on her for no more than a few minutes. “Okay,” she whispered hoping there wouldn’t be an again to speak of.

Harry let the silence linger again. “My apartment is the other way,” she reminded him.

He rolled his eyes. “I just told you, Rookie, y’not living there anymore.”

“Oh my God, Harry. You can’t be serious.”

He snorted. “No. I am. As a heart attack.”

“Harry I can’t move in—”

“Of course, y’can. I have like five bedrooms. Pick one. Pick three for all I care.”

She swallowed. “What if I pick your bedroom?” She was attempting to lighten the mood, maybe. Harry wasn’t sure. Or maybe she was trying (and failing) to be annoying. But Harry was never annoyed by her. He was amused at worst. She was adorable. Every little thing she did was adorable.

“Then it’s yours,” he shrugged. He was hardly home during the season anyway. With his niece, Mum, and Gem out of town, he wasn’t home much in the off-season either. He could easily move into another room if she wanted his. In fact, he probably would give her his room. It wasn’t the only one with a bathroom, but it had a nice tub that he knew was being wasted without proper use and it felt like she deserved a relaxing night to soak in the tub until she got pruney and everything else that stressed her in her life disappeared.

“I thought you didn’t bring women home to stay,” she reminded him.

“Never had one that I wanted t’bring home,” he shrugged.

She pressed her head to the window. He was quick. Didn’t miss a beat. “I’ll stay tonight, but I’m not moving in. My uncle is going to kill you.”

He shrugged. “S’a long line of Glacier Wolves who’ll want t’kill me before him.” She giggled softly under her breath. Harry glanced at her peripherally and smirked at the little smile that graced her lips. “M’niece is over a lot in the off season,” he told her. “Gem and Mum come by too. So s’had women there before.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Then, yeah. Never had a woman I wanted to bring home,” he repeated. Harry parked in his driveway, turned to her, his hand still on her thigh and honestly, she never wanted it to move.

“Are we still friends?” She blurted. He just admitted he liked her. It was no secret she liked him too. It could make things very awkward going forward so she wouldn’t blame him if he really didn’t want to be friends any longer.

“What a weird fucking question, Rookie,” he shook his head.

“Can you just tell me?”

“Yes, we’re still fucking friends. Despite the fact I would love t’be more.”

She closed her eyes. “He really fucked me up, Harry,” she whispered. “He... he wanted some trophy girlfriend that doted on him and worshipped him for being a good hockey player. He didn’t want me to be my own person. He didn’t want me to have my own hobbies or interests. Like I was nothing, a nobody—”

“Rookie,” he whispered.

“—and I just let him treat me that way. Because it was easier than confronting it—”

“Rookie.”

“—So I don’t want to keep falling for you because you... you’re so talented and you will overshadow me and you should. But it’s so fucking cold living in the shadow of someone else and I don’t think I can do it anymore.”

He winced. “Bunny,” he wanted her to stop.

“I don’t love that nickname either,” she sighed. “I want to. It’s cute and it’s even cuter when you say it. But the connotation of being a puck bunny is just more of what Kael insinuated and I don’t—”

“I don’t think you are a puck bunny. S’not why I call you that. Y’wrinkle your nose like a bunny when y’concentrate. S’the first thing I noticed when I met y’taking pictures rink-side. And you’re always going and going like the little Energizer bunny. But mostly, s’because you’re so fucking cute like a bunny. S’honestly nearly nauseating sometimes.”

Her heart skipped a beat. She swallowed trying to keep all the feelings of falling for another hockey player at bay. “So, I make you sick?”

He smiled. “Excessively.”

“And you want me anyway?”

“Excessively,” he whispered cupping her face. She leaned into the touch, closed her eyes, and sank into the way his hand caressed her cheek for a moment.

Sighing, she opened her eyes and looked at him shyly. “You probably know that he cheated on me,” she reminded him. “And the worst of it, I don’t know if it was the first time, and I don’t want to know. Because I already felt stupid for letting him belittle me and letting me forget parts of myself.”

Harry tilted his head back fully staring at the ceiling for a moment. “Yeah...” And now Harry knew this wasn’t the first time he had hurt her either. Whether it was intentional or not.

“And...” she swallowed. “I don’t think you’re like him... if you take anything away from this conversation, please know that I think you’re nothing like him. You’re up front about most of everything. He kept things from me. But... you’re you and you could have any woman you want in any city you want. I don’t fault you for that—I really hope you know that... but I don’t want to be a number anymore, Harry. I don’t want to feel like an idiot, and I don’t think you would intentionally make me feel like an idiot but—”

“Bunny,” he interrupted, turning back to gaze into her eyes so intensely it felt like everything around them disappeared except for the space between them. The seriousness in his green eyes made her stomach flip. They seemed darker. Like the color was changing to a darker shade to explain how serious he was and how he meant every word that spilled from his mouth. “I think you’re brilliant,” he whispered. “In every facet of your life. I’ve thought about nothing but hockey m’whole life. It has been eat, sleep, and breathe ice, pucks, and sticks. The second I met you, every thought has been ‘bout you,” he reminded her. “If I never played another game of hockey, I really think I would be okay s’long as y’were around.”

Her heart felt like it was broken and whole all at the same time. It was too sweet. She bit the inside of her lip. “Well, I don’t want that,” she whispered. “You’re quite good,” she reminded him.

He chuckled. “The point remains, Rookie... I want you t’have everything y’could possibly want. I want t’do anything I can t’help y’achieve anything y’want t’do.”

She looked at her lap. “I can’t believe you went to get a drink.”

“I really didn’t think y’would be there... was hoping I’d run into Louis and maybe he would know if y’were okay. Y’never answered my texts. Didn’t tell me y’made it home.” he frowned. “Why did y’lie t’me, Bunny?”

She took a deep breath. “The whole team has been so nice to me,” she whispered. “I’m not really used to that...” she trailed off. “Callie got so many penalties, you had to interrupt your post-game cool down to walk me to your car, everyone wants to take shifts to watch me... you have to drive me home, give me one of your car... I’ve seriously disrupted your lives... and it was all just too much today. I don’t want to bother you guys. You didn’t sign up to have a kid or a pet you need to watch. Uncle Charlie didn’t have to give me a job with a hockey team. I feel like I didn’t earn anything. It’s so sweet that all of you care, but it’s weird for me...”

God, she was cute. Even sad she was cute. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “Y’haven’t disrupted our lives,” he promised. “We’d do this for anyone.”

“That’s comforting I suppose.”

“C’mon, s’late... we have a game tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Harry,” she whispered.

“Course, Rookie,” he squeezed her leg one more time and then got out of the car. (As she predicted, she hated the feeling of Harry’s hand anywhere else but her thigh.)

Entering his house, Harry kicked off his shoes and headed down the hall toward the bedrooms. She texted her group chat with Michael and Marc as she flopped onto the couch until she got more direction from Harry.

I’m at someone’s house for the night so don’t worry about me.

Michael reacted to her message with a thumbs up.

It better be a HOT hockey player.

Michael reacted to Marc’s message with a thumbs down.

Good night, Marc!

I want every INCH of detail

That earned a vomiting emoji from Michael. I do NOT want any details.

GOOD NIGHT MARC

Harry hated that he had a big house. If they were at her apartment, they could have been squished in her bed right then. She wouldn’t be down the hall and half of Harry’s mattress wouldn’t have felt so cold. He rubbed his eyes and sighed. Fortunately, his phone vibrated almost immediately. Like she somehow knew he was awake.

Are you awake?

M-hmm

Can we get breakfast, please?

Harry would throw himself down a set of stairs for her if she asked. “You could jus’ come in here t’ask,” he called.

“I’m creating boundaries!” She answered from a guest room. “Besides this bed is comfy and I don’t want to get up,” she giggled.

“Well, I don’t want boundaries,” he grumbled to himself. He wondered if she slept without pants on. Not that it mattered. He was turned on by the thought of her naked in his bed or if she was in a full snow suit.

“What did you say?” She called.

“Nothing,” he grumbled and pressed the palm of his hand over the front of his shorts willing the blood to rush anywhere but his dick at the thought of her in a goddamn snow suit. “I just have t’shower,” he mumbled.

“Okay, I’ll be here,” she sighed, and Harry could picture her snuggling herself further into the mattress. Maybe it was for the best she was in another room. If she was there looking all cute and cuddly on his bed, he would have to quit hockey. He would probably spend the rest of his life worshipping her on his mattress in every possible way.

Plus, his dick would never be anything but hard.

“Jesus, fuck,” he sighed to himself under the spray of the warm shower. He tried to think about anything but her pretty self in the other room. In his house. In his bed. In his clothes. She was probably changing into her uniform from the night before, so at least he wouldn’t see her in the shirt and shorts he gave her to wear for bed.

He shook his head and focused on shower and not what it would feel like to press her against the tile or—

“Fuuuuck,” he touched his forehead against the tile. Hockey. Defense. Goals. Niall. That’s good. Niall, gross. Callie—FUCK Callie. Asher owes me ten dollars for betting Lang wouldn’t say “good effort” in their pool game the other day.

His shower took twice as long to shower because he had to actively think about something other than his pretty friend. Once he was out, he slipped into a pair of sweats and one of his long sleeve practice shirts. As he put on his deodorant, he realized it took him an embarrassing amount of time to realize what she was doing as he got dressed. “Rookie, you are not,” he called as he hurried down the hall.

“Not what?” She asked innocently.

“Doing my dish—Rookie, what the hell!”

“They were just there! And I was bored, Harry. Plus, you didn’t say I couldn’t!”

“I told you last time.”

“Well yeah, but that was last time.”

“Please stop,” he begged and rubbed a hand over his face. “We’re supposed t’be going t’breakfast.”

“Well, I figured while you took two years to get ready,” it couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes max but maybe his effort to not think about her in his shower took longer than he thought, “I would make myself useful,” she shrugged and set the final dish on the drying rack beside his sink. She turned the water off and ran the dishtowel over the counter and edge surrounding the sink. She turned, leaning against the counter. Her black and silver uniform top for The Locker Room was on her again. Her leggings from the night before clung to her legs like a second skin.

He wondered how she could look so cute after working a hectic, busy shift, then slept all night and it barely looked like she had a hair out of place. “What?” She asked looking down at her shirt. “Do I have something on this? We’ll have to stop at my apartment first if I do. I’m not going out with you to breakfast when you look hot and I look like trash,” she frowned.

He snorted. “Y’don’t look like trash, Rookie.”

“Well, do I smell or something?”

“No,” he shook his head and rolled his eyes. “You’re beautiful. Stunning really,” he shrugged one shoulder and reached out to touch her face. He skimmed his thumb along her cheek wishing he could lean in and kiss her until they were both breathless. He smiled softly enjoying the way her cheek warmed under his touch. For someone so snarky, she was awfully shy. “Let’s go,” he tilted his head toward the main hallway. He made his way before she could read into it as he was sure she was wont to do.

Harry opened her passenger door and smiled wickedly at her as she got in. “What?” She asked, her eyebrows pinching together.

“You think I’m hot,” he sang.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Harry chuckled, closing her inside.

Kael didn’t play because he was injured. The report sustained it happened at practice the day before but everyone on The Chargers bench knew. Kael kept his gear on but moved to the end of the bench for the starters and lines of his teammates that would be playing. He hardly cheered, hardly moved.

The rest of The Wolves sent death glares to everyone on the team. Harry was checked into the boards more times than he could count. But every time he caught sight of the pretty photographer twirling her wrist in between photos, he felt grateful for each hit. She continued to take pictures, placing her camera into the cutouts of the glass around the ice.

Kael hid from pictures from his own media specialist, the news outlets, and even the fans during the game and in between periods.

“Coward,” Asher growled as they left the ice and headed to the locker room at the end of the game. The group that typically resided in the back of The Locker Room was livid when they found out from Harry that Kael hurt her. They too must have seen the way she twisted her wrist around between pictures. Harry wondered if she noticed she was doing it. It ate at him that it wasn’t the first time that piece of garbage hurt her. There was nothing Harry could do—well, maybe if he ever did figure out time travel, he could. But for now, he could take the hits from Kael’s stupid team and make sure the pretty photographer was okay.

Besides.

He may have had a tough game physically, but Harry was truly on cloud nine.

“Sweetheart, you good?” Lang called from the front of the line heading back toward the locker room.

“I’m good!” She answered.

Harry didn’t even care that Niall was walking alongside her and not him. Or that Callie gave her arm a squeeze when he walked by. It didn’t bother him that Asher was as irate as him either.

Because the word Styles was on her body. It was purposeful. If Kael paid attention, he would see it. He would know she supported Harry, regardless of how outlandish it was (or wasn’t) that he defended her last night. Harry knew the second he saw it, that Kael was going to look at the pretty girl with his number on her and start fuming in his seat. Maybe that’s why his team aimed for him so vehemently throughout the game as well.

Whatever, Harry could take it.

It was well worth it to see his name on her jersey.

Harry realized it was his time to shine after they went out for breakfast. He drove her to get her car at Louis’. He followed her home to the shady apartment building. He wasn’t in the mindset to leave her for any bit of time given the night before. Maybe not for a good few days either if he had it his way. They had away games coming up so they would be all but trapped together on a plane, a bus, and in a hotel so that was in his favor.

He really hoped she would be in a nearby room at the hotel. Or better yet, there wouldn’t be enough rooms, and he could share his with her.

“Why’d you choose eleven?” She asked when she came out of her room after getting ready. She was fluffing her pretty hair and tugging at the hem of the jersey that she had put on. It took a moment to register in Harry’s mind that she was talking to him and was anticipating a response. In her mind, it was no big deal that she was nonchalantly wearing his name and number. That she was by far the prettiest thing he had ever seen. The sweetest person he knew.

He swore his heart skipped a beat as his vision refocused on the lovely girl wearing his name on her back.

He cleared his throat. “S’the first number I ever got,” he shrugged. “But now I say m’so good, m’number twice.”

She grinned and laughed quietly under her breath as she put earrings on with The Chargers logo. “I like that. You are very good. I’ve seen a lot of hockey myself. I like to think I’m a good judge of ability.”

When Harry was younger, he thought if he could have a superpower, he would want to time travel. As he got older it changed a bit, he wanted super strength so he could be the strongest hockey player. Read minds so he could predict the movements of opponents on the ice. Since he met her, he returned to the tried and true: if he could time travel, he could figure out twenty seconds after he kissed her if she hated him or kiss him back, he would have done it right then.

He smirked. “So m’the lucky one today?” He asked pulling on the sleeve.

“I don’t know, does wearing someone’s jerseys constitute as lucky for the day?”

He nodded. “Yeah, very much so, Rookie.”

“Then sure; you’re very lucky, Harry,” she rolled her eyes.

Harry had to bite the inside of his lip to keep his smile from splitting his face in half. He turned away slightly and caught sight of a string of pictures on her little kitchen bar. “What’s all this?” He asked, picking up a photo and inspecting it. It was one of the ones she took while Harry was practicing before the rest of the team showed up. Another photo she got laying down on the ice of Callie’s skates when Harry wanted to rip his teammate’s arm off for holding her so close that day. One from Niall’s empty net. Another of Asher’s locker, his jersey on display. A close up of the C on Lang’s jersey. One of just the empty rink—no fans, no players, nothing.

