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couldeatthatgirlforlunch · 7 months ago

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A Day in Life

Synopsis: A day in the life of Jason Todd. Also, he's a househusband now. Oh, and a little plot twist.

Pairing: Househusband!Jason Todd X Gn!Reader; Platonic!Batfam

Tw: Canon level angst for Jason; Some sexual innuendos; Writer apparently doesn't know how to finish a story anymore; This is pretty slice-of-life so maybe boring?; English is not my first language.

Word count: 3,8k

Requested? No.

General masterlist | A Day in Life - Series masterlist

Wake up, make out, get up. First steps of your everyday routine. Sometimes making out turns into something more, but not today.

From his past life, as Robin, Jason learned a lot about discipline. As much as he tried to forget everything and everyone from his past before you, some habits die hard, although with time, with you and with therapy, he accepted that not all of his experience was bad or should be thrown away just because of one sociopathic clown who hurt him. Yes, Jason died, came back angry and did a lot of shit. But he was still alive and this could be a second chance.

While you, his darling spouse, get ready for work, Jason gets up, puts on his apron, fills the dog bowl for Daphne — your little brown dachshund that you adopted together four months after getting married —, opens the doors to the garden, so the dog can do whatever, and finally starts making breakfast and lunch. Breakfast so you two can eat together and lunch for you to eat at work. Sometimes you both meet up and eat together at your office or a restaurant. Today, that's not the case.

Simple yogurt with fresh fruits and nuts, coupled with a slice of chocolate cake he baked the day prior, eggs, toast and coffee for breakfast. As for your lunch box, a natural sandwich, salad, fruits and juice. He also fills up your two liter water bottle, so you feel pressured have no excuse but to stay hydrated.

Food. Until he was 12 his relationship with food was complicated, to stay the least. At first, his beloved but troubled mom would be in no condition to cook him three or more nice and fulfilling meals a day for a growing boy, he either had to learn and make do with quick instant food, eggs and old bread, or starve, since money was something he only saw when it was being handled to her drug dealer. His father was even worse. Jason loved his mom. Still suffers for her. He hated his father who was the one making her addiction worse. He’s still happy he died.

Living on the streets, food was a dream. A bad dream. It either came from trash or he had to do things that made him feel humiliated and guilty just to get some. And it was gone in a flash, he was so hungry he devoured it all in a second, and then his belly hurt.

Then he came. Jason loved his new father. Loved his new grandfather. Loved their food. So healthy, abundant and full of taste. So fun to prepare. He learned a lot from Alfred because he loved to spend time with him, play with the ingredients and make everyone and himself happy with the results.

But then he had those memories wiped out of his mind, (un)fortunately they came back, but at that time food was in the back of his mind. Sure, he didn't have to worry about starving, crime paid more than enough for that, but he didn't put much thought into any of it.

Now, with you, he's making new memories with food. He cooked and baked a lot with you and for you throughout all your relationship, and you did the same for him. He loves his kitchen, just like the rest of your house. The pantry and fridge are always full thanks to you. You take good care of him. You make his trust in you be worth it. And he reciprocates it. Healthy and nice food that brings comfort and makes you roll your eyes. Especially after he started frequenting cooking classes as a hobby, again, thanks to you.

After you are gone with a full belly and a pet in the ass (just like him, honestly), he continues his routine. He changes clothes and goes to the gym. Jason never stopped exercising, but the lack of all the activity vigilantism entails and with all the treats you two have, he started getting more soft. You loved it, he hated it. — Okay he didn't hate it, he just wasn't the most happy with it. Roy thought it was kinda funny, until Jason pointed out he also got softer after Lian. You honestly couldn't see why all that softness they were talking about was so bad since they were still very muscular and defined, just less dry and more snuggly. You honestly thought your Jaybird could go even further. — So the addiction of yoga to his routine happened.

After that, he goes straight home, eats, showers, takes care of his appearance to keep looking like a proper hubby that you can shove on your bitter frenemies faces, and makes sure to keep the maintenance of the house, so you can come back tired from work and enjoy a perfect house to rest on.

Hygiene. Another things that was complicated with his biological family. His father wouldn't touch a single plate or broom, and would beat and scream at his mom if she didn't put her high (again, because of him) ass up and did the labor. Most often than not, their house was messy, had a bad smell that his little nose was so used to that it's not like he minded, and had insects around. His clothes were dirty hand-me-downs, some fit him, some didn't, a lot of them had holes. His hair tangled and itchy.

When he went to the streets, it just got worse.

Bruce and Alfred fixed that. He finally learned what stink was because he only knew good and neutral scents. His clothes fit him. Everything around him was clean and well-kept. No holes, no stains. Hair always trimmed, soft and clean. Well maintained.

When he came back, cleanliness was basic. Of course he is gonna keep everything around him clean. Habit and common sense, you know? Clothes his size because why the hell would he use hand-me-downs when he can just buy his own? And they had to be the right size for his new 6’2 and almost 200 lbs body. Hair? Whatever. Always washed but as long as it didn't look ridiculous he didn't have time to put much thought on his appearance. He was genuinely surprised you were attracted to him at first sight.

Being with you, he learned to enjoy the little things in life again. Sometimes he finds himself unmoving in front of a random room of the house, or in front of the mirror, trying to grasp if it's all real, If this is really his life, if that's how he looks. His mind flashes memories of his childhood home and his current home. He ignores the memories of the manor not only because of the betrayal he felt for Bruce, but also because the manor was from the Wayne's. He was a Wayne. He is not anymore. This is him. His new house, with you, is what he wished he had growing up. What he always dreamed of. Love. Company. And comfort. He felt all of that while being a Wayne, until he despised the Wayne's. Not the couple that died decades ago or the centuries old descendants. But his father and his siblings.

On days where he doesn't take care of the house, he practices his hobbies. He now has time to do it all, surprising you, his therapist, Roy, and himself, he did cooking, gardening, pottery, crocheting and of course, reading. You paid for all his classes, praised him on his achievements, added his creations to the decor of the house, accompanied him on any event or place related to his interests, gave him his own library in one of the rooms in the house. He even made some friends between middle-aged women and the only other househusband and stay-a-home dad that frequented those places.

It was very funny and cute seeing rough, huge, leather jacket wearing and scarred Jason Todd telling jokes to 50-year-old white moms/grandmas and sometimes even babysitting their kids, pets and plants. You knew he could be a good dad one day if you decided to have kids. He was also more than happy to have just you, Daphne and good friends. And plants.

Warmth. When he was a kid his parents broke the heater during a fight, he wondered if they didn't have money to fix it, even with his father's activities, or if his father just refused to fix it. Anyhow, it was always cold in Gotham, freezing on winter, his dirty clothes with holes didn't help much. The streets didn't seem much different in that aspect. The manor kept him warm when he wasn't seven feet under the dirt, in a casket. When he came back, Jason always wore the warmest of clothes, even while sweating, he didn't know why. Now he did. Your house is always warm. Your body is always warm. Comfort. Your love gave him comfort. Warmth. A reason to live.

Love. His mom. Bruce and Alfred. You.

After he was done and rested for a little, Jason took Daphne for a walk in the way to the grocery shop. He wanted to try a new receipt you saw on tiktok today for dinner and had to get more flour and something for the filling.

After a few minutes of walking on his perfectly nice looking and safe neighborhood — nothing like crime alley. The type of neighborhood he saw on the television and imagined those other happy kids his age living and envied them. Dreamed of being adopted into one of their families while jumping from orphanage to orphanage. It never happened. He just got more abused. And then the manor was so isolated that you could only see mansions and plants all around. So big and far away that they looked empty of life. — he got there and strapped the dog to a post, next to a smiley golden retriever.

He got in and- fuck it, I'm going home. The empanadas can wait another day.

— Jason? Oh my god. Jason! Is that you?! — The infuriatingly familiar loud voice calls out from the middle of the shop and all heads turn to look. Shit, he can't go now without embarrassing himself in front of the cashier of his favorite and most visited shop. So he just nods, takes a basket and walks as if there was nothing interesting happening. It worked with the others costumers, unfortunately, Dick thought it was way too interesting and forgot his own basket that only contained eggs and cereal, and started following him around, this time, with a less surprised tone.

— Hey, Dick. — Jason idly muttered, that just made his coff coff brother indignant.

— Hey, Dick?! What the hell? Where were you? It's been three years! We thought you were dead! Or kidnapped! We never stopped looking for you! We were worried! We mourned! What happened? — Was it bad that Jason didn't want to give him a real answer? Probably. Especially with how much his therapist, who he saw on the days he didn't go to the gym, told him he should try to mend things with his family. So much so that he started actually contemplating it recently. But if he did it, it was going to be on his own time. Not by bumping into them in the grocery store. Oh, well. Jason was always good at adapting. The best.

And wow, three years had passed? Makes sense. Recovery does take time and he's been really happy for a while. Jason still remembers the day he decided to quit everything. It was the same day he decided you were the one, truthfully he always knew you were marriage material, the perfect one for him, out of his league, straight out of his most amazing dreams, peak goal for him, but he wasn't sure if he deserved to be the one you should be stuck with forever. He desperately wanted to, but he had to commit. Ride or die. He loved you, now more than ever, and didn't want to waste your time. He was still a bit messy at the time, but you made it all better, he was a lot better than he was before you came into the picture. You were the right choice. Jason always took you seriously, he was just insecure. So, while still in around eight months of relationship, he quit everything.

He quit his family. He quit vigilantism. He searched for recovery. And a year and a half later, with a little more than two years of dating, he made the big proposal. You married on your three-year anniversary. Got Daphne four months later. It's been around three or four months ever since.

While Dick’s math might not be exact, it is not necessary in this context, the point came across just fine.

He also knew that the fact that you both decided to not leave Gotham was going to bite him in the ass one day. One way or another.

— What happened? Oh, well. I retired. Got married. And now I'm a dad. — Daphne was like a daughter to him, so it was the same, right?

His nonchalant reply didn't seem to satisfy the other, though. Todd could see it, the urge to strangle him in his eyes. Dick wouldn't strangle his dead missing little brother, would he?

— You… You what? — Dick was in disbelief.

— You guys searched for me? Thanks, I guess? It means a lot. — Jason just sniffed and went on his way, leaving Grayson behind, paralyzed.

Maybe he could be fast enough and get out of there before the older one got a grasp of his senses back and followed him out. Part of him felt hope, the other heard yours and his therapist voices in his head, and the nagging was annoying. Maybe he never stopped being a “grump”, like you always amusedly said.

Oh, no. Here he comes again. Jason suppresses an eye-roll.

— Stop. Can you really explain? — The mix of emotions was almost overwhelming, an urge to cry, punch a wall, punch Jason's face, scream and who knows what more was running through Dick's body.

Jason sighed and finally addressed him completely. Tone lower so no one could hear.

— Okay. I met someone… Someone good. Someone special. A civilian. I was tired of everything. So I decided to retire and made sure none of you could find me. I'm surprised Roy and Lian kept the secret from you, though. Anyway. Now I'm a stay-at-home hubby, have a dog and go to therapy. You happy? — A beat of silence. — Hey, don't make that face… I was going to tell you guys eventually… When I felt like it… It's not like you guys saw me a lot. How much time did it take for you all to miss me? I made an appearance once in a while when someone asked for help and that's it. Alfred knew everything so if you’re gonna be mad at anyone, be at him too, not just me… And Roy. Don't forget Roy.

— A-Are you kidding me? Oh, yes, blame the butler! You couldn't even tell us? Like “hey guys, I'm gonna retire and take some time for myself for a while. Also, come to my wedding!” I wanted to be invited, you know?! Why didn't you invite me? Did you at least invite Alfred? Did- — Jason rolled his eyes and cut his rant.

