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julymusings · 2 months ago

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you're good to me, baby

with the roar of the fire my heart rose to its feet, like the ashes of ash i saw rise in the heat. settle soft and as pure as snow, i fell in love with the fire long ago.

or; because the red hood bleeding onto your living room carpet is exactly what you need right now [3.6k]

Jason Todd x fem!reader; based on this lovely ask; ngl this turned into a personal vent jason doesn't show up until 1k words in LMAO; warning there’s blood (duh) and reader is suggested to have heavy anxiety; pre-established relationship where reader doesn’t know his identity + muzzle red hood bc HOT

Compartmentalize. Create baskets in your mind. Analyze the situation, and drop the corresponding emotion in the appropriate basket.

One: You had a fight with your best friend. She called you selfish because you weren’t enthusiastic about her new relationship. She just can’t seem to understand that no matter how happy you want to be for her, it’s painful to see everyone find safety in another person when you can’t. Every attempt at romance is squashed by something or the other that you keep doing wrong. I thought you were hot, your latest dating attempt had said when you ran into him and asked why he never texted back. But you’re kind of a lot. Not something I have the space for right now, you know?

Two: There’s an important presentation today, one that could determine the fate of your position in the company. Your coworker, the one who’s convinced you stole his promotion (he just flirted with the higher-ups while you actually completed the requirements), refuses to let you forget how much is at stake. All it takes is one misstep, one stutter, one hesitation, and he will take it as an excuse to demand your demotion— or worse, termination. You’ve been preparing for this presentation for three weeks. If after all that effort it’s still not good enough, maybe you should be fired.

The emotions here? Frustration. Anger. Exhaustion. Jealousy. Just to name a few. But there’s no time to dwell on anxieties right now, so you shove those thoughts aside. Drop them in their compartments and move on because, after all, if you can strip them down to their bones and find where they stem, you can yank those anxieties from the ground before they have the chance to root. And then there’s no need for unnecessary heartache, right?

(Who cares if the baskets are overflowing, crumpled fragments spilling over the sides like garbage in a landfill? Who cares if the room of your mind is so packed that you’re pressed against the wall and breathing becomes painful.)

The digital clock beside your bed reads 6:12. The numbers blink in and out of the window, their red dots and dashes taunting your heavy eyelids. You still have forty-eight minutes of peace before it will scare you awake. Its beeping will ring so loud and angry that the adrenaline from the startle will power you through your morning routine, and your beating heart won’t dare still to entertain wishes of just five more minutes. 6:13 now. You have forty-seven more minutes of peace, minutes which should be spent sleeping, giving your poor brain a break from itself. But you can’t. Every time you close your eyes and begin to sink below the level of consciousness, your heart pumps a house-special cocktail of cortisol that laces through your bloodstream and convinces you that if you fall asleep you will miss your presentation and you will get fired. The off-grid escape plan formulating in your head switches from hypothetical to tentative when your neighbors, apparently awoken to lust as well as tired by it, start going at it again. You want nothing more than to bang on their door and scream obscenities until they hate each other enough to never touch again, but you resign yourself to consciousness, giving up on the dream of what would now be forty-four more minutes of sleep.

It’s Friday morning; only one more day to get through before the sweet release of the weekend finds you. (The whole weekend will be spent contemplating the start of a project, feeling like two days is not nearly long enough to complete anything, and dreading Monday until it finds you with nothing done and the same, endless cycle awaiting.)

After completing your morning routine 44 minutes early, you use the spare time to go through your presentation once more, just for good luck, wrapping up the third run-through just in time to hear your alarm to leave for work.

The presentation goes decent, at least well enough to quell any doubts about your ability to do your job. Your coworker ate his words for sure, and you might have enjoyed the look on his face had you not mentally checked out as soon as you finished your closing remarks. Rush hour traffic has the ice cream tub you bought at the convenience store dripping condensation all over the passenger’s seat and your hips hurt from being in the same sitting position for most of the day, but you remind yourself that peace is only a few miles out. Stopped at yet another red light, your grip tightens on the steering wheel. Breathe in. Breathe out. The line of cars starts to move forward.

When you get home, your frustration is close to boiling over. You kick off your shoes right at the door, your keys and bag following close behind.

Far be it from you to break down on the floor in the middle of the room, the plan begins to formulate. There’s a box of tissues on your desk– that can go on the nightstand, along with two of the chilled water bottles you keep in the fridge for after you work out. And you’ll need something for the tissues, right? The small wastebasket from the bathroom should be fine. You drag it over to the side of your bed, sitting in your usual spot to make sure you placed it at a reachable distance. You won’t want to get out of bed to wash your face after this, so a washcloth should go next to the tissues. And an extra one, just to be safe.

You keep a set of comfortable clothes ready, the nicest, softest pajamas you own that you only wear after an everything shower. This shower, however, is a quick one, not much more than a few minutes under scalding water to comfort you, if nothing else. The light pink pajamas are a high-quality cotton and you feel like you’re in the clouds when you slip into them. Remaining is the ice cream, which you set out on the counter right before your shower so it would thaw just enough to be soft but not melted, With everything in your room ready, you go to retrieve the ice cream but stop with a startle when you round the corner.

“Jesus,” you mumble.

He’s just sitting there, doing nothing except bleeding out on your cream-colored carpet. He’s spread out on the couch like he owns the place, head leaned back against the wall as he lets his injured arm hang over the armrest and drip blood and dirt onto your cream-colored rug. The liquid seeps into the expensive wool, staining it with reddish-brown hues and the scent of iron, and he doesn’t even notice.

“Hey.” The Red Hood lifts his head when he sees you.

On any other day, you’d be quick to action, hauling him up off the couch and sprinting for the first aid kit under the bathroom sink. Today, your arms are too heavy and your gaze remains rooted on the widening splotch of red against white. Your throat feels dry. “You’re getting blood on the carpet.”

He peers over the armrest. “Oh, shit,” he curses, lifting his arm to hover it over his lap. He sounds robotic through his muzzle mask. His hood, pulled down to reveal his thick black hair curling at the ends from humidity and sweat, rests on his back.

I don’t have time for this, is what you want to say. You want to scream it in his face and kick him out for having the audacity to think he can come and go as he pleases, that you’re nothing more than a drive-through emergency room who will drop everything if he gets so much as a paper cut. But you can’t say any of this, and you do want him to come to you whenever he needs help. God knows he won’t go anywhere else.

Holding back your heavy sigh, you wordlessly walk to the bathroom. He takes that as an invitation to follow.

It’s clinical. Rehearsed. Neither of you speak. It’s a partnered dance long since committed to muscle memory, steps you can take in your sleep. He knows to seat himself on the step stool you got just for him, for nights like these. He knows where to find the first aid kit and which supplies to hand you first. You know the exact steps to follow. Check the palms for abrasions. Antiseptic to the lacerations. Concussion exam.

Maybe he can sense the air of tension surrounding you, because he doesn’t say as much as he usually does (though, granted, it’s still not much). It’s a reflection of your dynamic several months earlier when this arrangement began, back before you’d managed to chip away at the surface of his rough exterior. You notice the way his fingers curl against his thighs when you, somewhat carelessly, wipe the dirt from his skin with more pressure than necessary and the way his eyebrows tilt inward when you work slower than usual. You notice, but you ignore it.

We both know you have at least a dozen people who could do this for you. The words echo in your mind. Don’t act like I owe you this. If anything, you owe me a new carpet. These are things you wish you could say, but never will. Being realistic, you’ll probably never be able to say things like this. You’ll be subjected to all the shitty coworkers and unsympathetic friends and exploitative vigilantes of the world for the rest of your life.

This isn’t his fault, you remind yourself, but still, your lips turn down and your jaw feels tight with the effort to keep your face still, to not burst into tears right on the spot. In the second it takes for you to calm yourself, your hands pause. He notices. He says nothing.

It’s not until you’re finished with cleaning the blood from his arm wound and giving him a wad of gauze to hold against it that he tests the waters and asks, “Is it too bad?”

He sounds automated, but over the last few months, you’ve learned a thing or two about reading even these robotic actions. There's a certain quietness to the beginning of his sentence like he’s debating if he should say it or not.

“It’s fine,” you say, shortly.

“Sorry about your rug,” he says. He tugs at the strap of his muzzle with one finger, rubbing at the skin underneath the leather. “I can get the stain out.”

You retrieve the needle and thread from the kit and don’t respond. You don’t even look at him.

After a moment’s hesitation, he continues. “It’s easy. You just need salt and—”

“Okay.”

He goes quiet.

You don’t mean to be so tetchy, but you don’t have the energy for anything more. Every little thing has you feeling on the edge of shattering. It’s too much. It’s all too much.

It’s when you’re kneeled at his side, staring into the gaping wound on his bicep and trying to thread the needle, fingers trembling from the chill of the tiled floor with nothing but a layer of thin cotton to keep you warm, that it happens. He shifts on the stool, a mere twitch in an attempt to get comfortable, but it brushes his bloody arm against yours. Flecks of fresh red on the light pink fabric. First your carpet, now your pajamas. Your favorite, special, extra soft matching cotton pajama set, a rare splurge after your promotion that stood out among old t-shirts and sweat shorts. Ruined. Again, he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Did I say something?” Hood asks. He waits for your response, but when none comes, he adds, “I’m sorry if I did.” He speaks so quietly you may not have been able to separate his words from the whirring filter of his mask, if not for the chilling silence of the bathroom floor. The insulating brick walls of your old apartment building are something you’re usually grateful for, but tonight you find yourself wishing for the city’s commotion to seep through the walls. Something, anything to buffer his proximity to you.

You hear his inhale as he prepares to say something else.

“Can you just let me work?” You snap before he has the chance to speak again. It’s loud, louder than you’d ever dream of speaking to him, and he flinches. Your eyes shut in apology, but only for a moment before you get back to it. He looks away. His feet point towards the door.

He wants to leave, you can tell, and you don’t blame him. You just messed everything up. But you started this, so now you have to finish it.

You sit in silence for the several minutes it takes for you to clean his wound and stop the bleeding.

He’s not looking at you, gaze transfixed ahead of him on a chip in the paint. At least, you assume. It’s difficult to guess what’s going on behind the milky white covering over his eyes. His subtle body language can be read if you pay close enough attention, you’ve learned, but that’s not something you care to do right now.

(Maybe you noticed in the back of your mind that he’s not exhibiting any body language since you snapped at him, but the compartment in your head for guilt is already overflowing, so maybe you didn’t notice it, you tell yourself.)

You stare at your sleeve, at the patches of blood blooming like ink blots. The red and pink hues blend together behind your blurring vision. You sniffle.

“Are you—” Hood starts. Because now he’s looking at you.

“Excuse me,” you say, pushing yourself off the ground and stumbling out of the room without so much as a glance back at him. You stagger into your room, needle and thread still in hand, and push the door closed. The lights are off, and the darkness is calming, quieting your buzzing thoughts. You close your eyes and lean against the door. Breathe in. Breathe out. You continue this exercise, breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth to soothe your sympathetic nervous system, the same way a therapist instructed that one time you went. You wipe away the moisture that has collected in your eyes, roll out your stiff neck, dry your sweaty palms over your thighs. You toss the needle and thread aside, because they are definitely not sterile anymore, and take a few more breaths before opening the door and going back to the bathroom.

You avoid his face, following the lines of grimy grout between the tiles before resuming to your spot at his side. His inspecting eyes burn on the side of your face. You wipe down the forceps with a sterilizing wipe and rip open the plastic packaging for a new needle, holding it up to the wound, but your hand refuses to steady.

Another deep breath. Then another.

Hood sighs. It’s almost chastising. “I think I should go.”

“What?” You’re just surprised enough to be torn away from your thoughts and look him in the eye (mask) for the first time all night.

“You can’t do this,” he says, gruffly. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I’ll let you figure it out.”

You scoff. “Yes, I can. I’m fine.”

Before he can argue, you grab him by the wrist to hold him in place just as he starts moving to get up. He winces, but you keep your grip tight on him. You can feel his scrutiny through the cold, expressionless barrier of his disguise, practically track his pupils as they search your face.

You both pretend he couldn’t break from your hold in an instant if he wanted to.

“You’re shaking,” Hood says. His voice is much softer now.

You follow the turn of his head to your hand where it hovers the needle right over his skin. You are shaking. Trembling, in fact.

“No, I’m not.” It comes out as an empty whisper.

You focus all your strength on steadying yourself, but the harder you try to stabilize, the harder you tremor. Your other hand releases his wrist to clamp over your dominant hand and force it to stay in place. It guides the needle closer to the skin, but now your vision is blurring. You blink rapidly, but it’s not enough. The tears start falling. You look away from him, but a warm hand settles over yours. You don’t dare look at him, unable to bear showing him your shameful face, wet and blushing and screwed up in misery. You turn your face into your sleeve. Clamp your eyes shut tight, thinking maybe if you keep them closed, this darkness will swallow you up and he won’t be here anymore.

But the warmth of his skin on yours is the first feeling of softness, of relief you’ve felt in months, and then it’s gone. Your shoulders are shaking, quaking with the effort to keep your sobs quiet.

One finger ever so gently hooks around your chin, pulling it back up to face him. You keep your eyes closed, not wanting to see him see you like this, but the tears are still streaming. He brushes them away. Whether that makes it better or worse, you can’t be sure, because you cry even harder, snatching your face away from his grasp to muffle your sobs into the back of your hand. You don’t realize he’s pushed himself off his stool to sit cross-legged on the floor until you feel his hand circling your arm and pulling you closer. The tools in your hand clatter on the floor as your palms come up to press against his chest, fighting against him with half-hearted protests murmured through your cries. But even with only one good arm he’s too strong for you, and you’re pulled into him.

He’s so gentle with you, rubbing your back and resting his chin atop your head while you cry and cry and cry into his shirt. Several minutes pass like this, with your face buried in his chest and his good arm holding you tightly against him while the other dangles lamely at his side, throbbing with an intensity he’s trying to ignore.

When your sobs die down, and you’re sure you’re all cried out, you linger against him. He smells like smoke and gasoline, and his shirt is soft and warm from his body heat seeping through. His hand continues to stroke up and down the length of your back, even after you’ve quieted. The edge of his mask digs into your scalp where his chin sits, but it feels worth it. Your hands, still pressed to his chest, slide higher, completely of their own volition, out of a newfound desire to wrap your arms around his neck. You don’t hear it, but you can feel his sharp draw of breath, his chest rising quickly under your touch. Your hands lose their nerve at his clavicle as you hold your breath for fear of the smallest movement drawing attention to your forwardness. You wait for him to rebuff you, to lean away from your touch, or grab your wrists and pry them off. He doesn’t.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. His chest finally falls.

Eyes opening, your thumb swipes over the edge of the red bat symbol just below his collarbone.

