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comfortless · 1 year ago

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dog hybrid recruit König thots??

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. more loner x loner because it is a treat for me. fem (afab) reader. König is a man just with ears and a tail. vague smut.

He’s the one that was never picked.

So maybe you’re too busy for a puppy hybrid, but maybe you’re a bit too lonely for an empty apartment. You don’t have the space for a big, excitable dog. The cats and bunnies are in high demand, too, there’s no shot of you adopting one of the cute, softer things within your budget. So you settle for a dog. The only dog left at the shelter.

His papers state that he comes from Austria, aged twenty-five and never been put into an actual home before. He’s endured some rigorous military training: scenting, tracking, breaking down thick doors with only a shoulder and an efficient push. A hunter through and through. Then, following his merits: erratic, jumpy, impulsive, and more than a little aggressive.

This dog doesn’t growl, only bites.

The paper sits crumpled in your hands as you eye the dimly lit hallway to your left. Posters of information line the beige walls to either side, some with photos of proud kitties and dogs, hand-in-hand with their companions and cheery phrases printed above in a bright, yellow cursive.

If anything, those are the ones that give you the final push to adopt this unloved, discarded experimental soldier. He’s only been given this one very last chance before… You would rather not think of what comes if you’re to turn away and leave him to rot and wither here. It must have happened a dozen times already: ambitious families looking for a more intriguing addition only to lock eyes with this pitiful thing and shake their heads ‘no’ for him to be put on death row like this.

“He’s scary,” the clerk reminds you once you’re finally led down the hall to the tiny room your new pet— no, friend, must be kept in. It was easy to think of them as something else sometimes. Animal instincts as prevalent as their claws, teeth, and fuzzy little ears. But you didn’t need a pet, there were an abundance of shops for those. You needed a good soul to spill your guts to and maybe pet from time to time.

“I’m sure he’s fine.”

The poor thing is locked away to fester in what more closely resembles a cell than anything resembling a home. A steel door with a thin, narrow gap in the middle like a peephole keeps him locked in tight. Peering through that narrow gap, you only then seem to realize just what an impulsive decision you’re making.

König is exactly what the clerk said, continues to say next to you as she searches for the correct key on the ring. He’s bigger than any other hybrid you’ve seen before, built narrow at the waist but broad and deadly where it matters most; arms like narrow trees and thighs larger than your head, all muscle and intimidation, even with the cute, perky ears peeking out of the top of his helmet. He was definitely used for guarding and killing, and how a man his stature could even begin to fail that was unknown to you. Not that it was necessary. At most, he may need to shoo a scuttling pest out of the front door and put away a dish or two.

When the door swings open, the clerk offers a hesitant nod before dismissing herself back down the hall, and you’re left stood with a pair of blue eyes locked directly onto you.

König assesses with a tilt of his head and a slow ascent to his feet. He’s clad in layers of black, an empty vest where magazines or grenades must have been in place prior. Hell if you knew. He should have been given a fresh change of clothes after being discharged and sent to this place. A proper bed, too, considering the only furniture in this barren place seemed to be a cot that could never hope to hold him.

If not for the swaying of his tail, you might even find yourself nervous, but he does well to try and look approachable, even greets you with a thickly accented tongue beneath that hood. A simple, “Hallo.”

“I’ve adopted you,” you explain, and it sounds ridiculous. You can’t just adopt a full-grown man. Maybe a puppy or some hybrid child, never a man better suited for a gladiator pit than a home. “I mean that… if you want to come home with me, you can.”

He gives you a huff, a burst of breath that pushes the hood out from his face and a near imperceptible roll of his eyes as a step is taken toward you. It must sound stupid, even to him, but the wiry tail at his back does not cease its wagging. No matter how stern the glimpses of his face seem to look and how alarming his size may be, he’s nothing but an eager pup it seemed.

“Richtig… Then let’s go.”

Life with your big soldier turns out to be remarkably easy.

The first few weeks are dedicated to stoking up some sort of bond and rationing out chores. Simple tasks to see how he adapts, and small rewards in the form of pets along the velvety fur of his ears and scratches beneath his chin. The walks with you seem to be his favorite and tend to be long, but he remains right at your side the entire way. The only barking to be heard comes from nosy passersby that warn you to keep your beast on a leash, but you let him be reasoning that it wouldn’t do you any good at all. Your strength was that of a tiny rabbit’s by comparison.

König is clean enough from his prior military training and does as you ask without complaint. Even things you don’t request, such as your laundry are taken care of before you ever even return from work. He’s overbearing on those evenings, when you’ve been apart and he sates himself drunk on the scent of your perfume still clinging to the collar of an old sweater. Excitable and sweet, though, when he curls at your side while some movie plays on the television screen.

It amazes you how easily he’s shifted from stiff to adoring in a matter of days, but it’s rare to have a moment to yourself now. The hybrid is insistent on pulling you up into his lap when you’re curled on the couch, or rushing behind to hoist you up and pin you between an expanse of chest and the kitchen counter with drooly licks against the side of your neck and cheek. Biting, too. You try your best to bully that out of him, flicking at his ears or shoving against his face, but there’s always a mark left behind.

When a coworker gives you a mischievous grin and asks if there’s a new man in your life at the sight of a purplish bruise against your throat, that is when you decide that a collar may actually be nice. Weave your fingers between leather and skin and give König a sharp tug when he gets too rowdy, maybe that would teach him. Spray bottles and warnings spoken through giggles just aren’t enough.

You find one that you think might fit at a shop specializing in hybrid needs. It’s thick and well-made, a black leather hold to match that big scary demeanor that he tries his best to uphold. The cutesy silver bell attached to it is just a bonus. At least you would hear him coming the next time he insisted on peppering you in kisses with his tail a blur behind him.

He greets you at the door as always, unlocks it for you and pulls it open before you ever even make it to the top of the landing. It’s cute how giddy he seems each day when you return, how he doesn’t hesitate to walk right up to you with his hands at his sides, his own silent request for a hug or some form of affection whilst staring down at you and mumbling a “hallo” like the most awkward gentleman in the entire world.

“I got you a present,” you excitedly tell him instead of blessing him with your usual embrace, lifting up the little gift bag with a smile.

When the collar is retrieved from the bag by a massive hand, König does not mirror your enthusiasm. Any light in the placid blue of his eyes seems to extinguish, smothered and fizzled out to pave way for a look of the purest disdain. He rolls the leather between both palms, only then regarding you with as a heavy sigh stirs up from his chest to whistle past the open mouth beneath the hood.

Maybe he would have preferred something with spikes. Something heavy and intimidating with a tag that read “FUCK YOU” in red, painted letters.

“I don’t wear collars,” he finally says, flatly.

Or maybe a muzzle would have been best…

“You do now, big guy,” you challenge with an airy laugh, slipping past him to cross into your home. Tidy as ever, he’s been working today it seemed. The bulb in the living room has been replaced, a few pieces of furniture rearranged. It all just looks… cozy. More habitable now that someone else lives here too.

König follows you inside with his head lowered and tail pushed between his thighs. The collar rests in one hand, fingers curled over it so tightly it almost seemed he wished the damned thing to dissipate into dust.

“Nein. I won’t wear it.” The door is locked behind him. It’s the first time he’s refused you anything. Even cleaning up around the kitchen wasn’t met with a rejection. It’s odd, almost uncharacteristic for him.

“I just thought…” You would want to be mine. Properly. With a nice symbol of it right around his neck, with a sturdy leash to lead him by, with…

Any thought in your head puffs into a plume of smoke back there behind your eyes when you feel two hands grasp at your shoulders, push you back towards the wall to hold you there. Hugging, lifting, cuddling up against, even licking… those things were commonplace. This was foreign and surprisingly rough; there’s no give to his hold, no room to even try to move away as his head lowers to stare you straight in the eyes.

“I killed my last handler.”

“Did you…?”

“Ja.”

That confession should have sent icy dread to the pit of your stomach, should have spurred you to claw and kick and bite. Surely the shelter would have known, could have warned you too. That would have spared you from looking like a terrified little rabbit now, yet a part of you knew it wouldn’t have changed a thing. König sort of… belonged here, as if written in some silly reading of the stars.

His ears flatten against his skull, large hands trembling where they hold you in place. The dam begins to crack as his eyes grow glassy, gaze far away in a concoction of pain and contemplation. He stares through you, not at, reliving something you dared not ask for an explanation for. The whys and hows die on your tongue.

And there’s nothing scary about him anymore.

There’s only a wounded soldier here.

A good boy.

Your hands rise to flip up the hood, rest it over the top of his head to cup his jaw in your palms, stroking over his cheeks with both thumbs to soothe and comfort. His unwinding comes immediate, hands slipping down to your lower back to pull you in closer.

You don’t apologize and neither does he. Everything just falls back into a comfortable lull, some fuzzy droning from both sides as you wish one another good night. He walks you to your bedroom door, the very best he can do to prove that he’s not some mutt with froth coming from his jaw. You bite your tongue to prevent yourself from encouraging that he sleep next to you.