“Oh... I don’t know,” she looked away shyly piling them together. “I was playing with the idea of making a series of photos,” she flipped one over to indicate the back showed the number three in the line. “You guys are attractive and stuff, but I thought there was a lot of beauty in the little things behind the bench, you know? It’s not just fights and points. The rink is so pretty,” she shrugged.

Harry grabbed her hand before she could stack any more of them away. He looked at each of the pictures painstakingly selected from the hundreds of photos she took each day. The way the light shone off a helmet, the way a shadow fell on the bench. “They’re beautiful, Bunny. Why don’t y’do it?”

“Do what?”

“Make it a series?”

She shook her head. “No... I don’t know. Not many people care about sports photography,” she shrugged. “Not like this anyway.”

“Rookie, I think every team owner and manager in the league would pay t’have this set in their arena.”

“No way, there’s not a single headshot of a star player. In sports, the only thing that really sells by far is you guys and your pretty faces,” she patted his cheek. “It’s tragic, I have some incredible photos of a few baseball diamonds at sunset. But there’s no fans and no players so it just wouldn’t sell well.”

“Show me,” he urged.

She sighed and put her jacket over “We’re going to be late, Harry. Uncle Charlie is already going to be annoyed with me that I’m wearing your jersey. And so will the rest of the team.”

“They all had their turn, Rookie, y’made me wait forever,” he grumbled. They didn’t have to be annoyed. They didn’t have a crush on her the way Harry did. They all knew that. His teammates were his family, but they made him cranky no less; teasing him about how smitten he was about their photographer.

She smiled sadly. “Harry,” she sighed. “I’ll show you another time.”

“Promise?” He pleaded.

“Promise?” She repeated in disbelief. Harry was nearly thirty years old and sounded like he was in kindergarten.

“Promise you’ll show me,” he said pointedly.

“Alright, yeah," She shook her head, sighed with a smile still on her lips. "I promise.”

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach

@straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals

@angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams

@summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland

@lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles

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@kissitnhekitchen @boopookie @indierockgirrl @stylesfever @michellekstyles

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@jmp1494 @fangirl509east @sideboobrry11 @drewrry @dutchtheatrelore @copiastricycle

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist here

#harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #one direction #one direction writing #hockey!harry styles #pucking rookie

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aaagustd · 2 days ago

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friends & lovers | jww (m)

title: friends & lovers pairing: jeon wonwoo x female reader genre/rating: fluff, smut, best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers; 18+ summary: Sometimes the love you’re searching for has been right beside you all along. Patience is the key…the right moment will present itself eventually. wc: 2.2k warnings: swearing, unprotected sex (reader is on the pill), restraints (wrist pinning), grinding/dry humping, clit stimulation, slight orgasm control, cumshots, crying, begging, soft sex, pet names, nipple play, cum play, aftercare release date: february 9th, 2025; 9:23pm est author’s note: Hello!! This was a bday gift I wrote for @beomcoups a while back. Huge shoutout to @hobeemin for beta reading it for me at the time. I’m currently moving all of my old content here, so if you’ve read this before don’t be alarmed lol. I’m the original author.

“People are staring at us.”

You both giggle as the carousel makes its final round, shyly peeking over your shoulders at the crowd of people watching you. Somehow, Wonwoo managed to get the ride operator to start it up with just you two on.

Both of you hopped from seat to seat like you used to do when you were kids, and your parents had to threaten to take you home if you didn’t remain seated. Although you’re adults now, you’re still fond of the old habit.

“So, let them,” you shrug. “Maybe they’ve got eyes for the cutie on the horse.”

“Can you stop?”

Wonwoo throws his head back when he laughs and clutches his stomach, giving you a glimpse of the smile you haven’t seen in months.

Ever since he and his girlfriend broke things off, he’s been cooped up in his apartment, feeling down and not wanting to be bothered. You’re glad he accepted your offer to go to the fair and take his mind off things. He says he’s fine and looks better than he did five months ago, but you know that something’s still bothering him, and you hope that tonight you can dig deep enough to find it.

“Why would I? This is fun.”

You both step off as the ride stops, feeling high with adrenaline. Suddenly, you feel his fingertips at your sides, and he playfully tickles you, making you shriek and squirm.

“Wonwoo!”

On-lookers coo and clutch their chest, mainly older couples and romantics. Neither of you even notices the admiration they have in their eyes until someone grabs your attention.

“You two are such a beautiful couple. May my husband and I have a picture with you? You just remind us of our younger selves,” a lady in her golden years asks with a genuine smile.

Immediately, you begin to break the news to her, but Wonwoo interferes.

“Oh, ma’am, we’re not—”

“Sure! I’ll take it. I have long arms,” he insists, taking her phone when she hands it to him. Wonwoo throws his arm over your shoulder and holds it high enough to capture all four of you. He takes the picture but doesn’t stop there. “Now one for us.”

After returning the woman’s phone to her and her husband, he pulls his device from his pocket and takes another, but this time he brings you in a bit closer. He wraps his arm around you a little tighter and whispers in your ear as he snaps the picture.

“For new memories,” he says to you.

You release a shaky breath when you disperse, and you can’t do anything but smile and wave as the couple bids their farewells.

You never could explain the butterflies in your stomach whenever Wonwoo would be so close to you in that way. It always seems so intimate, but you wouldn’t dare say it out loud. You know it’s only those buried feelings that are causing you to react this way and nothing you should feed into.

When you’re finally alone, you turn to him and ask, “So, what now? Are you ready to go?”

“A little bit,” he answers.

“Well, don’t let me hold you up. I’m probably just gonna go grab something to eat until my roommate’s done fucking her boyfriend. I had fun, so thanks for coming—”

You pause when Wonwoo shakes his head.

“I said I was ready to leave here,” he informs. “Not leave you.”

“Oh, okay. So umm, where do you wanna go?”

“Aren’t you hungry?” he quizzes. “We can go grab something.”

You open your mouth to speak, but he continues.

“Or…we can meet at my place, and we can order something. You can stay over if you want.”

“Really?”

“Yup. I don’t mind,” he assures.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to rush you—”

Your mouth shuts when he gives you a look, but your smile grows when he turns away and starts walking toward the parking lot.

Both of you get in your vehicles and drive towards his apartment, the tingling sensation still coursing through your veins. You try your best to calm yourself before you get there, but as you get out of your car, your legs are wobbly and shaky, indicating that you are far from okay.

Wonwoo turns to you as his door opens.

“Wanna shower?”

Gratefully, you sigh. “Yes, please.”

After a shower, slices of pizza, and a couple of movies, you and Wonwoo lay awkwardly in his bed. Both of you scroll through your phones, trying to ignore the thick tension in the air. There’s something on his tongue; you can hear it. You want to ask him, but you don’t know how.

Eventually, you start to believe it’s just your nerves. You haven’t hung out like this since before his two-year-long relationship, so you figure you just need some re-adjusting. You wiggle your way towards him so you can familiarize yourself with the feeling of being so close to him.

It isn’t long before his fingers start playing in your hair, making your eyes slightly heavy. You roll over on your back so you can look at him and try to stop yourself from falling asleep so quickly.

His smile greets you and leaves you slightly curious.

“What?” you giggle.

“Nothing, I was just thinking.”

“About?”

He sighs. “I missed you. That’s all.”

When his eyes begin to wander, you follow them once they’ve set on a particular sight. It just happens to be your thighs, and you start tugging down your borrowed shirt upon the discovery.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, more to himself than anything.

You clear your throat. “Wonwoo, I’m glad you’re feeling like yourself again, but I don’t think I can be your rebound. I’m not—”

“What? No, love. It’s definitely not like that. It’s just…Fuck it.” He shifts in his spot so he can speak to you face to face, leaving you no option but to look at him, even though you’ve been avoiding eye contact since you got here. “I need to tell you something.”

“Okay, what is it?”

“It’s about the breakup…why it happened,” he explains.

You blink a few times. You never knew the reason behind the split or how it happened; it wasn’t your place to ask. Now that he’s finally telling you, there’s an uneasy feeling growing inside of you.

“We broke up because we liked other people. She wasn’t over her ex, and I…”

“And you?...”

He takes a deep breath as if he’s about to lay it all on the table.

“I had to be honest with myself and admit that I’m really in love with my best friend,” he confesses.

Your eyes widen, lips ready to run a mile a minute, but he speaks before you do.

“I thought about this before, but the timing was just never right. And now…” he sighs. “I don’t know. I just feel like we’re on the same page, but then again, you’re looking at me like I’m crazy.”

“Wonwoo, I—”

“I know. You don’t feel the same.”

The disappointment in his voice gives you all the courage you need to come clean, and you do so before you can change your mind.

“I do feel the same,” you admit. “I’ve loved you since we were teenagers. I just never knew how to tell you.”

He seems a little shocked after hearing this.

“Really?” Wonwoo asks, his thumb tracing circles on your hand.

“Yeah.”

Your best friend just stares at you, not saying anything. You hold his gaze and never break eye contact. Moments go by like this, until eventually, his lips begin to hover over yours. They become more inviting the longer you lay there waiting for something to happen.

However, Wonwoo toughens up and makes the first move on your behalf. His mouth presses against yours delicately, and he lowers his body so that you can run your hands through his hair.

You envelop each other and get lost within the first shared kiss between two best friends who have been denying their love for one another for over a decade. The pit of your stomach goes into a frenzy as the butterflies rise and flutter wildly.

Dizziness clouds your mind as you’re swept away by the feeling. You’re light as a feather, so high that coming down seems impossible.

It doesn’t help that Wonwoo’s lips have become greedier, and his desire is growing by the second. Your legs part to allow him in the space, and he takes the opportunity instantly. Your wrists get pinned above your head while he slowly begins to grind his crotch against yours.

A moan slips out, and he takes the chance to invade your mouth with his thick muscle. Your tongues begin exploring each other’s crevice, and you become drunk off his taste. You can’t get enough of him but the need for oxygen exceeds your lust-driven fantasies.

“I want you,” you say without much thought. Your breathing is labored and rough, but you still try to speak. “I need you.”

“Fuck, same. But…”

“But what?”

Wonwoo shakes his head. “No condoms.”

His voice oozes with need, and his bulge is straining against his shorts. He’s as desperate as you are, but he’s trying to hold back.

“We’re good on this end. It’s okay,” you assure him. “Are you?...”

He nods. “Yes, of course. I haven’t since…”

“Well, can we?” you try again. “Please?”

“Okay, baby.”

Wonwoo lets go of your wrists and pulls down his shorts, letting his dick spring out freely. A small gasp escapes you when his length slaps your thigh. You lift your head to see it and instantly become mesmerized by its girth. You crave it and want it to fill every inch of you just like you’ve always fantasized about in your room alone.

“Like what you see?” He smirks when you nod and starts to run the tip up and down your slit, coating it with your arousal and secretly stimulating your throbbing clit. “Let’s see if you can take it.”

When he slowly enters you, your mind goes completely blank. You arch into him as he bottoms out, and he holds you and places kisses up your neck.

“Wonwoo,” you call, and he smiles against your skin.

“Ready for me?”

“Yes, please. I want to feel you.”

Wonwoo’s movements start strong, and he makes sure to hold you in place while he thrusts into you, preventing you from flying off the bed. You cry his name over and over with each powerful snap of his hips.

He lifts your shirt and exposes your breasts to his greedy mouth, taking his time with each stiffened peak and making your eyes roll back from the multiple sources of pleasure you’re receiving.

The coil inside you tightens until it can no longer stand the pressure, and you blurt out a warning to inform Wonwoo of your orgasm.

“Wonwoo, I’m so close!”

“Me too, baby,” he moans in your ear. You run your nails down his sweaty back to ground yourself because it feels like your soul will leave your body any minute. Wonwoo goes deeper and deeper until you can no longer stand the build-up growing inside of you. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

And on his command, your body gives in, and the pleasure takes over you. Tears roll down your cheeks, but Wonwoo kisses you before the salty droplets can reach your trembling lips. Your entire body is set aflame by the heat coursing through you. The intense feeling leaves you a panting mess beneath Wonwoo, and you just lay there as he fucks you through the rest of your orgasm until he finally reaches his release.

“Fuck, where can I?”

“Anywhere you want,” you answer. “I don’t mind.”

He can only nod as he pulls out and paints your stomach with his warm cum. Wonwoo uses the tip to smear his arousal and spell his name on your skin, making you giggle and slap his arm.

“You’re nasty,” you tell him.

“Anywhere you want… I don’t mind,” he mocks but still leans down to kiss you.

You pout when he pulls away and disappears into his bathroom for about a minute. When he returns, you’re grateful to see him with a warm washcloth and a new shirt for you. He cleans you up and helps you change before he turns out the lights and joins you in bed. Neither of you say anything at first, but eventually, he can’t hold his tongue anymore.

“I really am in love with you. I would have never done this had you not asked. You’re more than a rebound—”

“I know that, Wonwoo. We’re good, okay?”

You turn on your side so you can hug him, and he nestles in your embrace.

“So, are we keeping this a secret or…?”

You release a breath before you answer, absentmindedly playing in his brown locks. You think about your answer for a moment, and then you reply.

“As much as I want to keep you all to myself… I’ve waited all my life to call you my boyfriend.”

“So what does that mean?” he asks shyly.

“It means…” You tilt his head so he can look at you. “If anyone asks, I’ll tell them the truth.”

Wonwoo smirks at you and returns to his position buried in your chest. He whispers as he drifts into his slumber.

“That’s my girl.”

And you couldn’t agree more.

#wonwoo x reader #wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #seventeen fanfics #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo fanfics #seventeen fluff #jeon wonwoo smut #aaagustd.fics

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isaspsp · 1 day ago

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I think my parents did pretty similar things. I'm feeling sensitive right now so, story sharing time.

I did misbehave every now and then, as all kids do. I don't remember this incident, but my mom does. I was doing whatever naughty thing, and she hit me to make me stop and discipline me. I stopped, started crying, and went away. My mom never hit me after that. She says it's one of her biggest regrets.

I remember when we got our big TV. I was maybe 8-9 and we had been at the store all day. I wasn't particularly interested in picking out a TV cus that seemed like adult business, and children have no right to poke their nose of that. But then, my dad crouches next to me, points to the final two tvs they were deciding between, and asked me which one I thought was best. And I do remember asking, "Why are you asking me this? I am a child." He laughed and said something among the lines of, "Children are always honest." And that gave me all the confidence and reassurance to choose what would be our TV for the next 10+ years.