His movements pause, lightly gripping the fabric of your shirt for just a moment, before releasing it. “It’s alright,” he tells you.

You pull back from his chest to look at him, the way his cold and unfeeling expression stares back at you. You wonder from time to time what’s under the mask, but tonight the desire is overwhelming; you ache with the want to know what he looks like. The color of his eyes. What his mouth looks like when he winces over a deep cut or chuckles at one of your anecdotes. You wonder if his lips are soft or chapped. If he’d like it if you dragged your thumb across the bottom one.

The metallic odor spreading through the room brings you back to the present, and you hope the flush from your tears hides your cheeks’ growing heat when you realize where your mind had wandered.

“Oh, fuck, your arm.” You speak in a watery voice, wiping at your face as the urgency returns to your senses. Though you try to move away, his firm hand on your back pulls you back in.

“Don’t worry about it, okay?” He says, resuming his caresses up and down your back. “I can take care of it.”

“Then why do you even need me?” You sniffle with a small smile.

He stays silent. But when you search his face, waiting for an answer, his hand moves to your side, palm sliding a fraction of an inch closer to your waist and fingers tensing, you can almost see through the mechanical muzzle to the way his lips shape the words. At least, he wishes you could.

You know why.

this was lots of fun to write and thank u for your patience ik i said i was gonna "knock this out in a day" 2 weeks ago😬😬 also we're gonna pretend they aren't just letting his open wound marinate for half an hour when it should be getting stitched up bc it's fiction ok? everyone say thank you mostly-imagines for proofreading this😚

but anyway happy new year!! it's been barely 2 months but starting this account made my year so much better🫶🫶🫶and ty for 500 followers that's crazy🫣��

listen to the inspo song!!!

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seumyo · 3 months ago

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BAKUGOU KATSUKI ⭑.ᐟ THE FIRST FALL OF SNOW

Pro Hero Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight in the public’s eye, is finally on his way home. The moment he clocked out, he was Bakugou Katsuki.

The apartment door swung open, and Bakugou trudged inside, every step weighed down by the exhaustion of the day. His back ached from the relentless action-packed hours at work (somehow, during the holidays, villains were at their peak action), and the chill of winter clung to his skin, even through the layers of his winter gear earlier. He’d been looking forward to collapsing onto the bed and shutting the world out for the rest of the night.

He let out a grunt of frustration, yanking his scarf off as he called out, “I’m home.”

Bakugou was greeted by your voice. Too chipper, as if you had something planned.

“Perfect timing! Go change into something warm; we’re going out!” you said, a spark of excitement lighting up your tired features. You had on your favorite scarf and coat, your cheeks flushed from the cold air that must’ve blown in while you’d been waiting for him.

Bakugou frowned, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re kidding, right? It’s freezing, and I just got home.”

“I’m not kidding.” Your smile widened, undeterred by your husband’s gruffness. “You need to relax, and I need to check out the sale on the market. We’re going downtown, just for a little bit. Please?”

“No,” he scoffs.

“Come on, Katsuki,” you pleaded. “You’re always working, and I’ve been stuck inside all day. Just a quick trip downtown to relax. Please?” You pouted slightly as you repeated the request, though your tone remained playful, knowing it would chip away at his defenses.

“Can’t we relax here? You know, like normal people?”

“Normal is boring. We can relax after we go out and see the town. Please? I’ll make dinner when we get back!”

Dammit, you knew how to pull at his strings.

Bakugou groaned, tugging at the tight fabric of his jacket. He hated the cold, hated the thought of walking around aimlessly in weather that bit at his skin. But as he looked at you—your hopeful expression, the way your eyes sparkled with the promise of something simple yet special—he sighed, already knowing he couldn’t refuse.

Knowing he’d already lost, he crossed his arms. He’d always had a soft spot for you (you must’ve put a curse on him once he gave you his valid “I do” at the altar, he thinks), and no amount of exhaustion could override the tug in his chest when you looked at him like that.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “But you’re carrying the hot chocolate if we get any.”

Your grin was instant, and you tugged at his arm. “Deal. Now hurry up and get dressed into something warmer before I change my mind.”

---

The streets of Musutafu were already in the holiday spirit, and it was only the first of December. The glow of streetlights reflected off frosted windows, and the faint scent of roasted chestnuts wafted through the air—it was a scent to appreciate. Bakugou’s hands were stuffed deep in his pockets, his scarf pulled high over his face, as he grumbled every so often about the cold or his aching shoulders.

“This better be worth it,” he grumbled, kicking a stray piece of ice off the sidewalk.

“It is worth it,” you countered, practically skipping beside him. “You’ve been so stressed lately, and this is exactly what you need—some fresh air and a change of scenery.”

“I’d rather have fresh air from our bedroom.”

You shot him a playful glare. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, and you’re a pain,” he shot back, though his lips twitched upward just slightly.

It’s also a good thing that not many were wanting his autograph or a picture because Bakugou was not in the mood to entertain anyone aside from you.

You led him to a small square near the center of town, where festive decorations were strung across trees and lampposts. Children bundled up in cute, thick winter clothes ran around as their fits of giggles filled the air, and vendors sold warm snacks and drinks from cozy stalls. You tugged him toward one of the benches, your excitement bubbling over.

“Look at this place! Isn’t it beautiful?”

Bakugou looked around, taking in the bustling scene. He begrudgingly admitted to himself that it wasn’t half bad—but he’d never say it out loud. Instead, he just shrugged. “It’s alright.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re impossible to impress.”

“Not true,” he said, smirking slightly. “You impressed me.”

“Ok, sap,” you snorted, though you were quick to hide how it made you feel all giddy. “And did you know that—”

And Bakugou could only listen to you with his brows slightly knitted to an unamused expression, though he didn’t want to burst your bubble even if he was exhausted.

Without even noticing at first, the first snowflake fell, soft and delicate, landing on your scarf. You stopped mid-sentence, glancing up as more began to drift down, tiny, icy kisses from the sky. Bakugou paused too, his eyes narrowing as a flake landed on his nose.

“It’s snowing,” you murmured, a note of wonder in your voice.

Bakugou squinted up at the sky, unimpressed. “Great. Now it’s even colder.”

You ignored him, stepping slightly into the open square, your head tilted back as you let the snowflakes land on your hair and cheeks. Your face lit up with childlike wonder, and for a moment, Bakugou was suddenly reminded how lucky he was to be married to you.

Bakugou watched you silently, his hands still stuffed in his pockets. You looked radiant, the soft glow of the snow reflecting off your skin, your cheeks flushed from the cold. Your lips parted slightly as you caught a snowflake on your tongue, and you laughed softly at the sensation.

His chest tightened, his earlier complaints fading into nothing. The aches, the cold, his uncomfortable winter clothes—none of it mattered. All he saw was you.

You turned back to him, your smile warm and teasing. “You’re just going to stand there and sulk, or are you going to enjoy this with me?”

He huffed, walking toward you. “I’m not sulking,” he muttered.

“Sure, sure.” You reached out and grabbed his hand, lacing your fingers through his. “Come on, Katsuki. Isn’t this beautiful?”

He looked at you, at the way your eyes shimmered with glee, the way you smiled despite the cold nipping at their noses. “Yeah,” he said softly, surprising even himself. He’s most likely referring to you rather than the scene before him, more likely. “It is.”

“Wait, are you actually admitting you like something?”

“So? I like you, and we’re married. It’s not that shameful to admit the obvious, dummy.” He grumbled, though his hand tightened around yours.

“Not that! I meant it’s snowing; isn’t it beautiful?”

“Could care less about shaved ice falling from the sky.”

“Boo, you’re no fun,” you stuck your tongue out at him, and Bakugou did the same, which made you laugh.

You two stood there for a while, watching the snow fall around you, the rest of the world fading into the background. For once, Bakugou wasn’t thinking about work, stress, or anything else. All he could focus on was the woman beside him and how, for the first time in a long time, everything felt just right.

And even though Bakugou still hated the cold, he found himself thinking that maybe, just maybe, winter wasn’t so bad after all—because it meant moments like this. Moments with you.

It must’ve been Christmas magic to see you during the first fall of snow, taking his breath away with how you looked, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything this damned world had to offer.

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caulmiflower · 2 months ago

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How I think the Baldur’s Gate Companions would fare at the airport

Gale: In true papa fashion, he’s making sure everyone is on the way to the airport 3 hours early, he’s got an itinerary, map, and translation guide locked and loaded.

Astarion: absolutely fucking up some margaritas at the airport chili’s. Flirts with flight attendant to move to first class (this does not work). Argues with TSA agent bc what idiot would hide a bomb in a 16 oz blood bag?

Karlach: HATES flying bc she’s so tall, yet is totally unwilling to shill out first class tickets. She only packs carry on and stands up once the plane lands no matter where she’s seated. Very chatty when seated next to strangers.

Lae’zel: Has her pilot’s license, but tags along cause she doesn’t want these imbeciles in her plane. Packs minimally and doesn’t even bring any entertainment, simply raw dog’s the entire flight by peering out the window seat and reflecting.

Wyll: Practiced flyer, has his travel plans down to a T. Business class, neck pillow, fully charged kindle, the sleekest luggage you’ve ever seen. Probably the most fashionable person in the airport without even trying.

Shadowheart: Terrified of flying, hates every step of the process. Disgruntled and smelly from nerves by the time the flight lands. But she does enjoy her little in flight snacks.

Halsin: Has a moral opposition against flying, he’s rather leave 3 days early for a road trip and elect to pick up the crew at the airport. When he finally caves and takes a flight he’s moved to tears by the majesty of the land from the sky.

Jaheira: She’s in the lounge, somehow knows all the pilots. She loves an in flight ginger ale, is moved to first class just because the flight attendant owes her a favor.

#bg3 #bg3 companions #astarion #karlach #gale of waterdeep #shadowheart #lae’zel #wyll ravengard #halsin #jaheira

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pixelglam · 9 months ago

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Heritage Square Townhomes | CC Build | Tiktok

Nestled in a picturesque neighborhood, these classic townhomes offer a harmonious blend of traditional charm and modern luxury. Just a short stroll from a delightful cafe, these residences feature private backyards and patios, perfect for enjoying serene moments or entertaining guests.

Together, the townhomes provide a total of four spacious bedrooms and five beautifully appointed bathrooms. Each master suite boasts a walk-in closet and a luxurious en-suite bathroom, while the additional bedrooms also feature en-suite amenities. The living areas are highlighted by large windows and hardwood floors, seamlessly flowing into spacious kitchens equipped with top-of-the-line appliances and and a walk-in pantry.

With their classic design and contemporary comforts, these townhomes are ideal sanctuaries for those seeking elegance and convenience among the refined lifestyle of Windenburg.

Gallery ID | PixelGlam

$318,556

Residential Lot, intended to be turned into Residential Rental

30x20 Lot Size, built in Windenburg

Packs Used | Discover University and Get Together

DOWNLOAD [Patreon] | Free

socials: youtube | patreon | tiktok

#i hope you enjoy them!#pixelglam #mybuilds #ts4 #ts4 simblr #the sims 4 #sims 4 #the sims 4 simblr #sims 4 screenshots #ts4 builds #ts4 build dl #ts4 build download #ts4 build #ts4 interior #heritagesquaretownhomes*#mydownloads

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joonjuul · 25 days ago

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fallen angel is so good wow it's like god answered my prayer because not long ago i was talking to myself about how i wish there's a good demon jk fic who likes to corrupt innocent souls and you served a very delicious meal thanks maam 🙏 i see your reqs are open! would you like to entertain this idea of werewolf jk who stole someone else's mate 😙 her mate could be abusive so that's why jk "saves" her or maybe jk did it for funsies bcs he's just obsessed with her lol 😆

creature of the night. jjk

pairing: alpha!jk x beta!reader

wc: 6.6k

warnings: werewolf!jk, softdom!jk, super super desperate reader, reader is taken, cheating, pwp this is nasty yall, slight coercion, light fingering (f receiving), light oral (f receiving), overstimulation, light crying, light blood, pet names, light voyernism, some aggressiveness/abusive behavior (not from jungkook), jimin is reader’s original mate !!

a/n: my first req !! tysm anon for requesting !! im not super familiar with the werewolf trope so i hope you like it !! (this fic lowk had me distracted halfway through writing phew its a nasty one) reqs still open !!

╋━

you were always happy with jimin. at least that’s what you told yourself.

it wasn’t until he stopped touching you that you realized something was wrong. he made excuses, he was busy, he wasn’t in the mood, he was stressed about his pack i mean being an alpha isn’t easy work after all. but you had been through three separate heat cycles now, and you were frustrated.

every month passed, another heat you had to endure, waiting for your alpha to take care of you, but he never did.

and then, there was jungkook.

he was the alpha of an enemy pack, a competitor, and jimin’s lifelong threat. and he was obsessed with you, the idea of stealing jimin’s most prized possession right out from under his feet drove him wild, and he never failed to show you just how bad he wanted you.

“you look tired, sweetheart. long night?” you hear the familiar voice creeping up behind you. you could smell him coming from a mile away but gave up on any attempts to avoid him, knowing he would always track you down.

you continue piling the wood in front of you, preparing for a long winter, after all it was your responsibility as the alpha’s mate to take a maternal role for the entire pack.

“no. and even if it was i wouldn’t tell you about it.” you respond coldly, you hated his presence, and you hated that he could see right through your relationship struggles.

you didn’t even need to look at him to hear the grin on his face, slicing his words in half as he spoke.

“awww is jimin really treating you that bad, sweetheart?” you can feel him coming closer to you, but you continue to ignore his approaching frame as best as you can, continuing with your woodpile with your back facing him.

“jimin is… jimin.” is all you can muster before grabbing a stack of wood and heading to your cabin, without even a glance at the man standing behind you. but you already know he’s following, like a lost puppy looking for his mother.

“that bad, huh? i know what will make you feel better.” his footsteps follow behind you as you approach the cabin. luckily for you, the whole pack including your mate were out hunting for the day, preparing for what was supposed to be a frigid winter. you knew if jimin saw him on his territory, he would throw a fit, nevermind speaking to you. he knew jungkook had taken an interest in you recently, but he never knew the true extent of it. the paw prints by your window in the snow, the scent he gave off when he was in your presence. the flirty comments were the least of your concern being that your heat was approaching again soon, and being alone with an alpha, especially not one that’s your mate, was a very bad idea. you didn’t have full clarity in your mind or control of your body during a heat, especially not around an alpha.

you threw the wood down at the foot of the cabin door, turning around to face jungkook for the first time since your interaction had started.

his frame was large, almost larger than normal, hair a curly mess on top of his head, with his arms crossed along his chest. if you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought he looked like a real alpha, the one you’ve been dreaming of the last couple months. but you pushed these thoughts aside quickly.