“You’re a good boy, you know that?,” you tell him as you lean against the door in preparation to push it closed. “The very best there is.”

He doesn’t respond, but the tail behind him wags at a frantic pace from those words alone.

The following morning is different.

There’s food on the table and coffee already brewing by the time you cross from your room into the kitchen. The air bears the scent of sandalwood and geranium, a forgotten candle sat burning on the countertop. You eat your breakfast of too-sweet pancakes and prep your coffee to go all while the shower runs from somewhere down the hallway.

He usually waits, tells you goodbye before you’re off to work, bites at your neck and asks which will be better: a movie after dinner or some fresh air. Instead, there’s a note attached to the door. Something simple and mischievous, a scribbled, lopsided heart and some phrase in German written with handwriting so sloppy that there was no hope of your still sleep-addled mind translating it.

You chalk it up to him being fully adjusted in this new space, let him go about his business while you go about yours.

It would be a walk tonight.

Arriving home twists what is simply different into the realm of bizarre. No hugging by the door, it sits closed and untouched since you left this morning. You inhale something heavy, trepidation or maybe a bit of yearning there, while you fumble with your key in the lock. A click, a push, and then everything just changes. There’s no crashing and burning, only a very firm and insistent buzzing that rises to your chest, because the sight inside is just…

König.

Your König.

The hood has been discarded and set aside on the polished wood of a nearby table, the little bell collar sits right along his throat. It jingles when his ears perk and his tail begins that gentle sway, swishing with every step that you take into the apartment, rampant and unyielding when the sparkles in your eyes cluster like the tiniest, most insignificant stars.

No apologies, but this was something better.

“Gut?,” he asks you, kneels before you with the cutest stare that you’ve ever seen on a man. Constellations sit there waiting to be mapped, and your giant puppy waits for just a little praise.

You stroke his ears first, then dip your head to press a kiss to his cheek.

“The best boy,” you tell him.

“I have a present for you too.”

No protest comes when he herds you out of the door, still in your stiff uniform with your hair a mess. The sun begins its setting out on the horizon, bathing the world in purple and gold. Trees with spring blossoms and wildflowers all abloom tinge the air in something sweet. It’s not your usual trail, and König doesn’t walk at your side this time, only ahead. You watch him fondly as he grazes his fingertips against the blooms hanging from branches just overhead, how he shies away from the curious nesting birds in bushes as to not startle them.

It isn’t the usual trail, but he walks it with confidence. There are no people out so late in the day, and apart from the occasional quip between the both of you, the setting only bears the sound of the chiming of his bell and a few night birds beginning to call. Peace morphs to something greater when the sun tucks itself away and sets the stage for a bright, waning moon. There’s a small clearing, a meadow cut straight through by the dirt path you walk, and only then are you pulled aside.

“Here,” he huffs against your chest when your back meets soft grass and a hazy, spring sky is painted out above you.

Maybe you’re not the best with men, but there have been signs.

So many in abundance that the pitiful squeak that leaves you when his nose finds its way up your skirt is only an embarrassment. König must have found it charming, reaches for both of your hands as he laps at your sex through the thin lace of your panties until your body grows tense and your nails leave little crescents on the backs of his hands.

The words don’t come, they don’t have to when he speaks them for you, little whispers and coos into your hair when any barrier between you is discarded with the descent of a zipper and the sound of tearing lace. There’s an outpouring of thanks in the form of a tiny, fragile, “I missed you.”

The night birds calling washes out each sound that escapes from either of you then, only outdone by the symphony of impact when König loses himself entirely to you. Limbs curling around narrow hips and a broad back, pools of blue so shimmery and pretty they outdo even the moon hanging above locked onto you. He doesn’t look away even as you try to bury your face into the width of his shoulder, only then guides you back down with a gentle hand and a muffled, needywhine.

“Good boy,” comes as a mere peep when he fully sheaths himself and laps at the corner of your mouth as you speak. The praise only causes him to still, pries the words from his panting mouth and reduces them to a series of pleasured, stuttering groans.

“What did the note say?,” you ask him in the silence that comes comfortable once the act is done, nestled into a pair of strong arms with a cheek pressed against an expanse of chest.

“Oh.” König laughs breathily, coming down from the height of both love and need.

“That you found home?,” you ask when he pets at your hair, twirls strands between his fingertips. “Because I think that I may have, too…”

“Something like that.” He shrugs, loosens his grip around your body for a mere second before pulling you in closer, tighter to him, as if letting go would end the world entirely. “Heaven.”

#könig x reader #konig x reader

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goatlilly · 3 months ago

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Fuzzie Fox

Wow, I actually got this done today.

So here’s Etta as the Fox holder. I imagine her causing all sorts of trouble with her illusion powers, maybe trying to use them to get out of trouble by blaming it all on the Sapotis. Her and Trixx would probably honestly get along a little too well.

As a side note, I keep coming up with a bunch of cool sounding names for these guys—then I remember that they’re kids and that they have no class. I know way too many second graders at this point to think otherwise. So her name is an adjective and the literal animal that she is. Sigh. Because it probably would be.

This one took me a bit longer to draw because I wasn’t sure how to capture her personality as well as the others so far. She’s pretty much indistinguishable from her twin, so I also wanted to keep that as a thing while giving her subtle differences. Also, while I was drawing her I forgot about the white tummy section and had already water colored her in, and so that’s why her tummy looks more grey than white. I was considering pretending that was intentional, but I’m just happy I managed to get that much opacity with White watercolor, because watercolors don’t really get lighter easier once they’ve been applied.

First

#fanart #art #character design #miraculous #miraculous fanart #ladybug miraculous #miraculous lb #kwami swap #miraculous au #Trouble maker #Etta as fox #Fox etta #fox miraculous #trixx #miraculous trixx #ml fanart #minnie miraculous

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cuntyji · 3 months ago

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something something cat dad sukuna -> all crack, so much crack...f reader

it’s chaos. not the cute, manageable chaos of, say, a dinner burning slightly in the oven while your playlist hits the embarrassing part of the queue. no—this is unholy, full-throttle, furball-fueled pandemonium.

your cat tulip’s kittens have officially declared war on domestic peace, and they’ve done it in the most dramatic way possible: by detonating out of their plush little nest like popcorn under pressure.

and of course, your boyfriend, your bold, beautiful, occasionally brainless sukuna, decides that now—now—is the time to show you his natural aptitude for animal care.

how? not with logic, not with containment strategies, not with a single ounce of thought.

no. sukuna simply throws himself into the fray like a man possessed.

you walk into the room expecting a quiet moment of kitten-cuddling. maybe a photo-op. instead, what you get is this walking, talking jungle gym of regret.

there’s one kitten nestled in the folds of his extremely impractical hair like it’s the damn lion king up there, tail flicking dangerously close to his eye.

another is chilling in the wide collar of his shirt like it owns him now. two are just hanging from his biceps, little claws dug in like they’re clinging to a rollercoaster.

his pockets are squirming. he’s got a wild-eyed look on his face like he’s solving quantum physics with tiny fuzzy variables.

“okay, okay, this is fine,” he mutters, crouching slightly and wobbling as a kitten starts scaling his back like everest. “they’re small. they don’t weigh much. i’m strong. i’ve got this.”

he does not got this.

you can see the exact moment one of the bicep-clingers decides that this is, in fact, a terrible place to be, and launches itself in the direction of the kitchen. sukuna flinches like he’s been stabbed. “brat, NO—okay. all right. okay, regroup. we’re regrouping.” he’s saying this as another kitten attempts to crawl into his shirt. not under, into. like it’s returning to the womb.

“they’re everywhere,” he whispers to himself, turning very, very slowly like he’s afraid of upsetting the delicate balance of kitten limbs currently latched to his person. “how do they multiply? do cats—do cats do mitosis?”

you don’t know whether to laugh or cry. you opt for filming it.

tulip is watching from her perch on the windowsill like she’s just enjoying the show. she yawns. yawns.

meanwhile, sukuna is trying to negotiate with the one on his head. “you wanna stay up there? that’s cool. you do you. king of the mountain. just, please, don’t pee. not again.”

there’s a long, horrible pause.

sukuna’s face goes pale. “woman,” he says, dead serious. “i think it’s peeing.”

and honestly, this is your fault. because you left him alone with them for five minutes. five minutes! this is why you can’t have nice things. or, well—you can, but they end up living in your boyfriend’s hair like a sentient, meowing crown.

you do take a picture, though. because there is something transcendent about sukuna—beefy, mildly panicked, hair full of kittens—making eye contact with the camera and whispering, “this is fine. this is all under control,” while one of the biceps babies starts licking his ear like a popsicle.

you will never let him live this down. tulip will see to that personally.