They took the effort to see my side aswell. I grew up with my cousins. We were 6 kids in total, and with two of them being older, we 4 youngsters played together a lot. Of these four, the oldest used to bully me a lot (I bit him really hard once as revenge, but that is another story) and I had two younger cousins, the youngest of which, was the one I saw most often. He would come with us to trips and such. But he was the younger child, so he had preferences over me. If I had anything he wanted, I HAD to share. If he wanted to sit where I was, I had to move, lest he makes a fuss. But, if he had something that I wanted? He was under no obligation to share. It was Easter time, I was about 13 (?), and we had gotten ourselves fancy chocolate eggs. My aunt had gone along with us to shop. I'd done my research at the site of the store we were going to, so I knew exactly what I wanted. My aunt didn't know what to get my cousin, so she followed my lead and got him the same two eggs. My aunt used to be paid to clean our house once in a while and just so happened that that week my little cousin had come along. I was going to travel that weekend, and my eggs would be left behind, I'd only have them when we came back. So, having been thinking and fantasizing about the chocolate eggs for weeks, I sneaked around, opened one of the boxes, grabbed a piece, ate some, and put the rest in the refrigerator My aunt saw me do this. Later, my parents confronted me about it; my aunt had told them what happened, that I tried to hide just so I wouldn't have to share. I started crying about how if I didn't sneak around I would've had to share with my cousin, who had the exact same egg at his home, who wouldn't have to wait to come back from a trip, and that I would never get the same kindness back, the piece he would've taken from me, the egg that I so researched to get, that I beheaved and did well in school to get, I would have to give away, even if it was a small piece, and tgat, even if I asked nicely, my cousin wouldve said no, and nothing would be done anout it. And the damn was broken, so I mentioned also all the other times I had to give in because I was older, he was younger and I was bigger and could hurt him more. They looked at each other... and agreed with me. I was forced to share less after that. I still shared, of course, but now... I wasn't forced as much. (At least by my parents, we couldn't control everyone or course u_u)

I genuinely remember very VERY few times of my parents taking away my stuff or banning m3 from activities. If I remember at all, because all I have are "vague feelings" that it happened. And honestly, I think I turned out better for it.

I am exceptionally lucky in that my parents never hit me, grounded me, confiscated my things, banned me from my hobbies or threatened any of these actions to make me behave as a kid. as an adult it has made me realise how very very long a road most people have to traverse before they can take a statement like 'no rule that must be enforced by threat is legitimate' seriously.

#my cloudy mind

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iamnotoriginalphil · 2 days ago

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A Study in Forever (Professor!Agatha Harkness x f!Reader)

Synopsis: Rio returns, expecting you to be gone. Instead, Agatha chooses to teach her a lesson she won't soon forget.

Words: 4.3k

Warnings: Voyeurism, fingering (R receiving), edging, exhibitionism, possessiveness, objectification, orgasm delay, dom!Agatha, swearing

Tags: @sasheemo @buttercandy16 @chlondykebar @midnight-lestrange @babybeeelle @dontsblameme@grilledcheeseandguavajelly @fuckedupforkhahn @latedawnsearlysunsets92

The summer was dripping past in long days and soft nights. Moving into Agatha’s house had been as simple as shoving some clothes in her wardrobe and books on her bookcase. The summer heat had made you lazy without the need to constantly produce work for Agatha. And with that came lounging around the house.

Agatha had spent plenty of time telling you that draping over her couch was not going to work as seduction. And then she’d descend on you and burn you up with her mouth. It certainly seemed to work as a seduction tactic.

It probably helped that the heat left you wearing very little clothing. Shorts, crop tops, bikinis on the few attempts you’d made to go swimming. Each time her hands would be on your skin and you’d forget whatever it was you’d been trying to do. You couldn’t complain, knowing exactly what you were doing when you put on those clothes.

You were lying on her couch, under the fan, a worn paperback dangling from your fingers. Your eyes were closed, feeling the air waft over your bare skin, half asleep in the warm cocoon of the summer heat. Agatha had locked herself in her office under the grumbled excuse of having to actually get some work done. You’d grinned and sent her off with a lingering kiss, knowing she’d come find you sooner or later. She always did. It was like she couldn’t keep away from you.

It was one of the things you loved about her.

A knock sounded on the front door. You startled, the loud noise not something you’d been expecting. It was the middle of the afternoon and you knew Agatha wasn’t expecting anyone. She usually told you to make sure you weren’t wandering around the house half naked. Not that you thought she’d really have a problem with that. Not if she could stake her claim in front of everyone.

You knew she’d been thinking about that whole voyeurism dream you’d shared with her.

You swung your legs off the sofa, knowing Agatha probably wouldn’t have heard from behind the heavy office door she’d shut in your pouting face. Pulling the door open, you weren’t sure what to expect. Maybe one of the neighbours. Sharon had grown especially friendly over the last few weeks.

Rio was definitely the last person you expected to be there.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

Her perfect face was marred with a look of disgust. Pushing past your initial shock, you let a smile take over your face, doing your best to do that sparkling thing Agatha accused you of doing to get your way.

“I live here,” you replied.

“So you’re still around,” Her head tilted to the side, “I can’t say I was expecting that.”

“I know,” you said.

“Is Agatha here?” she asked, dark eyes narrowing.

“She’s kind of busy at the moment but I’ll let her know you stopped by,” you said, already beginning to close the door.

Her hand slammed into it, holding it open. You pursed your lips, but let her lean towards you.

“Go tell her I’m here, little girl,” she said, her voice a hiss.

“If she wanted to see you, she’d be in contact,” you said, “I think her silence tells you enough.”

You’d won the war, you’d gotten the girl, you weren’t letting this intimidating woman come in and fluster you enough to steal your place in Agatha’s life. Her hand reached out, curling around a strand of your hair. She tugged on it, hard enough to feel a sharp pain in your scalp. It was nothing like when Agatha pulled on your hair, none of the liquid heat melting through your veins.

“Trust me, she’ll want to see me,” she whispered, pulling you closer to her.

“If I’ve taught you anything, pet, it’s not to trust such a self serving bitch like this.”

A hand slid around your waist, chin digging into your shoulder. You lent back against the familiar body, relaxing at her steady presence. Rio let go of your hair, straightening again as her eyes swept over the picture you made with Agatha. You knew how you looked wrapped up in her arms, comfortable and simply hers. You liked it, having her claim staked in front of someone who so obviously wanted it instead.

“What do you want?” Agatha asked, voice chilling in a way that turned it to ice.

“Since you’ve found someone to stick around, I thought I’d offer my services to teach her exactly how to please you,” she said, her eyes sliding from you to her, lips curling up in a familiar smirk.

“I think I’ve got it covered,” you said, “I’ve heard no complaints from her.”

“Because I have none. You’ve been doing wonderfully, kitten.” Her lips pressed to the vulnerable skin behind your jaw, making you shiver and press back into her. She chuckled, her fingers splayed over the bare skin of your stomach, nails gently dragging over it.

Dark eyes zeroed in on the hand on your stomach, an interested tilt to her head. You felt your breath catch, knowing she was watching you, wondering what she was thinking, seeing exactly how much Agatha wanted you. Your lips parted, the heat you felt under your skin unexpected but not unpleasant.

“You’re not even going to invite me in for a refreshing glass of lemonade?” she asked, gaze dragging back up to your face, “I’ve come such a long way to visit.”

“What do you think, pet? Should we let her in?” Agatha asked, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“One drink wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world,” you said, grinning when her nails dug in.

The trouble with you was you were beginning to enjoy flaunting your relationship with Agatha. You wanted Rio to see it, to have to face the fact that you’d won, to rub it in her face. Agatha had made her decision and it was you.

She wasn’t needed anymore.

Your fingers tangled with Agatha’s as you led her to the back of the house, knowing it would annoy Rio. You pulled open the fridge door, the lemonade you’d made the day before waiting. Agatha’s hands were on your hips as you poured three tall glasses, ice cubes clinking against the sides. Her lips made a home on your neck. Rio was still watching. Your skin heated but you didn’t tell Agatha to stop.

“We can drink in the living room,” Agatha said after a moment.

She plucked one of the glasses from you, shoving the other across the counter at Rio. She caught it, hissing when some sloshed over the side onto the skin of her hand. Holding eye contact with Agatha, she licked it off, tongue slow as it dragged over her own skin. Her hand tightened around you, dragging you into the living room.

Rio settled on the couch, right where you’d been lounging. She lent back, legs spread, taking a long drink from her glass. Agatha sat in the armchair, one leg crossed over the other. You perched on the arm next to her, grinning when her hand landed on your thigh, fingers digging into your skin.

“You’ve built quite the little love nest for yourself here,” Rio said, her eyes focused on the hand on your leg.

“I don’t think it’s a love nest when we live together,” you replied, fingers winding through Agatha’s hair.

“You’ve moved in?” Her eyebrows raised for just a moment.

“That surprises you?” Agatha asked.

“Only because the last woman you lived with was me,” she said.

The way she was looking at Agatha was like she owned her. She had been the first and she probably had thought she would be the last but then you had come along and ruined all her plans. You weren’t going to let her ruin yours.

“And what a disaster that turned out to be,” Agatha drawled.

“I thought we had fun,” she said, long finger slow to draw along the rim of her glass, “you certainly seemed to enjoy being hidden away with me in very close quarters.”

“Until it became claustrophobic,” she replied.

“And now you have so much space. I’m sure you can go days without seeing one another,” she said, eyes flicking to you.

Agatha’s hand tugged on your leg. You slid off the arm of the chair into her lap. Molten in her hands, you let her spread your legs, forcing them to fall either side of both of hers as you lent back against her soft curves. Her chin rested on your shoulder as her hand pressed into your lower stomach.

“Lucky for me neither of us want that much space,” she said, lips brushing the underside of your jaw.

It was automatic, the way you tilted your head to give her more access. Dark eyes watched as she ran her tongue up the length of your neck before her teeth closed over your earlobe. You whimpered, the flutter of your pulse turning you breathless.

“Isn’t my pet so pretty?” Agatha asked, turning her gaze back to Rio, “how could I want to stay away from her?”

Rio hummed, not quite a proper response. Chilled fingers brushed over your skin, still wet from the condensation on the glass of lemonade she must have put down. Your lips parts and your muscles tightened under her touch. Her chuckle was low, a vibration you felt against you, the kind that said you were in trouble.

Or about to have a lot of fun.

“But I don’t like other people touching my toys,” she continued, hand beginning to trace patterns into your skin, brushing higher and higher up your body.

“I remember,” Rio replied, a rough hum, “but you never seemed to have a problem sharing with me.”

“This one’s different. She’s special,” she said, hand slipping under the hem of your crop top.

In the warm summer air the heat of her hand felt unbearable, and the thought of losing it was inconceivable. Lips pressed to the underside of your jaw. You wiggled in her lap, the low thrum of arousal familiar and comforting, and yet somehow indecent under the watchful gaze of Rio.

“No one’s that special,” Rio said.

“She is,” Agatha hummed, “the first taste I had of her I knew there was no one like her. I’d never get enough. If I could, I’d have her chained to my bed, at my beck and call, this pussy on demand.”

Her fingers played with the button of your shorts. She ignored the small noise you made. The way your breath stuttered out of your parted was ignored too.

“You’ve never tasted her. You’ve never heard what she sounds like when she comes. You’ve never seen the way she looks when she’d begging for her release,” she continued.

Her fingers popped open the button on your shorts. The other hand cupped your breast, over the top of your bra, squeezing it roughly. You made a small mewling noise, arching into her hand. Dark eyes raked over your body, lingering on where the hand was groping you.

“If you’d seen her come undone, you wouldn’t be giving her up either,” Agatha said.

“Are you offering?” Rio asked.

“You’ll never touch her,” she said as her hand pushed into your shorts, slipping into your underwear.

“You sure about that?” she asked.

“Go on, pet. Tell her. Will she ever touch you?” Agatha asks, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

Her fingers ghosted over your clit.

“No,” you managed to say, trying to sound as normal as possible. You were certain you’d failed from the way Rio’s gaze snapped down to your spread legs.

“And why’s that?” Agatha asked, keeping her voice to a gentle hum.

“Because I’m yours,” you replied.

Her fingers ran through your folds, feeling how wet you already were. Slow to circle your clit, she pressed her lips to yours in a gentle kiss, almost the complete opposite of what this situation had turned into. Your head fell back against her shoulder with a soft sigh.

“You see? I’ve trained her so well. I give her everything she needs. Why would she ever want someone like you?” Agatha taunted.

“You think she’ll stay with you? This young, pretty thing? She can find something better. You know I’m the only one who will stay with you forever,” Rio said.

“I’d rather take my chances with her,” Agatha replied.

She was being so slow with you. A teasing touch, soft and not nearly enough. You whined, turning your head towards her ear, wanting her to hear you. Her fingers dipped back down to your entrance, lingering there until you thought you would go mad.

“You’re free to leave at any time,” Agatha told Rio.

“If this is a game I don’t intend to lose,” Rio replied.

Her finger slid into you, so easily it was almost embarrassing. You whimpered, just loud enough to be heard, hips shifting. The hand she’d trailed up your shirt pulled the cup of your bra down, fingers pinching at your nipple. She was slow to roll it between thumb and forefinger, the hand between your legs stroking your inner walls in a way that was making it hard to catch your breath.

“No game,” Agatha hummed.

“Everything with you is a game,” Rio replied.

She lent forward, eyes growing more intent as they focused on your body. Fire was licking at your skin. Your hands clutched at the arms of the armchair, your nails digging into the soft leather.

“My pet isn’t a plaything,” Agatha said, right as her thumb ground against your clit.

Your moan was loud to your own ears. A sharp inhalation came from across the room. Dark eyes seemed to darken as they focused on your face. Under the spotlight of Rio’s attention, you felt yourself set alight. Your lips parted, eyes squeezing closed.

“Look at her. Isn’t she everything a person could want?” Agatha hummed.

Her thumb was moving in tight circles over your clit and you couldn’t breathe properly. Your hips tried to buck into her touch but without feet on the floor you couldn’t get any traction. Her tongue flicked at your earlobe before she found her home at your pulse point.

“I will admit you found a pretty little thing to occupy your time,” Rio agreed, her voice low. Your eyes fluttered open, finding her focused on where Agatha was kissing you, “but how long can she really satisfy you?”

“Just watch. Once you see, then you’ll understand how I could never grow tired of this,” she sighed before her teeth sunk into your skin.

You cried out, begging for more. She smiled into you your skin, tongue soothing over the bruise she had most likely left on your skin. She slid a second finger into you as her thumb slipped away from your clit. Whimpering, you hid your face against her neck.

“Go on, show her, pet,” she coaxed, “let her see you.”

You turned your face back to let Rio watch you. Agatha curled her fingers in reward, causing you to moan her name. You locked eyes with Rio. Her lips were pressed together, hands clasped, hanging between her knees.

Agatha’s thrusts were slow, the pace maddening. It wasn’t nearly enough, but it was making your head spin. You loved when she got rough with you, but this was almost like she wanted to see how far she could stretch your sanity.

“She’s so wet,” Agatha said, “so warm.”

“Agatha,” you whimpered.

“Shh, pet. The adults are talking,” she said.

You shut your mouth, doing as you were told. If you did, then she would reward you. You knew that. If you stopped distracting her, she’d let you come. She’d taught you so well. You would do anything she asked of you.

“See? Such a good girl,” she said, turning her attention back to Rio, “she does exactly what I tell her to.”

“I remember a time when you enjoyed being told what to do,” Rio said.

“I still do sometimes,” she replied, “when my pet has been particularly well behaved.”

“Is she as good as I am?” Rio asked.

“Better.”

Dark eyes, swimming in anger, returned back to you. You couldn’t even focus on her, the thumb back on your clit drawing tight circles, grinding against you until you were panting for breath. Her fingers curled, twisting inside you as her fingers harshly pinched your nipple. You yelped but you were arching into her touch, asking for more.

Rio was leaning closer, gaze focused on the hand in your shorts. You were so close, right on the edge, enjoying the way envy played over the other woman’s face so clearly. There was no way of knowing if she wanted to be you or be Agatha, or both.