— Yes, Alfred was there. Front row and everything. — Dick shrieked.

— T-That’s not the point! — His voice raised slightly from exasperation and both of them checked around for anyone's attention, then came back to the conversation.

Jason raised a hand to interrupt him and took a deep breath.

— Look. I wasn't in a nice place at the time, okay? I'm better now… And I was going to talk to you guys sooner rather than later… — Jason let a moment of vulnerability shine, hoping that would melt his brother's heart and fix things. It did. — We will have a second wedding when we renovate our vows in our 5th anniversary. You can be there… Everyone can be there. — Jason cleared his throat to interrupt the other again. — But now I have to get home in time to make dinner for my honeyboo, so why don't we… Stay in contact and… One of those days everyone can have dinner together and catch up, huh?

Dick took one of the deepest breaths of his whole life. Jason pursed his lips.

— Okay… — He stuck a finger in his face roughly. — But don't disappear again. Or else I promise I’m gonna personally make everyone track you down, understood? — Jason snorted. As if Tim and Bruce wouldn't do it already once they knew everything. As if Bruce didn't secretly keep track of him this whole time. Unless… Unless everyone changed and he didn't know his… His family anymore.

Why did it make him feel weird?

— Yes, boss. — Jason saluted him and left.

— Relax… — You elongated the word. — Nothing bad it's gonna happen… — You went behind Jason and tried rubbing his broad shoulders to chase the tenseness away. The sight and feel of his muscles almost made you drool, and you blinked to focus again.

— How do you know? — You pursed your lips and went to his side to try to make him take his eyes off of cleaning the countertop for the 4th time due to anxiety.

— Because they love you. And they care about you. And they miss you. — Jason deadpanned you. — Just give it a chance. If anything goes wrong, we will just kick them out and you never have to talk to them, ever again. We can even move if you want. Or go on a vacation to the same place we had our honeymoon, I can wear that skimpy piece you like… Spoil you rotten… — Your voice lowered seductively and you pressed your body to his side, running your hand up and down his arms with some pressure.

Jason’s mind went blank and he was speechless for a few seconds. Your eyebrows raised with a small, convincing smile that made all his worries go away. He sighed.

— Okay… Okay, you’re right… — He leaned down and sneaked an arm around your waist. You both shared a slow and wet kiss, bordering between sensual and calming. Unfortunately, he had to wait a few hours before having some action. He pulled his face away a few centimeters, looking you in the eyes. — I thought I had ripped that thing. — You blinked.

— You just might have. But I bought another one because I looked too good on it not to wear it again. — You shared a chuckle when the doorbell rang. You both looked at the door, then at each other. — Want me to get it? — You ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm the last of his nerves. Jason swallowed.

— No. Have to get it over with. — He took a deep breath and then let out. Pulling away from your embrace. — Put the juice on the table for me, please? — You hummed and nodded.

Without giving a second thought, he walked in long strides and abruptly opened the door.

It was like that scene in Avengers: End Game when on one side there was just Captain America against the whole Thanos's army, just staring at each other.

— Are you wearing an apron? — Damian snarked with an eyebrow raised. Jason looked down. Yes, he was. Good start.

— Take your shoes off, there’s other shoes for you all there. And here I was having hope that at fifteen you wouldn't be a demon anymore. — Jason said sarcastically and gave them space to enter.

As soon as they got in the neighborhood they were all already skeptical. If you were the only one working, how much do you earn to live in such a nice area and with this nice house? They could even see a pool in the backyard and there were TWO expensive cars in the driveway. Jason said he quit all of the crime lord thing, did he keep the savings? Did he invest?

The little dog came running and barking, taking their attention away from the house and their shoes, Damian immediately crouched to pet her. Jason let a side of his lips go up. At least that hasn't changed.

— Her name is Daphne. — Jason spoke over the cooing of Duke and Cass at the dog. He locked eyes with Bruce who had an unreadable expression on his face. He looked older, Jason didn't know how to feel about that. Then gazed at Dick, who had a shit eating grin, Alfred, whose satisfied smile warmed his heart, and Tim, who was analyzing the space while changing shoes.

— Nice place. So, what does your partner do? — Are they committing fraud? — You appeared from the corner and replied for him.

— I direct the Queen Industries’s Gotham’s office. — You answered softly with a polite smile, stopping besides Jason, who wrapped an arm around you. Everyone's gaze turning on you made you feel shy, but you held on with confidence.

— Oh, wow, so Jason really is a malewife. — Your eyes widened in surprised and you couldn't hold back a laugh. Jason let a small smile graze his lips, coaxing the easiness out of him.

— I offered to pay cleaning and cooking service, but he wanted to do things himself. — You say, a little afraid they would get angry at you for “slavering” their Jason.

— Did you buy those cars outside? — Wow, Tim really was as skeptical as Jason had said.

— Hmhmm. — You nodded simply, as if it was nothing.

Jason's siblings raised their eyebrows and Bruce cleared his throat, and took a step forward, feet clad in fluffy slippers. He offered a hand and presented himself politely to you. You wondered how much of that was his persona and how much was just a father meeting his son's partner.

While giving them a tour of the house, the family — aside from Alfred who already knew it all — observed the details, happy memories in the form of pictures of trips, your marriage, birthdays, anniversaries, Daphne's growing stages, spontaneous moments that just deserved to be eternalized, trinkets, handmade pots, plants, Daphne’s toys, and the decor that was just a mix of you both. No guns in the walls, no corpses buried in the backyard, no blood stains. The only signals that it was their Jason living here and not a clone were the books, pictures and hidden security measures.

It was… Good. Peaceful. Clearly the change in scenario helped him. It hurt them a little, some more than others, that it took him cutting them off for him to start healing, although, maybe opening up this new side of him for them meant that it wasn't just that. And it wasn't. The fault didn't fall completely on them. Nor on Jason. And one person, you, can't be the solution for all global crisis. Mental health is complex. Trauma is complicated. Past can't be changed, but the future can.

That night, everyone enjoyed Jason's cooking, Daphne and the new future.

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augustinewrites · 1 year ago

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it’s been…a while since you and satoru have gone on an assignment together.

having two young children at home made it difficult to take off on short notice and be away for days at a time. they needed stability and routine, so the two of you had decided that one person would stay home while the other was working.

for a while, that’d worked fine. but now that megumi and tsumiki were older, self-sufficient teens who loved nothing more than being left alone, satoru had seen this as an opportunity.

you’d still been a little hesitant, but it was a simple surveillance mission. easy, right?

“water. you need to stay hydrated.” you instruct when he gets back into the car. he takes the water bottle you’re holding out, unscrewing the cap and taking a swig.

“gakuganji isn’t even home yet,” he reports with a sigh. you hum, distracted as you check your phone. gojo reaches across your knees to pull open the glovebox, rifling through colourful snack wrappers.

“tsumiki hasn’t texted me back,” you mutter. “should i ask nanami to check in on them?”

“nah, i’m sure they’re just super busy trashing the apartment and racking up charges on the emergency credit card. ah– found it!” he pulls out a black silk sleep mask, slipping it on so it rests on his forehead.

“really?” you ask, unimpressed as he holds a second one out to you. “you’re taking a nap?”

“yeah, it’ll be easier to sneak around when it’s dark, why stay awake till then?”

“is that a good idea?” you ask, though you know there’s really no point in trying to argue with his logic.

“your fault for keeping me awake all night. late night laundry folding is no joke.”

“if you’d put it in the dryer when i’d asked—”

“can’t hear you,” he sing-songs, pulling the mask over his eyes. “you can take a nap too, you know. that old fart couldn’t get past us even while asleep.”

“i’ll pass on the nap. need to wait for tsumiki to text.”

he grumbles something incoherent that you’re sure is meant to be argumentative as he reclines his seat a little and lays back, getting comfortable and quiet.

…for about 45 seconds.

you watch out of the corner of your eye as he pulls the mask up a half inch, just enough for his right eye to observe you.

“what do you want now?” you ask.

then, with casualty akin to asking what you want for lunch, he clears his throat and asks, “do you want to have sex?”

“do i want to have what?” you ask, turning to stare at him incredulously, but your face is hot and for a split second, you’d considered agreeing.

“sex,” he repeats, patting his lap with a shit-eating grin. “we’re going to be here for a while, anyways. these seats recline way back—”

“i am not having sex in this car with you, satoru!”

he groans over-dramatically (as he tends to do). “will you at least cuddle with me then? i’m desperate and touch-starved and hopelessly in love with you!”

you make a note to figure out what cheesy rom com he stole that line from, but lean across the console to trail kisses up his shoulder, his neck. satoru does nothing to protect himself from your overly affectionate onslaught, he’s quick to catch your jaw, pulling you in for a proper kiss.

“wait. no, no, no!” he protests when you pull back, eyes suddenly trained on the house you’re meant to be watching. “you can’t just leave me high and dry—”

“he’s home!” you whisper, pressing a hand over his mouth (though he continues with muffled complaints). “pull the car a little further back before we get out.”

you’ve already summoned your shikigami as satoru maneuvers the car into the dense forestry, about to send them off when your phone vibrates in your lap.

“oh! megumi texted me,” you inform him. “he said…‘already made dinner. tsumiki is out on a date—’”

the car grinds to a halt and abruptly turns, the momentum causing your to slam into the side of the car as it peels out onto the dirt road. you curse loudly as your fiancé, devoid of all his playfulness from earlier, speeds through the forest.

“what the— satoru!”

#principal yaga sighs when the mission report status reads incomplete due to ‘fatherly duties’#keeping up with the fushigojos #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff

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soaps-mohawk · 3 days ago

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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 45: Heat of the Moment

Summary: There's a nervous energy to the pack as you all deal with the looming threat of your oncoming heat.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 11,479 words

Warnings: Alpha/beta/omega dynamics, a/b/o, omegaverse, NSFW, 18+, explicit sexual content, smut, heat cycles, mating cycles, p in v sex, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, rough sex, biting, scratching, spanking (it's like once), squirting, knotting, some violent imagery, blood, slight angst, language, slight fluff

A/N: You're welcome

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

“You look nervous.”

He gives Christine a look. She’s put her doctor hat back on, sorting through supplies Johnny and Kyle picked up on their run to town. His eyes track her hands to avoid staring at her face, watching as she tucks gauze pads into the first aid kit. He swallows thickly, nerves blooming in his stomach.

She is right. He is nervous. His thoughts have been racing since he said those words, since he made the decision to man up and help you through your heat. There’s no going back. He can’t change his mind on this.

No, he’s wrong. He’s not nervous.

He’s terrified.

“It’s okay to be nervous.” She says, snapping the lid closed. There’s stacks and stacks of boxes of nutrient bars and a stack of electrolyte drinks next to your door. The things that will keep you both alive during the next week.

“I’m not nervous.” He says unconvincingly.

It’s her turn to give him a look. “This is new for you, if I’m not mistaken.”

“You’re not.” He says, his fingers twitching where they rest against his knees.

“Well, then there’s some things we should go over that might ease your nerves a bit.” She says, shifting into doctor mode. “There’s a lot that can happen during an omega’s heat, but the likelihood of something bad happening is very slim. Bad things do happen, but it’s a very slim margin data-wise of it happening.”

“But it could still happen.” He says. There is still a chance. Things have happened before, they could happen to you.

She gives him a reassuring look. “You’re not going to hurt her. Omegas aren’t as fragile as you think. Especially not during their heats.”

“But us both being purebreds...the first time we had sex, it was out of control.” He argues.