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bloodibambiidoll · 1 year ago

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love love love the rafe cameron x weirdgirl!reader au!! imagine reader at the country club overhearing some mean boys making fun of her and how rafe is crazy to date someone like her :(( she stays in her room after hearing this and rafe catches her biting herself and crying (she normally bites him but after hearing this she feels like she can’t) oh my heart-

No bc this is like sooo perfect. This is literally so her. I’ve been having a lot of fun coming up with lore for her so I’m so glad you’re liking her so far!! Warnings: (I’d like to note that weird girl is autistic coded bc I am autistic), Reader gets her feelings hurt, protective Rafe, biting 18+MNDI!! Part of this AU

“Yeah dude, she’s like so hot until she opens her mouth.” Your footsteps come to a sudden halt, your shiny black Mary Jane’s squeaking against the polished wooden floors of the country club. There’s a group of guys about your age standing around the corner in a circle all snickering to each other.

“No, yeah, like she says the fucking weirdest shit in that creepy little monotone voice. I have no idea how Rafe puts up with it.”

“The pussy must be out of this world or some shit because I would never be able to handle that. I saw her last week on the beach collecting animal bones or some shit bro. Bet she went back to check on her kill.” The entire group starts busting up laughing just as you feel hot tears start to stream down your cheeks. You just want to leave but they are blocking the only path to the door so you suck it up and high tail it as fast as you past them.

You were waiting for Rafe to be done with his game of golf but after that? You really didn’t want to bother him with wanting to leave early so you decided to just walk the mile and a half home. If you were lucky maybe you’d run into the neighborhood cat you befriended and he would walk part of the way with you.

When you get home you rush up the stairs and into your room, slamming the door behind you. Your head is swimming with negative thoughts. You were always scared you were too weird for Rafe, too much, too different from him. So when you hear guys he hangs around saying things like that about you? It’s hard to not let it get to your head.

You kick off your shoes and practically tear off the cute outfit you spent over an hour putting together. You grab your pink fuzzy robe, and walk over to your bunny’s cage, smiling down at her with watery eyes.

“I think you’re the only one that really understands me, Lydia.” Your bottom lip wobbles as you pick her up and walk over to your bed. You rock back and forth slightly as you caress her fur, trying to self soothe. You’re realizing in this moment that maybe you really are too much for Rafe because you hardly remember how to calm yourself down without him.

You wish so badly that he was here. You know he would hold you tight and let you sink your teeth into him until your tears stopped flowing. It seems to be one of the only things that truly calms you down so you decide to bring your own hand up to your mouth and bite down on it. It soothes you a little, but it isn’t Rafe. He’s called you a few times but you just let it ring, he’s probably worried, but you’re too embarrassed to pick up.

“Baby? Are you here?” The minute you hear Rafe’s voice you want to run to him, but the words of the boys at the country club playing in your head on repeat in your head cements you in place. “Bats?”

When he opens your bedroom door and takes in the sight of you his heart sinks.

“Baby girl, what’s going on? What happened? Where did you go? You scared the shit outta me.” He rushes over to you, coming to sit next to you on your bed. He rests his large hands on your calves and rubs soothing circles on your skin with the pads of his thumbs. You whimper and shake your head, your mouth still latched onto your hand. “Batty, you’ve gotta talk to me, okay? Tell me what’s going on.”

“I was…” You pull your hand away from your face, resting it on Lydia’s back as you pet her softly, the feeling of her fur grounding you. “I was coming back from the bathroom and I heard Jake and those guys… talking about me.”

“What about you?” Rafe’s voice takes on a protective tone, especially when another fit of sobs erupts through you. He hooks his arms under you so he can pull you and your bunny softly into his lap. “Princess. Tell me what they said.”

“They said - they said that they don’t know how you put up with me because I’m so weird and that you’re probably only with me because the pussy is good.” You sniffle as your tears continue to fall and if Rafe didn’t know you needed him right now he would be on his way back to the club to beat all of their asses until they couldn’t walk.

“Hey, hey, nah, none of that.” He cups your face in his hand, wiping away your tears. “You know I love you, all your weird shit and all. I’m not ‘putting up’ with you, I fuckin’ love your weird little ass.”

“They also… they also said that - that I probably kill animals…” You start sobbing again and Rafe’s entire body tenses. He knows how much you love animals, how important they are to you. He wants to fucking rip their throats out.

“Princess… I’m so sorry they said that. They just don’t know you, aight? You’d never harm a fly. Don’t let that shit get to you. I know it’s hard, but fuck em, they don’t know fuckin’ shit about my baby.” He gives you a reassuring smile as he wipes away some of your remaining tears. His hand swipes past your lips and you turn your head slightly to sink your teeth into it. He chuckles, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “There’s my weird girl.”

#rafe #Rafe Cameron #rafe concepts #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe blurb #rafe obx #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe fanfiction #rafe fluff #weird girl!reader

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coolemmasulivan2 · 8 months ago

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What Will They Say About Us?

Pairing: Ruben Dias x Reader

Summary: When you faint while dropping off the kids at your ex-husband Ruben’s place, his worry stirs up feelings he thought were gone. Now he’s realizing he never stopped loving you—and maybe it’s not too late to try again.

Word Count: 2008

E o que vão dizer de nós Se formos na estrada em contramão Se decidirmos estar a sós E seguir noutra direção?

Your head pounded as you drove your kids to Ruben's. It was his week with them, and despite the ache in your head and the exhaustion tugging at your body, you felt a flicker of relief.

You weren’t sure what was happening, but your head felt heavy, your limbs like they’d been dragged through gravel, and your eyes barely stayed open.

"Mommy?" Your daughter's voice, snapped you from your thoughts.

"Yes, sweetie?" You managed, glancing at her in the rearview mirror.

Her small figure was buckled in beside her older brother. "I think I left Fuzzy at home."

You muttered a quiet curse. You’d been so distracted that you hadn’t double-checked they’d packed everything. "You’ve got other toys at Daddy’s, honey." You said, hoping it’d be enough, but her lower lip quivered.

“But… I want Fuzzy!” She whispered.

Ruben’s building came into view, and as you pulled into the garage, the sound of rain softened. You turned off the car, pausing to gather yourself before stepping out.

When you got out, a dizzy wave overtook you, but you shook it off quickly, heading to help the kids. Your son climbed out with his blue backpack, a gift from Ruben last Christmas. On the other side, you picked up your daughter, whose tears tugged at your heart.

With her on your hip and your son following behind, you made your way toward the elevator.

Inside Ruben’s apartment, he’d just finished making his son’s bed when the doorbell rang. His face lit up as he opened the door.

"Dad!" Your son’s voice filled the entryway as he launched himself at Ruben.

"Hey, buddy!" Ruben hugged him tightly, chuckling as he held him close. "I missed you."

From your arms, your daughter’s quiet sniffle drew Ruben’s gaze. "Oh, babysgirl, why the tears?"

"I left Fuzzy at Mommy’s!" She whispered. Fuzzy, her beloved stuffed animal, had been a gift from your friends when she was born, and she wouldn’t go anywhere without it.

You rubbed her back soothingly. "I’ll bring him tomorrow, promise."

Ruben’s eyes flicked to you, noticing how pale you looked, even your voice sounded diferent. "Hey, why don’t you both get your bags to your room?" He suggested to the kids. He must’ve hoped for a quick word with you, but your daughter had other ideas.

"Mommy, can you help me?" She asked, her little hand grabbing yours.

You smiled weakly. "Of course, sweetie."

Ruben’s place hadn’t changed. Walking through it, it still felt like pieces of you lingered in every room, every decoration.

In her room, you put her bag on the bed, helping unpack a few things. She spotted one of her toys on the shelf and squealed. "Look, Mommy! Daddy got me this one!" She held it up, but it was suddenly hard to see her. The room tilted, colors swirling, and then blackness.

"MOMMY!" Ruben heard his daughter shout, pausing his conversation with his son. "DADDY?" She shouted again, this time for him. Her voice was frightened.

Your daughter’s panicked shout freezed Ruben and in an instant, he was on his feet, racing toward her room.

Inside, his heart dropped. You were slumped on the floor, unconscious, with his daughter kneeling beside you, tears streaming down her face.

Ruben knelt beside you, gently cupping your face. "Y/N?" His voice wavered, and he fought to stay calm. Even after everything, the sight of you like this terrified him. You were still his children’s mother, still someone he loved deeply, even if things hadn’t worked out.

Behind him, his son’s worried voice called. "Mom?" Ruben quickly placed a gentle hand on his arm.

"Stay back, buddy. Everything’s okay." He turned to his daughter, his voice softening. "Aurora, what happened?"

"I don’t know." she sniffled. "She just fell."

"Did she hit her head?"

She shook her head. "No."

Without hesitation, Ruben slid an arm under your shoulders and the other under your knees, lifting you with ease. It had been a long time since he’d held you like this.

In his room, he carefully laid you on the bed, brushing a strand of hair from your face. You were still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He glanced back at his kids. "I’m going to get help. Miguel, take care of your sister, alright?"

Miguel nodded, holding his sister close as Ruben stepped out. His neighbor upstairs, a retired doctor, came to mind, and Ruben rushed out, hoping for help.

You and Ruben had been together for a long time, marrying when you discovered you were having your first child, Miguel. Two years later, you had Aurora, and two years after that, you were getting a divorce.