“Don’t even think about touching her,” Agatha said, voice sharp.

Your cunt pulsed, loving when her voice became so commanding. Her chuckle was warm against your ear. Rio’s fingers clenched around her glass of lemonade, the ice almost completely melted. She lent back, her chest heaving, a flush still growing high on her cheeks as she watched.

“You’ll never touch her,” Agatha told Rio, “and you’ll never touch me again.”

“We’ll see if you still feel that way when this one has moved on too,” she replied but she didn’t sound so sure.

“Oh she’s not leaving me. She branded herself. She’s mine until she dies,” Agatha replied, and you could hear the smugness in her voice. She was proud of your actions. Even weeks later, her fingers still traced over the words inked on your skin, her name, over and over again until you thought she might wear your skin away.

You loved it.

“And I have complete control over her,” she continued, “don’t I, pet?”

“Yes,” you hissed as her thumb ground down even harder.

You were trembling, holding on for as long as you could. You knew the game she was playing, the example she was making of you. You weren’t going to let her lose face in front of Rio. She needed you to be good, to do this for her.

You would do anything for her.

“You must have spent a lot of time training her,” Rio said.

“Hardly,” she scoffed, not letting up on you for a moment, “she wants to please me.”

“But you enjoy punishment so much,” she said, her voice a caress, trying to taunt her into admitting you weren’t living up to her wishes.

“I enjoy a good girl so much more,” she hummed, “I like a toy that does as she’s told and doesn’t answer back.”

You definitely didn’t always do what you were told and you’d been known to answer back.

“That’s a lie, and we both know it,” Rio said.

“Perhaps, but she does it in such a delicious way I forget she’s pushing the limits,” she said before her lips brushed over your skin.

You were strung tight, trembling, doing everything you could not to fall over the edge. Her fingers were rough, moving in just the way she knew unravelled you. She was making it so difficult for you, and you assumed it was on purpose. She had to make it clear she wasn’t going easy on you. That even under pressure you still did as you were told.

That no one could give her what she wanted like you did.

“But since she’s being so well behaved today, she’s not going to come until I tell her she can,” she murmured, “will you, pet?”

“No,” you whimpered.

Tears pricked at your eyes, holding on so tight it was a physical ache. You were desperate. Her thrusts were fast now palm grinding against your clit. She was unforgiving, harsh in how she was treating you. The other hand was groping your breast, squeezing it, pinching at your nipple. When the tears fell, her teeth sunk into the skin of your neck.

Through the haze of the tears still leaking from your eyes, you saw Rio lean forward again. You squeezed your eyes shut, the heat of her gaze enough to make you breathless and wanton and needy. Agatha’s dark chuckle in your ear only made the whole thing worse.

“Do you see how hard she’s trying? She wants to please me so badly,” she said and you knew it was for Rio’s benefit.

“She is rather pretty when she cries like that,” she replied.

“And all for me,” Agatha said.

The conversation turned fuzzy after that, your entire brain focused on holding back your orgasm. You felt on fire. Every moment it only got worse, closer to turning to ash in Agatha’s lap.

“All mine,” Agatha purred.

You couldn’t stop the whimper that managed to slip past your parted lips. She didn’t reprimand you, her lips pressing to your temple.

“It’s okay, pet. You can come now.”

Your body shuddered in her arms, the relief washing through you. Letting go, you let the pleasure crash into you, the way it had been trying to for so long. You sobbed, pressing your face into her neck. The hand on your breast slipped out from under your shirt, stroking through your hair as she kept your face buried against her skin.

“You did so well for me, kitten,” she murmured against your temple, “you were wonderful.”

She eased you through it. Fingers slowing within you, her lips pressed soft kisses to your hairline. Once you’d stopped twitching in her arms, she slowly withdrew her hand from your shorts. Your arousal glistened on her fingers in the summer sunlight.

You grasped her wrist, pulling her fingers to your lips. You licked along them before sliding them into your mouth, your tongue licking her clean. Hollowing your cheeks, you sucked on them the way you knew she liked.

You dragged your eyes over to Rio, feeling a sense of smugness. You were the one she’d been touching, and you were the one who had put on the show for her. Her own eyes were blown wide as they took you in.

“You can’t find anyone better than my pet because there is no one better. And she’s all mine,” Agatha said, sliding her fingers from your mouth, the arm around your waist tightening, “you can leave now.”

Rio’s eyes snapped to her, the look of anger flashing over her face. You cuddled back against Agatha, pulling your legs up to settle more comfortably against her body. She handed you her glass of lemonade, making sure you drank the entire thing down before putting down the empty glass. Her fingers slid into your hair, cradling the back of your head.

Her lips pressed to yours, kissing you deeply. You were boneless, melted against her, satiated and happy. She tucked your head back against your shoulder.

“Get out of my house,” she commanded, voice hardened as she realised Rio was still there on her couch.

“You bring me here and put on a show then tell me to leave without giving me mine?” she demanded.

“You showed up uninvited. Now get out,” she said.

You sighed as you burrowed closer to her, eyes sliding closed. A lazy afternoon nap sounded like a wonderful idea.

You weren’t sure how long you sat like that with her but when the front door slammed you jerked up. The couch had been vacated and Agatha was glaring out the front window.

“Next time we don’t invite her in for a drink,” you mumbled, finding your place against her shoulder again.

“You didn’t have fun?” she asked.

“I had fun with you,” you replied, “she was surplus to that.”

“Was she? Because I think you liked performing for her. You liked her watching,” she said, the fingers still tangled in your hair pulling.

“I did,” you agreed, “I really did.”

“And yet you still don’t want her to come back?”

You looked up at her, still feeling soft and sleepy, wanting nothing more than to stay in her arms. She wasn’t looking at you, the weight of her gaze having shifted back to the window. You wished you knew what she was thinking.

“Agatha, she makes you unhappy. As long as she does, I don’t want her anywhere near you,” you said.

Blue eyes darted down to you, finding you gazing up at her. The fingers in your hair slid out, gently tracing the curve of your jaw.

“You’d give up ever doing that again just for me?” she asked.

“I have more than enough just from you. Who cares if that never happens again as long as I have you. You’re all I want,” you replied.

She tilted your head up, kissing you until you were breathless.

“Well, I think we made our point, kitten,” she said.

“Mmhm,” you hummed, settling against her again.

“I doubt she’ll be back. She knows there’s no place for her in my life anymore,” she said, fingers carding through your hair.

“I’m all you need,” you mumbled, lips brushing the skin of her neck.

You felt her shiver, fingers tugging on your hair sharply. You kissed the underside of her jaw, feeling her arm tighten around you.

“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted,” she replied, “you were made for me.”

When she lifted you, her arms strong around your body, carrying you upstairs to your bedroom, you couldn’t agree more. You had been made just for Professor Harkness. And you were never letting her go.

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness #agatha harkness imagine #agatha all along

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destinedfordiapers · 2 days ago

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Dancing Through Life

This is Part Two of the series I’m writing with @paci-papa, catch up on Part One here!

One thing is crystal clear as you lay there in a soggy diaper, waiting for your babysitters to change you:

It’s going to be a long weekend.

For the last few months, Papa had been your whole world. He made you feel so safe, so secure you never thought twice about becoming his babygirl.

You didn’t mind the wet and messy diapers you wore all day. Or how your adult clothes were swapped for your current infantile wardrobe. You didn’t even mind that your adulthood was a thing of the past, never to return.

Papa was always there to make everything better. To assure you that you were right where you belonged.

It was like the outside world ceased to exist.

“You were so right, babe. She really is better off like this! It’s hard to believe it’s her. No more attitude, no more sass. Just a well-behaved pamper packer!”

Not anymore.

Papa didn’t leave you with just any babysitters. No, you had a history with the two babysitters smiling down at you.

“Well, I wish I could take credit for the docile little thing waiting so patiently for a diaper change! But her Papa deserves all the credit. All I did was put her back in diapers where she belongs!”

Two years ago, before your new life as Papa’s poopy pamper princess, Trevor was your boyfriend. But he could only handle your attitude and immaturity for so long. Especially when your drunken escapades ended with a soaked bed.

“Well, judging by how fast she tinkled through this diaper, it was the right decision!”

You foolishly look up and make eye contact with Liv. Pee trickles into your diaper as you see her condescending grin.

Ugh, you hated Liv.

The woman who stole Trevor from you.

You remember that same condescending grin on her face when Trevor put your nighttime diaper on you before she ran off to bed with him. Or how she’d always check your diaper in her lingerie first thing in the morning.

And the horrible way she’d loudly comment that you made an “oopsie daisy in her diaper” whenever you woke up wet.

Liv stops Trevor as he walks to you with a new diaper and changing supplies.

“Babe, I’m a little concerned about Erica’s tummy. Her Papa says she usually makes a boom boom before lunch, but it’s already afternoon, and she’s only tinkled, poor thing.”

Your face turns a shade of red so bright a tomato would be jealous.

“Honey,” Trevor says, “Are you holding your poopoo?”

You cover your face in shame. “I…I…”

Liv jumps in with a sickeningly sweet voice, “Little one, you have nothing to be embarrassed about, okay? We’re your babysitters! Our job is to change poopy diapers!”

You whimper, dreading what’s about to happen. “I…don’t have to…”

“Hmm. Why don’t we help make things easy, sweetie?” Liv says, grabbing your feet, “Let’s do bicycle kicks until you fill your diaper?”

“B-bicycle kicks?” you whimper.

“Yes, little one. They always work on my little niece!”

Before you can react, Liv starts moving your legs back and forth, slowly pushing them towards you before pulling back, cycling each leg.

“Mmmm,” you whimper, doing your best not to mess your diaper in front of Liv like an actual baby.

For a minute or two, the only sounds are your diaper crinkles and Liv's humming. A loud, foreboding gurgle erupts from your tummy.

You whimper, feeling your control dwindling. Every time Liv pushes your legs, you feel your control slipping. You desperately try to fight the inevitable.

Without warning, a loud toot trumpets into the room.

“Good girl, Erica! Get all your toot-toots out!” Liv coos.

It happens slowly, then all at once.

Your eyes go wide as you feel your mess sliding slowly, inevitably, into your diaper, which crackles as you fill it. Nothing you do makes any difference.

Trevor laughs, “Wow, you were right, Liv! Works like a charm!”

You have no control, like the baby you’ve become.

Each time Liv pushes, more mess slides into your diaper. She pushes on and on, your diaper struggling to contain your onslaught.

“Almost done, honey?” Liv asks, inspecting your diaper, “Anymore poopoo and we might have a blowout!”

All you can do is nod your head, too mortified to answer.

“Awwww, what did I say about being ashamed of your stinkies, baby? They’re part of life for you now. Besides, it’s not like waiting would’ve changed anything! Diapers are your potty now, silly!”

You cower as the smell engulfs you, a constant reminder of your new place in life.

Liv pats your diaper playfully. “Such a big mess, too! You musta felt so icky holding all that in!”

“No wonder Papa needs a break!” Trevor adds, “Diaper duty for little Erica here is no easy task.”

“Oh, stop, Trev. Don’t make baby Erica feel bad, she can’t help it. She’s just a baby!”

You look up at Liv with a feminine rage that fizzles out immediately. Liv meets your glance.

She’s taunting you. She knows you’re no longer a woman—you’re a silly baby in a poopy diaper.

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry, honey. Besides, I like you so much better this way! It was a mistake potty training you, but Papa is fixing that mistake! Your attitude is so much better when you’re pampered.”

Hearing that, you whimper, kicking your feet in shame. But too embarrassed to throw an actual tantrum.

As you kick, your bulging diaper sways heavily, threatening to burst.

“Awwwww, you can say that again,” Liv giggles, “Look at her go! Big girl things like drinking, sex, and work were much too big a responsibility for you. Papa was right taking them away from you.”

Trevor nods in agreement.

“Now all you have to worry about is being Papa’s pretty princess! It’s hard to have a bad attitude when you’re in a loaded diaper, isn’t it?”

Liv tickles your sides, cooing you. “Come on, lil stinker. Let’s get that diaper changed. You’re not getting diaper rash on our watch!”

As Liv changes your diaper, you can’t help but think about your new life—and what it means to be Papa’s pamper packer.

It was so easy to get lost in the silliness of being his princess when it was just the two of you. Papa made everything so perfect, so comfortable, you couldn’t help but want to be his diapered little princess.

But you forgot that you don’t get to stay home all day. There’s a whole world outside your cozy crib and comfy changing table.

And now you know exactly where you fit in.

Pamper packers like you may be cute and adorable, but nobody will ever take you seriously again. Not as an adult. To everyone, you’re nothing but an oversized baby in need of a caregiver.

You used to think of yourself as a beautiful, sexy woman. As Liv grabs another wipe to clean your poopy princess parts, you know those days are long gone.

Pamper packers don’t have sex. They get their princess parts wiped clean before being safely secured in another diaper before being sent off to play.

Later that night, the reality of your new life carries into the guest room. The sounds of Liv’s pleasure breaks the silence of the night.

You listen, imagining that it was you moaning. Getting lost in your fantasy, crinkles erupt from your bed as you desperately hump your pillow to the rhythm of the moans.

A crinkle symphony nobody will ever hear.

#diaper captions #diaper humiliation

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poorrichardjr · 2 days ago

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Ok, I can agree with both people here to some degree, though I think a few things should be brought up.

First, Gore actually won the popular vote in Florida. The Supreme Court stopped the recount that proved that Gore actually won, by a very slim margin. Second, instead of blaming Nader, as most mainstream democrats do, why don't they blame Jeb Bush for purging hundreds of thousands of people from the rolls who were alive and able to vote simply because their names corresponded to names of criminals in other states. This is still done btw every single election in republican run states.

Second, I don't blame all of the voters in the last election, republican or democrat. I don't blame the people who have no time to do the research because they work 60+ hours a week, have families to take care of and spend time with, or those who gladly lapped up the propaganda about Biden and Trump.

There is a caveat to that thought though. Being an informed voter is the responsibility of the people voting. Are you as a voter doing anything at all to learn about the candidates? Are you only getting your information from Fox and the like or RT or Sputnik or whatever? If so, you are slurping up that good ole propaganda and learning virtually nothing. Don't get me wrong, a lot of media outlets have some form of propaganda or slant to their news, but in aggregate, it isn't hard to determine some basic facts about a candidate even with all the partisan BS.

Believe it or not but Trump was not a normal republican president last time. He was crass, cruel, and tried numerous times to do things that his staffers said and warned him were illegal. He was impeached twice for doing things that no other president had done, especially inspiring the coup on January 6th. He also nearly led us into war with North Korea and Iran. We were on the brink of war with North Korea, and suddenly things changed when Russia spoke with both Trump and Un. What did they say that changed the heat? They probably told Trump that Kim wasn't really that bad and that he should be the bigger man and do some outreach, and they told Kim that all you had to do to get anything from Trump was flatter him, because he is an absolute moron.

Biden wasn't a great president, but honestly he really only did two terrible things. He appointed Merrick Garland to oversee the DOJ, and though he was a great prosecutor, he moved far too slowly and initially only focused on the foot soldiers of the insurrection. He never even went after all the congress people who were also deeply involved. Other than that, Biden did what he has always done his entire career and that is to support Israel. He would not use his presidential influence to curb what was happening in Israel, and that turned a lot of good people away from him.