“And that’s likely the worst it’ll get.” She says. “Being purebred gives you an advantage in a heat. You’re more in tune with your instincts, which in turn will make you more in tune with her during her heat. You’ll be more aware, more conscious of what she needs and what’s happening. No alpha truly loses themselves in a rut. Things get hazy, of course, but there’s still a deep level of awareness there.”

He ponders her words, the nerves starting to ease a bit, but they don’t go away entirely. He’s never done this before. He has no idea what to expect.

“Besides, you won’t be alone for a week. It’s not just a week straight of heat-induced haze. There will be periods of awareness when things die down for a bit. That’s where betas come into play. They come in, check on things, make sure you’re well and eating and staying hydrated.” She gives him a smile. “Johnny will be here for you, and Kyle’s done this twice so he knows what to do. And if nothing else, you have me here in case, on the very rare off-chance, something does happen.”

As much as he hates to admit it, her words to ease the worry just a bit. Still there’s that deep nagging in his stomach, a pit starting to form. He could hurt you. He could do permanent damage. The mental image of him coming out of his rut to a bloody corpse won’t leave his head. Your absent gaze on his face, wearing nothing but the look of betrayal. You trusted him and he shattered it.

“You’re just as bad as she is.”

The words draw him out of his thoughts. He’d floated off into his head, off into the distance where nothing but nightmares lie. He gulps, his eyes flashing to Christine’s face. She’s wearing a small smile, her eyes soft as she stares at him. He drifted off so easily, off into his thoughts just like you do. It unnerves him, but it also speaks volumes of his trust. As much as he doesn’t want to like her, he feels safe enough with Christine to lose his head.

What’s happened to him?

“It’s kind of boring really.” Kyle says, sorting boxes of nutrient bars, putting your favorites on top. “Just a lot of sitting around and listening to two people fuck the next room over.”

“Do ye ever…”

“Sometimes.” He answers. “It’s hard not to at first, but eventually you’ll get so tired of it you’ll pray for the end of the week to come faster.”

“I can’t imagine.”

“You will.” Kyle smirks. “It gets old pretty quick. You’re mostly just listening for any sounds of pain and waiting for a break so you can go in and check on them, make sure they’re eating and drinking.”

“What about that time ye joined them?” Johnny asks.

“That’s entirely different.” Kyle says after a moment. “Focus more on keeping them alive and well this time.”

Johnny goes quiet for a moment. Never a good sign. “Do ye ever get scared for them?”

Kyle is taken aback by the question. He pauses sorting boxes for a moment, thinking over how he’s going to answer that. “I did during her first heat.” He says honestly. “I half expected to walk in there and find a bloodbath or a dead body. I sat there and waited for a sound, ready to rush in there to try and prevent it from happening. It wasn’t needed, though. John took good care of her. It’s rough coming out of it, but they both made it.”

“What do ye do after?”

“First step is make sure it’s actually over. You can tell just by touching her. The fever goes down, she gets sleepy. You get them into a hot bath first, helps with their recovery and temperature regulation. You clean up and change the bedding while they’re in the bath. Then you get them settled in bed again, bundle them up. She cries a lot. Makes you feel bad but it shouldn’t. It’s just a natural response.” Kyle stares at the stack of boxes. “Then it’s just a lot of resting, trying to get them to eat. She’s good at knowing what she needs, and you just let her lead.”

Kyle puts a hand on Johnny’s shoulder, squeezing it gently. The Scot looks downright terrified, more terrified than Kyle’s ever seen him. He understands, though. It’s a lot to take in, a lot to understand, a heavy weight to bear. The weight of making sure two people lost in their instincts don’t die or kill each other on accident.

“Don’t worry too much.” He tries to comfort Johnny. “You’ve got me right here with you.”

The living area is dark. You can just make out the shapes of the couches thanks to the nightlight in the kitchen. It’s late, and there’s a nervous twisting in your stomach. You stand in your doorway, staring out into the darkness towards the black void that is the stairwell. Your hand is wrapped around the doorknob, the cool metal grounding you as you stand there in contemplation. You’ll wake them, no doubt, and that could be dangerous.

Still…

Your feet lift up onto your toes as you slowly cross the living area, skirting around the dark shapes of the couches. Your body pauses at the base of the stairs, glancing up at the black void above. The bottom of the steps are visible in the darkness up close, and you carefully lift a foot to place it on the wood. You pause there for a moment before lifting yourself, placing the other foot on the same step. The wood creaks softly under your feet and you pause, not even breathing in the stillness.

Nothing moves so you continue, taking it step by step as you tiptoe up the stairs. Every creak and groan has you pausing and for a moment you question if you should have risked it and turned on the light. Creeping around in the darkness with three well-trained soldiers sleeping nearby was probably not the wisest idea.

Still you press onward, pausing at the top of the steps, listening for any movement. You doubt you’d be able to hear them if they were alerted to a presence in their sacred area, but still you hold your breath, ears thrumming in the still silence of the house.

You turn on your toes, going for the door on the right. Your fingers wrap around cold metal, slowly turning. You half expect him to be up and waiting to ambush, but instead you can just make out his form tucked under the covers in the darkness. The door clicks shut behind you as you close it quietly, tiptoeing closer to the bed.

“Kyle?” You whisper, standing there nervously. What if you startle him? What if he stabs you before he realizes it’s you? “Kyle?” You whisper a bit louder.

He lets out a grunt, his head lifting off the pillow. “Huh?”

“Can I join you?” You whisper, relief starting to quiet the nerves. He had been asleep the whole time.

He hums, rolling over and lifting the covers. You quickly slip under the warm blankets, staring up at him in the darkness. You can just make out his tired eyes. You feel bad for waking him when he’s going to need lots of rest later, but you can’t sleep. Nerves untouched by relief still twist in your stomach.

“Kyle?” You whisper his name as he wraps an arm around you.

“Hm?” He hums again, settling under the covers again.

“It’s going to be okay, right?” You ask.

His hand presses against your back, warm through the thin t-shirt you’re wearing. “Everything will be fine.” He murmurs sleepily. “Simon’ll take good care of you.”

“You’ll be there too, right?” You doubt he’d leave, but still part of you needs that reassurance.

“’Course.” He says, pulling you close. “Be right there with Johnny.”

“I’m scared.” You admit quietly, pressing your face into the pillow.

“’S alright.” His breath fans the top of your head.

You lay there in silence for a moment, his breathing slow and even. He’s fallen back asleep, something you need desperately. You could go into head in a manner of hours for all you know. It’s dangerous, leaving your room at such a time, but you need the comfort of your beta right now.

You press your face further into the pillow, inhaling deeply. Something twists in your stomach as you lay there, breathing in the scent on the fabric. The nerves start to settle and you relax further into Kyle’s hold, keeping your face pressed against the pillow.

It smells a bit like John.

“I’m goin’ crazy.”

“You’re going crazy? How do you think I feel?”

“Does it normally take this long?”

“It happens when it’s going to happen.” Dr. Keller says, trying to placate your nervous pack. It’s been six days since you first began to go into pre-heat and everyone is a bit on edge. “There’s no set time between pre-heat and when the actual heat starts.”

“Wish it were like clockwork.” Kyle says.

“You and me both.” You sigh. You’ve been on edge ever since your pre-heat started, something you’ve come to expect. It’s nerve-wracking waiting for the inevitable. You’ll lose your mind, black out and a week will have passed when it’s felt like hours. It’s terrifying, and you’re never quite ready for it. “The anticipation is enough to drive you crazy.”

“Yer tellin’ me.” Johnny says, nervously bouncing his knee so hard it shakes the table.

“You have the easy job.” You snap, squeezing your hands into fists until your nails bite into your palms. The nerves continue to rise the longer the hours drag on. No one is doing anything but sitting and waiting for the inevitable fever that will hit you.

“The boring job is more like it.” Kyle says, trying to diffuse the attention. “Can’t even imagine being on the other side.”

“And you’ve seen it firsthand.” You say, remembering your second heat with John. The vague glimpses of Kyle in the dark haze.

Kyle smirks. “And what a time it was.”

“Fucking christ.” Johnny groans, putting his head in his hand.

“None of that this time.” Simon says, putting an end to the thoughts swirling in the Scot’s head.

“C’mon.” Johnny almost whines.

“No.” Simon puts his foot down. He doesn’t even glance at you. He doesn’t have to. As much as the idea is appealing, you’d rather your first heat with Simon be just with him. You don’t know how this is going to end, and you’d rather not have someone else be involved in the carnage that might remain by the end of the week.

Nerves still prickle under your skin despite your pack’s attempts at calming the tumultuous energy that’s settled over everyone. It’s almost too much now, your palms starting to sweat where your hands are still curled into fists.

“Be right back.” You murmur before pushing away from the table, heading towards your room.

You leave the door open but stand there for a moment, letting out a shaky breath. You stare at the bed, at the sad attempt at a nest of sorts. The big bear is on the floor, as Simon will want it when he gets sealed inside with you. He might see it as a threat and destroy it, even if the thought sounds a bit ridiculous. You have no idea what his mind is going to be like. He’s not like John. He’s rougher, harder, more intense. The thought has something twisting deep in your stomach.

He’s not the only one worried there might be carnage left.

Your first time together had been intense to say the least, and that was while you both had clear heads. Lost in his rut, Simon could easily do damage.

You remember the buckets of plaster, the paintbrushes in the sink, your mother’s long sleeved turtleneck in the dead of summer after coming home from the care center after one of her heats. There were bruises on her face too that she tried to hide with makeup. You were one of the few that got close enough to notice.

Something about it had made you sick, almost as if you knew that would be your future.

You let out a shuddering breath as you climb onto the bed. You sit yourself down in the center, staring at the pillows and stuffed animals arranged haphazardly. It’s not right, but there’s no drive to make it right, no urge to build a nest from what’s sitting in front of you.

“You can’t force it.” A soft voice says behind you.

You turn your head to glance at Dr. Keller. “Isn’t it dangerous, going into heat without the safety of a nest?”

“Not always.” She says, taking a few steps into the room. “You’ve gone through heats before without a nest. It’s riskier, but it’s not impossible.”

“This entire situation is risky.” You murmur.

“What makes you think that?” She asks, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“Simon and I...we lose control around each other. I’m scared...I’m scared that might happen again. And without a nest to feel safe...what if I get violent? What if Simon takes it as a challenge? Will he be able to settle without me having a nest?” The words come pouring out before you can stop them, all of the worries bubbling up like a volcano about to erupt.

“I wouldn’t be too worried.” Dr. Keller says, trying to be reassuring. “There’s a lot that can go right, and the odds of that happening are far higher than the odds of things going wrong.”

“I’ve seen it.” You say quietly, staring down at the comforter. “What happens when it goes wrong.”

“Simon won’t hurt you.” She says, putting a hand on your back. “He’s more in control than you think. There has to be a drive there to cause pain for that to happen in a heat. Heats draw out raw instincts, peel back the layers to bring forth the hidden inner self.”

You think over her words, think of the remnants of violence you had witnessed as a child. It makes your stomach twist. Your father really hid all of that beneath the guise of being a perfect pack, a perfect alpha.

You’d be a fool to think your father ever loved your mother. I’d be even more foolish to think he ever even liked her. She was nothing more than a status symbol, something to give him what he desired and nothing more.

That’s the difference, though. Simon likes you. Love might be too strong of a word, but you know he at least enjoys your company. He wouldn’t go out of his way to hurt you. Even back when you were fighting just for tolerance of your existence, you knew deep down he’d never go out of his way to hurt you. He nearly fought an alpha for you within weeks of knowing each other. He willingly showed you his face and has gone without his mask since then.

He’d never hurt you. He’s never wanted to hurt you.