The divorce was mutual and friendly. While there was no denying that you still loved each other, things simply weren't working out as a couple at that time.

It was not the first time you had fainted in front of Ruben. Unfortunately, you had a very weak constitution when it came to sickness, and Ruben had lost count of how many times you had fainted over the years.

You opened your eyes slowly, the edges of consciousness creeping back in. Everything ached, and your head felt like a metal concert.

"Oh." You whispered, placing your hand on your head.

Blinking, you realized you were in Ruben’s bedroom, your old bedroom. Same room, same bed.

Outside, through the large window, the sun was setting, meaning you had been unconscious for a few hours. The kids’ laughter carried faintly from somewhere in the apartment. When you pushed yourself upright, a glass of water and a small pill sat on the nightstand, likely left by Ruben.

As you walked to the kitchen, careful to steady yourself, you found him and the kids laughing, spreading sauce on pizza dough. The sight was cozy and bittersweet, like a glimpse into the life you might have had together if things had gone differently.

"Mommy!" Aurora’s excited cry rang out, and she hurried to hug your legs, Miguel following close behind.

Ruben’s gaze softened as he took you in, relief visible in the way his shoulders relaxed. "You should still be resting." He said, his voice warm and gentle.

You managed a small smile. "I’m fine, really. I should get going, though."

"If you think I’m letting you leave like this, you’re definitely insane." He said, a teasing smile in his voice.

"Mom, we’re making pizza! Stay, please?" Miguel chimed in, his eyes hopeful.

"Pleeeease?" Aurora’s voice melted you.

You glanced at Ruben, catching that familiar smile, the one that once - and still - made your heart race. "Alright, just for dinner." You relented, laughing as the kids celebrated.

As you helped Ruben with the pizzas, the kids darted around setting the table, occasionally distracted by the TV.

You looked over at Ruben as he closed the oven. "Did I… faint?"

He leaned against the counter, his expression softening with concern. "You did. I had forgotten how frightening it is to see you like that." He paused. "The upstairs neighbor said it’s probably the flu, or a virus. You should see your doctor."

"Thanks for looking out for me."

He glanced down, then back up, his voice quieter. "When was the last time this happened? I mean, when we were together, it didn't happen since Miguel was just a baby."

You nodded. "Yeah, it’s been a while."

Ruben was about to say something more, but Miguel ran up, breaking the moment. "Mom, is the pizza ready yet?"

Having dinner with the kids and Ruben felt like a dream. Maybe you were still unconscious, or perhaps you were hallucinating. But if you were, you didn't want to wake up.

After dinner, the kids persuaded you to stay a little longer to watch a movie. You could feel the fatigue lingering, but their excited faces made it hard to refuse.

Soon, you were all curled up on the couch, with the kids nestled between you and Ruben, Aurora leaning against you while Miguel's head rested on his father’s shoulder.

As the movie played, you felt a strange mix of nostalgia and comfort. It reminded you of all those nights the four of you used to spend together. Ruben’s quiet chuckle at a funny moment stirred memories—how much that sound used to make you feel safe, like no matter what was happening outside these walls, here you were home.

Aurora’s soft breathing grew steady and even, her little head heavy against your arm. Miguel was already fast asleep, his face peaceful. Carefully, you glanced over to Ruben. He met your eyes, both of you sharing an unspoken understanding. Wordlessly, you each picked up a child, cradling them with the practiced ease of parents who’d done this countless times.

In Aurora’s room, you tucked her in, gently brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. Her small hand reached out, clasping your fingers for a moment before she drifted back into sleep.

In the hall, Ruben stood waiting, Miguel already settled in his own bed. You both made your way back to the living room, the air heavy with the unsaid things that lingered between you.

"I should get going." You whispered, grabbing your coat from the armrest of the couch. But as you turned, Ruben’s hand reached out, gently wrapping around your arm.

"Wait." His voice was soft. He let out a slow breath, his fingers lingering on your arm. "Please… don’t go. Stay the nigh, you'll feel better in the morning.”

You looked at him, heart pounding as his gaze met yours, filled with an intensity you hadn’t seen in a long time.

"I was… scared today." He began, voice low. "When I saw you on the floor like that… I felt completely helpless. I realized that no matter how much time has passed, I still care, more than I want to admit sometimes." You opened your mouth to respond, but he contine it. "I never stopped caring, Y/N. I never stopped loving you. Not for a day, not even for a minute."

Your breath caught as his words sank in, his hand still holding your wrist.

"Ruben…" You whispered, barely able to get the words out.

He took a step closer, his gaze unwavering. "I know things didn’t work out between us back then. But part of me will always wonder… if we gave up too soon."

A lump rose in your throat, and tears pricked at your eyes as you met his gaze. "You really think we could try again?"

"I do!" He answered softly, cupping your face. "And I know it won’t be simple, not with everything we have at stake now. But I also know… that letting you go was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. And I don’t want to spend another day wondering if we could have been something more"

You took a shaky breath. "But, Ruben, what happens if it doesn’t work out? We have kids now. They need us steady. What if we just… fall apart all over again?"

His expression softened, as he lifted your hand to his chest, placing it over his heartbeat. "Then we try again. And again. Because no matter how many times we fall, as long as you’re there, I want to keep trying."

His breath caught, and then his lips met yours, soft and familiar. The kiss was slow and tender, his hands framing your face as if afraid to let go. His lips felt like heaven against yours. You missed his touch, you missed his lips, you missed him."

When you finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathless. "Stay tonight." He whispered, voice barely above a murmur. “Let me take care of you."

You nodded, the answer coming so easily, your hand still pressed over his heartbeat. And as you stood there, wrapped in his arms, you realized that maybe the pieces of your love had never really broken at all. They’d simply been waiting, patient for you to find your way back to each other.

#ruben dias #ruben dias x you #ruben dias x y/n #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias imagine #footballer x y/n #footballer x reader #footballer imagine #football imagine

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yailtsv · 5 months ago

Text

Live - paige’s sister

💌 Syn: uconn wbb live with taylor!

»»— warnings: it’s not in order of the actual live

»»— notes: finally bringing these over from wp, but the editing did nothing and i still hate this and the others 🫠

»»— word count: 1.4k

»»— pair: paige x sister!oc || taylor bueckers

Paige and KK are sitting on the couch catching their breath after they just did self defense lessons for the viewers on the live. KK's now explaining why she was mad in the car on the live they did earlier with their crumbl cookie review.

"They left me in the mall-" kk started but got cut off "NO I texted you to meet us at the car. I said and I quote 'taylor got scared from the fans screaming and wanting pictures, meet us at the car.' Paige cut in

"And I'm a GIRL!! somebody could just walk behind me and BOOM SNATCHIES!!" KK defended, making everyone laugh at her yelling 'boom snatchies' and then said "tays my girl, so I understand p leaving to take her to the car when she's scared, BUT THAT DIDN'T MEAN JANA AND ICE HAD TO LEAVE ME!" Making jana and ice laugh and start defending themselves while Paige try's to focus back on her schoolwork

While KK, Jana, and Ice are arguing defending themselves on live and Paige is doing her schoolwork, Taylor walks out of Paige's room with her fuzzy stitch blanket, Olaf stuffed animal that Azzi bought her on her 1st birthday, her sketch book and her crayons and walks into the living room at the time kk walks over to ice and hugs her and Paige records it

Taylor walks to the couch and sets her stuff next to Paige and starts trying to climb up it while kk yells at ice to hug her back

Kk walks away from ice after they hug and her and Paige both see Taylor struggling to climb up the cushion, Paige immediately sets the phone down and lifts Taylor up next to her before she can get hurt. While Paige helped Taylor, kk sat back in her seat and propped the phone back up, all the comments that where laughing and joking about the kk and ice hug are now greeting Taylor

"Baby Bueckers, wanna say hi to the fans?" Kk asked Taylor while Paige was helping her get comfortable by placing her blanket on her and making a little more room so she has room to draw

Taylor looked at kk then the phone where she can see kk,herself, and Paige and then looks at Paige questioning if she can. Paige nods and says "it's ok go ahead" making Taylor look back to the camera and shyly say hi while waving slowly, making paige and kk laugh a little bit and the comments start gushing about her and how shy she is, seeing as paige the least shy person on the planet is her older sister.

"Isn't she just the cutest" kk somewhat yelled and pinched her cheeks, making taylor giggle but pull away. Eventually the focus goes on to debating if they’re gonna do a talent show and while they’re doing that, Taylor’s drawing paige and the uconn girls for Paige. While Taylor was in Paige's room earlier she also finished a drawing for geno and cd.

"That's cute. Who's that for baby?" Paige says softly while kk is looking for someone to add, for the talent show. "It was supposed to be a surprise." Taylor say sadly "it's for you. Do you like it?" She adds on

"Oh I'm sorry baby, I didn't know. I'll act surprised when you give it to me alright? And I think it's absolutely beautiful. You did so good on it." Paige says softly to Taylor while a fan is singing “before he cheats”

"It's ok, I just have a few more things to add and then you can have it." She replied and Paige nodded and looked away to focus on the talent show, giving her the privacy to finish the drawing.