“oh yeah? and what will make me feel better?” you mimic his stance, crossing your arms and tilting your head, keeping your cold demeanor as best as you can. it was hard to hate someone you had no reason to hate, especially since jungkook had been nothing but nice to you, aside from the occasional harassment. but you were jimin’s mate, and anyone jimin hated, you hated the same.

“me.” he smirks down at you, taking a step closer to you, towering over you as he slowly approached, his gaze darkening as you begin to feel a bubble arising in your stomach. your heat was supposed to begin tonight, and you needed to stay far away from an alphas that weren’t your boyfriend.

you resist the urge to back up as he walks closer to you, instead, walking past him and brushing against his shoulder in the process, making your way back to the wood pile that was calling your name.

“in your dreams, jeon. do you want jimin to kill you?” you call out as you pick up another pile of wood and begin bringing it back to the house. you feel your heart drop as jungkook takes another step closer to you, grabbing the wood from your arms and placing it next to the original pile by the cabin.

“jimin couldn’t kill me if he tried. plus, even if he did, i’d at least die going after something i wanted.” he glances at you, smiling, before going back to the wood and picking up another arm full, doing your job for you as he continues bringing more and more to the foot of the cabin.

“jungkook, you seriously need to stop with this. i know it’s your lifelong dream to destroy him or whatever, but find some other way to do it, i’m not getting involved.” you say, watching carefully as he finishes placing down the last piece of wood, leaning up so he’s now towering over you once more. he reaches a hand up, gripping your chin gently as he tilts your head to look up at him. you feel your stomach twirl at the small gesture, but never let your face show it.

jungkook however, as an alpha, has a very keen sense of smell. especially when it comes to betas that aren’t being properly satisfied, or are in heat. you, are both of those things. and jungkook could smell how desperate you were before he even reached the property line.

he smirks at you, watching your expression carefully. “you’re already involved, sweetheart.” he releases your chin and watches as your eyebrows furrow together. “plus, i couldn’t stop if i wanted to. not when im so close to getting what i want.” he tucks a hair behind your ear carefully before turning around and walking away, without even a glance behind him at your frozen stature at the foot of the cabin.

“do anything productive today?” your boyfriend’s sweet words echo through the dining room. you glance up from your food that you had barely touched and watch him as he eyes you carefully, waiting for a response.

“not really. brought some wood inside, that’s about it.” you bring your fork down to your plate, poking at the meat lightly before putting it down completely, leaning back in your chair. you couldn’t eat, not with the impending doom of your relationship in the back of your mind and that god forsaken alpha next door that won’t leave you alone.

jimin quirks an eyebrow before bringing his fork up to his mouth, taking another bite. “that’s strange because i heard you had a visitor.” he says in between chewing. you feel your heart drop. how could he have known? and the fact that you lied about it wasn’t helping your case whatsoever.

you gulp gently, trying to regain your composure. “y-yeah. i didn’t talk to him long though. i made him leave.”

“that’s not what it looked like, y/n.” his voice is calm, but that only makes you more nervous. how could he have seen? he didn’t get home until hours after your interaction with jungkook.

“jimin, i promise you have nothing to-“

“like hell i don’t!” you feel your body jump involuntarily as jimin smashes his hands down on the dinner table, causing the silverware to vibrate aggressively. you feel your heart begin to race, your mind swarming with thoughts as you watch him take a breath and calmly bring his fork back up to his mouth, taking another bite of his dinner.

“you know how i feel about him, y/n. why would you even utter a word to him. not to mention his obsession with you.”

“he’s not obsessed with-“

“i swear to fucking god if you finish that sentence.” you watch as jimin points his fork at you, almost threatening. you gulp again. you had no idea what had gotten into him lately. this wasn’t his first outburst recently, but if you had told the you that met him years ago that the sweet boy you knew would’ve turned into this monster, you would’ve never believed yourself

“jimin, please-“ you mutter, feeling defeated.

“you should be begging for my forgiveness, y/n. dumb fucking slut all you care about is getting dick. the second i get busy with the pack you start running off with my arch nemesis.” his words hit you like a ton of bricks, and you feel your heart pang in your chest. how could he say those things?

“jimin i never-“

“the next time i see you even breathing the same air as him, we’re done. you want to be an alpha’s slut so bad? go have him.” you watch as the love of your life stands up from his spot at the dinner table, throwing his silverware down onto his plate and storming off.

you were in shock. you didn’t know what to say, what to think. but you didn’t have time to process this right now, your heat was approaching and you needed to prepare for the night.

you feel the warm water consume your body as you bring yourself into the bathtub. the heat comforting your cold heart almost instantaneously. as much as you wanted to push the day’s events to the back of your mind, you couldn’t help but hear jimin’s words ringing in your ears. you could barely control when jungkook approached you nevermind ignored him completely. it was nearly impossible!

you take a breath and exhale, sighing as you lean your head down and under the water, allowing it to swallow you hole.

you are only under the water for half a second, finally feeling some sort of relaxation, and then, it hits you. the first wave.

your body shudders, your heart dropping to your stomach as you feel a deep flutter between your legs.

you immediately come up for air, inhaling deeply as you cross your legs, trying to make the feeling subside in any way you can. the first couple waves are normally not that bad, but because you hadn’t been stuffed by an alpha in so long, the waves only got worse, and worse.

you feel a moan escape your lips, quickly covering your mouth before standing up from the tub and grabbing a towel, wrapping it around your bare body and escaping to your room with quick strides.

since you and jimin started to struggle, you had been sleeping in the guest room of the cabin, which is typically reserved for a member of the back during a time of need, but right now, that was you.

you quickly sit down on the edge of your bed, trying to breathe through the wave as best you can, your knuckles turning white gripping the towel across your chest.

the room is silent, air slightly chilly, enough to make your nipples harden underneath the now cold towel.

you groan, knowing that this is only the beginning, and that you needed to restrain yourself quickly before you got any funny ideas about running next door to find an alpha to mate with.

you barely had time to grab the restraints from your closet before another wave hits you, hard. you feel your knees buckle underneath you, growing weaker and weaker with each stride as the flutter travels from in between your thighs, to your desperate hole.

you feel another moan escape your lips as you regain your composure and bring the restraints to your bed.

typically you would prefer to be clothed during your heat, but right now you didn’t have time for that considering each wave was approaching faster and faster.

you lay down quickly, heart thumping in your chest as you fumble with the restraints, tying yourself to the headboard as best as you can.

once you’re fully immobilized, you take a deep breath, your legs clenching together as the heat circles around your core, the sweet tingling only making you more and more desperate, and before you know it, you’re a mess.

writhing on top of the covers, a thin sheet of sweat covered your body, your nipples exposed to the cold air only making you more sensitive. you couldn’t help the whines of desperation that left your throat. you were trying to be as quiet as possible, knowing damn well that a beta in heat without a mate was like a magnet for any alpha within a 10 mile radius, but there was only one you were worried about right now.

jungkook knew your heat was approaching before he even laid eyes on you this afternoon, and he knew that jimin hadn’t mated with you in at least three months judging by your scent.

he relived the moment he first saw you over and over in his head, staring at the ceiling longingly as he imagined how perfect you would look taking his cock, how much he would love to make you scream his name, how he would love for jimin to watch.

he smirks, feeling himself get hard at the thought of you.

but his smirk quickly drops when he hears a gentle cry in the distance.

jungkook had decided to sleep with his window open tonight, hoping that he could air out the lingering scent of you off his body before it drove him mad. but what he wasn’t prepared for was the sound of you whining across the pine trees from beside his window.

he feels his cock twitch as he makes the realization that those weren’t whines of pleasure, but whines of desperation. he figured your heat was approaching, but he didn’t realize it was here already. and not only that, but the fact that jimin wasn’t taking care of you filled him with a rage he couldn’t describe.

he feels a pinch in his palms as he opens his hands and sees the crescent patches painting his palms red, a sign of his anger, of his rage.

i should go check on her, make sure no lingering alphas get any ideas. but his thoughts are fruitless, as he’s already outside your window by the time the brain wave is complete.

but what he wasn’t prepared for, was the sight of your bare, naked body chained to your bed.

he groans darkly at the sight of you, writhing in desperation as your body pleads for some sort of relief. he brings his hand down to his pants, palming his hard on gently as his brain twists and turns at the image.

and got your scent. it was seeping through the walls. how could jimin function, nevermind sleep through this? never had he seen such a needy beta, not even in their first heat had he ever seen one so desperate.

what kind of alpha would he be if he didn’t take care of her?

you feel one of the waves finish, sliding off your body gracefully as if it didn’t leave you destroyed. each wave got more and more painful, and you were wondering how much longer you could put up with this before it consumed you completely.

your legs were shaking tirelessly, beads of sweat dribbling down your forehead as you take a deep breath in, trying to regain your composure as best you can.

but, there’s something wrong. you picked up a strange smell in the air, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

suddenly, you hear the gentle creek of your bedroom door. your body freezes, completely consumed with fear as you see a tall shadow standing in the doorway of your room.

jimin is not that tall.

you begin to whimper in fear, moving your legs so your sat against the headboard. your pleas are gentle, but any good alpha could easily decipher what they meant; please spare me.

you watch carefully as the shadow takes a step towards you, a beam of moonlight from the window shining on a small portion of his face.

“j-jungkook?” you whimper, your legs shaking gently at the feeling of another wave coming your way. you had to deter it as best as you could, you knew that you wouldn’t be able to control yourself once it arrived, especially not with him in front of you.

but, he didn’t respond, only walked closer to you, as if in a trance.

he brings a hand up to your leg, his finger gently sliding across your burning skin, carefully examining every mole and freckle along the way.

“jungkook?” you say a bit louder this time, and you watch as his face snaps up, awaking him from his day dream.

“i-i smelt you. m-my window was open, and i c-couldn’t stop myself.” he stutters, his voice less dominant and more nervous as his finger continued to trace lines up and down your thigh. you suddenly became aware of your naked state and felt a wave of guilt rush over you. jimin was going to kill you if he found out.

the feeling of jungkook’s hand on your skin stirred another wave of heat through your body, and you can’t help the moan that escapes your lips as you double over, your legs shaking aggressively as a line of slick leaks from your throbbing hole, landing on the sheets beneath you.

you’d be blind if you didn’t notice jungkook’s eyes quickly travel from your thigh, to in between them, widening as he sees the mess you’ve made already of your bed sheets.

you feel another moan escape your lips at the mere thought of his presence, silently scolding yourself for feeling this way, but you couldn’t help it, it was in your nature.

“jungkook, p-please. you c-can’t be h-here.” you stutter in between whimpers, your body shaking aggressively now as the wave takes over completely, washing you from head to toe and causing more slick to leak out of you in the process.

jungkook however, is stuck in place. his eyes were dancing around your body, from your face, to your breasts, to your gushing hole and everywhere in between. there was no way he was leaving this room now.

he feels his dominance kick in at the sound of your moans, knowing that an intense wave just hit you, and suddenly, his alpha stature comes out.

he quickly takes a seat next to you on the bed, brushing the hair out from your sweaty face.

“shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay just breathe.” you feel your core twist and turn at his words. you had never seen him so gentle before. he was always just harassing you, his alpha side must’ve kicked in when he was you experiencing a wave.

“j-jungkook. please. i won’t be able to s-stop myself.” your legs shake, your eyes closed tightly as you fight the urge to lunge at him and break your restraints.

jungkook noticed and gulps, feeling his dick twitch at the thought of being able to fuck you, mark you as his, mate with you, while jimin is right in the other room.

his mouth salivates at the sight before him, his eyes locked on your core as he watches it leak more and more slick, the bed sheets saturated with your desperation.

before he has time to process what he’s doing, he leans down, his face now in between your thighs, his breathing short and ragged as he watches your hole throb around nothing.

“just one taste…” you hear him mutter to himself beneath you. you open your mouth, wanting to tell him to stop, but nothing comes out, and your body suddenly shakes as he licks a stripe up your core.

you moan loudly, hands wrapped tightly around the restraints in an attempt to hold yourself up, your legs quivering harshly as he licks another stripe, stopping at your clit and sucking on it tightly.

you feel feral, completely overwhelmed, your body sweating profusely now as he continues to lick and suckle on your core, you can’t stop yourself from the uncontrollable moans and groans that leave your mouth.

“f-fuck. jungkook, p-please stop.” you plead, your voice weak and trembling. as much as you wanted him to stop, for the sake of your relationship, your body was desperate for the slightest bit of touch he could give you, and the more he continues his ministrations on your core, the less you’re able to control your heat from consuming you entirely.

he wraps his arms under your thighs, getting a better grip on you as he continues to eat you out relentlessly, his tongue never once faltering as he buries his face into your sopping cunt.

you moan loudly, unable to control the volume of your screams as you internally panic at the thought of jimin hearing you, or worse, being able to smell jungkook in the house. you pray to anyone that might listen to you that he’s fast asleep, but you know better. he may have been able to conceal it, but jimin’s alpha instincts would never allow him to sleep during one of your heats, it simply wasn’t possible.

jungkook pulls away from your core briefly, his face covered in your juices as he looks up at you from between your legs. the sight of you covered in sweat and heaving struggling to retain any air in your lungs only fuels him more.

“you taste so fucking good.” his voice is low and growled as he begins to move so he’s hovering above you now, your faces merely inches apart as he looks down at you. his eyes tracing your figure, his mouth agape and lips swollen, skin shining with the reflection of your juices.

you feel like you’re unable to function or think under his intense gaze, you gulp harshly, your mind overwhelmed with thoughts of your relationship, but your body unconsciously leaning up into his, trying to gain any sort of friction you can.

“let me take care of you.” he whispers, leaning down into the crook of your neck as he peppers kisses along your sticky skin. you moan deeply, cursing your body for reacting to him so easily. you hadn’t been touched in months, and he was doing everything perfectly, like he somehow already knew your body inside and out, and it was driving you crazy.

“j-jungkook.” is all your able to mutter before he begins sucking harshly on your neck, marking you in desperation. you buck your hips up into his at the sudden force, arms pulling harshly on your restraints in a subconscious attempt to break free.

“so needy, so sweet, and all for me.” he whispers in between kisses, trailing down to your breasts before taking a nipple in his mouth and sucking harshly. you feel another wave of heat consuming your body at his actions, causing you to scream out again, your legs trembling and core pulsing as it leaks more slick out onto the bed.

you’re about to protest, stop him, do anything to save your relationship until you feel his hand slide in between your thighs, prodding your wet hole before pushing inside you, still marking your breasts and chest along the way.

you moan out again, body tensing as you feel yourself tighten around his fingers harshly as he starts a steady pace on your cunt.