“You really think we’ll be okay?” You ask quietly, your voice small and broken as you stare at your lame excuse for a nest.

Dr. Keller rubs your back gently. “I know it.”

He’s not ready.

He has no choice but to be ready.

It happens suddenly, but then again he knew that would happen. There’s no head’s up, no countdown. It comes on suddenly and then it’s go-time.

His hands are shaking.

He already knew before Johnny ascended the stairs two at a time in a frantic race to get to him. He could smell it wafting up the steps before your cry of pain in the kitchen. It made him flinch, his entire body tensing. He knew what it meant, even if he’d never heard such a thing before now.

“Simon, it’s time.” Johnny says, panting slightly. From his run up the steps or the sudden burst of adrenaline he’s not quite sure. They’re all so out of shape compared to what they once were.

“I know.” He rumbles, setting his book on the nightstand. He hadn’t gotten very far in it. He’ll likely have to restart it in a week. He was barely paying attention to the words on the page anyway.

It’s time.

He has to keep telling himself that as he rises from the bed. He debates shoes but thinks better of it. There won’t be any use for them. They’ll just be in the way. Even if something does happen, he’ll be too lost in his head to care much anyway. They’ll be entirely reliant on Johnny and Kyle to watch the house, and them.

Something about that is comforting.

Simon takes the steps slowly, descending with heavy footsteps. He feels as if he’s heading to his funeral. In a way he is. The death of his old self, the death of his boundaries, the death of his fear of vulnerability. Once he passes through that door, there will be nothing left of his old self.

Perhaps that’s a good thing.

He pauses halfway across the living room, pulling his phone out of his pocket. Still no word from Price. Something itches in the back of his mind but he shoves it aside. No time to think on that right now. He almost pockets his phone again, but he thinks better of it. He passes it off to Johnny, the Scot standing there, pale and wide eyed. He’s just as nervous as Simon feels inside, and he can practically hear his beta’s racing thoughts.

“Keep an eye on it.” He says, putting a hand on Johnny’s shoulder. “Any word you tell me as soon as this is over.”

Johnny can’t do anything but nod, his throat bobbing as he gulps.

“You’re a good lad, Johnny.” Simon squeezes his shoulder. “I trust you.”

Something shifts in his beta’s eyes at the words. He needed to hear that, Simon thinks. He’s got a big job to do, even with Kyle here to guide him.

Simon turns towards the other beta, giving him a nod. He can smell you already, your scent heavy in the air, clinging to your beta’s clothes.

It’s making his head start to go fuzzy.

He takes a breath, staring at your closed door. It’s now or never. There’s no going back once he enters. Some deep part of him wants to turn tail and run, escape out the door and never come back. Some deeper part of him wants to take the source of that scent in his teeth and shake it like a dog.

He’s not sure which one is more terrifying.

His fingers tremble as they close around the knob. He takes another breath, trying to ease the tension in his shoulders as he slowly twists.

The scent hits him like a train.

He’s never been hit by a train, but he’d imagine it’s something like this.

It barrels into him, invading his senses and numbing his mind. His thoughts start to seem far away as he breathes in the overly sweet musk spewing into the air like a fountain.

His eyes search out the source, and he finds it on the bed.

He finds you on the bed.

You’re laying there, naked as the day you were born, panting like a bitch in heat. You are, he supposes. You’re on your back, knees bent and thighs pressed together. There’s a hand between them, and he can just see the subtle movement of your fingers.

Needy little thing.

A low growl rumbles in his chest as he takes a step forward, closing the door behind him. It seals the two of you in, closing the last barrier between the you and the outside world for the next week.

His scent starts to mingle with yours, thickening in the air as his body responds to the pheromones from your heat. He read about this, he read about all of it in preparation. Yet those facts seem far from his mind as he stands there, breathing you in.

How sweet. How delectable.

He could devour you right now.

“Simon,” You whimper his name, pathetic and quiet. Your fingers tremble as you reach out a hand for him. “Help me.”

Something stirs in him at your begging tone. You need him. You need him to help you. He’s the only one that can.

The thought has his alpha stirring in the back of his mind. Something he hasn’t felt in a long time starts to run through him.

He crosses the room in three long strides, his hand reaching out for yours. It’s warm to the touch as his fingers trace your palm. It’s so soft and feverish, sweat beading on your forehead as you stare up at him with hooded eyes. He didn’t think your whole body would be hot with your heat. He thought it was more metaphorical.

So little he truly knows.

Your fingers wrap around his wrist as his own slide down yours. Your grip is weak, squeezing as tightly as you can.

“I’ve got you.” The words rumble out of his lips, his fingers closing around your own delicate wrist. Your scent invades his brain, continuing to thicken in the air as your fingers squelch in and out of your pussy.

He bends his body down, pressing his nose against your wrist, drinking from the source. It’s so sweet, sweet enough he’d have a mouthful of cavities if one could turn this scent into candy. He wants to bite down, wants to sink his teeth into you and chew until there’s nothing left.

A rumble of approval vibrates in his chest, your body shuddering in response. A quiet whine leaves your lips, pulling him out of his haze.

“Fucking hell…” He groans, standing back up to his full height. He stares down at you, at your pathetic form laying there in the bed. “Look at you.”

Sweat has coated your skin in a shiny sheen as you lay there in the ghastly overhead light. He should turn it off. He knows how much you hate it, but he can’t move. He can’t bring himself to care. His very being is starting to slip away, being replaced by a primal need to bite, to chew, to shake, to devour.

“Alpha,” You whimper, laying there panting under him. Your fingers attempt to squeeze his wrist but the motion is weak and more of a twitch than anything.

The word coming from your mouth has a tingle starting in the base of his spine, shooting up into the deep parts of his brain. His alpha purrs proudly, practically preening at the sound of its status leaving your lips in such a desperate manner.

You need him.

“Say that again.” He almost growls, his head starting to spin. It’s a euphoric feeling and he’s barely touched you.

“Alpha!” You call out, your voice pitched with a whine. Your legs pull up off the bed, curling in on yourself in desperation.

You need him.

His fingers slide down your arm, gliding through the sweat soaking your skin. He wants to lick it, taste you in your most base form. Desperate and needy for what only he can give you. Only he can offer you relief to the plight plaguing you.

The power goes straight to his brain, then down his spine to his cock.

It’s hard already. He’s been hard since he walked into the room and was hit with the barrage of your scent. His cock had twitched to life, standing at attention, ready and waiting. His jeans are uncomfortable and he almost wishes he’d opted for sweatpants.

His hands close around your upper arm, tugging you across the bed. You move without resistance, sliding across the thin sheet. The bed protector crinkles under your body, the small protection for the mattress from the slew of fluids destined to coat it over the next week. He doubts Kyle’s parents would be happy if they destroyed the mattress.

The idea of leaving his mark here forever has his mind reeling, though.

His mouth starts to water as he tugs yo rather harshly, spinning you so your feet rest on the edge of the bed. You’re still panting as you stare up at him, your pupils blown. Goosebumps cover your skin despite the heat flowing through your body as you hold his gaze.

Bold, he thinks. Part of him wants to punish you for staring at him so openly, but another part of him loves it. Your defiant nature, the thing he knows lays deep inside of you, coming out to play.

You can call me alpha now. The words ring through his head. He wanted to punish you then, when you’d uttered those words. How dare you make such a bold claim. Yet at the same time it amused him. Little omega trying to play big alpha leader. He wonders what would have happened had he succeeded to you. Part of him wants to do that now, just to see what you’d do.

Did John ever let you take control? It wouldn’t have lasted long. His instincts would have taken over quickly. What would you do if he laid down in your place and let you take control.

No, he wants to be in control.

He stares down at you, holding your gaze. Your fingers are still moving between your legs, pumping in and out in a desperate attempt to ease the need throbbing deep within you. No matter how much you want to take over, you still need him. You’re nothing without him right now, and that thought makes him shiver.

“Look at you, all needy f’me.” He murmurs, his fingers toying with the bottom of his shirt. His clothes are starting to feel constricting, heat blossoming beneath his own skin but he’s too caught up to care. “Show me.” His voice rumbles deep in his chest. “Show me how much you need me.”

Your teeth sink into your lip, little minx, as you part your thighs. They’re wet with your juices, your fingers still stuffed into your little pussy. Slick dribbles out around them, your entire had soaked from the fluid. A low rumble vibrates in his chest as he stares down at you, his fingers darting down to wrap around your wrist.

He tugs your hand from between your legs, slick dripping off your fingers and onto your stomach as he holds it in the air. Your pussy flutters around nothing, more slick seeping out of the drenched hole. You let out a low keen as he growls, your legs trying to close together in search of friction.

“Fucking hell…” He groans, dragging a hand across the bulge in his jeans.

He releases your hand, his own finding the backs of your thighs. He pushes your legs up to your chest, guiding your hands to hold behind your knees.

“Hold those f’me.” He orders you, his hands sliding down to the curve of your ass. His thumbs pull you wide open, your hips pressing up into his hands.

“Need you, alpha.” You whine breathlessly, the need evident in your voice.

It goes straight to his head, making his mind buzz with excitement and pride.

You need him.

“Need you now!” You whimper, pressing your hips up again.

A yelp leaves your lips as his hand comes down, his fingers stinging from the sharp slap he delivers to your pussy. “Patience.” He snaps, taking a step back.

He stares down at you, laying there spread open for him. He wants to devour you, and his brain is trying to decide which part to taste first. Your skin, your mouth, your pussy. Hell he’d suck on your toes right now if it means he’ll get to taste you.

Impatience tugs at his own mind. He’s wasted enough time dragging this out. He needs to act and fast, not just for his own sanity, but for yours as well. He watches your face, lips parted as you breathe. Your chest is heaving, body trembling from the effort of holding yourself up. He knows you’d lay there the entire week if he wanted you to, but that would be cruel.

Finally he moves, dropping down to his knees in front of you. Kneeling for you already and he hasn’t even gotten you to do that yet. He could have. He could have commanded it as soon as he walked in and fucked you just like that, starting this process off quickly.

No, he wants to savor this as much as he can before he loses himself too much.

Your pussy clenches as he comes face to face with it, inhaling the musk floating off of your body.

“Look at this pretty little pussy.” He growls, goosebumps forming on your skin where his warm breath fans it. “All wet and dripping just for me.”

You taste like heaven.

His vision nearly goes white as he drags his tongue through your folds for the first time. He could cum in his pants just from tasting you, like a needy pup getting his first look at a bare set of tits. A growl rumbles through his chest, his hands lifting to press against the backs of your thighs.

“Sweet as sugar.” He growls, dragging his tongue through your folds again to get a second taste.

Just as heavenly as the first.

He wants to bury his face in your pussy and never come out. He could crawl in there and live happily for the rest of his life.

He dips his tongue into your hole, slick coating his tongue. The muskiness of your slick paired with the sweetness of your pussy is umami on his tongue. He’ll never taste anything as good as this. Now he understands why alphas get so addicted to heats. He’d happily do this for the rest of his life if he could.

You whine at the third pass of his tongue through your folds, your hips pressing against his hands.

“Patience,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your clit. It’s hard under his mouth, slick dribbling out against his chin.

His shirt is going to be stained, but that’s fine. He may never wash it again.

“Please, alpha.” You whine, your hands sinking into the sheet under you. You’re so desperate, so needy for relief, relief only he can bring you.

The power is going to his head, traveling straight downward to his cock.

He shushes you softly, pressing another kiss to your clit before he wraps his lips around it. He sucks hard, slurping at your slick-coated folds. Your legs shake around his head, toes already curling. You’re so close already. You have to be after fingering yourself for so long.