"DONE" she yelled cutting off the person now screaming because she got accepted into the live, making everyone laugh after kk kicked the fan off "whys everyone laughing? Did I do something?" Taylor says making everyone calm down there laughing

"No, you didn't do anything babe. It was just a funny time to yell. That's all" Paige said making her make an 'ohhh' face, before grinning and shoving the drawing into Paige's chest

"Oh wow for me? did you make this all on your own? This is amazing!" Paige says shocked, making Taylor giggle knowing she's acting "this is you! that's kk and Jana, ice, Azzi, Caroline, Aubs, ash, Sarah, morgy, Allie, yanna, that's Kaitlyn with q, and I did nika over there and Aaliyah over there with ines and amari!" She points everyone out excitedly, making kk, Jana, Aubrey, and ice the only other people in the room to move closer to see the drawing.

All of them saying how good it is, and that they want one for them making her say she'll work on them over summer. Kk grabs the drawing excitedly and shows the camera saying "guys I don't think we need to have a talent show anymore. Taylor obviously wins!" Making Taylor giggle "I don't count" she reply's making kk gasp and put her hand over her heart dramatically "what do you MEAN you don't count? It's a talent show. You showed your talent. You WIN!" Kk said

"Noooo someone on the phone has to win! You don't know them, you know me, that's a disadvantage!" Taylor says making kk look at her with wide eyes "WHY IS THIS 4 YEAR OLD SAYING SENTIENCE'S LIKE THAT?! WHO TAUGHT HER THE WORD DISADVANTAGE?!" Kk scream's making Taylor giggle again and the others to laugh

"She's a smarty pants. She loves learning new things." Paige replies "she knows how to count to 100 too" Paige adds making kk even more shocked

The comments are blowing up, so while kks on her ranting spree, Taylor was focusing on the comments "sissy why are they saying your fine? What happened? Are you ok?" Taylor questions confused, with her saying that made the room go silent for a few seconds before kk breaks the silence by bursting into laughter making the others do the same.

"Alright Alright, no more comments for you. Let's look away from the camera alright?" Paige says trying not to laugh cause she sees taylor is now genuinely concerned "you didn't answer. Why are they saying your fine? Why are you sad?"She said making kk laugh again, Paige leaned forward and smacked kk on the back of the head, glaring at her

"I'm good baby, I'm not sad alright? I don't know what there talking about." She tries to comfort while also not informing her what the fans where actually talking about. "You sure?" She says hesitantly, making Paige nod her head "I'm ok. Promise." She says

Taylor nods and then go on to ask her different questions and things unrelated to that whole situation, making Paige let out a sigh of relief that she dropped this conversation. Kk goes on back to the live adding more people, kicking more people off, that whole routine.

"Sissy can you let my hair down? It's to tight" taylor say halting the conversation about all the places she gets to go to this summer "yeah come here" Paige says while moving her computer to the side and setting Taylor in her lap, starting to take out all the hairties, rubber bands, and bobby pins. When completed Paige massages Taylor's scalp a little bit to relieve the pain from the tight up-do her hairs been in all day, making her lean into Paige more.

While that's happening, kk starts singing pyramids. Paige takes her hands away from Taylors head but she still leans into Paige more, suddenly tired. She yawns making Paige look at her "tired?" She asks and Taylor shakesher head no but then shakes her head yes.

Paige moves her sketch book and crayons to the table, and grabs her blanket and Olaf. Handing Taylor the Olaf, Paige lays Taylor in her arms with Taylor's head in the crook of Paige's elbow, face pressed against her stomach and feet curled up against Paige. Paige tucks the blanket around Taylor making sure shes comfortable before starting to rub her back to help her fall asleep.

Once she fell asleep, paige told kk to keep it down a little bit which she did do for awhile, with her making the fans be a little quieter when they joined. Eventually kk was asking someone to sing sexxy red with the fan asking kk to dance to her singing... Taylor woke up grumpy and Paige had to get her back to sleep

@melpthatsme @rebecca-woso

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x fem!reader #paige bueckers x reader #paige x reader #uconn x reader #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers x sister!oc #paige buckets #yailtsv works—★

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aetherraeys · 2 months ago

Text

thrills

(a night to remember, pt2, pt3, pt4/this)

sirius black x reader ⊹ 8.2k

cw ⟢ swearing, injury, blood, mild hurt/comfort, new relationship, suggestive, biker!sirius, very domestic, fluff

summary: Sirius Black was far more domestic than you'd ever imagined, falling into his new role of boyfriend without a hitch.

a/n: the shame i feel for taking so long to start this...but its here at least, all be it lamost 5weeks later,,,thank you anon for giving me ideas on a final part MWAH! not proofread x

New is fun, new is good.

New is firsts.

And while some kinds of new—that confessional i love you, that leaves you breathless and dizzy and at a loss for words—is more welcomed than others, there is also the other kind.

The first (but most definitely not last) time you had to hold Marlene back from lunging at and attacking Sirius like some rabid animal. That sort of new is...well, new. And admittedly? A little entertaining.

It really was because of that blasted spare key.

Marlene had decided maybe it was best to let the dust settle before she forced her way into your space. To try and console you and make you realise that maybe it was better that Sirius was a right foul git and you deserved better—she had it all prepared, planned it out on the drive over.

Brought your favourite films and snacks in preperation for a long, quiet day of comforting, ice-cream, junk food and trash talking the older Black brother.

So you can just imagine the shock and horror when she pulled into your usually empty drive way, to see that same goddamn motorbike there—blocking her from parking. And though Marlene did eventually find a spot, just down the road—where she had to pay for the parking—it just added to her anger.

Barging into your building in a hurricane of fury.

Because how dare he, the absolute cheek—he’d gone and snogged Emmeline right in front of you—he’d shown up to torture you more, plead his case when that was the last thing you needed. Neither of you had time to compute the sound of the door slamming open, the hinges yelling under the pressure of Marlene’s swing. You’d been asleep, cuddled and scrunched up together on the too small sofa, face buried into the corner of Sirius’ neck.

And when your head shot up at the sound of knob crashing into the wall—hard—wincing at the impact and it surely left a dent. If the way the harsh bang echoed through the room didn’t awake Sirius, the way your forehead knocked against his chin definetly did. A pained groan sounding from him as your scrambled to a stand, hands pressing into his stomach to support your rise—forcing a low “Oof,” out of him.

The look on Marlene’s face had alarm bells ringing in your head—still fuzzy from sleep, the thud of the bags to the floor shook you out of it—allowing you to hone in on the way her face was getting redder by the second. Eyes franctically darting between you and Sirius’ disgruntled, winded figure.

“Are you fucking joking right now?!”

Sirius all but teleported to the other side of the room at the harsh sound of Marlene’s tone—arms mimicking yours in their raised to defense while yours were more to ward her off.

Voice still hoarse from sleep and the night’s shed tears, trying to calm the impending attack on your newly appointed boyfriend—”Marls…MARLENE! Just wait—let me explain—!” you started.

But she didn’t wait—all but vaulting over the couch surely in search of a way to get Sirius into her grasp and throttle him. Rant loud on her tongue, littered with profanity and every insult under the sun as he rounded the corner of your dining table.

Sirius had managed to evade her thus far—breathless on the other side of the dining table—but to his misfortune, he’d trapped himself.

It was only a few more tense moments of back and forth circling the table before you found your way into the mix. Edging Sirius into a safer corner, standing between them brows stretched into a distressed grimance—she took another step forwards—and Sirius mirrored her with a step back.

The whole situation was painfully laughable—sleep still clinging to the corners of your eyes, lips chapped and dribble stained. Sirius’ hair pushed up awkwardly on one side, matching the panic in his eyes as you shielded him.

Marlene wasn’t going to give up, threats slipping throught the cacophany of clattering furniture as she advanced.

“Black! When I get my hands on you, I swear to Merlin...” The frown on her face morphed into a scrowl when he responded.

“Not having the best morning? Are we Marls—Oi!” He just narrowly dodged the banana hurtled in his direction, and you hissed out his name in a chiding way that all but screamed not the time. Trying again to have her see some reason, or at least stop throwing objects around your kitchen—

”Marls, please. Just hold on a sec—Please, don’t throw—!”

It was a bit late for that. Another poor fruit from the bowl clattering against the counter—and satsuma this time.

“Why are you protecting that lump of shit, Y/N!”

You could only roll your eyes at the way Sirius muttered from behind you, “I can hear you, y’know,” Arms still outstretched in a rather pitiful attempt at shielding him, pleading with your eyes as much as you could, words urgent and rushed as they leave your mouth.

“He didn’t do it on purpose—it was a misunderstanding!” You step back hazardly, just barely missing Sirius’ sock-clad feet as you back him away from her, she resembled an angered bull more than anything. You could practically see the steam leaving her nose as she huffed out in disbelief—

“How does one snog another accidently?!” Marlene, undeterred, advanced again.