“let’s do something about that heat of yours, yeah?” you groan again at his words, the feeling of his fingers pumping in and out of you almost too much for you to bare. your eyes clench shut as you begin to shake even harder now, desperate to feel more. you bite your lip in an attempt to stay quiet but it’s no use, only breaking the skin on your bottom lip as it begins to bleed lightly.

jungkook smells the blood almost immediately and returns his attention to your face, admiring your swollen red lips. he continues his ministrations on your cunt but leans forward, devouring your lips in a passionate kiss, licking up the small drops of blood that hover on your skin.

you groan into his mouth, feeling the way his fingers curl up into you, and the heat of his tongue on yours, bucking your hips up involuntarily and pulling on your arm restraints harshly, wanting to be closer to him.

jungkook notices your attempts to escape the restraints and removes his fingers from your hole, feeling it tighten around nothing at the sudden emptiness. he brings his hands to your restraints and begins undoing them, pulling away from the kiss and watching as your eyes widen with panic.

“i-i won’t be able to control myself.” your voice shakes as you plead to him not to undo your restraints.

“i don’t want you to.” he says calmly as he fully releases you from your confinement, your arms falling down to the bed harshly as the panic sets in on the intensity of the situation.

he looks at your expression, seeing the worry in your eyes as your arms shake, your body fighting its natural urges to pounce on him and ride him until you can’t walk.

he brings his hands up to your face, cupping your cheeks gently as he reassures you.

“mate with me.” his voice comes out in a beg, filled with passion and need. you widen your eyes again at his request. he was asking you to leave jimin for him ? was he insane ?

“what?”

he looks at you again, his touch soothing the patches of sweat on your face, moving your hair so it’s no longer sticking to your forehead.

“mate with me.” he repeats, his voice just as desperate as the first time he asked. you’re unable to think. how could he possibly ask you to leave jimin ? he knew how much you loved him, not to mention your dedication to his pack. you suddenly get flashbacks to your dinner with him earlier, the way he yelled at you, his aggressive behavior, what he said about jungkook. you gulp harshly, consumed by your thoughts as you feel yourself begin to drift away from your current situation.

“you’re not happy, y/n. when was the last time he touched you ?” you feel a pang of shame in your heart at his words, you knew he was right, but you’d never be able to forgive yourself if you betrayed jimin like that.

“a true alpha would never let his mate endure their heat alone, even if he was mad. it’s not right and you know it.” you hear his words but you’re unable to respond, all you can think about was how jimin was in the next room, whether or not he could hear everything that was happening, all your happy moments together.

jungkook watches as you drift away from the conversation, and he brings his head back down into the crook of your neck, suckling the skin gently.

“mate with me.” his voice is more desperate now, kissing from your neck down to your shoulders. you feel yourself moan at his touch, your head lulling back as you allow him to take more space on your skin.

“mate with me.” he repeats, dragging his lips down to your collarbones and chest, passionately pecking any free patch of skin he could find.

“mate with me.” he brings his hands up to your shoulders and lays you back on the bed, kissing all the way down to your stomach and thighs, running his hands along the wet skin and scratching it gently.

“mate with me.” he leans back, bringing his hands down to his waistband and pulling them off quickly, his hands finding the hem of his shirt as well, pulling those off too, leaving him just in his boxers as he teasingly brings your hand to the waistband, tracing it gently.

you’re eyes widen at the sight of his hard on, he was bigger than you could’ve ever imagined. you feel his soft skin under the waistband of his boxers, feeling the gentle goosebumps arise as you run your fingers along it, instinctively wrapping your fingers around it signaling for him to take them off.

without a word, he follows your instructions, pulling his boxers down as you watch his cock spring free, drops of precum trickling down the head as he returns to his place above you on the bed.

he leans forward, his cock laying on your tummy as he kisses you passionately, your hips bucking up into his cock as you feel another wave rush over you. the feeling of his cock being so close to your core driving you wild.

you moan gently into his lips, your legs shaking slightly as you grind up into him, the base of his cock swiping against your core softly causing you to cry out again.

jungkook pulls away from the kiss, admiring how fucked out you looked already, bringing his hand down to his cock and aligning it with your entrance, prodding your hole gently.

“mate with me.” his voice now barely a whisper as he rubs the head of his cock between your soaked folds. you moan loudly again, feeling completely overwhelmed by every movement he made. you wanted nothing more than to say yes and allow him to fuck you right then and there, but you couldn’t stop thinking about jimin, and what that would mean for your relationship.

he brings the head of his cock back to your hole, watching as another heat takes over you, leaking hot liquid onto his tip. he growls at the sight, pushing the head gently into your core and watching as your mouth falls open at the feeling. he brings his hands to your hips, holding them in place against the bed as he stays still, only keeping the head of his cock inside you, and never once moving.

“mate with me.” his voice is now a low whisper, watching you struggle to keep your composure under him. you’re fighting against his hold, bucking your hips up as he holds you in place, anything to make him push into you deeper, but he never does.

“j-jungkook, p-please.” you groan, desperate for him to fuck you. you wiggle your hips at an attempt to gain friction but it’s no use with the way he holds you against the bed. you were cornered, you could either say yes and get what you wanted, or say no and watch as he leaves you even more desperate than you were before.

“mate with me, y/n.” his voice is sterner now, his gaze burning holes into you as you look up at him, his eyes dark and full of lust. you knew he would be an aggressive lover just by looking at him. nothing about him screamed gentle.

“p-please.” your eyes begin to well up at the overstimulation.

“do you know how fucking good i can make you feel?” your breath hitches in your throat as he rolls his hips forward, pushing his cock into you, slowly.

you feel your walls stretch around his length as he slowly moves his cock deeper into you, he was so big you thought it would never end.

“do you know how well i’d take care of you if you were mine?” you’re unable to form words as he bottoms out inside of you, still holding your hips in place as he settles within your cunt, stopping once he’s fully inside of you.

“you’d have your heat every night with the way i’d fuck you.” you feel a moan fall from your lips at the feeling of having him inside of you, his words only stirring the butterflies inside your core.

“mate with me.” he places a hand on your chin and forces you to look up at him, watching as your face is contorted with pleasure and overstimulation. and before you have time to process it, the word is leaving your mouth.

“okay.”

he quickly brings a hand up to your mouth, covering it tightly as he fucks up into you at an inhumane pace.

“good girl, fuck.” he mumbles, his cock stretching you out deliciously as he fucks you into the bed. you realize now why he covered your mouth as you begin to cry out loudly, his palm muffling the nasty sounds that spill from your lips.

his cock was big, bigger than you were used to, and the way it perfectly hit your g-spot with every thrust was driving you insane. you brought your hands up to his shoulders to find something to hold on to, feeling as they tense under your touch.

“god you’re so fucking tight. when was the last time he fucked you?” you moan again at his words, feeling him move his hand away slightly for you to respond.

“t-three months ago.” you stutter, your voice shaky as he covers your mouth once more, groaning as he fucks you even harder.

“fuck. i’m gonna take such good care of you, baby. you’re gonna forget he ever existed.” you feel your body shake aggressively as he picks up his pace, wrapping your legs around his back to allow him to fuck you deeper. he growls at the small action, moving his hand from your mouth to your throat as he wraps his fingers around your neck lightly.

“bet he didn’t fuck you like this, did he?” he tightens his grip around your neck, your head swirling as he cuts of your ability to breathe. you feel a head rush wash over you, your vision darkening slightly as you do your best to whisper a response.

“f-fuck, no he didn’t.” he releases his grip around your neck at your words, watching as you shake in pleasure beneath him. he can’t help the smirk that falls across his lips knowing that jimin was in just the next room.

he wraps an arm around your waist and flips you over so you’re on your stomach, pushing his cock into you once more as he grips your hips slightly.

you moan out loudly at the new position, already feeling like he’s pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“wanna hear that pretty voice, wanna hear you moan my name, want jimin to hear it too.” he slaps your ass harshly as he continues pulling your hips down to his own, fucking you from behind.

your knuckles are turning white from your aggressive hold on the sheets, your lips bit tightly between your teeth as you shake your head, the thought of jimin hearing you scaring you half to death.

but jungkook doesn’t like that response.

he wraps a hand around your hair pulling you back roughly, you let out a squeal at the sudden aggressiveness. his hips never stalled as he brought his other hand to your front, dragging it down to your clit and rubbing torturous circles with his fingers.

you moan out loudly as he continues to fuck you like this, his hands on your clit pushing you towards the edge faster and faster.

“wanna try that again?” he whispers into your ear as he continues to fuck into you, your mind is completely blank, all you can think about is your approaching orgasm and the way his fingers feel against your clit.

jungkook smiles to himself, noting how easily you get overstimulated, and lets go of your hair to watch your upper half fall back to the bed roughly. he brings both of his hands back to your hips and begins to fuck you harder.

“close already, huh sweetheart?” your body begins to shake, his mocking tone shooting straight to your core as you feel yourself begin to teeter on the edge. all you can do is moan loudly in response, you’re sure jimin could hear you, anyone in a 10 mile radius probably could.

“cum baby, wanna feel you cream on my cock like a good pup.” and at his words you can no longer hold back, your cunt tightening around him as you begin to squirt, coating his cock and balls with your slick, your vision turning black and head spinning as you scream loudly.

jungkook’s hips stall slightly at the way you squeeze him, almost pushing his cock out of you completely. his lower half entirely soaked with your slick as he groans loudly. he’d never seen a pup so desperate for an alpha that they squirted on him. he begins to fuck into you faster, his high approaching quickly too as he runs his hands up and down your sides, soothing you gently.

“shhh it’s okay, baby. you did so good, such a good girl for me.” his voice is shaky but he never shows how much you affected him. you begin to come back to reality, your entire body convulsing in overstimulation as you feel him continue to fuck you. his soothing actions by your sides only turning you on more, making the overstimulation worse as you writhe and wiggle under his hold.

“ahh- fuck.” you squeal, you had never felt this level of overstimulation before. normally jimin doesn’t even make you finish.

“almost there baby, fuck.” jungkook’s thrusts become sloppy as he fucks into you harder, making your cunt scream out in pain. he takes his final couple thrusts before groaning loudly and spilling his seed inside of you, filling you up completely. it’s more than you’re used to, you’ve never seen a man cum so much.

“fuck.” he mumbles, his thrusts slowing down as he fucks his seed into you. after a couple deep breaths he pulls his cock out, watching as the mixture of your fluids leak out, your hole pulsing with need as they drip onto the sheets below you.

you collapse onto the bed, feeling completely overwhelmed, but even more fulfilled knowing that you finally have an alpha that can take care of you and your needs.

jungkook collapses beside you, bringing a hand to your head as he tucks a hair behind your ear.

“what did he ever do to deserve you?” he mumbles just over a whisper, watching as you close your eyes gently out of over-tiredness.

just when you feel you’re about to drift into a deep sleep, you hear a creak in the doorway, your heart dropping to your stomach as you open your eyes widely, seeing jungkook’s cocky expression as he watches his gaze shift to the bedroom door.

“what the fuck.” you hear jimin’s familiar voice across the room, feeling an overwhelming sense of regret and shame wash over you, but you’re internally glad you’re not facing the doorway and can’t see his expression.

jungkook stands up from off the bed, reaching for his boxers before sliding them up over his legs and cock proudly.

“i told you i’d get her.” you hear jungkook respond confidently, finishing putting his clothes on before leaning back down to you and wrapping a towel over your figure, picking you up in one swift movement.

he looks down at your face, seeing your eyes scrunched up tightly, an expression of guilt painted on your beautiful features.

you can feel his chest grumble, but don’t open your eyes or respond as he shoots jimin a glare and brushes past him, walking out the cabin and into the wild.

you were his now, and he wasn’t going to let anything stand in the way.

#bts smut #bts #jungkook fic #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook #jungkook scenarios #werewolf #jimin x reader #jimin scenarios #jungkook au #bts au #bts au fanfic

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nsharks · 2 months ago

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bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part twenty-four —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 3k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn’t here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: ily

England passes in beautiful shades of green, the last time you'll see it, so you soak it in. Rolling hills streak the landscape like scars. In the distance, you glimpse faded architecture, imagining people living and working there. An ivy-covered university appears, and you picture yourself dozing off in a lecture. These little fantasies entertain you for the next two hours, but Blue isn't distracted by the same game. When you look at her arm, you notice pink scratches just below where the friendship bracelet hugs her wrist, made by her nails mindlessly.

You tear your eyes from the window and nudge your shoulder against hers. "Hey. What do you call a cow with no legs?"

Her lips twitch at the broken silence and she lifts her azure eyes to yours, a bead of sunlight catching in them. "What?"

"Ground beef."

Those eyes roll. "That's stupid."

Nereida smiles from the other side of her. "Oh, I've got one. What did the ocean say to the beach?"

Blue sighs. "Ghost said that one before. Nothing—it just 'waved'."

A recoil passes over Nereid's kind eyes. "I apologize. That's the only one I know."

Quiet air fills the space again, and when you notice Blue's nails dig back into her wrist, you gently lace your fingers through hers and pull her hand to your lap, allowing her to scratch your thigh, instead.

When an old theme park erects from the grass, Blue's interest piques. "Woah. What is that?"

"None of it works anymore," Ghost mutters, one hand on the wheel.

"It looks cool, though. I have to pee, anyway. Can we stop here?"

"I could use a little stretch for my legs," Nereida adds.

The pitstop is brief enough to allow Blue the chance to curiously look through the decrepit bumper cars, carousel, and even a small rollercoaster that still has the car sitting mid-track. She grabs Ari's hand to show him, but he doesn't seem as intrigued given the pale look on his face. He ends up rushing to a bush and keeling over.

"The back gets a bit bumpy," Kyle says when he notices your expression. "He'll be fine."

"I'll switch with him for the rest of the way."

"You don't have to."

"It's fine. He can probably entertain Blue better than I can."

Everyone uses the small break to eat a little lunch. You already had some of the beans Ghost packed, so you feel uncertain whether you should eat anymore of his food. You haven't even discussed sharing. Rather, you ration the jerky you made and save the rest.

It is a small meal, so you eat it slowly to trick your stomach into feeling full. Just before getting back to the truck, you spot a tree by the entrance to Kettering Kastle. Hickory. Paul told you once they make for great arrows, a softer hardwood. Pliable yet strong. This excites you. Your sheath is only half-full, so you grab your serrated knife and cut a few midsized branches to take with you.

Sitting in the truck bed is far from pleasant. The tail wind makes it hard to breathe, and you have to grab the side of the truck to keep yourself from flying out. Kyle notices your struggle and seems amused, but reaches an arm over in offering. You hold onto him and it does some to keep you stable.

The motorway passes through Kettering, which is a smaller city. The smell is retched, though the only Greys you spot don't take notice to you, trapped between buildings and toppled telephone poles. You make out a sign that reads A14 and figure it is headed to Cambridge. If you continue this pace, you'll reach the coastline by sundown.