His head is starting to spin, shivers running up and down his spine as his instincts start to come alive. He has a need to have you, possess you, devour you. His teeth scrape your clit, a sharp whine leaving your lips at the sensation. His fingers bite into your skin. He’ll leave bruises but he doesn’t care.

Omegas aren’t as breakable as you think. Christine’s words float through his head.

He’s going to find out one way or another.

He presses harder against your thighs as they attempt to close around his head. He wants you splayed open like a piece of meat set out for him. This bed is the table, and you are the dinner laid out for a starving man.

He sucks messily at your pussy, drinking in your slick and sucking at your clit. Your whines are getting sharper, louder as you get closer and closer to your orgasm. He can feel it, more and more slick seeping out of you and coating his face as your pussy flutters.

“Alpha!” You cry out as your first orgasm washes over you.

You shake under him, slick gushing out of you from the force of your first orgasm of the week. He doesn’t ease up, wrapping his lips around your clit to drag out your orgasm as much as he can. You’re still hot under his touch, sweat coating your skin and his where his hands press your legs into your chest.

“Good girl.” He mumbles around your clit, giving it a soft kiss before dragging his tongue through your folds again to gather your release.

It’s musky on his tongue, tinged with your natural sweetness. He could get addicted to this taste. He could spend the next week with nothing but his tongue buried inside of you. That would be cruel, though.

That’s not what you need.

He doesn’t relent though, his tongue pressing into your heat to drink from the very source. His face is slick from your juices as he fucks you with his tongue, his fingers bruising on the backs of your thighs. It’s a miracle you haven’t gotten a cramp yet, but perhaps you don’t care.

Omegas aren’t as breakable as you think.

He wants to test that.

You’re a whining and shaking mess as he buries himself in your pussy, nose pressing against the hard bud of your clit. Your body jolts, pushing up against his face. He’d drown here happily, but he has more to do. He doesn’t want to die just yet. Not before he’s had the chance to stick his cock in you.

He lifts his head, slick sliding down his throat and onto his chest as he licks his lips. He pushes himself up to stand, looming over you as he presses you down into the mattress. Your eyes are hazy, lips still parted as you stare up at him. The fine strands of hair that refuse to be tamed by your braid are sticking to your forehead, pinned there by the sweat soaking your skin. There will be an imprint of your back on the sheet from your sweaty body, he thinks.

He’d roll around in it if he could.

He finally releases you, your legs slowly dropping downward. You’re unable to hold them up on your own, already weak in your own need. He leans over you, pressing a knee between your thighs as his hands sink into the mattress on either side of your head. His jean-clad thigh presses against the heat between your legs, your hips jerking against the fabric.

His hand slides up your body, dragging through the sweat between your breasts, up your throat to your jaw. He grips it tightly, digging his fingers into your cheeks.

“Look at you.” He rasps, pushing his fingers downward. “Open.”

You do as he says, opening your mouth for him.

He leans down, a glob of spit dropping from his mouth onto your awaiting tongue. He doesn’t even have to tell you to do it as you close your mouth and swallow.

Bloody fucking hell.

He leans down, pinning your body to the mattress as he leans down to kiss you. “Missed this pretty mouth.” He groans, forcing your lips open with his tongue.

Your hips grind against his thigh as he kisses you, smearing your slick across your own face. It’s wet and sloppy, desperate and needy. He’s growing just as needy as you are, his cock throbbing as you wrap your arms around his back. Your hip drags along the bulge in his pants as you grind on his thigh, his own hands gripping the sheet this time.

“Fuck…” he groans, pulling away from your lips. “Gonna make yourself cum just like this? Gonna make yourself cum against my thigh like a needy bitch in heat?”

“Yes, alpha!” You whine as his lips trail down your jaw, licking at the sweat on your skin. Fuck you taste so good.

He drops his head, nudging your jaw with his nose. You tilt your head, submitting to him without protest. His alpha purrs in delight as he closes in on your neck, pressing a soft kiss against the sweaty skin. He scrapes his teeth across the delicate skin, the idea bouncing around in his head to leave bruises, to mark you up.

Omegas aren’t as delicate as you think.

His teeth close around a bit of skin, sinking down until you let out a quiet yelp. He releases the skin, pressing a soft kiss to the spot before moving further down your neck.

Your hands sink under his shirt as you continue to hump his thigh, nails biting into the skin of his lower back. He lets out a growl, biting down on your throat again. You sink your nails in harder, trying to hurt him as much as he’s hurting you.

Feisty thing.

He relents first, giving you the satisfaction as he returns to your lips, giving you a searing kiss.

“Alpha,” You moan against his lips, your nails raking up his back. It makes him shiver. “Touch me.”

“You want me to touch you, omega?” He growls, nipping at your lips.

You whine, your hips jerking against his thigh.“Yes! Please!”

“So polite.” He grins. “How can I say no?”

He pushes himself up, leaning a hand on the bed as his other hand trails back down your body. He pulls his leg away, your hips jerking in protest. He smirks, his fingers ghosting over your clit before cupping your pussy. He can feel the pulse of it against his fingers, slick instantly coating his skin.

He doesn’t hesitate, sinking two fingers into your heat. You whine, hips bucking at the intrusion. His fingers sink in easily, almost as if your body is opening in welcome for him. It is. He can feel the pull of your walls, trying to drag his fingers in as deep as they’ll go.

Fascinating.

He can only imagine how it will feel against his cock.

“Fuck,” He groans, your pussy nearly pulsing around his fingers. It’s almost as if it has a mind of its own. It does, he supposes, in your heat. It’s controlling you, desperate for what it wants, what it needs.

The thing only he can give to you.

It nearly makes him preen, the thought that you’re at his mercy. He can delay your relief as long as he wants.

The power sends a shiver down your spine.

Your pussy flutters around him, tugging at his thick fingers even though they’re as deep as they can go. He grunts, your body pulsing around him as he pulls them back, only for it to pulse again as he sinks them back in. It’s like it’s moving with him, squeezing as he pulls back, tightening as he sinks back in like it’s trying to drag his whole hand into your body.

He might be able to do that right now.

Why he had waited this long to experience this, he doesn’t know. Fear? He doesn’t know fear right now. Doubt? There’s no thoughts in his head, only how much he wants to devour you whole.

“Fuck,” he curses again, his cock throbbing painfully. “I would have said yes to this sooner if I knew it would be like this,” he groans, pushing his fingers in as deep as he can. “Fucking perfect little omega. Just for me.”

“Just for you,” You whine, pushing your hips against his hand.

Shit.

“Needy little thing.” He grunts, curling his fingers inside of you and he slowly pushes them in and out. “Can make you gush around my fingers just from this, huh?”

“Please,” You breathe, clenching around his fingers as the heat continues to burn beneath your skin. You’re so hot around him, not and tight and slick. “Need your knot, alpha.”

“My knot? Oh, love we’re nowhere near that yet.” He grins wickedly at you.

You whimper, the fluttering of your pussy around his fingers intensifying as he begins thrusting them in and out of you faster. He pushes against that spongy spot, angling his thrusts there. Your hips jerk, legs already shaking. He loves this, his little party trick. Even in your heat-induced state it still has your eyes rolling back in your head, pleasure taking over your body.

“Alpha,” You pant, your legs shaking uncontrollably. “Alpha, please!”

“I’ve got you.” He grunts, speeding up his thrusts. “I’ve got you.”

You nearly scream as your entire body shakes, fluid squirting all over his hand. Your hands wrap around his arm, and he’s not sure if you’re trying to push him away or pull him closer. The wet squelch of his fingers is loud in the air, his hand continuing to push against that spot to drag your orgasm out as long as he can.

“Please, please!” You gasp, body writhing on the bed.

He finally relents, withdrawing his fingers from your pussy. He drags them through your soaked folds, your juices only adding to the slick pouring out of you.

“Fucking hell.” He groans. “Fucking beautiful, that is.”

For a moment it almost looks like you get a bit bashful at his praise. It’s quickly taken over by another shudder of your body, your hands tugging on his arm. He leans over you again, kissing your lips softly. He keeps his fingers stroking through your folds, every pass of his fingers over your clit making your body jolt.

His mouth leaves your lips, his tongue dragging down your jaw to lick at the sweat on your skin. It tastes musky, not unlike the musk between your thighs. You’re delectable, like a gourmet dessert designed specifically to his tastes.

You tilt your head for him again as he drags his tongue down your neck, submitting to him once more.

“Good girl.” He groans, a shiver running down your spine at the praise.

“Need your knot, alpha.” You gasp.

His lips tease the spot right where your shoulder and neck meet. The idea floats through his head but he shoves it back. Not now. Not here. Not like this.

He can’t let go like that. It’s not his place.

“You want my knot?” He growls, distracting himself from the thoughts banging around in his head.

“Yes, please alpha!” You nearly cry, your hips pushing against his hand.

He’ll be kind, this time, he decides.

He pushes himself away from you, a shiver running down his spine. You stare up at him, legs drooped over the side of the bed. You make no move to shift your position, and he’s not sure you can right now.

“You want my knot?” He asks, his voice low and rough around the edges. His alpha is beginning to crawl out of the cage as his head continues to spin. He’s getting close to losing himself, getting close to that darkness that threatens to swallow him whole. A shudder runs through his body. “I’ll fucking give it to you.”

His shirt nearly tears as he rips it over his head. He doesn’t care, letting the fabric drop to the floor. His belt nearly hits you as he rips it free from his pants, tossing it to the floor somewhere. You’re watching him undress, something he once might have felt too vulnerable to do. Now it has him beaming with pride at the pleasure on your face. You like what you see, if your wide eyes and parted lips have anything to do with it.

He drops his jeans, kicking them off before he stalks towards the bed, naked and vulnerable. Yet, it doesn’t feel that way, shut in here with you. You’re just as naked and open, lost in your instincts and fully trusting in him. Something about that makes his cock twitch in pride.

“Present for me.” He growls, uttering the words the once thought he’d never say.

A visible shudder runs through your body at the command, and suddenly you have the strength to turn yourself over. You drag your body up the bed, pushing your knees under you before lifting your ass into the air.

“Fucking hell…” he groans, staring down at your dripping folds on display for him.

He gets it now. He understands. How stupid he was to turn this down the first time.

He cups your pussy, feeling the warm wetness of it against his palm. “You want my cock, little omega?” He growls, his cock twitching in anticipation. “You want me to stuff this little pussy full?”

You whine, arching your back to push your ass into his hand. “Please, alpha!”

You yelp as he brings his hand down on your ass. He watches it jiggle as he fists his cock, squeezing around the base to stop himself from cumming. He hasn’t even gotten inside of you yet and he’s already twitching.

Like a needy little pup.

He steps forward, dragging his head through your folds. You whine, trying to push back on him. He watches, his head catching on your entrance. It’s hypnotic, watching you so desperately try and take what you need.

He’s made you wait long enough. He’s made himself wait long enough.

“Alpha!” You whine indignantly, trying to urge him to hurry up and fuck you.

The power goes straight to his head.

He’s not that cruel, though.

Another whine leaves your lips as he finally relents, pushing his hips forward as he guides his cock into your heat. He nearly cums himself as he finally sinks into your waiting pussy, your walls immediately clamping around him. You’re so tight and warm, fluttering around him to try and drag him deeper.

“Shit.” He hisses, resting a hand against your ass as he frantically squeezes the base of his cock.

Who has the power now?

The thought has his alpha rearing up in protest.

You try and push back against him, try to force his cock in deeper but he stops you, pushing you forward instead. The top half of your body pushes into the mattress, arching your back up higher. He doesn’t even think to check as his hands close around your hips, gripping tight enough to bruise as he slowly presses his cock further into your dripping pussy.