Okay, she had a fair point. But it really was just an unfortunate circumstance, you almost winced at her pitch—“If you gave me a second, maybe I’d be able to explain—”

“Black’s a slick git—you can’t trust a word out of his lying mouth!”

“You have such little faith in me, McKinnon!” Sirius gasped from behind you, like he’d been physically wounded by her words.

“Oh, shut it, Black—” Marlene snapped, advancing another step like she was genuinely weighing whether a cereal box could double as a weapon. “You’re lucky I left the bloody bat in the boot.”

You flinched at that one. Sirius did too.

“Marls, breathe, please,” you said, still firmly planted between them, arms stretched like a human barricade. “Just listen to me for one minute, okay? One. And if you’re still mad after, I’ll let you chuck the whole fruit bowl at him.”

“You say that like I wasn’t already planning to,” she growled, but her pace slowed—just a touch. The red in her cheeks hadn’t faded, but her eyes flicked to you, and some of the fury cracked around the edges.

You seized your chance.

It was rather finnicky to explain, how Emmeline had just grabbed the nearest person in a drunken flurry—all but dragging him into her by his collar—emphasising how it barely lasted not even five seconds.

How Sirius pushed her off in an instant, how it just happened to be him—how he’d never do anything like that to you—his hand coming down to rest on your waist lightly. Marlene looked between you both again. Sirius’ head poked out from behind your shoulder, expression genuinely apologetic now. “It really was just a misunderstanding—swear on my bike.”

“…That’s not very reassuring.”

“It is to me,” he muttered, then visibly winced when you elbowed him.

Marlene let out a sharp exhale, pinching the bridge of her nose, chiding thoughts interrupted by Sirius’ almost goading comment he murmured, “Can’t have a morning with my girlfriend without getting chased about the kitchen.”

Her eyes snapped up at that, and he knew well that she’d hear it—the room was all but silence, still edge with simmering tension as Marlene contempleted whether to let him live despite it all.

Narrowing her gaze like she’d just caught wind of something foul. "Girlfriend?" she repeated, voice climbing to a sharp pitch, eyes darting between you both like she was genuinely concerned for your well-being. "As in, officially? Now? As in overnight?!"

Your mouth opened, but no sound came out. But you could feel the burn start in your chest and crawl rapidly up your neck, setting your ears ablaze. Sirius, behind you, seemed completely unbothered by the sudden exposure of it all.

“Yep,” he said simply, rather chuffed with himself like he wasn’t outing something so fresh it was barely processed even by you. And you froze as he stuck his tongue out at Marlene over your shoulder and then pressed an obnoxiously loud, wet kiss to your cheek with a ridiculous mwah noise, hands still casually resting on your waist.

So startled by the contact and the very bold declaration that your body went completely stiff under the affection. Heat surged to your face in mortifying waves as Sirius just grinned, completely unapologetic.

Marlene recoiled with a grimace. “Oh bloody hell,” she muttered, dragging a hand down her face like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “You’re so lucky she’s soft.”

Sirius grinned wider. “She is. It’s why I like her.”

“You’re pushing it,” Marlene warned, still eyeballing you both with such profound disbelief it could've peeled wallpaper. “Good thing I found that out before I keyed his bloody bike.”

That got Sirius’ attention. His expression dropped like a stone. “You were going to key my bike?!” he gasped, scandalised.

Marlene only shrugged, turning on her heel like it was the most casual thing in the world, shopping bags swinging in her hands as she marched toward the living room.

Sirius was already following after her like a panicked puppy, tugging you along with one hand still clasped in his. “Marlene—I swear to Merlin—my bike! What did it ever do to you?!”

“Oh calm down,” she drawled over her shoulder. “Didn’t even have time to scratch it.” She let out a long, theatrical sigh as she dropped her bags on the coffee table. “Guess I won’t be slagging off Sirius Black today.”

“You can stay, you know!” you protested, finally finding your voice again, still trailing behind Sirius like your brain was lagging ten steps behind this whole morning. “At least stay for a cuppa—”

Marlene made a gagging noise so exaggerated it almost echoed. “No, no—I won’t intrude on your morning—” she checked her watch, “afternoon with your boyfriend.” She shot you a pointed look over her shoulder, fingers wiggling in a phone gesture as she mouthed we’ll talk later.

Sirius, meanwhile, was still stuck somewhere between relief and residual panic. “You almost keyed my bike,” he muttered, half to himself.

Marlene didn’t even grace him with a second glance as she slipped out the door. “I still might, Black.”

The door clicked shut.

And then it was just you and Sirius in the stillness of your flat, your face still hot, your limbs still awkward, and Sirius—as ever—completely unfazed.

He turned to you, that stupid smirk tugging at his lips, eyes dancing with mischief.

“You froze when I kissed you,” he teased, tilting his head as his hands slid back to your waist, fingertips pressing gently.

“Shut up,” you muttered, still burning, unable to look him in the eye.

But then he was walking you backwards, slow and deliberate, until your back met the cool wall and he caged you in with a certain smugness.

“You’re really cute when you’re all flustered, y’know that?” he murmured, eyes soft but playful, brushing a strand of hair away from your cheek. “Think I might have to do that more often.”

You glared at him, or tried to, but it lacked conviction when your face was still hot and he was looking at you like that—eyes all lazy delight and intent amusement, lips quirking like he had you pinned in more ways than one.

“I will literally kill you,” you muttered, trying not to smile—failing—as you turned your face away, pulse ringing embrassingly loud in your ears, heart thumping rapid beneath your ribs. .

“Ooh,” he grinned, leaning in closer, his breath warm fanning over your cheek, “is that a threat from my girlfriend?” He exaggerated the word with a mock gasp, like it still thrilled him to say it aloud. Which, honestly, it probably did.

“You’re lucky I don’t set you on fire,” you muttered, voice tight with embarrassment.

“I’d let you,” he said, dramatically placing a hand over his chest. “Burn me to ash, darling, but kiss me first.”

You let out a splutter of laughter that you tried to smother with your hand, but he caught your wrist, gently pinning it to the wall beside your head. The other hand skimmed your waist, touch maddeningly light, and he grinned like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

“I hate you,” you whispered, but it came out soft and breathy and baseless.

“Oh I know, sweetheart,” he whispered back with mock solemnity, brushing his nose against yours. “Tragic, really. Because I’m about to do something unforgivable.”

And before you could ask, what—he kissed you.

It wasn’t soft, not exactly—it was all smugness and heat, lips pressing ato yours with that same teasing confidence he wore like a second skin. He kissed you like he was winning, like he’d caught you mid-swoon and was soaking it in. Letting his hand sliding up your back, keeping you close—his warmth radiating through the thin fabric of your bed clothes, the wall behind you keeping you from melting into a puddle while your knees did their best impression of useless.

When he finally pulled back, his grin was obnoxiously wide.

“You froze again,” he whispered, forehead resting against yours now. “Gods, I’m good.”

“You’re insufferable,” you managed to say, breath shaky, though your hands had somehow wound into his shirt like you’d forgotten how to let go.

“Mm. And yet…” he leaned in, lips brushing your jaw, your cheek, your collarbone, just barely grazing the skin with his teeth like he couldn’t help himself, earning him a quiet gasp. “Here you are. Still kissing me. Still blushing. Still all mine.”

New titles, new teases, new thrills.

Because Sirius really did bring a blood-pumping, head-spinning thrill into everything, every moment laces with and intertwined with the intoxicating feeling that was just him.

Even the mundane wasn’t just that with him—it was more, it was better—everything it had already been and everything you’d hope it to be.

He made his presence known in your little flat with purpose, claiming an entire shelf in your bathroom cabinet—and you welcomed it.

Watched it fill slowly, piece by piece, with his things: the woodsy-sweet aftershave that you fought the urge not to take a swig of some mornings, a crooked stack of faded hairbands, a few silver chains that clinked together gently, a worn tin of hair gel, cologne, a hard bristle brush. The toothbrush you’d given him “just in case” had somehow multiplied into three.

And you put his array of toileties to use—mainly helping him though.

You’d thought it nearly impossible for Sirius to be at yours more than he already was. Yet somehow, he proved you wrong, subtly phasing out of his shared flat with James and all but moving in with you.

His boots in the hallway. His coat thrown over your chair. His bike helmet permanently perched on top of your record player.

Although it wasn’t official—no formal conversation, no labelled drawers or declarations—it was becoming more and more apparent how well integrated Sirius was becoming into your daily routine.

It was most obvious in the mornings—and though you’d shared many before, it was different now somehow.

The alarm buzzed obnoxiously, sharp through the hush of your room, cutting through sleep like a blade and your hand shot out from under the covers, patting around blindly until you found the button and silenced it.

For now.

Sirius hummed softly from behind you, arm still looped lazily around your middle, you tried to sink deeper into his warmth, eyes squeezing shut, cheek pressing into him like the night had only just begun.

“You’ve got to get up now, love,” he whispered, mouth brushing against the shell of your ear, lips curling into a smile when you shook your head defiantly and mumbled, “Absolutely not. I’m deceased.”

That earned a soft chuckle, and the vibrations rumbled through both your tangled forms. “You said that yesterday. Still here.”