Of course, things don't work out that way. The road becomes more obstructed with abandoned vehicles. Ghost has to weave through them like a maze, wasting time and fuel. The sun crawls higher in the sky. Finally, there are a few kilometers of straight road. Speed ticks up only to come to an abrupt halt when he reaches an underpass. You let go of Kyle and stand up to see what has caused the stop—a semi truck completely blocks the way through it.

"Jesus," you mutter.

Consecutive slams of the fronts doors indicate Price and Ghost are checking it out. Kyle hops out with them. After a few minutes, he returns and explains with a sigh, "We'll have to backtrack and find a side street that will lead to another motorway ramp."

"That's going to eat time. The sun will set soon."

He offers his arm again as Ghost begins reversing. "I know. It's fine, we'll just get to the water tomorrow. No rush, yeah?"

It adds an extra hour and a half. The sky turns a remarkable orange that would've had you gawking if not for your irritation of having to stop again. Ghost pulls over just before it gets too dark to set up the tents in a small market town called Haverhill. There's hardly anything here except fields of bright, yellow flowers and little shops with slanted CLOSED signs. It is actually pleasant and well-preserved, until you catch the distinguishable shape of a corpse hanging from one of the telephone poles, a black trash bag over its head.

"Don't look at it."

"Nothing I haven't seen before," you dismiss under your breath.

A more forested patch of land at the edge of the town is where you make camp for the night.

They eat canned goods and you finish your last pieces of jerky. This means you'll have to find more food for yourself tomorrow, or ask Ghost for some. The thought makes you anxious. The last thing you want is to seem like an extra burden. Dead weight that they'd be better off leaving behind. But he also didn't comment when you ate the beans. The uncertainty of where you stand means you need to make yourself useful.

The men need rest, so you offer to keep watch.

Prices dismisses you. "You don't have to, Twix. The three of us can take turns."

"No, really. I'll keep watch and you guys can all get more sleep. I've just been sitting in a car all day, anyway."

He gives in, visibly fatigued after being up over twenty-four hours.

Ghost and Price sleep first.

That leaves you sitting with Kyle when the stars begin to flicker like bright, little heartbeats against the black night.

You pull out your smoother knife—the one you found back at that base—to carve the sticks you found, careful of your bandaged thumb.

Kyle lays his rifle across his lap. "First time I am seeing you smile today and it's while carving sticks."

"Arrows," you correct, holding one up and tapping your index lightly against the sharpened point. "And it's good wood. Hickory."

"You're an easy woman to please," he teases.

"My tastes have changed over the years."

"Really? I can't imagine you as one of those people who cared too much about nice things."

You flash him a raised brow. "Are you saying I was cheap?"

He nudges your knee. "Not what I'm saying. You just seem like someone who would prefer a little movie date over a fancy dinner."

"I liked sushi. Is that fancy?"

He hums. "There were some good cheap sushi spots in London—hole in the wall type places. When there was some kid doing their homework at one of the booths, that's when you knew it'd be good shit."

"You're making me hungry."

"Well, you should've eaten more." He looks at you knowingly. "You're scared to ask anyone for food, aren't you?"

Are you really that easy to read? You place the half-finish arrow across your knees and look at the ground, brushing your fingers absentmindedly through the soft grass. "I just—I am aware of my place here."

"Your place?"

Your hands tightens the grass into a fistful. "I am at the bottom."

"The bottom," he repeats slowly, and his voice lowers. "You really think that?"

You rip the grass and sprinkle it over your boot, glancing up at him. His eyes have darkened, or maybe they are simply mirroring the sky. "I am not complaining. I understand that everyone here has others who they would prefer to keep alive over me, that's all. I just don't want to stick out anymore than I already do."

He reels in your words. "You're forgetting that everyone here has their own perspective, their own wants. It is not as simple as you're making it seem." In a change of topic, he reaches for the arrow on your lap. "Here—let me help."

You hand him the knife and he begins carving expertly as a few minutes of silence ensue. You are lost in your thoughts, keeping your eyes on the surroundings, when he suddenly stops in his handiwork, holding up the knife. You watch him study the leather handle carefully, shake his head to himself, then look at you.

"Where did you get this?"

"Huh? Oh—I found it. At a military base actually."

Your answer seems to strike him, and he releases a disbelieving exhale. "The one near Manchester?"

You nod.

"It was my brother's."

What?

Reading your expression, he shows you the handle and rubs his thumb over a small etching at the bottom that you can barely make out in the moonlight: PG.

"Patrick Garrick," he explains in a murmur, and your chest tightens. "I didn't even notice it at first. It's been years since I had it. The last time...the last time was when shit happened, and I lent it to a friend of mine at the base."

"Who?"

"Soap," he says, a memory taking over his expression as he rubs his jaw. "He was the other member of our spec ops unit."

"You... Someone mentioned him before. Ghost—he asked you guys about him when you arrived. You don't know what happened to him, right?"

Kyles nods. "He stayed back at the base to keep helping even when Price and I jumped ship. That was the Scottish in him—stubborn as hell. Soap was just his codename, of course. Like mine was Gaz." He looks up at you with a faint dimple. "And yours is Twix, huh?"

"I guess." You press your tongue to your teeth and grab the knife, frowning at it as you try to recall exactly where you grabbed it from. "What was his real name, then?"

"John MacTavish."

"I think—I think your friend is dead. I'm sorry." You gaze at him. "I remember now. I found it in one of the rooms, and there was a skeleton with that name. He... he had it quick, though."

The expression on his typically warm eyes turns unreadable and his shoulders stiffen in the slightest. You wonder if you should have bothered sharing this, but then he shrugs it off with a sigh. "It's okay. Figured as much. Many people have died. He's just another name to the list."

Instinct draws your hand to his shoulder, and the muscles softens beneath your touch. "I'm still sorry."

His eyes find yours.

He smiles solemnly.

Then, somewhere in it all, he leans over and closes the gap. The sudden, foreign feel of lips pressed against your own stuns you. His lips move gently, cold and soft against yours, and only when he threads a hand through your hair to pull you closer do you fully register what he is doing. Your eyes fly open and you break away, leaping to your feet.

"Why did you—what was that?"

He stands up with you. "It felt right in the moment."

He tries to touch your shoulder but you flinch away. "I'm sorry. I just—I was just trying to comfort you."

"I misread the moment." His eyes are clouded. "So you didn't want it?"

Did you? Your mind feels fuzzy. "I don't know. I need to...I want to be alone right now."

You grab your knife and sticks, rushing around the tents to find solace by the truck, needing to process what just happened. As you move, you bump into a hard chest—Ghost. Somehow you failed to hear the jagged teeth of the tent's zipper. Avoiding his gaze, you try to slip past, but he grips your elbow, holding you in place.

"What is it?"

The lie wedges out of your lips. "Nothing. I just—thought I saw something so I am going to sit over there and keep an eye out."

The difference in height leads to his stare burning into your scalp. "What did you see?"

"I don't know. Something. Maybe just an animal."

His hold doesn't soften. Stoicism forces itself on your face as you press your lips into a line.

You're easy to ready.

He finally lets go. "I'll take over now. You can sleep."

You find yourself nodding soundlessly, internally glad to be relieved of this duty.

Sleep offers peace of mind, at least until morning.

Dawn breaks over the small town in a quiet clatter of spoons against cans and the shuffling of bags being packed up. The dream you wake up from was one of an old life—the last kiss you experienced. But it fizzles quickly from the recesses of your brain the moment your lids shutter open.

Both you and Kyle seem keen on acting as though nothing happened. More than anything, you are confused. You try to search inside that box of yours for how you feel, but all you find is fear. You've barely been able to keep up with the fear. You busy yourself with helping get everything back in the truck, fitting the supplies like a jigsaw puzzle. You have nothing to eat. A day or two without food is doable until you can properly hunt for something—

"Here."

It is Nereida who catches you by the truck before leaving. She practically shoves a can of tuna into your hands and you look up at her in hesitant gratitude.

"We're all sharing food," she says. "That is how it should be."

"Thank you. Really, this is—"

"Don't thank me. There is plenty for everyone."

For now, your mind chides, but you swallow the thought while scarfing down the meal you pretend is London's finest sushi.

Once everyone is ready, you head to the back of the truck, expecting an awkward encounter with Kyle, only to find Ghost sitting there beside the kayak, hands relaxed behind his head.

"What are you doing?"

"Needed a break from driving."

You glance at the front to see that Price is behind the wheel, and Kyle is in the passenger side. In a way, you're relieved. You breathe through your nose and hoist yourself up. The bumpy ride is quiet at first. His body takes up space so that each pothole nudges your shoulder or knee against his. The morning ages. You swear you can see there coast at one point, but it must be your imagination, because the passing sign reads Halstead.

"You really need to work on lying better."

The brash accent registers low against the hum of the engine, and his eyes are closed when you look over. He is leaned back, one leg straight and one bent, seeming to enjoy the seat more than you are.

"Fine. I'm bad at lying."

"Care to share the truth, then?"

He needn't elaborate for you to know what he is referring to. "I was...I was upset because I found out my knife—the one I took from the base—belonged to Kyle's brother."

His brow ticks.

You continue, "But he actually gave it to Soap, and I—I found his dog tag on a skeleton. John MacTavish. You were friends with him, weren't you?"

His eyes open, but they are too murky to decipher from just his profile. His jaw flexes. "I wasn't a man with friends, Twix."

"You know what I mean."

There is a pause, and then, "He was a sergeant under my command. A good man. Grating, at times. But good."

"Well, I'm sorry he didn't make it. If you of all people say he was a good guy, then he really must've been."

He hums in agreement. Thoughtful. Then—two gloved fingers touch your jaw, turning your eyes to his. "You are still lying, and still bad at it."

You wet your lips. "I wasn't—"

"Help!"

Ghost drops your chin and grabs the gun from his waist.

Your eyes flash around at the sound of a second plea. There is a man at the side of the road, leg draped in bloodied bandages, but there isn't a chance for you to register more of him when the truck takes a sudden, sharp left down a side street and you brace yourself by grabbing the edge with both arms. The small city-scape whirls by in a blur. Ghost swears under his breath, scanning the area as he bends on one knee and keeps the gun secure in his grip. Confused, you grab his arm.

"That man was injured."

His voice is harsh and alert. "He has fucking friends somewhere here. He was just trying to—"

A shattering sound. An audible pop. You're thrown against the truck bed even harder this time as it skids across the street, nearly slamming into a flipped-over car. Ghost covers you, the weight of him keeping you from flying out. The truck swerves to a halt. Everything is black until his weight lifts. He barks an order, jumps out, and pulls you with him.

Pressed against the side of the truck, the world becomes consumed by loud sounds and the distinct smell of gunpowder. Ghost rips open the passenger door and urgently pulls Blue, Ari, and Nereida out, ordering them to keep low. From the other side, you hear Price and Kyle shouting, followed by another series of gunshots.

#simon ghost riley x you #ghost #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod #simon ghost riley #zombie apocolypse au

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evilminji · 1 year ago

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You know what idea has always ENCHANTED ME?

Ever since I saw it on a sci-fi show?

The Deadly Magical House That Loves You™. See, it's a house that has become something MORE. Gained sentience. And? Instead of acting out some cheap horror movie jump scares? It digs deep to its foundations, thinks long n hard, and decides on what it WANTS.

And it WANTS?

To be a HOME™.

To TAKE CARE OF somebody. Have LIFE in its halls. Meals at its tables. Joy and laughter bouncing across its walls. So? It lays a trap. Lures people in.

Come live in me~

I am a good home.

I am Free! I am "Safe". I will give you whatever your heart desires.

I care not for morality or laws. Boundaries or taboos. Do you desire? Come, come, be HAPPY~! Live in me! Relax here! Forget about the world beyond these walls. Anything I can not give you, I can bring TOO you! This is a Happy Home.

But, of course, such sentience and pushiness terrifies. People run and flee in horror. The house getting more aggressive. Trying to hold tighter. After all! If they would just STAY for a while, they would SEE! It's so LOVELY here! The would LOVE to live inside them!

But... instead?

They are hurt.

Doors smashed open. Windows broken to escape. Furniture thrown. Their avatar, Jeeves, bashed with heavy things. Why... WHY?! They are only trying to HELP! To LOVE them! Be a good HOME! They grow more and more run down. Starved. Wrathful.

It is, of course, their Obsession. To be a home. They are so very hungry.

When? Who should come along?

But the depressed AF Ghost King! He's been... not TECHNICALLY kicked out. But "things are tense" kicked out. He's tired. His college courses are remote. He can't really AFFORD rent. And everything is just...

He's TIRED.

He wants to cry.

Why... why can't he have ONE good thing? ONE sign everything's gonna be alright?

"Free House!"

Well... I mean... that IS a literal sign. Huh. He flies down. The house notices him. Tries to look as enticing as it can. And? Gasp! I... It's WORKING? This one seems INTERESTED? Quick! Flowerbeds! Look at my flowerbeds! Ooooh, lovely floooowers! A.. and there's probably really nice wood flooring! C'mon. C'moooon!

Danny? Sees a free Lair. Not too far from both Gotham AND Metropolis. Good location. Needs a little fixing up. But I mean... you can't beat free, right?

Is he really gonna do this?

......fuck it. Yeah, let's do this. First house time. He's just glad he carries a sharpie on him most of the time. Scribbles "Sold!" Over the sign then calls Jazz. He's... kinda not sure WHAT he's supposed to pack?

Finds out, post move in, whoop. Sentient Lair. Clingy, clingy, highly desperate sentient Lair. Oof. Guess fixing up the place can be therapy for both of us. Jazz helps.

The house heals. He falls into a routine. Schoolwork, hang out in the garden or the observatory, meals FaceTiming friends or watching videos, naps whenever he wants them. It's... it's so peaceful. Quiet and soothing to his agitated and worn down soul. Like a balm.

House gets him whatever he needs. They're kinda awesome like that. Always seems to have room to fit this or that. He doesn't question it. His brain figuring it works on Zone logic.

He probably SHOULD have.

Because? Things have been going missing. At a slow, steady, pace. Food, technology, entertainment. A building that shouldn't BE there, has been spotted in a wealthy county just outside of Superman and Batman's two cities.

No one can get near it.

It's been getting BIGGER.

Growing, like a tumor, room by room. Floor by floor. The gardens creeping like kudzu, to swallow everything in their path. Yet delivery drivers drop things off. Things they don't remember. On trips they don't recall. People are scared.

Amateur detectives have managed to discover some sort of starlit fae that lives there, along with a human boy.