Kamala wasn't really in the running long enough to get a good footing, and she didn't try to differentiate herself from Biden that much, simply because much of what Biden was doing worked. Jobs were up, the economy got much better than the rest of the world, and actual wages were going up for the first time in nearly thirty years.

In the end if you listened to Trump for a single hour and Kamala for a single hour their demeanor, ideas, and temperament should have been enough to get people to do the right thing, but it wasn't. The blatant racism and cruelty espoused by Trump wasn't enough. The knowledge that Trump would support anything Israel wanted in Gaza wasn't enough. The constant lying and whining about 2020 wasn't enough. In the end, if you couldn't guess that some of what is happening now and what could be happening soon was on the table, then you were a fucking idiot or so deeply into a partisan whole that you really didn't care.

Americans failed in their responsibility, and now they will be paying the price for their inability to take this seriously.

Just to be a clear, I am not a democrat, and yet I have voted for them in the last three elections because only a god damn moron couldn't see what Trump is. I hated Hilary because she was untrustworthy, despite my same opinion that she was probably the most qualified candidate for that position in decades. I hated Biden because he really is part of the reason we have many of the problems we have today, and he has been out of touch with a lot of America for years. I had no problems with Kamala, except that she was embracing the right-wingers who gave us Iraq and the quagmire that was Afghanistan and didn't do enough to try and get democrats to vote for her. You can criticize Trump all day, but republicans don't care and are going to vote for him anyway. She needed to rebuild the coalition that was disintegrating because of Gaza and the DOJ's inaction.

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bubbleggum444 · 2 days ago

Text

—LO۷ESTⱤUCK F𐌀N

contents damian wayne x fem!reader, youtuber!reader au, fluff, 2k+ wc. synopsis now that you've started accepting fan mail, damian jumps at the chance to send you something (though, honestly, he’d send himself if he could). pt 2 of "unexpected crush!?" (@liabiamiakiawia hope you like it 🫶🏻)

No. Freaking. Way.

Was this a dream? A hallucination? Some cruel trick of the mind?

There was no way she actually posted her address. But as he blinked at the screen, rereading the words for the hundredth time, the reality hit him like a Batarang to the chest:

"Accepting fan gifts/letters! Address & city number: xxxxx. Can't wait to see what my luvies gift me :)"

His heart stopped. Then restarted at double the speed.

He. Was. Ecstatic.

Well—ecstatic in a very Damian Wayne, son of an assassin and the Dark Knight, kind of way.

A normal person might be pacing, grinning, maybe even screaming into a pillow. But Damian? He just sat there, staring at the screen, his grip tightening on his phone as his brain raced a thousand miles per second.

This was huge. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. The only chance he’d ever have to send her something, something meaningful—something that would make her smile.

Immediately, he started skimming through her videos, mind buzzing with possibilities. What did she like? What did she need? What could he give her that would stand out from the rest?

Something perfect. It had to be perfect.

After intense (possibly obsessive) research, he finally settled on three things:

1. A Beauty of Joseon skincare set—not that a face as flawless as hers needed skincare. If anything, the skincare needed her.

2. A cute hairclip set—he remembered her gushing over some in a video. Hers were old, but she hated overconsumption, always mindful of her brand collaborations (another thing about her that made his heart do weird things: her caringness for the planet).

3. Some top-tier Chinese makeup—only the best for her.

His lips curled into a satisfied smirk as he saw the total.Just a casual $1K. Nothing much for a Wayne.

Then again… if she asked, he'd get her the moon and stars. Nothing was ever too much for her. Ever.

By the time he finalized his list, it was nearly noon. And by the time he finished hunting everything down in-store, it was noon.

Now, back in his room, Damian sat cross-legged on his floor, staring at the disaster zone of wrapping paper around him.

He exhaled sharply, frustration bubbling up as he crumpled yet another piece of pink wrapping paper—now a casualty of way too much tape—and chucked it aside.

This was so new to him. He barely ever gave gifts, and even when he did, Alfred was the one who wrapped them.

With a sigh, Damian pulled out his phone and searched, How to wrap gifts (EASY and pretty).

Following the tutorial with painstaking precision, his thoughts started to wander.

It wasn’t like he was an idiot. After a full week of stubborn denial, he’d finally accepted it—he had a crush. A real, actual crush on a girl he’d never even met.

And honestly? That annoyed him. Apparently, there was some illness where people obsessed over their favorite celebrities or internet personalities.

But he wasn’t sick! Sure, there were plenty of things wrong with him—a packaged deal that came with being the son of his parents—but this? This wasn’t an obsession. And he was definitely not a stalker.

He just... really liked this girl.

Pausing mid-task, he set down the half-wrapped package and reached for a pen and paper.

"Dear ___,My name is Damian Wayne. I'm a teen from Gotham..."

Hours passed—writing, re-writing, crumpling papers, fixing the bow on the package that would soon be crossing oceans.

Finally, Damian collapsed onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling.

He sighed.

Please let this work.

Sitting up, he picked up the now perfectly wrapped gift box, his fingers absentmindedly tracing along the frilly bow.

And then, without thinking, he brought the box to his lips, pressing a light kiss against it.

Oh. Oh.

A wave of déjà vu hit him— reminding him of the air-kiss he tried to catch through his laptop screen a week prior.

For a second, he just sat there, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips before he scoffed softly at himself.

Damian Wayne had officially lost. He liked her. Like liked her.

And now, all he could do was hope—pray—that this box, this dumb little package of gifts, would somehow, someway, connect them.

Maybe. Just maybe. Something real would come out of this stupid crush.

"Tch… emotions suck."

He laughed under his breath, though there was no real bite to his words.

Setting the package on his bedside table, he turned off the light and crawled into bed.

Tomorrow, he’d send it.

And then? He’d wait.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated

ദ്ദി ≽^⎚˕⎚^≼ .ᐟ

#damian wayne x you #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne #damian al ghul #dc comics #dcu #dc comics x reader #dc x reader #x reader #fluff #dc fluff

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 2 days ago

Text

Speak up

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

Requested by @outof-spite and Anonymous (+ @ whoever I swear left me a vampire request that I think I lost, hopefully you know who you are)

Synopsis: You barely talk, and never raise your voice . . . So the boys are in for a surprise during a hunt

“Could you speak up?”

Dean watched you flounder for a moment after the waiter’s demand spilled out. You managed to stutter a few—still mumbled—words, but nothing the waiter would understand.

“She said she wanted the burger,” Dean spoke up for you. “No pickles.”

You squirmed sheepishly in your seat as the waiter walked away, but Dean was unfazed.

“Sorry,” you mumbled.

“Don’t worry about it.” Dean shook his head. He was used to your soft voice, and he’d been speaking for you since you learned to talk. “I got you.”

…

“Last one,” Sam said to Dean as he tied off the last stitch in Dean’s arm. “Finished.”

“About dang time,” Dean grumbled, rubbing his arm.

“And if you pull at them, I’m gonna have to do it again,” Sam chided. He turned suddenly when you tugged on his arm. “Yeah?”

You held onto his sleeve with one hand, holding your other one up for him to see. It was now that he noticed your wrist twisted at an odd angle.

“Jeez, kid,” Dean hissed, looking over Sam’s shoulder. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

You just shrugged, and Sam shook his head.

“Ok, alright, just keep your arm still, ok?” Sam took your hand in his, putting his other hand on your arm to keep it still. Sam met Dean’s eye for a split second before looking back at you. “Ready? One—“

“Boo!” Dean’s outburst interrupted Sam’s counting, catching your attention just as Sam twisted your wrist back into position.

You let out a sound that was half laugh and half whimper, but it was hardly louder than the sound of the wind outside.

“You ok?” Sam asked softly. You nodded, burrowing into his side while you cradled your wrist.

“You’re a tough kid,” Dean told you, ruffling your hair. You offered him a small smile, but no words.

The boys were used to your quiet nature, so it rarely concerned them. This felt a little different to Sam.

“Hey, you gotta let us know when you’re hurt, ok?”

“I did,” you mumbled. “I just wanted you to fix De up first.”

“Don’t do that,” Dean cut in. “I want you fixed up first, every time.”

But you didn’t answer him, and Sam knew this would be something you and Dean would both be stubborn about.

…

“Sam, take the front with me. Y/N, you can go around the back.”

“You…you want her going alone?” Sam asked.

“There are big windows in the back, it’s brighter. The vampires won’t be back there, she’s going in as backup.” Dean’s eyes met yours. “You up for a little solo trip, kid?”

You hefted your machete and gave Dean a firm nod.

He grinned. “That’s what I thought. Let’s go.”

…

You slipped around the side of the run-down home, surprised to see boards nailed up over the windows in the back. You hesitated, wondering if you should go get Dean—obviously the vampires would be free to roam the back of the house with the windows boarded up—but you decided against it. Dean had given you this task, and you wouldn’t let a few pieces of wood stop you.

…

Dean was surprised at how few vampires he and Sam encountered in the front of the house. They were met instantly by three, and it was quick and easy work lobbing off their heads.

“I thought there’d be more,” Sam admitted. “Do you think—“

The shriek that echoed through the little shack would haunt Dean for the rest of his life. It was so jarring that he froze on the spot, his eyes seeking out Sam’s in the gloom.

“Was that—that was—“ Sam’s voice broke, and he followed his big brother as Dean kicked open the door to the back room and ran in, machete clenched tightly in his fist. The room he’d busted into was empty, and Dean looked frantically around for another door.

“Dean!” The scream was so foreign that for the second time, Dean was struggling to place it as you. Never, on a hunt or during a scary movie or in a fit of anger or—or anything—had Dean heard you yell like that, or at all. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard you speak higher than a soft murmur.

“Dean—“ Sam’s frantic voice snatched Dean’s attention, and he turned to see Sam shoving open a door at the far side of the room. “It came from this way.”

But through the door was a hallway that split two ways, and the brothers could no longer hear your screams to guide their way.

With a simple gesture nod of his chin, Dean relaid a plan to Sam; Dean would go one way, Sam the other.

Dean stalked down the hallway, his heart hammering in his ears and his machete gripped in his sweaty palms. He passed room after room, but there was no sign of you or the vamps.

“Dean!” Unlike when you screamed, Dean recognized Sam’s cry for help immediately. He turned on his heal, dashing for where he last saw his brother.

“Sam!” Dean rounded the corner, but there was no one in sight. “No no no no—“ Dean growled, rushing out the back door into the fresh air. A car was already speeding down the dirt road—the vampires must have braved the sun in order to take their hostages away. Dean rushed around to the front of the house and threw himself into the Impala. The tires crunched on the road as Dean slammed the car into reverse and twisted it around, swerving around the house and following down the dirt road that the vampires had disappeared down with his siblings.

“Cas,” Dean spit out as he drove. “Cas, things are really going bad down here. We could use some backup.”

…

“Sam? Sa-Sammy?”

Sam awoke to a pounding headache and to your quiet voice stuttering his name.

“The big one’s awake!” A grating voice made Sam cringe as he opened his eyes and squinted in the dim light. Course ropes bound his wrists, and he felt hard concrete under him as he shifted until his eyes finally fell on you.

“Sammy?” You were a whimpering mess, curled in on yourself with tears streaming down your face and blood matting your hair to your neck, which was stained red and still bleeding.

“Hey—“ Sam forced himself to sit up, mentally doing a wellness check; it didn’t feel like he’d been bitten, and the only thing that hurt was his head from when one of the cowardly monsters had snuck up behind him and knocked him out. “Hey, are you ok?” He asked you.

“I’m—I’m—“

“Oh she’s fine.” A vampire sauntered over to the two of you, flashing a mouthful of razor sharp teeth that were stained red. “I just had a little snack while you were asleep,” he added, stepping closer to you.

You were cringing away from the monster, your pale body shuddering.

“Get away from her!” Sam snapped.

The vampire ignored Sam, lifting you by the front of your shirt and lowering his head to your neck.

Sam tried to throw himself at the vamp to stop him, but the rest of the nest had come to watch, and one of them grabbed onto Sam to stop him.

“Stop! Leave her alone, don’t hurt her!” Sam could do nothing but protest as the vampire fed off his little sister. For the first time, he noticed the other bite marks on you—more than one vamp had fed on you while he was unconscious. It wasn’t just your neck, either; Sam saw bites all along your shoulder, blood marks on your stomach, and a ripped and bloody mess at your thigh. Sam felt his stomach lurch at the image of half a dozen vampires feeding on you, their fangs ripping up your skin and their monster hands all over you.

He wasn’t going to let it happen again.

“You’re gonna kill her!” Sam yelled. When no one paid him any mind, he head butted the vamp that was holding him in place, giving him a moment of freedom that he knew he’d have to use wisely. With his hands tied, his options were limited, so he followed his instincts and threw himself in front of you, knocking the vampire that had been feeding on you to the ground.

It was a good plan—Sam was now able to be between the vampires and you, giving him a moment to reason with them while you weren’t in as much danger.

“Keep her alive and-and you’ll have an unlimited supply,” Sam babbled, grasping for any possible argument to save you. He’d glanced back long enough to see you, ghostly pale and trembling, looking like you barely had life left in you. “But if you take anymore of her blood now you’re gonna kill her.”

The vampire wiped your blood off his chin, a sickening grin on his face.

“That’s all well and fine.” He chuckled. “Except we haven’t eaten in days, so we’re not too worried about conserving our supply.”

“Then—“ Sam swallowed. He could hear your ragged breathing behind him and feel your tiny hand on his arm, tugging at his jacket like you wanted to stop him from what you knew was coming. “Then feed on me. Not her.”

“Sammy.” Your tiny voice cracked as you tugged at your brother’s arm. Sam turned around to face you, effectively blocking you from seeing the vampires behind him.

“It’s ok, it’s ok,” he promised, brushing your blood-soaked hair away from your face. “You’re gonna be ok.” He leaned forward, kissing the side of your head so he could whisper— “Dean’s gonna find you, you’re gonna be ok.”

“Don’t—don’t—“ you choked, gripping Sam’s hands in a vice grip.

“I gotta protect you,” Sam said, a smile reaching his lips despite the terror in his eyes as the vampires grabbed onto his shoulders and yanked him away from you. “That’s what big brothers do, kid.”

You tried to go to him, but one of the vampires held you back, tying you to the leg of a desk next to you while the others forced Sam to his knees.

“It’s ok, it’s gonna be ok,” Sam repeated even while he grimaced as a vampire bit into his neck.

You started screaming when Sam’s eyes fluttered closed, the blood draining from his face as he swayed on his knees.

“No! Stop, no!”

…

Once again the harrowing sound of your shrieking froze Dean in his tracks, and even Castiel’s step faltered.

“It—I—this way.” Dean shook off his fear as he led the way towards the sound of your voice.

…

Sam’s head was starting to droop, his breathing labored, when the door swung open, slamming into the wall with a deafening crash.

Dean and Cas burst in, wasting no time in taking out the first vampires that dared to get too close to them.

The vamps nearest to you and Sam forgot you instantly, rushing to attack the two new threats.

They’d been relieved of their heads before they’d gotten one swing into the fight.

Dean rushed to check on Sam, dropping to his knees to untie him while Cas went to you. Once your hands were free, Cas tried to heal the obvious injuries he could see across your skin, but you were dashing away from him before he got the chance.

“Sam!” Your voice echoed around the concrete walls, and the pain and desperation Dean heard in it knocked him back on his heels.