“M’time was tragically short-lived.”

“Come on,” he coaxed, his voice a warm rasp in the low light. “I’ll get up with you.”

Another unintelligible mutter left you, but your eyes cracked open—just barely—a reluctant olive branch. Then, before you could react, protest to his offer, he was shifting out from under you, gathering you into his arms like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Curling into him you hummed, limp in his arms, arms clinging around his neck as he carried you to the bathroom, bare feet padding quietly across the wooden floor. Pushing the door open with his hip and deposited you gently in front of the sink, keeping his arms around you when your knees buckled slightly from the shock of standing. You slumped against him, eyelids heavy again, pout forming without thought.

“Merlin,” he breathed with a smile, brushing your hair gently out of your face, “you’re hopeless.”

All that left you was a sleepy sound of protest, trying to ignore the harshness of the bathroom light with closed eyes—“Open,” he prompted, his own voice till hoarse with sleep—toothbrush already ready in hand.

You obeyed, lips parting slowly. He brushed your teeth for you with practiced care, murmuring something about how spoiled you were. When he held the mug of water to your lips so you could rinse and gargle, he pulled your hair back with the other hand, moving through it all like a routine he’d rehearsed.

When you’d finished, he turned you around by the hips to face him again, your eyes puffy from sleep but a little more awake now. He grinned, leaned down, and pressed a firm kiss to your pout.

“Shower,” he said, rubbing slow circles on your back.

You nodded with a small hum, and he turned to set the water running—one hand testing the warmth before reaching for the hem of his shirt on you. He peeled it off carefully, knuckles grazing your skin like a whisper, and helped you step into the steam.

While you showered, he moved about the flat with habitual ease—setting out your clothes for the day, your work bag prepped with charger and laptop, tea steeping on the counter. He even warmed your towel in the dryer before coming back to swap places with you.

And when you were dressed, now far more alive than earlier but still yawning as you dried your hair, you returned to the bathroom to find Sirius half-ready, leaning into the mirror drying his face and opening the cabinet to reach for—

His brows furrowed at the clear empty space on the shelf that would usually housed his brush, running a hand thorugh his hair—eyes flitting around the bathroom before landing on you.

And you stifled a grin, holding it up smugly from behind him. “Looking for this?”

He turned around, eyeing you dramatically. “My saviour!”

“Hand me the gel,” you said, stepping up onto the little wooden stool you kept by the sink just for this reason. Sirius passed it to you obediently and stood still as you carefully slicked back his hair—your fingers threading through it with far more affection and attention to detail than necessary for simple grooming.

His motorbike helmet sat nearby, ready and waiting.

He watched you quietly as you fussed over his hair. He didn’t say it, but it was in his eyes, swimming gently behind his half-blown pupils—the affection, the comfort, the subtle contentment in the luck he had, that you were the one standing there, fussing over him.

When you finished, you gave his chin a gentle tap. He leaned in and kissed you again, longer this time—smiling against your lips.

“I’ll drive you,” he murmured, brushing your cheek with the back of his hand. “So maybe a jacket, hmm?”

Like usual, Sirius drove from your workplace to his garage, the familiar hum of the engine beneath him like second nature now. The ride was short, but it was always enough to clear his head and slip him into that comfortable rhythm—the one that only came with grease-stained hands, petrol in the air, and the familiar clangs and creaks of a place that felt more like home than anywhere else.

By the time he rolled the bike up the ramp and into the workshop, the garage was already humming with life.

Music blasted from the scuffed speaker perched haphazardly on a high shelf—something fast and loud, the kind of thing you’d call ‘chaotic’ and he’d call ‘motivational.’ He tossed his helmet onto the bench, ran a hand through his hair—now slightly undone from the ride—and tugged his shirt over his head, leaving him in the plain tank beneath.

Tools clanked as he got to work, fingers nimble as he tuned a few finicky components in the engine. Between adjustments, he took moments to add a few new stickers to the side of the bike’s fuel tank—some sent by friends, others collected at odd shops, and one he’d been waiting to arrive for weeks. Hands working on muscle memory, a towel tucked into the waistband of his faded jeans, ready for the inevitable grease and smudges.

He didn’t notice James arrive until the soft crunch of tires sounded on the gravel outside. The car door slammed, and a familiar voice rang out, slightly muffled beneath the music. Sirius looked up with a grin as James strolled in, carrying a brown paper bag and two takeaway drinks.

“Oi, Pads!” James called, already grinning. “Brought lunch. Figured you’d forget to eat again unless it walked in on its own legs.”

Sirius laughed, tugging the towel from his waistband to wipe the oil from his hands as he made his way over. “Speak for yourself. I’m just incredibly selective with my meals.”

“Selective, my arse,” James shot back, giving him a few hearty taps on the back as they met in the middle of the garage. “You’d eat three bags of crisps and call it gourmet if it came with a pint.”

Sirius snorted, already peeking into the bag. “And yet you bring me exactly what I didn’t know I was dying for.”

“You’re welcome.” James flopped onto the worn leather sofa tucked into the corner of the garage—its cushions permanently dented from years of lounging, gaming, and midday naps. Sirius washed his hands properly in the sink this time, swapping out his grease-smudged top for a clean black tee before joining James with a satisfied hum.

They ate casually, talking in that way they always did—overlapping thoughts, half-finished stories, laughing at things they didn’t even need to explain anymore. But not long into it, James leaned back and let out a dramatic sigh.

“You know, I rarely see you anymore,” he complained, gesturing lazily with a crisp. “We live together. Or at least, I thought we did.”

Sirius just laughed, brushing the crumbs from his lap as he pushed off the couch and wandered back to the bike. “You’re being dramatic. You see me all the time.”

“Hmm,” James muttered. “Funny. The ghost of you leaves mugs in the sink but doesn’t speak.”

Sirius rolled his eyes, grabbing a stool and plopping down onto it, new stickers in one hand and a blowdryer in the other. He leaned over the bike carefully, lining up the next addition with practiced precision.

The collar of his shirt hung low on his shoulder as he concentrated, exposing just a bit of skin.

And James caught it immediately.

He sat up straighter, eyes narrowing with amusement. A very fresh, very obvious set of hickies peeked out from under the shirt, nestled high on Sirius’ collarbone and flushed faint pink, trailing down further than he could see.

And just like that, James was on his feet with a bounce in his step, sauntering over with all the mischief of a boy who’d just discovered the best secret.

“Well, well, well,” he drawled, dragging out each word as he approached. “So that’s who’s been stealing you away then, Pads.”

Sirius didn’t even look up, brows furrowed in concentration as he forced an air bubble from under the letter. “What on earth are you on about now?”

James stopped just beside him, towering over the stool where Sirius was still focused on the bike’s curve, trying to smooth the sticker just right. His voice dipped into a hum.

“Hmm. Not sure. Could be the disappearing acts. Or maybe,” he said, dragging the moment out, “just maybe it’s the very telling bruises on your chest.” Putting a painful emphasis on the s, grinning at him like the cat that got the cream.

That got Sirius’ attention.

He blinked and turned his head sharply to look at James, realisation dawning almost instantly. “Fuck off,” he muttered, rolling his eyes and shifting on the stool, tugging his collar up without too much urgency—but the smirk that twitched at the corners of his lip gave him away.

And James just grinned wider. “Whoever she is, mate, she’s got a serious biting problem.”

“Oh, shove off, Prongs.”

“Does she know you get all flushed like a schoolboy when you’re caught?”

Sirius clicked the blowdryer on pointedly, drowning out James’ snickering. But even over the buzz, his grin was unmistakable, his ears tinged slightly pink.

James wasn’t going to let it go that easily—not when his best friend was clearly smitten. Not when Sirius was practically glowing with the kind of quiet joy that didn’t come from engines or speed or mischief—but from something, or more accurately someone, who’d managed to make even Sirius Black domesticated.

Or at least something very eerily close to it.

Sirius had been doing well to stay off James’ radar. He dodged the teasing with dramatic groans and artful deflections, buried any real details beneath smirks and shrugs and the occasional cryptic comment that meant nothing and everything all at once. You hadn’t talked about it explicitly—it wasn’t technically a secret—but Sirius hadn’t exactly broadcasted it either.

Not because he didn’t want to.

Hell, if it were up to him, he’d happily shout it from the rooftops. He’d staple flyers to lampposts. Spray paint your initials across the hood of his bike. But he also knew—without question—that James would wrestle him off said rooftop if he ever found out.

Not because James didn’t trust him. Not really.

But because James was just as, if not more protective over you than Marlene was. He always had been, you were one of his closest friends too. His sister in everything but blood. And from the very beginning, James had drawn the line so clearly it may as well have been carved in stone.

You were off limits. Non-negotiable.

And Sirius? Sirius understood. He got it. He respected it. Until you kissed him by the pool, your eyes glassy with drink and affection. Until you fell asleep in his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. Until he looked at you and saw something quiet and golden and terrifying.

And even then—especially then—James had still written it off. Dismissed it entirely.