Justice League Dark has been called in. Are currently standing just outside the slowly creeping property line. A garden statue just hissed at them. The trees are trying to throw acorns. A hushed argument has already broken out. How do they contain the house?

@the-witchhunter @nerdpoe @hypewinter @hdgnj @babbling-babull @mutable-manifestation @spidori @lolottes

#minji's writing #dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt

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sanshinesante · 6 months ago

Text

𝐖𝐇𝐘?| 𝐉𝐉𝐊

Why do you still love me

The playlist series

Paring- romantic!jungkook x fuckgirl!reader

Warings- pwp (just a little) smut, unprotected sex, throat fucking, boob play, mentioned masturbating, rough sex, overstimulation, hickeys, biting, manhandling, and crying after sex

WC; 1.7k

A/N; chill, this is a mess

Not edited

Now Playing WHY? by Bazzi

☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆

Jungkook knows he's pathetic. He's delusional and idiotic in everything along those lines.

He just loves you so damn much. He knows he's not perfect, but he's committed to doing whatever it takes to make you happy.

He can't help it.

He is a romantic who fell for Anti.

Jungkook spends days crying about you; his parents hate you. His friends hate you. He doesn't care, though, and you don't either. Everything reminds Jungkook of you. The Netflix account that you two share. When he goes to watch funny videos on Instagram, remember that you blocked him for no reason.

When he's driving his car and sees the remnants of stuff you've left behind, the Polaroid picture is in his wallet. You and Jungkook had a simple agreement. Friends that have sex.

But Jungkook trapped himself; he started doing more than you asked. Buying you gifts, taking you to concerts, meeting his mom, and hanging around with his friends. You also did the same; Jungkook saw it as more. He thought you two were building something. But then, when he scrolls through his feed and your story doesn't pop up, or when he searches for your recent Instagram pictures, your account says it is unavailable.

It reminds him that, to you, he is only your friend. A friend that you block when you've found someone else more entertaining. You block Jungkook because he does too much and he ruins your other flings. Like when you actually tried to be in a relationship and Jungkook ended up in your ex-attempted boyfriend's car. Drunk because you blocked him two weeks prior and pictures of you and him fell out of his wallet.

Your attempted relationship called you an asshole for leaving Jungkook so quickly and moving into him. He could only ever imagine what you would do to him when you were bored.

You didn't talk to Jungkook for 3 months until you were bored and unblocked him. He came back like a stray dog on the street. Then you sent him packing again three weeks later.

Jungkook tried to play you back; he slept with some girls and sent you a very shitty sex tape. You answered two weeks later, saying you guys could make a better one. Pathetic, you know damn well Jungkook is head over heels in love with you. But you don't care. You're just happy that you can keep him around.

His friends call you weird and shady but still want to fuck you, and very few have succeeded.

But like today, you were scrolling on Tinder, waiting for someone to pop up. But it was dry, so you rolled over to your mirror, took off your clothes, unblocked Jungkook, and sent him a well-awaited nude.

He opened it 54 seconds later. And he was on his way to your place. Jungkook almost ran outside naked when he saw your DM. He threw on some clothes and ran. He actually running to your place, 7 blocks from his.

You stand in your window, and you hear Frantic steps. You look down the street and see Jungkook running for his life. He spots you on your balcony. With a sinister smile plastered on your face. You can hear his breathing from seven floors of the ground. "Hey, Kookie," you say, going inside and waiting for him. A few minutes later, you hear the elevator at the end of the hallway

Jungkook is out of breath, but when he sees you standing at your door with nothing but your little pink satin robe,. He almost crashed out. Out of breath, he kissed you, and while you slipped off your robe, he immediately touched your breasts. One of his favorite parts of you. Even though he loves all of you, he does have his favorite parts.

Your boobs, your hair, your lips he can go on and on. You two make it to the couch as he takes off his shirt, his chest still damp from his shower. You kiss his neck as he sucks on your breast. "Are you wet?" you say, and he nods, mumbling something. "What?" you ask, and he picks up his head. "I was walking out of the shower when you sent me that." You giggle as he leaves hickeys on your tits, pinching and teasing your nipples.

You moan in his ear. Sitting up, you shove his pants down. Take him into your mouth. Jungkook grunts. As your wet and hot tongue pleases, his very deprived cock. Getting hard immediately in your mouth. You take his length down you throat. Jungkook thrusts his hips into your mouth, and you moan, batting your eyelashes once. Signifying him to fuck your throat.

He does, and he moves faster than the lewd sound of you gagging on cock. Jungkook feels his orgasm. He takes your hair pounding it into your mouth. He look at your eyes, which are watering. He stops, and you take a deep breath and moan. Jungkok lifts you up from the floor, throwing you on the gray couch. He positions himself between your legs, entering you with a deep thrust. You arch your back in pleasure, feeling him fill you completely. Jungkook's hands grip your hips as he sets a rhythm that has you both gasping for air.

"You know I'm getting tired of your shit, Y/N. You blocked me for weeks, then you sent that fuck ass shit." Jungkook fucks harder. You feel it in your chest. You moan, digging your nails into your shoulders. As he continues to pound into you. He stops and flips you over. He smacks your ass. You pick it up for him and he grabs the meaty flesh. He thrust back at you, and you moan, gasping as you hit you with another thrust hitting your spot.

His eyes bore into your body, filled with a mix of happiness and frustration. "I'm not going to make this easy for you," he growls, his grip tightening on your hips. You can feel the intensity of his emotions fueling every movement, pushing you both closer to the edge.

"I'm going to fuck you for how you make me feel." His words thrust into you at an ungodly fast pace. "You like it rough, yeah, do you, baby? You love it when I pound into you like this." He's grabbing your ass so hard that it's probably bruised from the force. "Jungkook," you say in a hushed whisper. He smack your ass. Hard

"Shut up, this is how I feel when you block me for them other slow fucks," Jugkook continues with the fast pace. After about a minute or two, he feels your pussy throbbing repeatedly against his lenth, and then he slows down. Giving you long, painful, slow thrusts. You whimper, punching the couch cushin.

'This is how slowly the days move after, just waiting for you to call me back to you." He keeps up the slow pace. Your body aches from your orgasm, but you feel it lingering. Jungkook kisses you back. “You want to go faster, baby? Like how ast I came running to you," you nob your head.

"Beg," you let out a disappointed sigh. You shake your head, no. " I'm going to fuck you nice and slow till I come. I don't care about you right now," he says, flipping you over on your back again, and Jungkook lifts up your legs. When you press up against your chest, your calvles rest on his shoulder. He pets your hair, his finger running down your face as he fucks you slowly

Your body hurts from the ache, so you compile. "Please go faster; it hurts," you says, placing his lips on your neck. "Does it hurt, baby? That's what I feel like too sometimes," he said, nodding and agreeing.

Jungkook kisses you, sucking on your tongue. He pulls away. "But you want to know something, babe; I don't care how you are right now. Just like how you never care about me. Your such a bad friend," Jungkook plays with your clitoral. His still inside of you with his slow thrust. You feel at his fingers, playing in your wetness.

"Please, Jungkook, I'm sorry. Just please fuck me faster." Jungkook smirks and increases his pace, his thrusts becoming more intense. You moan in pleasure, but he's not moving fast enough. “Jungkook faster?" He shakes his head, continuing.

"Your so mean," you say, gripping on the cushin of your coach. Your head is spinning at Jungkook thrust, and your body is agching but also satisfied, even though you haven't come yet.

Jungkook, speed up. Knocking into you at the faster speed from earlier. He's almost cumming. He is going to make you feel good. He rub your sopping cunt. Kissing your neck. You start to moan louder as your orgsams appearing once again after a long time. You grip onto Jungkok's thigh. Gripping his flesh, your head is spinning as your body heat builds up inside you.

Jungkook's movements become more harrowing by the second, his grip on you tightening as he reaches his own orgasm. The room is filled with the sound of your moans and his heavy breathing.

And finally, after what feels like hours, you cum, you cum so hard that your body starts to shake at the sight of your eyes bugging out as you moan so loud. Jungkook also comes, you feel it shoot into you. The sticky white mixture is counting your simulated walls. Your head hurts, and your body is tired. You look at the alarm clock on your coffee table, eyeing the time. 1:39am. You feel yourself dozing off.

You usually fall asleep after sex. But this time was different. "I love you, so fucking much baby” Jungkook whisped into your ear. You feel tiny wet tears fall on your shoulder. Getting off of you Jungkook sits on the edge of the coach breathing heavily. You turn over, you can’t bear to look at him. He just fucked your brains and now he crying like a kids who got his candy stolen.

"Why do you love me?' This isn't the first time Jungkook has told you this. So you changed your question.

'Why do you still love me?"

A/N; so y/n hate fan club?😭

848 notes · View notes

warnersister · 1 year ago

Text

Peaky blinders headcannon ->

“the boys finding out the reader is a virgin”

Find the request here

Tommy🪖

🪖Tommy had been courting you for a good few months now; much longer than he would any other woman. But he quite liked you so he was more than willing to make an exception for the lovely young lady that had just moved to the area.

🪖You’d moved for a fresh start, away from your past and to Birmingham. You’d packed your bags and left home and got on the train - taking it as far as it would go and got out when the conductor pleaded with you to disembark as they’d start the journey back to your beginnings.

🪖You’d accepted the job at The Garrison, noting the sign in the window as you aimlessly wandered the streets, mindlessly questioning your intentions. The sign in the window was almost a call from God and you hurried inside, being greeted by the bar man and a few raised eyebrows at the young girl with her life in a suitcase and hair all tangled. “Y’alright love? Look like you need a drink.” You shook your head. “A job is what I need. Still hiring?” You asked and he looked you over once. “When can you start?”

🪖So eleven months deep with a flat and a job you were quite happy in Birmingham. Your specialty straying away from being a barmaid and more towards being a hostess and front of house staff. You’d seat people and prepare the hotel lodgings upstairs, and arrange rooms and port for pesky business when it came down to it. And in the process you’d captured the attention of a certain blinder who believed he had no business interfering with the life of a young maiden just getting back on her feet, but you entertained him so who was he to be so austere and deny himself such pleasures?

🪖You were shutting shop on a Saturday night, footfall substantial and you’d finally managed to kick all drunkards out of the pub after much struggle and a bit of help from John Shelby, who’d tipped his hat and went on his merry way. You’d grabbed your coat of the hanger, hearing the door bell chime behind you “we’re closed” you announced, pivoting on your heel “I know.” That all familiar voice sounded and you peeked your head. “Alright, Tommy?” You ask, getting your bag and fastening your coat; preparing for a cold winter night in Birmingham.

🪖He stepped closer and you, in turn, stepped backwards until you were trapped against the bar. “This has gone on for long enough,” he says gruffly, staring deep into your eyes and studying your face. You’d raised your brows “what has, Tom?” He shook his head and chuckled slightly. “You and I; ‘m so sick of seeing you and not being able to have you for myself.” He tells you, right arm wrapping around your waist and head dipping slightly.

🪖Your hand came up to hold him where he was and he stopped, in question. “Not like this Tommy.” You say, looking away but he grasps your chin gently to pull you back to face him. “Not like this?” He hums “Thomas, I’ve never..” you lead off hoping he’d understand what you were implying. He thought for a moment before it clicked. “Never?” You shook your head “never.” His Adams Apple bobbed as he swallowed a lump in his throat “never.” He mumbled. “And how should I go about this the right way?” He asked, settling his hands on your hips and smiling slightly.

🪖“Dinner and a nice walk.” You say and he nods with a hum. “How’s tomorrow?” You shake your head “not leaving Harry to deal with your lot on a Sunday.” “When you next off?” He asks “Friday.” “Then we’ll go out on Friday.” You nod and smile, but point a judging finger at him. “No guns” he smiles “yes sweetheart, no guns.” “And no peaky business” he shakes his head “no business.” “No fighting either, at all” you warn and he chuckles “I promise” you lean your hand up to caress his face and he leans into your touch. “Take that bloody razor blade out of your cap too.” He raises a brow “how do you know about that?” “You underestimate the amount of times I’ve carried Arthur out of this bar and nearly sliced my hand on that thing.”

🪖“I want to see Thomas. No Shelby.” You say and he blinks. “Then Thomas you shall have.” “May I walk you home?” He asks and you smile up at him “you may” and he offers an arm to walk you to your house, looking forward to taking the last of your innocence the following Friday.

Alfie🧸

🧸Alfie recently started attending his local synagogue, at first yes: to reconnect with his faith, but now it was to see the young woman who attended every day, volunteering as your father was the rabbi. Albeit that sounding wrong, Alfie thought the rabbi was bordering on ancient and you were younger than him, but you were nearly twenty six so that wasn’t too bad.. right?

🧸“Ah Mr Solomons, back again I see” the rabbi commented, noted the recent inclination of Alfie’s presence at the house of God. “Well, been trying to reconnect.” He told his superior. “With God or with my daughter?” The rabbi asked and Alfie’s brows rose. “E-excuse me?” He choked on his words. The rabbi smirked with a slight twinkle in his eye “I’m not stupid” “no, of course you’re not-” “I’ve seen how you’ve been eyeing her.” Alfie quietened for a moment. “Well, y’see she’s a lovely young lady” “I agree, that’s how I raised her.” “And I’d like to ask her for dinner, with your blessing, f’course.” Alfie began to ramble but his elder cut him off.

🧸“Not with the business you’re in, Alfred.” And his mouth ran dry. “For her I’d get out of it, move to Morecambe, open a bakery, marry, have kids, y’know I’d raise them proper.” Rabbi Kaplan again hummed “but that sort of business isn’t the kind you can get out of, is it?” “You did, Abe.” Alfie corrects him and there’s a moment of contemplative silence. “You’re right I did. But no one hurts a rabbi.” “Then I’ll get ordained.” Alfie shrugged. Abraham looked at the man before him. “Gods punished me enough. He knows how much physical pain I’m in. And ‘m not gettin’ any younger. Neither’s she. ‘nd I never wanna be in this business anymore. Wanna settle down, dogs, kids, grandkids, the works.” Alfie says and Abe’s tongue protrudes from his lips to lick his dry lips as he thinks.

🧸“If I allow this, he’s watching.” The man looks up “I know.” “And if I allow this, she calls all the shots.” Alfie nods “wouldn’t have it any other way” “as in she says no, means no. She wants to go for a walk at two in the morning, you take her. She wants to come here, you bring her. She wants to get married, you wed her.” The man took two steps closer so him and Alfie were closer than any Rabbit should be with his child “she tells you to jump of the docks, you jump.” Alfie’s eyes don’t falter. “Done.” Abraham closes his eyes and runs a hand over his face “alright, you have my blessing.” Alfie nods, trying to suppress his glee, shaking the rabbi’s hand and walking towards the front of the synagogue where you were sat counting donations.