Sam groggily lifted his head just in time to see you running into his arms. You slammed into him, and Sam held you in a death grip to him, rocking you back and forth.

“It’s ok,” he promised. “We’re ok.”

“I love you,” you whispered.

Sam knew right then that he’d rather have to decipher your mumbling for a million people than have to hear you scream in pain and fear again. He knew right then that your quiet whispers were the best sound he’d ever heard.

“I love you too,” he whispered back, words only for your ears.

“I need to heal you,” Castiel spoke up, breaking the two of you apart.

“Sammy first.” Sam barely heard your voice as you made your request to the angel.

“What did you say?” Cas asked. Instead of answering, you tugged at Cas’s hand and pushed it against Sam’s forehead, making Sam grin. Cas’s hand pulsed blue, and color returned to Sam’s face as he took a deep breath and the bite mark at his neck closed up.

“Here.” Sam shrugged his jacket off and wrapped it around you, covering the rips in your clothes before nodding to Cas to heal you. Sam saw Dean clenching his fists, and knew that his older brother had seen the bites covering your body.

“Thanks Cas,” you whispered, and Sam knew at once that Cas hadn’t heard you. Before the angel could ask, though, Sam wrapped you in his arms and mouthed to his friend—thank you.

Cas nodded, and Dean tugged at your arm.

“You ok sweetheart?” He asked. His eyes were wide and his hands were trembling, the adrenaline from hearing your screams not yet worn off.

You nodded, yet again mumbling. But Dean wasn’t impatient now—he just leaned closer and gently asked you to speak again.

“Can we go home now?” You asked. Dean grinned and tugged you into his arms.

“Yeah kiddo,” he said. “Let’s go home.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz @johannelis2302nely @studiogrimm810 @tell-elle

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rhiannonsknife · 2 days ago

Note

I’ve never seen someone write Jackie and Rhiannon like you do! They’re such complex characters and you do an amazing job capturing that, even in just a one shot. Just wanted to tell you that I love your blog!

If you’re still taking requests, would you mind writing a Jackie one where her and the reader come out as a couple at Doomcoming like Tai and Van did? Maybe they’ve been together for awhile but Jackie wasn’t ready to come out until then? I think a plane crash would really put things into perspective lol!

-🦈

── MEET ME IN THE WOODS TONIGHT

— summary: doomcoming with jackie taylor.

— warnings: fluff. implied internalized homophobia. secret relationship. fem!reader. nsfw content. mdni.

the makeshift decorations sway in the breeze, the clearing glows with warm lantern light and, despite everything, despite the crash, the wilderness, and the gnawing hunger, there’s laughter.

for the first time in weeks, the mood is light, almost joyful in a way that’s more genuine than anything any of you have experienced since the plane went down.

you stand near jackie, your shoulder brushing hers just so as you watch the others dance. she looks beautiful tonight, as she always does: her crown of wildflowers slightly askew, her cheeks flushed from the drinks misty’s been passing around. she’s smiling, but you know her too well to think she’s as carefree as she looks: jackie has always been good at pretending.

you’ve been together for months now, sneaking touches and stealing kisses when no one is looking your way. she had made one thing clear from the start: no one could know. she’d framed it as self-preservation. “it’s not that i don’t care about you,” jackie had said one night, her voice barely audible over the crackle of the fire. “i just…i don’t want to make things harder for us out here”

so, you learned to love the mask she wears just as much as the girl jackie is beneath all her pretense.

you’d understood, or tried to; her fears weren’t all baseless. she was used to control, to the certainty of her old world where she’d been whs’ golden girl, the one everyone admired. out here, though, her carefully constructed image had been crumbling from the start. the others had turned on her in subtle ways; side glances, muttered comments, the slow loss of respect. she couldn’t risk giving them more fuel.

now, as you’re watching taissa and van kiss in front of everyone, something seems to shift.

it’s not a grand declaration; they just kiss, laughing against each other’s lips like they’re the only two people in the world. the group doesn’t stop them. some cheer, but no one judges. it’s all…normal. contrary to the events of the past weeks, but normal.

you glance sideways at jackie, expecting her to look away or maybe make a comment to cover her discomfort. but she’s watching them, just as everyone else is, her eyes wide, her expression both soft and unreadable. there’s no jealousy there, either, no scorn. just a quiet longing that makes your chest ache.

“jackie?” you ask gently, leaning closer so only she can hear.

she blinks, pulling herself back to reality, and gives you a shaky smile. “it’s nothing,” she assures quickly.

“are you sure?” you press, keeping your voice soft. “you can talk to me, you know?”

jackie’s smile falters. for a split second, she looks like she might say something. but then she shakes her head, looking away. “come on! let’s dance!”

you follow her to the makeshift dance floor, letting her spin you around with surprising enthusiasm. the two of you laugh, swaying surrounded by the other girls. for this short while, it’s easy to forget everything that comes with the looming uncertainty these days. but then jackie slows, her movements faltering as her gaze locks on yours.

“what?” you ask, unable to brush it off this time.

she hesitates, her hand tightening around yours. “i just…” she glances over her shoulder, her eyes scanning the crowd. no one’s looking at you, their attention scattered all across the clearing. jackie takes a shaky breath. “i don’t want to hide anymore,”

“jackie, you don’t have to-“

she cuts you off by cupping your face and pressing her lips to yours, as easy as it would only ever come to her behind closed doors and the comfort of knowing you’re unseen. the kiss starts tentative, like the very first time jackie had kissed you, with her hands trembling against your cheeks. when you don’t pull away, when you lean into her, your own hands finding her waist, she deepens it. it’s soft and warm and open, jackie’s lips moving with a kind of desperation that you feel all the way to your core.

the entire world around you fades, you don’t hear the murmured conversations and laughter that surround you. all you can feel is jackie, her hands moving to your shoulders, her thumbs brushing your jawline. when she finally pulls back, her cheeks are tinted in the softest shade of pink.

“jackie,” you whisper, breathless, your forehead resting against hers still, hesitant to withdraw.

“i mean it,” she murmurs, the side of her nose nudging yours. “i don’t want to hide anymore. not with you!”

her gaze flickers shyly to the other yellowjackets around you.

there’s a moment of quiet as the others catch on, realizing what they’ve just seen. it’s van’s loud whoop that breaks the silence. when jackie looks back at you, there’s something new in her eyes. relief, maybe, or pride.

you smile at her, your fingers squeezing her waist through the fabric of her dress. “i guess the plane crash really did put things into perspective, huh?”

jackie laughs softly. “yeah. something like that.”

she doesn’t step back. if anything, she moves closer, her hands sliding down to rest on your hips as you rest your chin atop her head and pull her into your embrace.

“come with me,” she murmurs eventually.

your heart skips. “where?”

jackie’s smile turns coy. she doesn’t answer, instead she takes your hand and leads you away from the group. the warmth of the fire gives way to the cool darkness of the woods, and then, once you reach it, the cabin door creaks behind you.

inside, the room is dim, for once completely empty with the team still celebrating outside. jackie turns to face you, her eyes catching yours in the low light. she doesn’t say anything, but the way she steps closer, her free hand reaching for the back of your neck, speaks volumes.

when her mouth finds yours this time, it’s slower, deeper, her movements no longer tentative. it’s not just about showing something to the others now. it’s about you, and her, and everything that had been unspoken until now.

jackie steps closer then, backing you up until you hit the wall. her hands move to your neck, fingers sliding into your hair. the full length of her body presses against yours, caging you in as the kiss deepens.

for months, she had to hide her desire for you. now that it’s all out in the open, it’s like a dam has broken. jackie kisses you desperately, all the pent-up longing of the last poured into the collision of your mouths.

you can’t help but gasp, struggling to keep up with the demanding motion of jackie‘s lips. they trail from your mouth, down the side of your neck, nipping and kissing hungrily as her hands tug impatiently on the fabric of your clothes.

“jackie” you pant with your head tossed back against the wall. “we- we’re still-”

she pins you harder to the door, one of her legs slipping between yours. for a moment you allow yourself to get lost in the friction against your center, your hips rutting back and forth instinctively.

then, finally, you repeat, “jackie!”, breathless when she breaks away from you. her hazel eyes are dark, her chest heaving with the force of breath.

“did i do something wrong?” she asks, her voice quieter now, a hint of insecurity threading through the haze that’s come over you both. “i’m sorry, we don’t have to-“

you cut her off before jackie can overthink it.

your hand finds hers, squeezing just enough to ground her. the others could come in at any second, loud and stumbling, forcing you back to your new ‘normality’. you don’t want to forget this, don’t want to let the moment pass.

“attic. now”

you’re on top of her. chest to chest with a bare body that arches up against yours to meet you halfway.

jackie’s arms are draped over your neck, her ankles locked around your waist, pulling you in close. impossibly close, because you don’t think it’s possible to be any nearer unless you merged into her completely, lost yourself in the press of her skin, the curves of her body against yours. maybe that’s exactly what she wants. maybe that’s what you both need.

to forget where one ends and the other begins.

your clothes are scattered all around the makeshift bed you’re sharing. her dress, neat and beautiful, crumpled up on the dusty attic floor alongside your own.

it’s the most intimate you’ve ever been together: in all the months you’ve spent dating in secrecy, you never got jackie like this. you’ve imagined it, sure, pictured her at the absolute crack of dawn after making sure the other girls were definitely asleep, with a hand shoved down your pants. but even your poor attempts at masturbation in this absolute hellscape could never compare to having her underneath you.

you know, from the occasional stories she’d tell you -secrets, exchanged in hushed whispers- that jeff hasn’t either. that she was never quite ready to go all the way with him, never felt comfortable enough to.

with you, that has changed. jackie seems very comfortable now. she’s reassured you at every shy check-in between layers of clothing slipping away: “are you sure?” you’d asked when your fingers pushed up the hem of her dress. “is this still okay?” as you struggled with the clasps of her bra.

now, with the restrictive clothes gone, her lips are everywhere; against your own, the side of your neck, wandering as low as they’ll go in your current position, never getting past the swell of your breasts. jackie pulls you in absentmindedly and traces soft lines up your naked spine as her lips move down your throat. one of her hands finds yours, threading your fingers together.

this is different from all the stolen moments and careful touches you’ve shared so far. there’s no fear of being heard, no risk of being interrupted. jackie is different, every soft sound raw in a way she’s never been capable of before.

her hands roam with purpose, memorizing every single inch of your skin. her mouth traces a path from your collarbones to your shoulder as she whispers “i need you” with both her eyes closed. you can’t stop your hips from grinding into her all over again, bare skin sliding together.

you break away, blinking down at where jackie is sprawled out. “are you sure?” you manage. she bites her lip, but nods determinedly.

for months, she’s been so focused on what she should need -the validation, the approval, the status- that she’s almost forgotten how the simple act of being wanted feels like.

“okay...okay”

jackie strokes over your bare shoulders, her thumbs digging into the skin there. “can i-“ she begins, blushing under your attentive gaze. “can i touch you?”

when you nod, she brings both of her hands up to your chest. you exhale shakily. this is all so new, so sweet, even in the mess that you’re in. it’s a blur of shy touches and breathy murmurs of approval, and, for the first time in what feels like forever, you’re happy. truly, undeniably happy. happy that it’s jackie. happy that she’s the one you get to share this with.

her thumb brushes over your nipple and you arch your back forward, a quiet moan drawn from your lips. the floorboard creaks under the weight shift and you laugh into each other’s mouths.

“you like that?”

your eyes flutter shut and you manage another nod. as if to test it, jackie repeats the motion, applying just the right amount of pressure.

“oh-“ you gasp, your full body shuddering.

jackie smiles, satisfied. she leans up again, her hips jerking against your leg as she moves to press kisses to the hollow of your throat while simultaneously playing with your nipples. only when she lets out a soft noise of her own, do you realize that your thigh is pressing right between hers with the way your bodies have moved together.

momentarily caught off guard, you breathe out and jackie opens her eyes to look up at you. eager to get a similar reaction out of her, you experimentally flex the muscles against jackie’s cunt, grinding carefully. her hands grasp the thin sheets beneath her body instantly, her fingers curling up in the fabric tightly. her head falls back as she gasps: “oh my god”

“does that feel good?” you drop one hand to hold her hip.

jackie nods, her jaw slack when she gives her hips a couple of gentle rolls, dragging her wetness over the length of your leg. you watch in awe when the first actual moans spill from her lips, her voice unusually high-pitched.

you press your forehead against jackie's again, anchoring yourself to her like you're afraid of losing this moment the second there's space between you. her breath is warm but uneven, ghosting over your lips as she tilts her head, her fingers threading through your hair to pull you closer.

her open mouth brushes yours, barely, just enough to make you dizzy and press your lips to hers.

the temperature around you is rising steadily as jackie moves against your body, your breathing tangling together.

this is better than anything you’ve ever imagined already, but it is not enough.

“jackie,” you whisper. immediately, she stops the movements altogether, her brows raising in concern.

“are you okay?”

her attentiveness makes you smile. “more than okay, i just-“ you bite your lip. “i want more,”

“oh”

“is that okay?”

jackie smiles in response, shifting backwards and maneuvering you both into a new position. after some more rustling movement on the blankets, you find yourself kneeling face to face with her. the way jackie’s eyes fall to your bare chest doesn’t go unnoticed: they widen as if she’s still struggling to believe that any of this is really happening.

she takes your hand in hers, gently pressing it against the valley between l own breasts so you feel the racing of her heart against your palm.

“touch me,” jackie instructs. “and let me touch you too?”

suddenly, your position makes a lot more sense. you don’t have to be told twice. instead, you bite your lip and nod. “please”

both of you reposition your knees so your legs are spread wider, and jackie’s delicate fingers trace down your front. when they reach the hemline of your underwear, you watch her, catch the way her mouth falls open as her fingers brush over the wet patch on the fabric.

“you’re so wet” jackie murmurs in awe.

hearing those words from her is enough to set you into motion too. first, your jaw drops and you feel yourself clenching around nothing, painfully aware of the emptiness where you want to feel jackie the most. then, after a soft cry of “touch me,” you drop a hand between her thighs. jackie’s arousal is damp, soaking through the lace of her panties as you cup her carefully.

she moans your name, and her head falls against your shoulder while she simultaneously fumbles with your underwear and pushes it aside. you copy jackie’s motions, panting as you look down the little space that’s left between your bodies.

you don’t even have it in you to feel embarrassed about the moan that falls from your lips when she finds your clit and starts circling it with her index finger.

“god, jackie-“

“it’s okay,” jackie promises, her free hand cradling the back of your head. “you- oh!”

whatever she was going to say is cut short when you press your fingertips against her clit, rubbing it the same way you know you like. judging by the sharp intake of breath through her nose, it seems to be working for jackie too.

she’s the one to pick up the pace first, rubbing quicker circles. you can feel your thighs trembling already, struggling to support the weight of your body as you try to focus on touching jackie too. her wetness glides against your fingertips, practically dripping from her. occasionally, you dip lower, where her arousal pools, so you can gather it and bring it up to jackie’s stiff clit.

when she feels you there, she leans back, her pupils dilated as she looks at you in the dim light of the attic. her fingers press against your entrance. “can i?” she breathes, sounding surprisingly pleading for someone who’s just asking to touch rather than be touched. in response, you do the same for her: a singular finger toying at her throbbing hole.

when jackie pushes two of her own into you, you immediately follow suit, shuddering as she slides in with ease. your moans mingle together in the thick air, only half aware that, if any of the others come back inside now, they will definitely hear you through the floorboards.