Slick seeps out around him as he forces himself down deeper, spreading you open around his meaty cock. It’s like your body is welcoming him in, squeezing and pulsing as if it’s trying to pull him in deeper. He’s never felt anything like it, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever feel the same again.

There’s no resistance as he pushes in to the hilt, hips pressed up against your ass. Your moans are muffled, back arching as you push back against him almost like you’re trying to take him even deeper. He’s giving you everything he’s got, and yet it doesn’t seem to be enough.

It’s not.

He knows what you need, but he wants to savor this as long as possible before he loses himself. He wants to remember this. He’s not sure he’ll ever get the chance to do this again.

He wants to do this again.

Your body flutters around him as a shudder runs down your spine. He watches the way you twitch, feet brushing his thighs as you try and squeeze your legs together. You have to be dying with anticipation, waiting for him to make his move, waiting for him to give you what you need.

His hands tighten around your hips, the skin indenting as he slowly draws his hips back. Your body pulses around him, trying to pull him back in. He watches his cock, shiny with your slick, draw back out of your body before he presses back in, being sucked down deep into you. He repeats the motion, groaning at the feeling of your body doing what it’s supposed to do. It’s desperate for his cock, for his knot, and it’s trying to milk that from him.

He won’t give in so easily, no matter how badly he wants to do it.

He drags a hand down your back as he speeds up his thrusts, the wet squelch of your pussy loud in the room, nearly as loud as your needy moans. Slick dribbles down his thighs, coating his skin in your juices. It’s obscene, but it’s delicious.

His hand drops to your pussy, gathering some of the slick forced out of your body by his cock on his fingers. He brings them to his mouth, dragging his tongue across his digits to taste you again. Sweet, musky, just a hint of his own taste on his tongue.

Delectable. It makes him want to eat you alive.

“Fucking beautiful pussy.” He groans, thrusting back into you until his hips meet your ass. “All wet and warm just for me.”

“Just for you, alpha.” You say, your voice muffled by the mattress.

A low growl rumbles in his chest, his thrusts speeding up even more, becoming almost brutal as he fucks you. His status falling from your lips in such a vulnerable position has his head reeling, his alpha scratching at its cage to finally be released, to finally get a chance to devour you in all the ways he wants to.

He forces it back, just for a moment longer. He wants to savor this. He wants to make this last as long as he possibly can.

Your body is limp under him, held up only by his hands. You can’t do anything but lay there and take his cock like a good omega. It has his cock throbbing inside of you, pulsing in time with your pussy. You’re going to cum soon. He can tell by the frantic squeezing of your walls around him and the whine pitched in your moans. You’re close, and he’s going to carry you over that edge.

“Alpha!” You whine as he angles his thrusts, his cock pushing against that spot inside of you with every downward movement of his hips.

“Cum for me.” He grunts, pulling your hips back against his with every thrust. “Come on, give it to me.”

Your body shudders, hands sinking into the sheets as you come alive. It’s almost as if he commanded it, your pussy squeezing so tight around him he nearly sees stars. It takes everything in him not to spill into you as you cum, warm slick gushing out around his cock, dribbling down your thighs and the side of the bed.

He doesn’t slow his thrusts, the tugging on his cock from your spasming pussy nearly enough to send him over the edge. He wants this to last as long as he can make it.

Your body sags against his, exhausted from the heat ravaging your body and your orgasm. He pulls out of you, ignoring your whine of protest as he pushes you forward onto the bed. The mattress dips under his weight as he climbs up beside you, maneuvering your body so you’re on your back in the middle of the bed.

You stare up at him with hazy eyes, your chest heaving as you pant. From exertion or your heat, he’s not sure. Perhaps both.

He pushes your legs up with his knees, draping them over his thighs as he leans over you. He stares down at your face, sweaty and blissed out. Your pupils are blown, lips kiss bruised and swollen. His thumb drags through your folds before he lifts it to your face, smearing slick across your lips. Your tongue darts out, licking at his thumb as he presses it against your mouth.

Your lips part, allowing his thumb to press into your mouth. Your tongue is warm as it drags over his skin, cleaning your slick from his thumb. He groans at the sight, his fingers sinking into the sheet next to your head.

Your teeth scrape his skin as he pulls his thumb free, sliding it down your chin to your throat. You tilt your head back, exposing the delicate area to him. He longs to sink his teeth into your skin, taste your blood pooling in his mouth. Drool gathers on his tongue, threatening to slip through his lips as he stares at the sweat-slick skin.

His hand closes around your throat, keeping your head tilted back as he sits up. Your throat bobs under his hand as you swallow, fingers digging into the sides of your neck as he holds you there. His cock twitches in excitement, so hard it’s almost painful as he stares at you, laid out before him, completely at his mercy. It’s like an erotic painting, the alpha in control, the omega in her place beneath him.

He could cum just like this, paint his seed all over your stomach.

That would be a waste.

Instead he shifts his hips, lining up his cock again before thrusting into you. Your body opens itself to him once more, inviting him right in. He sinks in to the hilt, hips pressed flush against yours as he leans over you. Your pulse thrums against his fingers, beating fast almost in desperation for what your body needs.

He tilts your head back up as he starts to move his hips, grinding in and out of you slowly. You flutter around him again, legs twitching where they lay draped over his. It’s intense, it’s intimate, it’s a position he never would have allowed himself in had he been in his right mind.

He’s not in his right mind.

He’s so far from his right mind he’s lost sight of himself, of his fear, of his worry. The weightlessness of his brain is euphoric, the last strands of himself left holding onto the cage of his alpha.

He stares down at your face, your gaze holding his. Your eyelids flutter, lips parting as you whine. The sounds vibrates against his hand, your head pushing against his fingers where he holds you still.

“Look at me.” He whispers, still grinding his hips into you. “Look at me.”

You do, eyes wide as you stare up at him. He wonders how much of you is left in there, if you’ve lost yourself completely yet. You’re unable to voice much more than mutterings of his status and pleads for what you need. He wonders just how much of you remains in such a base form of your instincts. Are you even aware of what’s happening?

He squeezes his hand around your throat lightly, constricting just slightly. Your eyes widen, a flash of panic washing through them before it fades as he releases you.

Oh yes, you’re still in there.

He picks up the pace, snapping his hips against yours. Your pussy continues to flutter and pulse around him, pulling him in and sucking him deeper. Your lips are parted, quiet moans leaving your lips, vibrating against his hand. Liquid seeps out of your mouth, sliding across your cheek before hitting his thumb where it rests by your ear.

You’re drooling.

How cute.

A shudder runs through his body as you squeeze around his cock, his balls twitching as he fights an orgasm back desperately. He’s not ready for that yet. Neither are you, he decides. His desire to stretch this out as long as he possibly can winning out against his body’s need for relief.

He releases your throat, his hands sliding up the bed as he lays himself down on top of you, pinning you to the mattress. Your body is hot and slick as it meets his chest, his sweat mingling with yours. It’s hot in the room already, the air damp with sweat and the scent of sex.

He almost misses the cold air in the barracks.

If he had more of a brain, he’d tell them to turn the heat down. Let them freeze if it means things are more comfortable for the two of you.

Your arms wrap around his back, dragging him from his thoughts. You’re moaning in his ear, body arching against his. It’s a beautiful dance, one so in-tune with nature. Humans in their most natural forms, feeding their base instincts.

He wishes he could record this in his mind, keep this memory alive for the rest of time.

“Fucking hell…” He breathes, grunting as you squeeze around him again. You’re close. He can tell by the way your pussy flutters around him.

So much he’s learning about your body.

How little he really knew.

He presses his face against your throat, breathing in your scent. It floods his nose, sinking straight into his brain.

Omega, omega, omega.

His alpha chants it like a mantra over and over. There’s an omega under him. He’s balls deep in an omega right now. He’s got an omega in heat pinned beneath his body, completely at his mercy.

A shiver of power runs down his spine.

He needs you to cum again. He needs to feel you try and milk his cock while he withholds what you need once again.

“Cum for me.” He growls in your ear, your body shuddering against him. His teeth sink into the lobe, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to pull a yelp from your lips. “Cum for me again.”

It’s like he has complete control of your body as you spasm around him, letting out a shrill whine as your nails bite into the skin of his back. He doesn’t care, the pain throbbing at the base of his cock. It’s almost too much. He almost can’t hold it as you flutter around him, trying to milk his cock again. You’re early searching out what you need, but he won’t give it to you.

Not yet.

He lays there for a moment, squishing you into the mattress but you don’t seem to care. You’re still wrapped around him, nails still sunk into his skin. Your pussy continues to flutter around him, oversensitive and desperate, but still eager. Your bodies are both slick with sweat and fluid, and he can feel the wet spot forming on the sheets from where your slick has been forced out by his cock.

Thank goodness for mattress protectors.

He understands their necessity now.

“Please, alpha,” you beg weakly in his ear, finally relinquishing your hold on him to slide your hands down his back.

“Tell me what you want.” He mumbles in your ear.

“Your knot,” You whine, arching up into him. “Please give me your knot.”

So polite, even lost in the daze of your heat.

“Bloody fucking hell.” He groans as your begging goes straight into his brain. He’s held off long enough. He’s tortured you by withholding this for long enough.

He pushes himself up on shaky arms, the exertion starting to wear on him just as much. He can only imagine how you feel. For a moment he considers doing it right here, like this, but it’s not right. No, he wants to see you again.

“Present for me.” he commands, watching in awe as your body immediately moves.

You roll yourself over, popping his cock out of your pussy as you move. It hangs there, red and soaked with cum and slick. You push yourself over onto your knees, front half pressed into the mattress as your hips lift up, presenting yourself to him.

A glob of slick pushes out of your pussy, drooling out onto the mattress below you. He watches it fall, watching where it starts to seep into the fabric.

Bloody fucking hell.

He can’t hold back any longer. He might cum just sitting here if he’s not careful.

Simon pushes himself up onto his knees, his hand fisting the base of his cock. His free hand slides over the globe of your ass, your skin hot to the touch. He leans forward, unable to help himself as he sinks his teeth into the soft skin. You let out a yelp, hips jerking against his mouth. His hands hold your hips still, his teeth biting down until he feels the skin give. A thin trail of blood seeps onto his tongue as he laves it over the mark he’s left. Your legs are shaking, a quiet sob leaving your lips.

How beautiful.

He straightens himself back up, staring at the mark on your ass before he’s shuffling himself forward to your body.

Your pussy invites him in again, still pulsing around him as he sinks into you. There’s no resistance, no fight as he sinks in to the hilt at once. You’d let him do anything to you in this state, and that thought has his head reeling.

He composes himself, hands squeezing around your hips before he starts to move, unable to hold himself back as he snaps his hips into your ass. A muffled whine leaves your lips, muted against the mattress as you lay there, bent in half for him. His hand slides down your spine to your head, fingers slipping into the braid Johnny had done for you this morning.

Was it this morning? An entire day could have passed already and he wouldn’t know.

He’s far too lost in the way your pussy flutters around him, trying to coax his knot from its recesses. He can feel it, the pulsing at the base of his cock, the pressure starting to mount. He won’t be able to stop it this time. You’ve decided it’s time and so has his cock. He’s lost control, and that makes his alpha nearly scream.

His hand grips your hair, tugging you up onto your hands. He holds you there, suspended by his hand, held up only by him as he fucks you hard. His own desperation is clouding his mind, his alpha pushing against the cage. He won’t be able to hold on much longer. There will be no stopping his alpha once he’s free.