🧸“Excuse me missus” Alfie clears his throat and you look up at him, swallowing with a lump in his throat “yes?” “I was wondering if you’d like to go for an eat to bite, I mean a bite to eat, I mean-” you giggle at him “yes Alfie I’d love to go out with you.” Alfie sighed in relief and smiled down at you noting how the rabbi had wandered off elsewhere. You sealed and locked the cash box, storing it where I belonged and Alfie held his arm out for you to take “shall we?” You grin back at him “we shall”

🧸You’d been seeing Alfie for going on several months, and today he’d arranged for a restaurant to be shut down in order for the two of you to enjoy some peace and quiet together. You’d enjoyed a lovely romantic meal, accompanied by a bouquet of white tulips and a sneaky kiss to Alfie’s cheek, which he was grateful that they were covered by a large beard - disguising his beat-red features.

🧸Alfie was walking you back to his house, as you’d both previously agreed that you’d stay for the night and head towards Morecambe Bay the following day: to pick out a cottage on the seafront.

🧸You had some clothes at Alfie’s house, for events such as this where you’d decided to stay or go elsewhere the following day without needing to drop back home for anything. You were uncoiling your hair, and your gentle giant came around to hug you from behind, kissing up your neck until you giggled from being tickled, turning to kiss his lips.

🧸Your eyes surveyed one another’s for a moment, him leaning back down to kiss you in a more seriously insinuating manner - sciatica obviously not bothering him today as he managed to pick you up and lead you to his bed. “Alfie wait,” you say quickly and the man immediately stopped “what’s wrong treacle? If y’don’t want to we’ll stop here ‘nd-” “no it’s not that” your left hand fiddled with the rings on your right “what’s wrong flower?” He caressed your cheek gently. “Alfie I’ve never done anything before.” You say and his brows form a line in confusion. “Y’what?” “Alfie I’m a virgin.” You say and time almost stands still, Alfie nearly felt sick as he’d been handling you like a woman of the night and not a dignified young lady of whom was vastly inexperienced. “‘M sorry alf.” You say, looking down. Alfie grasps your chin and forces your eyes to connect with his “it’s me who should be apologising, sweetness. Your old man didn’t know. ‘V been handling y’ like ‘y know what you’re doin’.” He says gently. “And if y’ don’t want to, we don’t have to.” “No Alfie I want to.” And you could swear you could see the hearts forming in his irises, lenses constricting into something unnatural but simultaneously not animalistic. “I’ll take good care ‘f y’ love, just lay down for Alfie and let ‘im work his magic, yeah?” He says, laying you back gently on the bed, vowing to handle you like a porcelain doll in a box of feathers.

Arthur🍺

🍺You were several years younger than Arthur, he never felt like you were - he was as immature as any lad two decades his senior, but with you he never felt his age.

🍺The peaky blinders had been invited to a lavish banquet, black tie, chandeliers, live orchestra, the works. And Arthur never shied away from an opportunity to show his lover off, especially when that dress hugged you perfectly and your matching black gloves made you look so dainty and proper. He was proud to waltz into that event, feeling almost smug with ‘such a babe’ on his arm.

🍺The evening began wonderfully, three courses, all of which Arthur found laughable as he questioned the waiter why his entree was only a piece of rocket and slice of undercooked stake. Drinks were flowing and he was happy to get tipsy while to congregated with Polly and Ada, smitten to see you engaging so well with his family and them requiting his adoration for her.

🍺You’d stood at the bar, trying to gain the attention of the bartender to order yourself another rum and coke and your date an umpteenth pint. “Hiya can I just have a rum and coke and an apple juice?” You ask the man and he raises an eyebrow. “He’s so drunk I don’t think he’ll tell the difference.” He laughs and nods, heading off to get the top of shelf rum Arthur had requested he’d serve you earlier.

🍺“Gorgeous night, isn’t it?” A voice asked from beside you and you peer left, a young gentlemen with slicked back black hair asked as he knocked back the rest of the whiskey he’d been nursing for a while, requesting another as well as your drinks being on him. “Yes lovely.” You say shortly. “Well I was just thinking-” he begins smugly, before hissing and you look back at him quickly to see whatever is the matter. His finger was drawing blood as the new glass he’d been given was chipped on the end, in turn slicing the edge of his finger. “Oh dear, here let me help” you grabbed one of the inscribed handkerchiefs from the pile and applied pressure on his finger, only noticing your proximity when he chuckled. “What a first acquaintance” you laugh and agree. “You’re good at this” he hums “nurse in the war.” You say, not really wanting to reflect on the past.

🍺“May I buy you another drink for your troubles? Or possibly dinner?” He inquires with an up quirked lip. “No thank-” “I think she’s quite happy with the fella she’s got, son.” An angered voice quipped from behind you through gritted teeth, an arm snaking around your waist as the boy’s face ran pale. “Mr Shelby, sorry she didn’t say-” “she shouldn’t have too. Now fuck off before I kick the living daylights out of ya.” Arthur threatens and the previously smug man makes himself scarce.

🍺“Arthur,” “c’mon. We’re leaving.” He says, dragging you through the crowds of people and hailing a taxi, still gentlemanly opening the door for you but clambering in beside you, the smoke billowing from his ears fogging the windows. “Fucking little boy thinking he can talk to my fuckin’ woman, fuckin’ bastard” he reiteratively mumbled under his breath until he reached his house, roughly taking you from the car and throwing a wad of cash at the driver.

🍺As soon as you entered the house you were trapped against the closed door, his lips attacking yours unexpectedly as you struggled to keep up with his might. “I’ll show him who you fuckin’ belong to” “Arthur” “little boy makes up nothin’” “Arthur” “scream my name so the little bastard will fuckin’ hear me” “Arthur I’m a virgin” the man stopped immediately, expression stopping form angered to a more gentle one. “Y’what love?” He asks quietly, tight grip on your trapped wrists loosening “I’ve never had sex before Arth, sorry for not telling you.” You could see him visibly sobering up. “Oh my darlin’ m’sorry I didn’t know.”

🍺This was the only time you’d made Arthur feel his age, his lover a virgin. “I’ll take good care of you sweetheart, if y’let me.” “Show y’ what you’ve missed out on” he chuckles and you laugh, allowing him to pick you up to carry you up the stairs and into the bedroom.

John🥃

🥃Waking up this morning and getting married to a stranger wasn’t on your bingo card. But here you are. Kneeled at the alter beside a smirking young lad who was in a similar situation. “By the power invested in me, I now declare you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.” The stranger smiled and you and kissed your lips sweetly.

🥃The reception was just as hazy. Drinks were flowing and laughter was heard. Your father and Thomas Shelby seemed at peace for once and all was right with the world. When slow dancing, John had held you close and embraced you like you were young lovers wed, not total strangers at the chapel. He whispered sweet nothings into your ear and smiled as you giggled back at his remarks, fighting with icing on the cake and having an overly fun time with one another’s families after the initial shock from the morning. After all, he was incredibly charming and you couldn’t get out of a gypsy marriage that easily. Not in post-war Britain.

🥃You headed back to the Shelby Manor in a car strung with cans, attached by young children earlier in the day. You looked out the window to the vast house, feeling a hand tugging gently on your hair, the owner tucking it behind your ear as you looked at home. “Glad we’re married cause I could never pull you if I tried, gorgeous.” He comments and you laugh. “You’re joking. One drink and I’d be a gonner.” “At least we got to skip the funny business” he took your chin between your forefinger and chin “cause your all mine now, darling”

🥃He’d hurried you to your room quicker than anticipated, giggling like school children up to no good. He’d kissed you tenderly once inside, behind closed doors and away from the interference of all other prying eyes.

🥃He spun you gently, hands dropping to focus on the details of the backing of your dress; unthreading and untying the intricate lacings applied to keep the gown tight to your person. The dress fell and pooled at your ankles, him attacking the now bare skin with open-mouthed kisses and gentle pecks to the untouched skin.

🥃Coming to your front, he cornered you backwards in small steps until your legs hit the bed and you fell backwards onto it - him on top of you, kissing down your bodice animalisticly. “John?” He stopped and looked up with a hypnotic gaze in his eye “yes love?” “I’ve never had sex before.” You say shakily and he stops all movement. He falters for a moment, before climbing slightly higher in order to be face to face with you “never? You’re a virgin?” You nod back and he swallows the heavy lump in his throat as his briefs tighten.

🥃“Well then what an opportunity to consummate the marriage, aye darling?” He smirks “if you’ll let me that is” you smile and offer a kiss to his lips, him getting the green flag and go ahead to give you the absolute night of your life.

Bonnie🥊

🥊Bonnie was an old fashioned lad. From a young age he drempt of the stereotypical traveller lifestyle - never a singular home, him the homemaker, wife on his arm and umpteen kids running wild. It sounded like heaven. And from the moment he’d set eyes on you Bonnie had decided that that was your role - destined to be by his side. You weren’t a gypsy yourself, but he was certain he could sway you but either way he was happy to compromise as long as he had you.

🥊Tonight was one of, if not the, biggest night of his life thus far. The largest and most important fight he’d ever partake in, not only against the reigning champion which would secure his fate of being the new ruler, but also performing in front of the Peaky Blinders - prove himself to the trust Tommy Shelby had bestowed upon him. And most significantly, you were watching.

🥊He was stood in his changing room, allowing you to gently wrap his hands while his father gave him a pep talk. “Five minutes son.” His dad said, patting his back and nodding at you as he left to give you a minute alone before his spotlight moment. You finished wrapping the cloth around his palms and took his face into your hands, forcing him to look at you. “How we feeling champ?” You ask, trying to wake him up from his dystopian trance. “‘m scared m’love.” He mumbled as you frowned slightly. “Why’re you scared? Talk to me Bon, get it all out. You scared about the Shelby family? I’ll kick ‘em out-" “scared ‘m gonna disappoint you.” He says and you falter.

🥊“Bon you could never disappoint me, why would you think that?” He sighed, looking away before beginning to admit his desires. “Just wanna make you proud. I want to marry you and give you my children and travel as a family. But if I lose you won’t want to do that.” He grumbles. You chuckle slightly. “You’re such a dafty, Bon.” You say and his eyebrows crease. You lean into kiss him as he happily requites the gesture. “Bonnie of course I want to be with you either way. I don’t care if you loose, hell I don’t care if you don’t want to fight and walk out, I’ll walk right out with you.” You say.

🥊“I never knew you felt like that but I’d love to marry you Bon and have your children and I’d be willing to travel with you. I just need you to stop fretting and go win this. I love ya Bonnie.” You say, leaning your forehead against his. “You mean it?” He asks, giddily. You nod “I do”

🥊“God if I win this we’re gonna get started on those kids.” He says, getting riled up as the minutes tick down. You laugh at him “anything you want, Bonnie. Always wanted my first time to be with you.” You say and time stops. His father knocks on the door to hail his son out to the ring.

🥊“BONNIE!” “You’re a virgin?” “Yes” “BONNIE COME ON!” “And you want me to take your virginity?” “Yes Bonnie I trust you. Now go.” He hurries out of the door reluctantly, all riled up and heading for the ring.

🥊The knockout was inevitable, his opponent out cold in a matter of rounds, blood flowing freely from Bonnie’s nose as he celebrated by raising his hands victoriously above his head, father and Blinders crowding him to pat him on the back and exchange congratulations. But none of that mattered. It was just faint ringing in the background. All he could see was you stood a fair way back from the celebrating men climbing over the limb body on the ground no one had seemed to care too. He looked upon your innocent doe eyes and soft smile staring back at him as he blew you a kiss; and never has he been so desperate to get away from his own party.

🥊And after a good few hours and countless attempts to get you all to himself, you were back in Bonnie’s humble beginning: laid on your back as your boy thrust into you gently, trying not to hurt you while simultaneously trying to adhere to his desperation for you. “Faster Bon, please.” “Wanna give me a child? Is that it?” He asks and you nod meekly, as he quickens his pace desperate to bed his maiden in his own place called home.

Isaiah♟️

♟️Isaiah had been trying to get to you for many many years. Countless attempts proving fruitless from not only your rejections, but also your elder brother’s: Finn’s. Any time Isaiah had any suggestion on courting you he was shot down by his friend, who’d smack the back of his head and scold him for thinking such things. “I’ll cut your dick off and shove it in your ear if you keep thinking about my sister with it” he’d tell him.

♟️But tonight, oh tonight. Darling you looked ravishing. The Blinders were celebrating a grand festivity at Shelby Manor, someone was getting married.. or someone was dead, Isiah needn’t have cared less. Because when you cascaded the stairs, Mary Jane’s on foot and tight black dress clung to your bodice, Isaiah had to physically refrain himself from grabbing you from the get go.

♟️Sure, he’d mingled with others and drank freely with the brothers; but not once did he stray his eyes away from your figure, never letting you out of his sight. Not when you looked so delicious and drinkable, mouth running so dry he’d have to reiteratively lubricate it with whiskey. A bit of the good ole’ ‘Dutch-Courage’, aye?

♟️Finally noticing an opportunity when you brother wasn’t lingering over your shoulder, scolding you for wearing such a gown, Isaiah made his move. He slivered to the bar beside you, where Harry was offered a well-paying job serving for the evening and told him to get you another of whatever it is that you were drinking. “Your brother lets you wear a dress like this?” He questions, knocking back the rest of his whiskey and hailing for another.

♟️“No. But I am not Finn and he is nor I” you tell him, nursing the edge of your glass with your finger absentmindedly trailing it. He leant closer. “Tell you, if you were my woman that dress would be on the floor of my room right about now.” He promised and you shivered at the thought. “But I’m not your woman, am I Isaiah?” You rhetorically ask, sipping and please to feel the alcohol running down your throat.

♟️“Oh god if you were.” He said, trailing off. “I’d have you married, knocked up, never not pregnant. Have your last name Jesus. My dad would do the ceremony, y’know. Get you a nice little bouquet and pretty white dress I get to ravish you in afterwards.” He said “well you’ve got it all planned out, huh Mr Jesus?” You snort but you are backed against the bar, two hands either side of your waist as your belittled by the taller between you.

♟️“Believe me I’ve dreamt of the day since I first saw you, just your fucking brother wouldn’t let me.” You eye his lustful expression. “As I said, Isaiah. I am not my brother, nor is he I.” You repeat slowly, relaying that your older sibling(s) had no say in what was going on at that moment. “You’re playing with fire, little girl” he warned “then let me get burned” you say, batting your eyelashes doe-like and innocently, as you dared him to make the move your core had been dying for for decades.

♟️His nostrils flare as you wrap his tie around your hand and yank at it harshly, bringing an ear close to your lips to offer a promise never before foretold. “Isaiah I’m a virgin” you whisper, before releasing his tie and straightening his suit. He follows the lump in his throat before surveying the room once and looking down at you, grabbing your hand to drag you through the crowds of people and into the safe proximities of his bedroom for newly discovered events.