“more,” you whine.

jackie pulls her fingers out slowly at your request, until only their tips are still inside, then pushes them back as far as they’ll go, tearing a soft cry from the back of your throat. “oh, jackie!”

her own walls throb around your still finger -which you have almost forgotten about until you feel her squeeze it. weakly, you curl it forward against jackie’s g-spot, trying to make up for your lack of movement. her eyes roll back in her head instantly.

"oh-“ she whines softly. “oh my god-“

you manage some gentle thrusts into her before you slide in a second one. jackie easily takes it.

regardless of your efforts, she doesn’t stop moving and her thrusts don’t falter. jackie, unlike you, keeps up with ease, her fingers reaching deeper than your own ever did. when she curls them in a come hither motion, you reach for her and jackie pulls you in closer, pressing her lips against yours to stifle your sounds.

it doesn’t take long at all until you feel a knot forming in your abdomen, tightening with every press and thrust.

when you part from her to catch her eyes, there's a string of spit connecting your mouths. the sight, the sensations, the knowledge that you’re hers in a way not even the wilderness can undo is all so much, and enough to have you on the edge of the first orgasm in months.

you know exactly what it’ll take for her to finally make you cum. and, even though her touch feels too good for you to string together coherent sentences, you manage a quiet: “jackie, god, i’m close!”

jackie, bless her, seems to understand: she finds your clit with her thumb while still pumping her other two fingers into you, and rubs it just like she did before, studying your face for a reaction.

"right there!“ your head lulls back, each breath coming high-pitched and every muscle tense. your hips rock against her hand and she starts circling your clit faster, adding just the right amount of pressure.

that, and her other hand sneaking up your body to roll your nipple between two of her fingers, is all it takes.

“jackie-“ you never get to finish what you were going to say. instead, you feel your orgasm washing over you in pulsing waves. a breathless moan dies in your throat when the world around you shifts out of focus and your thighs shake violently around her wrist.

just like that, you come, coating her fingers in your release as your legs give out beneath you. somewhere through the sensations, you hear jackie’s whine when your fingers slip from her, but you’re still too caught in the pleasure to really care.

finally, when it fades, you open your eyes to look up at her. jackie is panting and removes her hand from between your legs. she’s still kneeling over you but is quick to settle down in your lap now that you’re no longer holding your weight on your knees.

“here,” she pants, wrapping one arm around your shoulders as the other guides you back between her thighs. you know what to do without any more instructions: you give yourself to her, letting her use your fingers to get herself off too.

jackie slides down onto you, jaw going slack as you slip into her with ease. you hold her by the waist to support the gentle rocking motions that make the floorboards creak.

her nails dig into your skin, leaving half-moon shapes on your shoulder blades, and she cries out quietly. you watch the scene through heavy-lidded eyes while jackie rides your fingers, getting closer and closer to the sounds of skin slapping against skin. she picks up her pace until she’s practically bouncing on top of you, her chest heaving erratically.

jackie is beautiful, you knew this about her already, but -as you watch her cum- you doubt anything else could ever compare to this sight: she pulls you closer so that her mouth is right by your ear and her face is buried in the crook of your neck, repeating your name like a prayer, not stopping even as her body tenses.

her fingers clutch at you desperately, as if you're the only thing that's keeping her grounded, but she doesn't stop. doesn't let up until she's all spent and collapses into your arms. you hold jackie through it, pressing your lips to her temple, your hands steady where she needs them most.

it takes long until you’ve both fully recovered. neither of you recalls how you ended up lying in the messy sheets, with jackie’s head resting on your chest and your fingers combing through her hair. she has her arm draped over your waist, gently stroking across your side. you don’t speak.

eventually, she shifts, pressing her face further into your chest. “we should probably go back down,” jackie murmurs, though she makes no effort to move.

you hum. “do you want to?”

she’s quiet for a moment before shaking her head. “not yet,”

you smile, letting your hand settle on her back. “then we won’t,”

#˙💌 ̟ !! ─ my works #˙🔞 ̟ !! mdni #jackie taylor #jackie taylor x reader #jackie taylor x female reader #jackie taylor x fem!reader #jackie taylor x you #yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you #🦈 anon

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rachetmath · 2 days ago

Text

Nora's Plan B

Hey Nora.

Nora: Sup Em, whicha want?

Emerald: Say if Ren doesn’t work out would you date Jaune?

Nora: Yes.

Emerald: What?

Ruby: What?

Weiss: What?

Nora: What? Is that a big deal?

Emerald: Explain.

Nora: I mean I call Jaune a fearless leader for a reason.

Weiss: But Cardin-

Nora: Let’s break it down. Jaune let Cardin get away with what he did was because of his transcripts however that’s also because Jaune was used to situations like because no one has ever helped him with that. Think about it, how many friends Jaune had before Beacon?

Ruby: Hm.

Nora: Plus the moment Cardin threatened Pyrrha his attitude took a whole 180. Shoot after the Ursa he was ready to fight Cardin again.

Ruby and Weiss: Yeah, she’s not wrong.

Nora: Next, Cinder would have to watch Jaune’s progression in order to set up a good team for us to fight. Didn’t she?

Emerald: Yeah.

Nora: And Jaune stood up for Pyrrha when everybody was laying pressure on her. That’s something.

RWE: True.

Ruby: But Nora sometimes Jaune-

Nora: Hold on, yeah, Jaune has his hissy fits but then again, don’t we all grieve differently. Plus Ruby, Qrow waited until we were attacked by Salem’s forces to explain everything. Instead, he could have just told us from the start. He was doing unnecessary things. So yeah Jaune has every right to be mad. I say Qrow should have counted his blessings that Jaune was willing to help him at all if you weren’t around. Or Jaune kills him by his own hands.

Ruby: Oh.

Weiss: But then he- Oscar-

Nora: With Oscar, Jaune admitted he overreacted with him. But, again, understandble. We grieve at our own pace. And I mean seriously Ozpin hadyears to stop Salem and he hasn’t done it. Ozpin might as well be just as bad as Salem. Also if you have not noticed back in Argus the moment he pushed Oscar to the wall none of us were ready. Remember how Yang looked?

RW:

Nora: That was fear. I will say that takes points away for being attractive but it also shows he has a breaking point. Which for most people needs to be avoided cause someone could end up dead. But again Jaune proves he has control of his emotions by letting Oscar go.

Yang: Yeah she’s not wrong.

Ruby: Yang how-

Yang: Stay on topic. Look I’m cool with Ren and you know I- I understood why he was upset but the moment he realized his tone with Jaune-

Yang: He knew. He knew he f**** up but then Jaune’s response- Oh my god.

Yang: He maintained his composure. His behavior proves he learned from Argus with Oscar. He still was willing to talk with him.

Yang: If that’s not maturity then I don’t know what is. Just saying.

Ruby: But Jaune in the Ever After was-

Yang: Okay let’s compare. Ren was upset about Atlas and Mantle. Instead of being upset about it and following orders, what else has he done to fix anything? Nothing. And when he finally expressed himself it was after Oscar got kidnapped. And we were stranded in the middle of miles in snow with no food or transportation. Meanwhile, leaving those thousands of people to die.

Me: But didn’t you start it?

Yang: Doesn’t matter.

Me: Yes it-

Yang: Shut up. And in the Ever After Ruby…. …. We were there for a day and we made Little homeless. Robbed the knights. Almost died playing a game of chess with a spoiled brat. Fought our inner demons. And destroyed a city market with people in it to save ourselves from Neo. In one day mind you we did all of that.

Ruby: Holy-

Yang: Now with Jaune he wasn’t dismissing our problem but we were contemplating at the wrong time.

Yang: Mainly because a storm came.

Yang: He then brought us to his home.

Yang: And let's recall he was waiting for us. Something he didn’t have to do. At all. And what did we do? Judge the man for taking care of a bunch of children who want to die.

Yang: Then we brought Neo to him.

Yang: And Ruby -

Ruby: No further comments.

Yang: And Ratchet.

Me: *sigh* Okay. Fine. If you have seen my list of Jaune ships or seen any of my post on Ren and Nora., my outlook on them is not good. But after thinking about the reason I hate Nora, I steadily realized, ‘man, what I am saying, she’s better than Sakura.” She doesn’t physically or mentally abuse Jaune like Sakura does to Naruto. And unlike the other besides Pyrrha she’s consistent with Jaune. So I'll admit I was petty with her in volume seven and eight. I can see Nora’s Arc happening.

Nora: Thank you. Anyways Emerald I would date Jaune as my plan B. Especially if Ren and I don’t recover from Atlas.

Emerald: Well damn. Too bad you got competition.

Nora: *laugh*

RWE: *shocked*

Nora: Let them come. But remember, team JNPR. And team JNRO. And team RNJR.

Weiss: What is that- oh my god.

Nora: That’s right. I’m number two. I’m the second. I’m always beside Jaune. Not Pyrrha. Not Ren. Me. He’s the leader. But the queen of the motherf***ing castle. Bye ladies. *leaves*

Yang: Damn.

Weiss: Oh no, I better act fast.

Ruby: I need Ren to clean up his mess quickly.

Emerald: She most definitely

#rwby #jaune arc #ruby rose #yang xiao long #nora valkyrie #emerald sustrai #lie ren #jaune x nora #nora x jaune #rwby nora's arc #nora's arc #rwby topaz #jaune x emerald #weiss x jaune #ruby x jaune #rwby lancaster #rwby whiteknight

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alaia777 · 3 days ago

Note

CONGRATULATIONS FOR 200 FOLLOWERS!!! <333 IM SO HAPPY FOR YOU AND THANK YOU FOR THIS EVENT 🙏😈

id appreciate if you could do one with Rin and the prompt being:

⊹ i love your attention, but i love peace and quiet more—so hush.

Please make it fluff🙏🙏😭 (you can ignore this if you want but I'd appreciate it if you could add a little scene where Rin kisses the reader to shut them up 🤭)

thank you so so much. this was so fun to write, i hope you like it !!!! 🩷🩷🩷

it was the first time in months that you woke up before rin, and for some reason, today felt different. maybe it was the rare burst of energy that had you up at 6 a.m., already done with your routine, stretching like one of those influencers who post their “productive morning” videos. maybe it was the quiet stillness of the morning, the kind that made you want to savor it.

by the time the city started to wake, you’d already been out—grabbing coffee and pastries from the shop that opened early, spending some time at the park near your apartment, even feeding the pigeons like an old soul with too much free time. and yet, when you stepped back inside, your boyfriend was still exactly where you left him—fast asleep, completely undisturbed.

not that you blamed him. waking up too early, coming home too late—rin had been running on empty for weeks. you figured it had finally caught up to him.

so by 7:30, with nothing else to do, you settled onto the couch, coffee in hand, scrolling through your phone, catching up on the latest influencer drama like it was the morning news.

when you heard the duvet rustling in your shared bedroom, you were already on your feet, making your way over before rin could even sit up. he was still rubbing the sleep from his eyes when you jumped onto the bed, grinning.

“good morning, baby cakes.” even with his hand over his face, you could tell he was rolling his eyes.

“why are you up so early?” he muttered, his voice still rough from sleep.

“because the early bird catches the worm, and i caught us some warm, delicious pastries.” you paused, then sighed. “well, they were warm.”

“but that doesn’t matter. you know that drama about that woman on the internet i told you about? yeah, there’s more.”

without waiting for a response, you launched into the latest updates, detailing every twist and turn—what she did, the backlash, the people involved, and why the internet was in chaos over it. rin, still half-asleep, stared at you with a blank expression, his eyes barely open as he listened in silence.

“but wait—there’s more,” you added dramatically, climbing into his lap and cupping his face between your hands, determined to make sure he was paying attention.

he let out a slow exhale, clearly questioning all of his life choices. “i love your attention, but i love peace and quiet more—so hush.” his hand came up, covering your face as if that would be enough to stop you.

you audibly gasped, prying his hand away. “first of all, rude. second of all—” you sat up straighter, regaining your composure. “as i was saying, she was bragging about her designer bags while her kids don’t even have beds—”

you didn’t even get to finish, because rin’s hands were on your cheeks, pulling you in, cutting you off with a kiss—not to be sweet, not to be romantic, but purely to get you to stop talking.

your brain stalled for a second, words failing you as you processed what just happened, and when you finally snapped out of it, you caught the slightest smirk tugging at his lips. that little shit.

“rin, you need to brush your teeth.”

his smirk instantly dropped as he rolled his eyes, shoving you off him with zero hesitation before dragging himself out of bed and heading for the bathroom. you barely had time to laugh before the sound of the door closing echoed through the room, leaving you alone, victorious.

#can you tell what “influencer“ i’m talking about 😭😭#blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock x you #bllk x you #blue lock fluff #bllk fluff #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi x y/n #rin itoshi x you #rin x reader

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milfsloverblog · 2 days ago

Note

HIIII OMG I LOVE YOUR WRITING SM! I JUST HAD LIKE THIS POP INTO MY BRAIN AND I THOUGHT YOU MAY LIKE IT!

MAYBE! brienne x femreader. READEERRRRR is super forward and blunt and sweet with brienne at first assumed a knight would want to be courted that way and that she couldn’t be shy with brienne!

And brienne isn’t used to it and sort of grows distant and nervous (a touch of angst FOR FUNZIES IF YOU WANT) ! (Can’t blame our shy queen!)

BUT THENNNN

Reader goes all shy and dejected and avoids brienne out of guilt THENNNN assumes brienne doesn’t like women OR just her THEN BRIENNE ENDS UP TOTALLY MAKING READER SWOON INTENTIONALLY TO MAKE READER SHY THEN HAPPY ENDING YAY

ANY GAPS IN MY PLOT YOU FILL WITH YOUR GENIUSSSSS ❤️ I HOPE YOU LIKE IT

Unarmored

Brienne of Tarth x fem!reader

A/N: Thanks for the request, I really enjoyed writing this!! Hope you’ll like it!

Brienne of Tarth had been in countless battles, faced men twice her size, and sworn oaths that bound her very being. She had fought, bled, and endured scorn from the day she first picked up a sword.

And yet, nothing in her life had prepared her for you.

The king’s daughter was relentless.

From the moment you first set your sights on her, you had pursued her with the same unwavering determination she had only ever seen on the battlefield. You were utterly fearless in the way you chased after what you wanted.

And, gods help her, what you wanted was her.

Brienne had absolutely no idea what to do with it.

The first time you truly caught her off guard, she had been training in the courtyard. The morning air was crisp, and the clash of steel rang loud against stone walls as she moved through her drills. The weight of her sword was familiar in her hands, the rhythm of combat grounding.

And then you arrived.

"Ser Brienne," you called, your voice smooth as honey, “I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.”

Brienne, mid-swing, nearly fumbled her grip. She turned to face you, cheeks already heating. “I— I would never avoid my lady,” she said stiffly, standing at attention.

You hummed, stepping closer, your skirts swaying with the movement. “Good. Because I’d be terribly heartbroken if you did.”

Brienne clenched her jaw, gripping the hilt of her sword tighter. She had no idea how to handle this.