His hips slam against your ass, the pressure at the base of his cock intensifying. He stares down at it, at the skin starting to stretch and inflate. He has to pull back, making his thrusts shallow as his knot forms. You whine at the change, pushing your hips back against his cock. No doubt you can feel it, the edge of his knot pressing against your pussy with every thrust.

How is that going to fit in there? He muses.

Where there’s a will, there’s a way, he supposes.

He watches his knot as he continues to fuck you, watching it catch on the rim of your pussy with every thrust forward. You’re a moaning mess, half begging incoherently, half whining in need. He’s so close to giving you what you need. You’re so close to relief. It’s just up to him to give it to you.

Another shudder runs down his spine.

His hand slips from your hair to the back of your neck, gripping you tightly there. He stares at it, the way his hand looks around the back of your neck. Is that what it looked like when he scruffed you? What if he did that now? How brainless could he make you with the simple shift of his fingers?

Your body shudders, your whines slurring together, almost as if you’re drunk. Perhaps you are, your body wearing down after being denied for so long.

“You want it?” He grunts, pushing his knot against your pussy.

You whine in answer, pushing back against him, lifting up off your knees to try and push his knot into you.

He releases the back of your neck, his hands falling to your hips. “Fucking take it.” he grunts, pushing his hips against you as hard as he can on his next thrust.

Your body shudders as his knot starts to push into you, spreading you open even wider. He watches in amazement as your pussy stretches to accommodate him, your walls sucking him in even more. His hips continue to move, thrusting shallowly as his knot is pushed completely into you.

It’s unlike anything he’s ever felt before.

You’re so tight around him, gripping him like a vice. He can’t pull back, locked inside of your hot pussy by his knot. He can’t stop his hips as they try to pull back, tugging on the knot. It’s almost painful, but it’s making his head spin. He’s so close to cumming, so close to finally getting his own relief.

Your body is shuddering, whines leaving your lips with every tug of his hips. He keeps moving, keeps chasing his own high. He’s so very close, the way your pussy is nearly suffocating him enough to send him reeling over the edge.

He sees stars as he cums, his vision going white as he spills into you. He pushes his hips against your ass as hard as he can, his body folding over yours. His cock is throbbing, pulsing in time with your pussy as you milk him for every drop he gives you. You’ve cum again, he can tell by the way you pulse around him.

Your body is shuddering and shaking, getting heavier in his arms. There’s a puddle under your bodies from sweat, slick, and drool.

Drool begins to form in his own mouth as you let out a keening whine, tilting your head to the side, bearing the right side of your neck to him.

“Do it.” You whisper, arms trembling where they attempt to hold you up.

He stares at your neck, at that spot between your shoulder and your neck. It’s calling out to him, singing a siren song to draw him in to his doom. He stares at your sweat-slick skin, indented by his fingers still wrapped around the back of your neck.

It would be so easy.

He’s already sunk his teeth into you twice. What’s one more time?

You let out a whimper, going limp in his arms. He continues to stare at that spot, and he can almost see the pulsing of your desperation, your need, your want in it. How easy it would be, how simple it really is. It’s just a bite and you’re tied together for the rest of your lives. Is it really you in there? Are you asking him this by your own volition, or is it your heat-clouded mind asking something you don’t want.

Or is it something you want being driven forward by your heat?

Could you want it? Would you have asked if you didn’t? What if he makes a mistake?

His knot throbs inside you, his cock finally at ease after getting what he needed. His alpha rears in his head, pushing through the cage of his mind as his vision starts to swim. He still stares at your neck, drool sliding down his chin.

Do it, his alpha goads him. It’s so simple. Just a little bite.

He stares at that spot, the fingers on the back of your neck tightening their grip.

It would be so easy.

His head is spinning, his vision going dark around the edges.

It really is so easy

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

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tbaluver · 6 months ago

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When You're On Your Period- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader genre: fluff, comfort a/n: posting my drafts atm bc i just have writers block sorrys /ᐠ - ˕ -マ

any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

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Xavier:

He's not particularly educated in the realm of menstruation. So when he saw you clutching your sides in agony, he was so worried about you and ran to your side. He thought you were sick or injured. You try to explain to him that you're just on your period and he eagerly listens to you as you explain it to him.

It's his mission to try and make everything easy for you and makes a special effort to bring you things that might make you feel a little better.

"Can you buy me pads with/out wings?" And he would be really confused at first. He would think you want pads and wings. He would stand in the aisle for a while figuring out which ones you needed. So he'll come back home with a BUNCH of menstrual products with wings from your favorite restaurant.

But also the type to buy you your favorite snacks and drinks before you even ask. Sometimes he'll come home with a small plushie for some support.

Lowkey worried if you're going to be alright but he knows you're strong and will remind himself that you know how to handle yourself.

He would gently massage any areas that were aching. Lots of your time is spent in his arms or resting your head on his chest and he explains that the health website says its "beneficial" to do so and you're not complaining. He's so comfy.

Zayne:

In the beginning of your relationship, he was kind of inexperienced in this department. He knew some knowledge about the menstrual cycle but not too much so he made sure to educate himself so he knows how to take better care of you.

He runs down to the pharmacy to get you some pain medication and any menstrual products you need without any ounce of embarrassment. He doesn't find a reason to feel ashamed or embarrassed about getting you things for your period. Makes sure you have enough supplies to last you the whole week.

Prepares you some yummy warm foods that are nutritious for you and all cooked to your liking. He would also make sure to run down to your favorite bakery to pick you up some baked goods.

If you suffer from cramps, then he would find the best pill for you or make you effective tea. He'll also offer any massages you want on your body and let's just say this man is good with his hands that you don't want his hands off of you.

The type to not tell you that you stained the bed. He'll prepare you a soothing bath while he washes the sheets. When you come back the bed is nice and warm.

He'll start marking it down on his calendar so he can be prepared more in the future

Rafayel:

He would kind of forget periods are a thing but once you remind him, he'll try his best to take care of you. He has good intentions looking out for you and getting whatever you need. You would text him if he can get something for you and he's already on his way to you with whatever you requested.

He'll pay attention to your specific needs and preferences. He'll make sure you're getting your rest, staying hydrated, and eating well.

Would joke around and call this "Shark week." Would pray to any gods to bring mercy on him if he were to ever to be sassy to you on your period.

He'll be worried about you but he knows that you're strong. That doesn't mean he'll leave you alone during this time, unless you want him too. He'll be there to try and ease everything as much as he could.

If you were to have any bad cramps, he would give your lower abdomen a small massage while talking too it. "Hey don't be so mean to my cutie....." or sometimes he'll tell you some stories about Lemuria or maybe hum you a song in Lemurian to get your mind off it. Your head would be resting on his chest, his hands massaging gently into your aching sides.

It's easy to fall asleep in his arms because he can be so warm from his evol

He'll offer to make you a bath and gather your favorite bath bombs and your oils that might ease your discomfort. He would have the perfect temperature for you and would help undress you and help you into the bathtub. Would also feed you some yummy fruits like a princess while you were in the bath

Sylus:

Sylus treats you like royalty the entire time you're on your period. He's extra patient and understanding. You don't have to feel embarrassed at all with him and he will never be disgusted by you being on your period.

If you ever stained the bed, he would clean it up for you. He would reassure you that everything is okay and that bleeding is normal. He'll help run a bath for you while he cleans the sheets. He would never use these situations against you or even embarrass you about it.

He's always there to give you a massage knowing how bad cramps can be. Tell him where it hurts and he'll immediately massage the area with his hands. If massages weren't helping, then he'll warm up a heating pad for you and would find the best painkillers to make it go away.

The first time you were on your period, he bought way to many products for you so you were stocked up. Eventually in the future he knows the exact brand and everything you could possibly need.

When you wake up, he already has a meal prepared for you. Sometimes it'll be made from a private chef or he made it on his own. He'll gladly carry you to the kitchen so he can feed it to you or if you want, you can eat in bed.

Would give you random and frequent kisses. He knows that during this time you can go through a lot of emotions so he'll make sure to give you kisses to remind you that he loves and cares about you.

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richarlotte · 5 months ago

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How I got my life together.

Getting your life together, and I mean really getting it together, should be a priority of yours. You can’t miss out on your life by staying in a pattern of losing it all, pulling it together as quickly and as carelessly as you can, and then losing it all again because you weren’t ready enough or devoted the first time. I made a choice to pull my life together when I was 18, and I’ve stayed improving myself ever since; I bettered my mental health, fixed my body, changed my mindset, found an aesthetic and style that worked for me and that I loved, and have done my part to keep steadily improving my life and my mindset. If you are devoted to yourself and your life, you will do well and find that the path towards your future will become much clearer as time goes on.

Exercising.

You need to be exercising, bettering your body, and taking the time to nourish yourself and your health. This means eating whole meals and taking the time to cook and prepare them, considering removing heavily processed foods and alcohol from your day-to-day diet, and taking the time to do at home or in gym workouts. I do Move with Nicole videos in the morning, finish up with a quick yoga session, go to the gym in the evenings, and make sure that my body is being fueled by real foods and being properly hydrated throughout the day. You will live in the same body for the rest of your life; you need to make sure that you’re caring for it and nourishing it in ways that will let it support you for the rest of your life. You won’t regret a health journey, and you should actively be on one.

Socializing.

Isolation will kill you, and if you already have anxiety, it will worsen it. You should be meeting people, getting to know them, leaving your comfort zone, and trying new things. Your late teens and early twenties are all about taking the time to know people, making and losing friends, and figuring out the sorts of people you want to have in your life forever. You have to socialize, go to social events, join clubs and different activities, and get out of the house. I’m a person who believes in spending time around and loving other people, and that has saved my life. If you aren’t sure how to socialize, don’t have friends, or aren’t sure of what you like, now’s the time to learn how. You don’t become good at meeting people in one day; it takes time and failure, but the more you do to leave your comfort zone, the easier it will become as time moves along.

Studying.

I believe that life is meant for learning. It’s important to always be learning, to always be bettering yourself, and to always be keeping your mind busy. While I strongly believe that every woman should have a university education and a degree, I understand that it’s not always feasible. If it’s not possible for you to get a degree, you have to learn a trade, a skill, a language, or find something to occupy your mind so that it’s not idle. It’s important to always be doing something, and it’s important that you’re pursuing a passion; life isn’t much if you’re not passionate about what you’re doing, so you have to find them and do more with them. Education can come from work experience; it can come from pursuing projects, cultivating wisdom, and spending your time nourishing your mind and reading books. Life is a learning experience, and you should be in constant pursuit of educational excellence.

Seeing More.

Life is about seeing more and seeing things you’ve never experienced. If you’ve always wanted to watch a tennis match, step into the ocean, or see the sights in a new city, now’s the time to start making plans to do those things. We all deserve to see and experience beautiful things, so it’s important that we find the time to do so. If I hadn’t made the time to find beauty in the mundane, I wouldn’t have made it far. You don’t have to spend money pursuing beauty; I find the most beauty I’ve seen in my life is found on short walks and time spent around my city. You should spend your time both looking for beauty and becoming beautiful too.

Doing More.

Doing more is next. I’ve spent my life trying new things, failing, succeeding, having a good time, and learning about what I enjoy. You should be doing more; your twenties are for moving away, visiting new cities, trying new foods, working jobs you hate and finding jobs you love, going to new restaurants and getting into new relationships, and doing more with yourself. All of the greatest women I’ve ever known have told me that they spent next to no time resting in their twenties because they had so much life to live. I’d encourage you to do things without holding yourself back, and if you don’t know what to do with yourself, find things to do. You can't waste your youth being idle; now is the time to get out of your room, see the world and what it has to offer, and do more with yourself and your gifts.