♟️The evening died down and the chatter faltered, as Thomas Shelby announced a new betrothal in the family. However he was unable to promise the two, because the bride and groom were missing.

Michael🎱

🎱Oh god I’ve been waiting for this one. Michael absolutely eats that shit up.

🎱You and Michael were first acquainted when himself, Thomas and John travelled to the Cotswolds in order to engage in some legal business with the Wentworth family - Tommy spoke business with the ceo of the family, while John entertained the mother and Michael; the daughter.

🎱Michael was an old fashioned man with old fashioned views. He liked his women obedient and untouched and willing to listen to his every word - just like they were supposed too.

🎱They were welcomed into the home by several butlers, two to open the grand doors - three to take their caps and the others to lead the family to their guests. “Thomas Shelby.” They heard, and a dignified gentleman descended the stairs, an unnecessary cain in one hand, the other wrapped around his wife as they descended the central staircase to the visitors, a young lady trailing behind.

🎱“Archibald Wentworth.” Thomas smiled at the man and nodded out of respect. The man walked up to him and shook each of their hands firmly. “How longs it been old chap?” He asked Thomas. “Too long, old friend.” Thomas replied, and they engaged in friendly conversation as neither had seen each other since their fathers dealt with similar business in their own youth. The elder woman approached John who kissed the back of her hand and she curtsied, him remaining respectful as their shared introductions. You however, approached Michael who looked back at you fondly. You curtsied to him and he bowed slightly. “It’s a pleasure Mr Gray.” You say, voice soft and unbroken. He took your hand and kissed the back of it gently. “All mine, Miss Wentworth.”

🎱“And please, do call me Michael.” He told you, smiling gently. “Well in that case you’re compelled to call me Yn.” Michael studied your face; never in his twenty one years of existence had he seen such beauty before. Your skin was fair and undamaged - soft to the touch. Your nails were clean and manicured with a neutral colour. Your hair was cascading down by your ears, as if instructed to sit perfectly, framing your face. You eyes were innocent yet appeared all-knowing - your mouth formed into a graceful smile. And you carried yourself with such proper dignity; it was admirable.

🎱“Yn my darling?” Your father spoke from beside him and you turned to face him on command - trained to do this. “Yes father?” “Please will you accompany Mister Gray into the living area? I’m sure you’ll both be quite comfortable in there.” You nodded once at the man. “Certainly, father.” “It was a pleasure to meet you gentleman, and see you again Mister Shelby.” You say to the other two, before leading Michael into the living area - which was nothing short of double the size of his childhood home.

🎱“May i offer you some tea?” You ask, as you settle in the room. “That’d be lovely, thank you.” You nod as the maid by the for stepped out to grab tea. “Normally I’d make it myself, however it is improper to leave your company unaccompanied.” You joke and he laughs in response. Soon, the tea arrived and you served it for Michael, who took the cup and saucer thoughtfully and nodded in thanks.

🎱“It’s a lovely home you have.” You smile up at him. “Thank you, I’m sure my father works tirelessly to afford it.” “You’ve no job?” He asked, awaiting the words that he was utterly and totally in love with you. “No, I’m trained in etiquette - to be polite, to cook and to clean.” Michael listened to you thoughtfully. “So you’re kept awfully busy then?” You nod. “Busy however I don’t mind it, I get to live in this glorious building with a loving family and life skills. What more could a girl want?” You confirm and he was sure his eyes were forming hearts.

🎱“And I’m sure you have quite the line of suitors with your beauty.” You giggled but tried to compose yourself. “No sir.” His eyes widened in mock surprise. “Surely you’re already married, how has a man not captivated a lady such as yourself. I’d do it myself if it wasn’t for the line of men ahead of me.” You looked down, blushing, before looking back up at Michael. “There is no line and there are no suitors. It is simply me, myself and I.” You tell him.

🎱“And you Michael? Have you a wife?” You asked, batting your eyelids. “No, in your words it is simply… ‘me, myself and I’.” “And what business do you do yourself, Mr Gray?” You ask. “That is not the sort of information for a lady’s ears. It is not good business.” He almost scolds and you nod. “Oh I understand, my father is not too dissimilar. Staying safe in your business, I hope?” He basked in the way you simply understood, didn’t pry. “Not quite.” He said, raising an eyebrow. He rolled up his left sleeve slightly and you gasped. “Oh you poor man,” you say. “You must treat these with oil, that way they shall heal better.” You scold, touching his skin gently. “Well if you were my wife you could sort it out for me.” “Oh certainly Michael, I wouldn’t allow you to come home damaged as such without properly patching you up.” You say, seriousness written all over your facial features.

🎱“And what do you do with the rest of your time, this afternoon per se?” He ponders, sipping his tea. “Well as you said yourself I’m quite a busy person regardless of what I occupy my time with.” You peer down at the dainty wristwatch wrapped around your wrist, Michael estimated the small device at a hefty sum. “At two o’clock I have etiquette lessons.” You say “and at three?” “At three I read in my library” “how about four?” “At four I have a date.” His face dropped. “A date? With who?” “William Wordsworth.” You giggled at his expression which sighed a breath of relief. “Oh I see, she lives the poems she could not write.” He says, quoting the famed poet. “More like she writes the poems she could not live.” You reply, and Michael notices a longing stare as you probably imagine the life you would have, if not the heir to an infamous delegate.

🎱“And no man has yet compared me to a summers day.” You admit. “You have not yet met your Shakespeare.” You smile, enjoying how he understood your references. “Nor my Victor Hugo” “ah but you have not yet died so nobody may quote ‘Demain, dès l’aube’.” He spoke matter-of-factly. “For I am always the poet, never the poem.” You speak; in words of your own. And Michael cannot stop himself from reaching up with his free hand to caress the soft skin of your cheek gently. “It is impossible. How can a man write anything short of a novel about a maiden so fair?” He question, and you find yourself absentmindedly leaning into his light touch.

🎱“You’re a charmer, Mr Gray” you speak, voice barely above whisper “I’m no charmer, just a man who knows what he wants” he leans to whisper in your ear “is it working?” He meets your eyes with a cheeky grin on his face. “Certainly.” You both finished your tea and the trolley was taken away, miscellaneous chatter arising from each of your lips.

🎱“Madam?” A voice squeaked from the door behind you both. You spun on a pivot to look at the young maid by the entrance. “Yes Beth?” “Mister Wentworth has requested you and Mister Gray return to the foyer” she said, avoiding your stare. “Thank you Beth, we shall be there shortly.” The woman nodded before clicking the door shut behind you to allow you to make your own way there along with the company. Michael’s face contorted: annoyed, but relaxed it when you faced back to him.

🎱“I believe it is time for us to depart.” You tell him. “When may I see you again?” He asks, holding your hands in his own. “Whenever you wish, Mister Gray; should my father allow.” You tell him, before slowly leading him back to where you originally met. There, the rest of the men along with your parents stood as you’d left them - engaged in unwavering chatter. “Ah, Mister Gray - treated well I hope?” Your father asks and Michael nods at the man. “Certainly.”

🎱After some goodbyes and a hug for your father’s old friend Thomas, Michael smirked at you and kissed the back of your hand and whispered promises that you shall meet again.

🎱The men walked back to the car in silence, Thomas lighting a cigarette once inside. “How’d you like her?” He asked, eyeing Michael before nicotine smoke billowed from his lips. “She’s a lovely young lady.” Michael tore his eyes away from his cousin and back to the house, hoping to catch a glimpse of you as you drove away; but to no avail.

🎱“She’s a gentle lass. Innocent and proper.” Thomas continued and Michael squinted at him, wondering what the man was getting at. “Doesn’t need corrupting.” “I know that Tommy, what you on about?” “We’ve come to a business agreement with Archibald Wentworth. They in exchange for protection and a good deal of Shelby business, his daughter would marry a gentleman.” Thomas stubbed the last bud out on the leather of the car. “I trust you can fit that role?”

🎱Before either of you really knew it the two were being wed on the great estate of the Wentworth Mansion, both smiling at each other at the end of the aisle like giddy school children with a secret. Within the hour you were husband and wife and Michael had the life and wife he had so hoped and dreamed for.

🎱The reception was a glamorous event; dancing and drinking and the celebration of you being safe, and the Shelby name moving up in the social hierarchy of local reputation. Yourself and Michael had snuck off for a moment alone with one another, to discuss the whirlwind of a day and plans moving forwards together. “May I say my darling you look absolutely divine.” He comments, taking your hand to make you do a full 360 turn to display your attire to him. He swore the dress was adorned entirely in Tiffany crystals. “Thank you, you are too kind.” He tuts “I can never be too kind to my wife.” He smiles.

🎱“And may I be so reckless to say I cannot wait to get this dress of you either” he smirked and you raised your brows as your cheeks reddened. “If that is no problem of course, my lady?” He confirms and you nod. “I apologise for my experience, for I have never before been with a man.” You admit, bashfully and his mouth ran dry. “Never?” You shook your head in confirmation. “Never, Michael.” You say and he gleefully picks you up to spin you around as you laugh at his response. “Well my darling, I hope you know I am prepared to take more than good care of you this evening. And of course continue the family name.”

Finn🎞️

🎞️You were the first girl Finn really cared about. Sure, he’d been on dates and hired whores to satisfy his desires. But he’d never really given much thought into actually taking his time with a girl. Until he saw you working at the bookshop two streets in the wrong direction from the Garrison.

🎞️Him, Isaiah and Bonnie were basically being little shits on the streets of Birmingham when he’d saw you organising shelves through the window, brow furrowed and tongue slightly protruding from your lips as you struggled to place an old hardback on the top shelf. The other two lads had carried on walking whereas Finn had stopped, the other two halting a few ways down to road to figure out where their third had gone, turning to see him awestruck at the bookshop window.

🎞️They hurried back, laughing at the boy who was notably illiterate. Finn could not read, nor write but was staring into the bookshop. “What y’ doing Finn? No picture books in there!” Isaiah joked, straining to see what Finn was so intently staring at. “Ah the girl” Bonnie elbowed him. “She won’t want you mate.” Isaiah informed him “she’s got Shakespeare and Wordsworth. You don’t even know who I’m on about.” And Isaiah was right. You did look dignified and well read because you were. And he was just Finn.

🎞️But he found himself two street in the wrong direction every day nearly, at least when he could find time to slip away. And Isaiah and Bonnie were sick of their lovesick friend ditching them to stare at a stranger awkwardly through a window. Then one day, when the three were repeating their galavant from the first time they saw you, Isaiah shoved him in the door.

🎞️The bell chimed and you turned from your stepladder “just a minute!” You climbed down and approached the disheveled boy at the door. “Can I help you?” You ask “book” he says and you crease your brows “…book?” Isaiah chimed in behind him “he wants to buy a book” he confirms as he smacks Finn around the back of the head. “Any book in particular?” “My first alphabet!” Bonnie exclaims, and the two boys begin cackling loudly and Finn grits his teeth and pushes the two out of the door.

🎞️“Eh what do you recommend?” He asked, scratching the back of his head and his eyes wander on all the paved backs of untouched literature. “What do you like? Fiction? Non-fiction?” Finn looks at you gone out. You look around for a simple poetry book you know is easy to understand “here, try this it’s one of my favourites” Finn nods and turns the book over in his hands and has a quick flick through. “How much do I owe you?” He asks, pushing his hand into his pocket. You shake your head “just come back and exchange it once you’re done.” Finn nods. He could do that. He thanks you and begrudgingly heads out the door to his friends who were still hounding him for the situation and he just smiles at you through the window.

🎞️Finn was getting ribbed week in and week out by both his friends and older brothers, Arthur drunkenly questioning in front of everyone why he hadn’t hired any whores recently and why books were appearing by his bed when he couldn’t read. The family laughed as his face reddened, Isaiah explaining that the lovely young lady down the bookshop had his interest peaked.

🎞️“Y’got her in bed yet?” John asked with a smirk and the younger boy elbowed him sharply. “No.” He mumbled. “No? Ol’ ‘just want a shag’ here hasn’t gotten a lady in bed?” His brother joked. “No she’s not the kind of lass I want to put off.” “Ah” Tommy ruffled his hair. “She’s the real deal then?” He smiled while lighting up another cigarette. Finn thought for a moment before nodding. Yeah, you were the real deal.

🎞️“Date” Finn said as he crashed through the door of your bookshop. You raised a brow at him. “Date with me, please.” He says, panting. “Finn are you alright?” You ask, placing a hand on his back. Me nods, heaving and placing his hands on his knees. He’d just ran here from being with his family. “Do you want to go on a date with me?” He asked when he’d finally gotten his wind back. You smiled and nodded. “Yes I would Finn, when?” “Now.” You raise your brows. “Right now?” “Yeah. If you’d like.” You look down at the dainty wristwatch you were wearing and decided it was wishful thinking if you thought that you were going to get any more footfall in the next hour before you closed. You hummed and nodded. “Sure, let’s go.”

🎞️Finn took you to one of the nicest restaurants in Birmingham in walking distance, waiter seating you quickly after he noticed who Finn was, handing the two of you two open menus. You looked over the options, but was soon distracted by Finn’s conflicted face. “You alright, Finn?” He nods. “What’s up?” He ponders for a minute before mumbling something. “Sorry?” “I can’t read and this has no pictures.” He admits sheepishly, averting his eyes from yours.

🎞️“You can’t read?” You ask, mulling over the past several weeks where you’d be too-ing and fro-ing with Finn with your book recommendations. “But you’ve been borrowing books for months-” “just to see you.” He says, looking down as a smile began to grew on your lips. “I understand if you want to leave. You’re smart and pretty and I’m just an illiterate gangsta.” He says, mentally readying himself for your leave. You placed your hand on top of his where it was laid on the table. “Finn that’s so sweet.” His brows shot up. “You did that for me?” You ask, biting your lips as he affirms your question. You place a chaste kiss to his cheek as you realise just how much the blinder truly cared about you.

🎞️“Let’s get out of here.” You say, breaking the silence. “Seriously?” He asks, moving closer for a more private conversation. “I’m serious. Let’s go.” You say, “really? We don’t have too if you don’t want too-” “Finn Shelby. Let’s go.” And you didn’t have to tell him again, running back home like two giddy school children, hiding away in his room for the rest of the evening, ended by you laying on his bare chest while he drew shapes into your relaxed shoulder.

🎞️“That was better than I expected for my first time.” You admit, staring at the ceiling. It takes a few minutes for Finn to clock onto what you’d just said. He looks down at you, movement of his thumb faltering. “You were a virgin?” He asks, lump in his throat growing as he forced himself to swallow it. “Yeah.” He smirks.

🎞️“Nice.”

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