You tilted your head, watching her carefully. "A knight as noble as you surely knows the pain of heartbreak, don’t you?"

Brienne swallowed. "I— I suppose," she muttered.

You sighed dramatically, placing a hand over your heart. "Then you wouldn't dare be the cause of mine."

Brienne had faced warlords, assassins, and even a bear once. And yet, she could not stop the heat rising in her cheeks.

You grinned, clearly enjoying the effect you had on her. "I'll take your silence as agreement, then."

And with that, you turned on your heel, leaving her standing there—stunned, breathless, and entirely unprepared for what was to come.

It didn’t stop there.

The next day, you found her in the stables, brushing down her horse. She had hoped for a quiet moment to collect herself, but you had other plans.

“I imagine being a knight means you’ve never been properly courted,” you mused, watching her work.

Brienne stilled, fingers freezing over the mare’s mane. “I… suppose not.”

You tsked. “What a crime. A woman as strong and beautiful as you deserves to be showered with affection.”

Brienne’s breath caught. She turned sharply, searching your face for any sign of jest. But there was none. You were just… looking at her, like you meant every word.

“My lady,” she stammered, “you shouldn’t say such things.”

“Why not?” You tilted your head. “It’s the truth.”

She swallowed, heart hammering against her ribs. She had trained all her life to handle a sword, to stand against the most fearsome of warriors, and yet here she was, bested by nothing more than your words.

And it only got worse from there.

You truly were relentless, slipping into her presence whenever possible, showering her with compliments and teasing remarks that left her utterly undone. It was dangerous—your attention, your easy confidence.

One evening, as she escorted you through the castle halls, you sighed dramatically. “You know, Brienne, I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have a strong pair of arms hold me at night.”

Brienne nearly choked on air. “M-My lady?”

You glanced up at her, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Surely you wouldn’t leave a poor princess cold and alone?”

Brienne’s entire body tensed. “I— I—”

You smiled at her, all softness and warmth. “I’m only teasing, Brienne.” Then, after a pause: “Unless, of course, you’d like to keep me warm.”

That was the moment Brienne decided she might actually perish.

She needed to get away.

At first, she thought distance would fix it.

She kept her interactions with you short, avoided your gaze when you spoke, and responded only with curt nods or rushed words. She told herself it was for the best, that you would tire of this game and move on.

But she hadn’t expected you to retreat entirely.

Gone were the teasing remarks, the lingering touches, the smiles meant just for her. You no longer sought her out in the halls, no longer appeared in the training yard or the stables.

And Brienne hated it.

She missed the way your eyes lit up when you saw her, the way you leaned in too close when you spoke, the way your words made her feel—wanted.

She missed you. Desperately.

It was unbearable.

Her mind raced with doubts. Did you tire of her? Had she made a fool of herself? She knew how she had been acting—shaky, uncertain, too vulnerable—but she had never been trained for this. It wasn’t battle, wasn’t anything she could fight off with her sword.

It was you.

So, when she found you alone in the gardens one evening, staring up at the sky with a distant expression, she did something reckless.

“My lady,” she called out, voice softer than she intended.

You turned, blinking in surprise. “Brienne.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then, hesitantly, Brienne stepped closer. “I— I owe you an apology.”

Your brows furrowed. “For what?”

“For… avoiding you.” She exhaled sharply, gaze dropping to the ground. “It wasn’t because I didn’t— I mean, I wasn’t—” She shut her eyes briefly before forcing herself to look at you. “You make me nervous.”

You blinked. Then, to her utter horror, you grinned.

“I knew it,” you declared, stepping forward. “You are shy.”

Brienne groaned, covering her face with her hand. “Gods, you are impossible.”

You laughed, then reached out, taking her hand in yours. Brienne’s breath hitched, but she didn’t pull away.

“Brienne,” you said softly, voice losing its usual teasing edge. “If I overstepped, if I made you uncomfortable, you can tell me. But if it’s something else—” Your fingers squeezed hers. “I’d rather you be the one to tell me what you want.”

Brienne swallowed hard. Then, before she could lose her nerve, she lifted your hand to her lips and pressed a reverent kiss to your knuckles.

“I want you,” she murmured against your skin.

Your breath hitched.

And then, for the first time since this whole mess had begun, you were the one left speechless.

Brienne smirked.

Yes. She could definitely get used to this.

The next morning, Brienne walked into the great hall with a newfound sense of confidence.

She found you sitting at the long table, speaking with a handmaiden.

Brienne didn’t hesitate.

“My lady,” she said smoothly, bowing her head. “You look breathtaking this morning.”

You nearly knocked over your goblet.

Brienne bit back a smile.

“Oh,” you said, blinking at her. “Thank you, Brienne, I—”

Brienne leaned in slightly, lowering her voice just enough for only you to hear. “Would it fluster you if I told you I dreamt of you last night?”

Your lips parted, your breath caught.

Brienne smirked.

Victory.

————————————————————————

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#gwendoline christie #brienne x reader #Brienne of Tarth x reader #brienne of tarth #asoiaf

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hazelira · 13 hours ago

Text

sleepless

The dim glow of the computer screen cast sharp shadows across Heeseung’s chiselled features. The only sound in his office was the rhythmic clicking of his keyboard—until it wasn’t.

He stopped mid-sentence, fingers frozen over the keys as a soft huff huff huff filled the room.

His jaw clenched.

He didn’t need to look up to know that the noise source was the tiny, chunky six-month-old suspended in his jolly jumper sling near the bookshelf, bouncing with an innocent determination.

Heeseung had no idea why he let you talk him into this.

You had mumbled something about needing to trying to sleep an early night, trusting him to handle him for a while—him, the man whose hands were stained with sins, whose enemies trembled at the mere mention of his name.

And now, he was, working on arms deals while a smol potato of a baby in a star-patterned onesie wobbled in midair like a marshmallow on strings.

His soft grunts and heavy breathing filled the room as he kicked his stubby legs.

Heeseung sighed, rubbing his temple. This is ridiculous.

He returned to his work, trying to tune him out, but a loud, excited gasp would break the silence every few minutes.

He glanced at him.

His chubby cheeks were flushed, and his big, glassy eyes stared at nothing in particular as he bounced slowly, his fingers curled into tiny fists.

Heeseung’s lip twitched.

He looked so stupidly cute.

But—cute.

God.

He checked the time. 1AM. He should be in bed before 3AM at the latest.

His chair scraped against the floor as he walked toward him with that same air of authority he carried in underground meetings.

The baby paused, blinking up at him.

Heeseung crossed his arms. “Are you planning on tiring yourself out, or should I do it for you?”

Silence.

Then, he let out a loud squeal and bounced harder.

Heeseung swore under his breath. He’s mocking me.

Running a hand down his face, he unhooked him from the sling and lifted him effortlessly, pressing him against his chest.

His warm, squishy body sank into him immediately, a tiny sigh leaving his lips.

“Finally,” he muttered, adjusting him in his arms. “You’re lucky you’re smol.”

He babbled something unintelligible, stuffing half of his pudgy fist into his mouth.

Heeseung only sighed, patting his back.

The things he did for you.

Heeseung sat back in his chair, his work momentarily forgotten as his son rested against his chest, his tiny body rising and falling with each soft breath.

He was still awake, though. He could tell by how his little hand occasionally twitched against his shirt and how he babbled softly, more to himself than to him.

“Go to sleep,” he murmured, adjusting him so his head rested comfortably against his shoulder.

His only response was a wet gurgle.

Heeseung exhaled sharply through his nose. He wasn’t good at this—this whole fatherhood thing. He barely even knew how to talk to him. He was so small, helpless, and unlike the ruthless world he was used to.

And yet, here he was.

Here he was.

Holding a six-month-old baby boy in the dead of night, still dressed in his black button-up and loosened tie, unfinished weapons contracts blinked on the screen behind him.

If they saw him like this, his men would never let him live this down.

He stood again, carrying him with him as he paced the room. He was getting heavier—his chunky little son—but he held him easily, his weight barely noticeable against his broad frame.

“Your mama tricked me,” he muttered, side-eyeing him.

He let out a happy, slight hum, completely oblivious.

“She said you’d fall asleep quickly if I held you,” he continued, his voice dropping to that deep, cold tone he used in meetings. “That was a lie, wasn’t it?”

The baby sighed dramatically as if exhausted by him instead.

Heeseung stared.

“…Did you just sass me?”

Silence.

Then, a tiny hiccup.

Heeseung closed his eyes for a long moment before sitting on the couch. He adjusted his grip so he was cradled more securely against him.

His thumb brushed against his soft cheek absentmindedly.

He was so warm, so fragile, and so completely and utterly his.

And he—

He was so entirely and utterly his.

He leaned back against the couch with a reluctant sigh, staring at the ceiling. “Fine. Stay up if you want. But don’t cry later when you’re overtired.”

His son only cooed in response, his tiny fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

Heeseung sighed again, closing his eyes.

Maybe—maybe—he could afford to rest for a little while, too.

A heavy silence settled over the office, broken only by the faint hum of Heeseung’s computer and the soft, steady breathing of the tiny body nestled against his chest.

His son had finally tired herself out.

His stubby fingers remained curled in the fabric of his shirt. His round cheek squished against his shoulder as he slept, his mouth slightly open.

Heeseung huffed. Finally.

But now he was stuck.

If he moved too fast, he’d wake up. If he put him down too soon, he’d definitely wake up. And if he woke up, he’d scream.

And then you would wake up.

And then he would be the one suffering.

With a quiet exhale, Heeseung leaned his head against the couch, one hand supporting his back and the other resting lightly on his thigh. He could feel his weight, warm and soft and undeniably real.

It was strange. He had spent years navigating dangerous negotiations, making life-or-death decisions without flinching. He had blood on his hands and secrets buried in the shadows.

Yet he was afraid to move because of one tiny baby.

Pathetic.

He let out a humourless chuckle, rubbing slow circles against his back. “Your mama will scold me if you’re not in bed before three.”

The baby didn’t stir.

Heeseung glanced at the clock. 1:42 AM. He had some time.

But instead of getting up, he stayed there, listening to the rhythmic sound of his breathing.

His hand absentmindedly ran over his little onesie, feeling the soft fabric stretch over his round belly.

He was so chubby.

A real little potato.

And despite everything, the weight of the life he led and the coldness that had been etched into his bones, he felt something unfamiliar bloom in his chest.

Something warm. Something terrifying.

Something dangerously close to love.

Heeseung exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand down his face. “What the hell are you doing to me?”

His son smacked his lips in his sleep, utterly unbothered.

Heeseung scoffed.

“You and your mama,” he muttered, shifting slightly to make himself more comfortable. “A nightmare of a duo.”

He should get up. He should put him to bed.

But instead, he let his eyes drift shut, his warmth anchoring him in a way nothing else had.

And for once, the mafia king allowed himself to rest.

The room was eerily quiet, save for the occasional rustle of fabric as Heeseung shifted on the couch, careful not to jostle the sleeping baby pressed against his chest.

He should move.

He needed to move.

But every time he adjusted his grip, his son let out a tiny sigh and burrowed further into him as if he could sense his hesitation.

Heeseung clenched his jaw.

He had led entire empires with an iron fist. He had made grown men tremble with a single look.

And now, he was trapped under the weight of a chubby six-month-old.

This wasn't very comfortable.

He finally opened his eyes with a deep sigh, blinking blearily at the clock. 2:13 AM.

You were going to kill him.

Heeseung glanced down at the little bundle in his arms. He had drooled a little on his shirt; his tiny lips parted as he slept soundly, unaware of the chaos he had caused in his life.

His lips twitched.

It was infuriating how much he looked like him. The same dark lashes and sharp nose—except on him, everything was soft, round, innocent. Untouched by the world he lived in.

And he intended to keep it that way.

He stood carefully, holding him close as he approached the door. The hallway was dimly lit, and the distant sound of the heater hummed in the background as he walked toward the nursery.

He eased the door open with one hand, stepping inside. The room was quiet, filled with the faint scent of baby lotion and the warmth of soft nightlights.

Heeseung approached the crib, gazing down at its plush bedding. He knew he had to put him down, knew that letting him sleep on him all night was a bad idea—but his arms wouldn’t move.

He hesitated.

Just for a moment.

His son stirred slightly, a tiny frown appearing as if he had already sensed the impending betrayal.

Heeseung sighed.

“…Fine.”

Without another thought, he turned on his heel and left the nursery.

The main bedroom was quiet as he pushed open the door and stepped inside.

You were still asleep, curled beneath the blankets, your soft breathing filling the room. Heeseung walked toward the bed and sat down carefully without waking you.

Then, slowly, he adjusted the baby in his arms, settling him between the two of you.

He snuggled into the blanket immediately, tiny fingers twitching in his sleep.

Heeseung sighed, leaning back against the headboard.

“You win,” he muttered, staring at the ceiling. “Spoiled little thing.”

But despite his words, his hand instinctively rested on his back, keeping him close.

And for the first time that night, he felt at ease.

The bedroom was. Still, the only movement coming from the slow rise and fall of your chest beside him and the soft, occasional twitch of the baby nestled between you both.

Heeseung didn’t move for a long while, staring at the ceiling, listening to the steady rhythm of your breathing.

It was strange—this quiet, domestic life.

He had never planned for it and never imagined himself in a warm bed with a wife and a baby.

He should have felt suffocated.

Instead, he felt safe.

With a slow exhale, he finally allowed himself to relax, letting the exhaustion from the day settle deep into his bones.

But just as he was beginning to drift, a small, sleepy whimper broke the silence.

His body tensed immediately, instinct kicking in as he glanced down.

The baby scrunched his face, his tiny fingers flexing against the blanket. Another soft whimper escaped his lips, his head turning slightly as if searching for something.

Heeseung frowned.

Was he waking up?

He didn’t even have the chance to react before he let out a weak little cry—barely even a sound, just a pitiful, breathy whine.

And immediately, you stirred.

Your eyes fluttered open, still heavy with sleep, your brows furrowing as you registered the noise.

“Heeseung…?” Your voice was thick and groggy. You shifted slightly, blinking at seeing him sitting with the baby in his arms.

Heeseung let out a quiet breath. “Go back to sleep.”

You frowned, eyes darting between him and the baby. “Why is he in our bed?”

“He refused to sleep in the crib.”

You sighed, running a tired hand over your face. “That’s because he’s used to sleeping beside me.”

Heeseung scoffed. “So he is spoiled.”

You shot him a sleepy glare before reaching out, your hands brushing against his as you carefully took the baby from him.

He settled against you instantly, his little body moulding into yours like it was the only place he belonged.

Heeseung watched as you rubbed small circles against his back, whispering soft, reassuring words until he sighed deeply, finally drifting back into sleep.

His jaw tightened.

Why was it so easy for you?

How did you do it so effortlessly—comfort him, love him, make him feel safe?

And why, despite everything, did he want that too?

You glanced up at him, your features soft with drowsiness. “Heeseung…”

He met your gaze.

You hesitated momentarily before reaching for his hand, squeezing it lightly. “You did well.”

Heeseung stilled.

Your fingers were warm against his, delicate but firm. And just like that, the last of his tension melted away.

He exhaled quietly, his lips barely curving into something that almost resembled a smile.

Wordlessly, he lay beside you, his hand still resting against the baby’s back.

And the mafia king allowed himself to sleep for the first time in a long time.

requested by: @hecseungx

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