Richarlotte x

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adore-laur · 1 month ago

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Can you make a blurb focusing on the second baby? I don't know something like her needing a moment with Harry or her getting sick

IN SICKNESS & IN HEALTH

——

"Open your mouth, honey."

You obeyed, and Harry gently slid an oral thermometer under your tongue. When you closed your lips around it, the metal tip provided a coolness that briefly offset the fever blazing through your immune system. Frankly, you didn't need an official temperature check to recognize you were fighting a viral infection, but Harry had insisted every aspect of you be monitored closely. He was currently whisking around the bedroom, ensuring you were being doted on like a princess. In your febrile state, where surreal thoughts flowed freely, you wondered if he'd been a doctor in one of his past lives. Those large, veined hands in skin-tight exam gloves. Manspreading on a swivel stool while listening intently to a patient's concerns. Diligent, respectful touches during routine checkups. Was it deranged to be jealous of the faceless people in your fever-induced fantasy? Maybe. All you knew was that it heated your body even more.

A bout of rigors had roused you in the middle of the night, which left you violently shivering in Harry's embrace. While semi-conscious, you had thought nothing of it. Hours later, after miraculously falling asleep in a cocoon of two thick blankets plus a heated one, you had awoken in a pool of sweat with a fever on the horizon. Now, in the early morning darkness, there was no choice but to try to break it. You had plenty of fluids nearby, comfy pillows for your heavy limbs, and a husband who was at your beck and call. And best of all, the sleep-aid medication you had taken earlier was working wonderfully.

After a silent minute of Harry staring at you sympathetically with his knuckles pressed against your unusually warm forehead, the thermometer beeped. He took it out, and when he read the result, a frown appeared on his lips.

"Am I dying?" you asked hoarsely, your eyelids drooping shut. Every part of you felt weak with exhaustion. The sinus pressure was a sucker punch whenever you moved your head.

"One hundred point seven degrees. Not good." Harry sighed and quickly left the bedroom on a mission to cure your symptoms. You laughed a little, which turned into a wheezy cough. The only real cure was rest and hydration, so you were curious what his magical remedy could consist of.

Distantly, you heard sounds in the kitchen. Cupboards shutting and utensils clinking. Was he making something? Your illness diminished any appetite for breakfast. Granted, it was five in the morning, not the typical time you ate.

The girls were still sleeping, and in the intimate shadows before dawn, when only you and Harry were awake, it felt like the old days. Back when you'd kiss him goodbye in his one-room apartment before he left for work earlier than any man had a right to do. Young, scraping by, and smitten with each other. He'd shown you what infatuation felt like. In those otherwise minor moments, you'd seen glimpses of the promising years ahead. A man who'd be devoted to healing your wounds during every tribulation life presented. A gentle presence, full of pure intentions, tender love, and perceptiveness. And all of it had translated beautifully into marriage and fatherhood.

You drifted off with sweet thoughts prancing around your mind. An hour later, Harry returned. The subtle scent of ginger and garlic lured you back into consciousness. By the foot of the bed, he held a bowl of soup, and you sniffled while sitting up. A dizzying rush of blood pulsed against your skull.

"I want you to eat this and drink an entire glass of water before sleeping," Harry ordered, rounding the bed to your side. He set the bowl on the nightstand, steam wispily wafting up toward the amber lamplight. You decided not to tell him you already indulged in a snooze.

"Copy that, Dr. Styles," you said. Soup for breakfast? Sure, why not?

He met your gaze, unhumored. "I'm serious. The ginger will hopefully soothe your throat. There's lemon juice in it for some vitamin C. Red lentils for a protein boost. Let me know if it isn't savory enough."

You smiled to yourself, knowing he thrived off refining his culinary creations until they were nothing short of excellence. "I'm sure it's perfect. Thank you."

"It might be too hot to eat yet," he said, fluffing the pillow beside you and pulling the comforter further up your legs. "Can I get you anything else? Where's your cold compress?"

"Why are you so worried?" you asked. "You've seen me sick dozens of times."

He placed his hands on his hips, maybe as a way to stop himself from fidgeting. "Doesn't mean I like it. In fact, I hate it."

"It could be worse." You shrugged, thinking of all the times you had held a puke bucket. If you had one thing to feel good about right now, it was that you didn't have food poisoning. Hallelujah.

Harry ran a hand through his hair, the curly ends sticking up among his natural bedhead. "I'm wondering if one of the girls passed it on to you."

"Probably," you murmured. "All kids are germ magnets." Your eldest was currently getting over a cold. No fever, thankfully, just the sniffles and a wet cough that made you wince every time you heard it.

"I should check on them," he said, seeming hesitant to leave you. He gestured to the nightstand. "By the time I get back, I want half that water gone and three spoonfuls of soup in your belly. Okay?"

"Wow, you're a no-nonsense doctor." You picked up the bowl of soup, its warmth spreading across your palms. It smelled deliciously herby. "Mmm, and a very talented chef. Have you ever thought about becoming one?"

Fondly, Harry shook his head with a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "You're strangely vivacious for a woman bedridden with a fever."

"Maybe I just like it when you dote on me," you said candidly. It was often outwardly shown through his actions, like today when he cooked soup from scratch for you and kept track of your symptoms, but his subtle attentiveness was your favorite. As a husband, it was how he would lead you through a crowded room, his hand tightly grasping yours to ensure you never strayed far. How he would carve out time for conversations together, whether they were ones of reminiscence, ones revolving around the future, or ones of harmless banter. How he would touch you with purpose, making you feel safe, adored, and most of all, like the most important person in the world. In public and at home with no one watching. He had chosen you in this life, and you reaped the benefits of his devotion every day.

"Just fulfilling my marriage vows," Harry replied, grabbing the baby monitor and turning to leave. You smiled, set the soup back in its place, and sunk into the mattress, feeling the strong urge to sleep the day away. It would take too much energy to lift a spoon or glass to your mouth, so you disregarded Harry's sensible advice and closed your eyes against the rising sun.

——

Harry took slow steps down the hallway while typing a note on his phone that reminded him what time he had checked your temperature and the unfortunate result of 100.7 degrees. You'd been right about him witnessing you under the weather on many occasions before—from the flu to hangovers to stomach bugs to pregnancy nausea—but it still pained him to see you weak and lethargic. He was doing everything he could to nurse you back to health as soon as possible.

A sound coming from the baby monitor wedged under his armpit stopped him dead in his tracks. He heard a couple of coos, followed by the buildup to a piercing cry that made his heart drop. They weren't the usual cries that his six-month-old baby girl woke him up with. And considering it was still before six a.m., the time she commonly needed a feeding, something was amiss.

Rushing to her nursery, Harry's mind went to the worst-case scenario. Had she escaped her crib? Was there a chance she had hurt herself? It had been nerve-wracking enough transitioning her from sleeping in a bedside bassinet to her own room. Harry feared not being right next to her during the night, but the positive was that it allowed for a smoother bedtime routine—both girls in their separate rooms, away from noise and other distractions. His mantra to help him sleep at night was, They're safe, they're safe, they're safe.

When Harry reached her crib after turning on the ceiling light, he was relieved to see her still there, looking mostly the same as the last instance he checked on her a few hours ago. This time, though, her face was screwed up as she wailed at full volume. She was communicating a need he wasn't sure of yet, and while he prided himself immensely on being able to translate her cries and swoop in with a remedy within seconds, this one was foreign. It alarmed him.

"What's the matter, my love?" He picked her up, and instantly, the answer became clear. The damp spot on her sheets. Her skin warm and clammy to the touch. Her refusal to breastfeed at her usual schedule yesterday. "Oh, no."

He had hoped the infection wouldn't be contagious and spread to everyone in the family. But, like you'd said, kids attracted germs from just about anywhere and anything.

"Please don't tell me you have a fever," Harry whispered, cupping her head and pacing around the room helplessly. "I can't handle all of my girls being sick."

She continued crying, and Harry pinched his eyes shut as he mentally went through a list of how to reliably bring her fever down. The first step was to take her pajamas off—the precious fleece onesie with snowflakes that he'd bought for the winter season. He set her on the changing table and undid the snap fasteners until she was left in only her diaper. The fever was apparent in the way she was flushed from head to toe.

"Let's ask Mommy what to do," Harry murmured to himself. He didn't want to proceed with any remedies without your consent, so he placed his daughter back in his arms and walked out to the hallway. "We'll make it better, I promise."

Unsurprisingly, you were already halfway to where he was, no doubt having heard her crying lasting longer than normal. You looked dog-tired, but the motherly instinct you possessed always overpowered it. "What's going on?" you rasped.

"I think she might have what you have. She sweat through the sheets and is burning up."

Your expression transformed into guilt as you slumped against the wall. "Great."

Harry came closer, bending to meet your eyes. "Hey," he said softly, "don't blame yourself. It's hard to avoid."

"I know, but... I really tried to be careful." You sighed, stroking his daughter's back. "I washed my hands before I touched her. Bathed her twice a day."

"You did everything right, baby," he assured. "She has a tiny immune system that's still developing, so it doesn't take much to catch a bug."

When you didn't respond, he said, "Let me take care of her. You should be in bed resting. Did you do what I asked?"

"No, I fell asleep," you muttered with a rueful wince.

Harry couldn't bear to be disappointed when you looked so miserable. "It's okay." His baby girl released another cry, and he pivoted to the serious matter at hand. "I was going to take her temperature."

You sniffled and rubbed at your forehead, which was probably aching with pressure. "If her temperature is higher than one hundred, we need to call the doctor. For now, open a window and feed her a bottle. If that doesn't cool her down, let me know and we'll try giving her some Tylenol."

Harry nodded. A part of him knew all of this information by heart, but he always sought your advice in these urgent moments. As the old saying went—mother knows best.

He kissed your cheek while gently squeezing your wrist in gratitude, not caring if he got sick—it was inevitable at this point. "Water and soup, please. Then rest."

"I promise."

Heading to the kitchen with a fussy, feverish baby wriggling in his arms, Harry opened the patio door to let the crisp January breeze in. The first streaks of light were brightening the space little by little. He got to work by taking a bottle of breast milk out of the refrigerator. He took her outside on the porch, positioning her in the crook of his arm to feed. To his relief, she latched onto the nipple and began drinking. She recently learned how to hold the bottle by herself, so Harry used the opportunity to get the ear thermometer from the bathroom.

Back outside, he took her temperature on the wicker patio chair. After a few seconds, it gave him a reading of 99.3, which thankfully meant no doctor visit today. Harry could breathe a little easier as he slowly rocked her in his arms, observing her behavior. The milk seemed to help hydrate her and alleviate her distressed cries. Her skin was still warm, and he felt like natural remedies only worked to a certain degree. He planned to give her a dose of medicine before her next nap. It would cure what he couldn't.

Once the bottle was half empty, Harry stepped back inside and closed the door behind him. He was working up a sweat with all this running around the house, but he enjoyed tending to everyone's needs.

He returned to the bedroom. The sunrise's soft glow shed over your frame curled up under the comforter, and he could see that you were awake. Looking at the nightstand, he smiled when he noticed a good portion of your soup and water gone.

"I think she'll be all right," he said quietly, setting the empty baby bottle on the dresser and sitting beside you on the mattress. His daughter whined, but for now, her shrieks were no more. "Just a low-grade fever. We'll keep an eye on it."

You nodded and whispered, "Thank you for everything."

Harry didn't say anything in response. He didn't have to, because this was what a family did—take care of each other in sickness and in health. And he had vowed to do it for a lifetime.

——

#harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #dad!harry #dadrry #harry styles au #harry styles fanfic #harry styles #adore-laur #i wrote this while sick 🤧

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