Even after the way your eyes trailed after Sirius when you thought no one was watching. Even after Sirius had carried you to bed that night, careful and silent and far too gentle, while James followed with crossed arms and a tight jaw, muttering something about “no funny business.”

He’d made his stance perfectly clear. That night was the warning shot.

And Sirius?

Sirius had tried—really tried—not to fall over that line.

But lines get blurry in the dark. And when you invited him in for tea, slowed him down with soft eyes and an even softer voice—and he had no choice but to fall.

By some insane miracle, Marlene still remained the only one who knew.

And it’s not like you were being slick in the slightest—always together, practically attached at the hip, Sirius’ bike a permanent fixture outside your flat, his jacket thrown over the back of your couch, your shampoo smelling suspiciously like his cologne. Clothes folded together, mugs interchanged, playlists bleeding into one another like you’d been tangled up for years instead of months.

Realistically, all James needed to do to figure it out was open his eyes. Drive by your place, see Sirius’ bike parked out front. Stop by unannounced and spot his boots by the door, or worse—him, sprawled on your sofa like he paid rent.

But somehow, the world had yet to catch up with the two of you.

It was a random weekend when Sirius suggested driving you to his garage. “If you’re gonna keep nicking my shirts, might as well see where they end up covered in grease,” he’d said, flashing that easy grin, his hand already on the small of your back as you both headed out.

Placing a helmet on your head before riding out of your road.

It was your first time there—eyes wide with curiosity as you stepped into the wide, sunlit space that smelt like oil, metal, and faintly of something that was just...him.

Music booming from an old speaker tucked on a shelf, some grungy rock track you half-recognised, while Sirius pulled the garage door up with a heave and parked the bike inside.

He’d already shrugged off his jacket, wearing just a faded black tank that clung to his chest and arms like a second skin, muscles glistening slightly from the ride over. You’d been trying very hard not to oogle—failing miserably—as you wandered around, pretending to be interested in the shelves lined with tools you couldn’t name.

Watching from behind him on a rickety stool as his hands worked a wrench into a metal crevice with a whiny squeak.

But then you saw it.

A sticker on the side of his bike, your initials in bold—tucked into the design between a handful of other vinyl patches.

You blinked, scooting closer on the chair, hinges whining with each movement—eyes narrowing, head tilted. “...Is that...?”

He glanced back over his shoulder, lips twitching up into a smirk as he caught your stunned expression—following your eyes to the curve of his bike. “Took you long enough to notice,” he said, eyes glinting. “It’s been on there for weeks.”

You tried—really tried—to purse your lips and school your face into something unimpressed. But the smile tugging at your mouth was impossible to suppress. “You’re unbelievable,” you muttered, heart thudding against your ribs.

Sirius just wiped his hands on a rag and crouched down beside the engine again, voice light. “Could get you one of your own, y’know.”

“One of what?” You craned your neck to get a better look at him.

“A bike.”

You eyes all but pooped out of your head, jaw slacking. “Why the hell would I want my own personal death machine?”

He rolled his eyes, grinning, voice muffled by the hollow metal he spoke into. “Come on, you’ve been on mine loads of times. At this point you could probably drive me around.”

“Not the same,” you grumbled, arms crossing. “You know it’s not the same.”

But he was already straightening up, seriously considering it. “I could teach you.”

“No,” you said instantly—eyes closed as you shook your head.

“Yes,” he countered, and before you could even protest again, he had his hands at your waist and was lifting you, setting you down onto the leather seat of his bike like you weighed nothing. Voice was pinched and high as you squawked in his hold, “Sirius! I’m not qualified! This has to be illegal—”

“You’ve got a license, don’t you?”

“Not for this! I can barely drive a bloody Prius.”

“If it makes you feel better, I’ll stick a big ‘L’ plate on the back.” He winked. “That way everyone knows to stay the hell away.”

“Sirius, I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“It’s literally not that hard.” He hopped on behind you, guiding your hands to the handles, voice low and patient in your ear. “You’ll be fine.” Settling his hands on your hips as he whispered lowly, words clear with each demonstrative reve of the engine.

You made a few hesitant attempts with him helping from behind, feet planted, steering gently, fingers over yours like a guide. And honestly—it wasn’t that hard. Not with him purring instructions into your ear, chest warm against your back—not with the way he made everything feel stupidly safe.

Eventually, he stepped back and nodded toward the open space in the lot. “Alright. Go on. Try a little circle, hotshot.”

Your heart thumped in your chest. “You’re insane.”

“Mmhm. And yet you love me.”

You didn’t have time to deny it before you were inching forward, tires rolling with a gentle hum. Keeping it slow, circling once, then twice, wind brushing past your cheeks and Sirius watching from a distance with that annoyingly proud smile.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad, the thrill, the rush—the undeniable adrenaline rushing through your veins, the feeling of invincibility going straight to your head.

Until the front wheel caught a thick stone on the ground just as you accidentally nudged the gear. The bike lurched forward, engine revving with unexpected speed. And panic crashed over you in an instant. Sirius was yelling—something about braking—but the sound was lost beneath the roar of the bike and the rush of blood in your ears.

Your hands fumbled—your balance tipped.

Catching sight of the brick wall in front of you, you swerved, narrowly avoiding it, but the motion threw you clean off the seat. And you hit the ground hard, a dull crack against your temple and your skin scraping viciously against concrete.

The pain was sharp, immediate, blooming hot across your arm and head.

You barely had time to process it before Sirius was there—running toward you, shouting your name—almost drowned out by the sound of the bike still revving a few meters away—shuffling against the gravel—dust kicking around the faintly turning wheel.

“Hey—hey, hey, I’ve got you—shit, love, stay still.” His hands were already on you, gentle but frantic, lifting you from the pavement as you winced, trying to blink away the spinning.

The whole underside of your arm stung, head throbbing as blood sticky and warm trickled from a gash above your brow. Sirius pressed the towel from his waistband to your forehead, muttering soft, soothing nonsense as he picked you up in his arms and carried you back into the garage.

“It’s okay, you’re alright. I’ve got you.”

“I’m sorry,” you gasped, half-choked with guilt and panic—pulse still ringing in your ears. “The bike—I didn’t mean to—I don’t know what happened—”

“Shh, it’s okay.” He settled you on the edge of the workbench, your legs dangling as he stood between them, brushing hair from your face. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

“But I scraped it up—your bike’s probably all ruined—” you rambled, the words tumbling out in a breathless panic as you stared at the floor, the edges of your vision still fuzzy, the sting of your wounds flaring hotter with every second.

But Sirius was already in front of you, hands cupping your face with the kind of gentleness that shouldn’t have been possible from someone who’d just sprinted like his heart was on the line.

“Love.” His voice cut through your spiral like a balm. Steady. Low. Firm. “Right now, I don’t give a single shit about the bike.”

And then, with impossible tenderness, he leaned in—close enough that you could feel his breath on your lips, smell the faint trace of leather and metal and the shampoo you both used. Soft, fleeting, just a brush of his lips against yours like he wasn’t sure how much pressure you could handle right now. Like he didn’t want to break the moment, holding you like you were made of the finest china.

When he pulled back, air caught in your throat, heat swirling in your chest as his voice reached your ears.

“Just stay still,” he murmured. “Let me take care of you, yeah?”

You nodded

He exhaled, watching your face for a beat longer, like he was making sure you were still in there with him, then turned slightly, tugging open a drawer beside the bench with one hand while the other still braced lightly against your knee.

The first aid kit clattered onto the surface beside you, and he opened it with quick, practiced motions. You watched, dazed, as he tugged on a pair of gloves, popped the cap off a bottle of antiseptic, and gently soaked a gauze pad.

You winced as he reached for your arm, the sting of your scraped skin reigniting the moment his fingers brushed near.

Sirius worked quietly, brows drawn together in concentration, the soft scrape of gauze against your skin the only sound between you. Deft fingers careful and precise, but even then the occasional sting had you wincing slightly, shifting on the bench—legs swinging slightly off the edge, watching the way he moved like he was doing something sacred.

He didn’t say much—just pressed a little harder here, smoothed tape there—and finally muttered, half to himself, "How on earth am I ever supposed to leave you alone?"

It was meant as a joke. A throwaway. But you latched onto it without thinking.

“You…you don’t have to,” you said softly. “You could just move in with me.”

There was a pause.

Not dramatic. Not crushing. Just…quiet. His hand didn’t stop moving, didn’t flinch or drop or freeze. Sirius just kept working, brows furrowed as he concentrated on the last of your scrapes. He hummed faintly in response, but it was dismissive—distant. Unreadable.

Your stomach twisted. Shame crept in, slow and thick, your body tensing in its wake.

Too soon. It’s too soon. You pushed it. He’s not there yet.

Quickly you averted you gaze, focusing on the dangle of you legs—each flick of your shoelaces, retreating into yourself. “Actually, um…I probably don’t need any more fixing up—I feel fine,”

You started to hop off the bench, your head still spinning slightly, one foot hitting the floor with a wobble. Pain flared through your arm and your side as you shifted your weight, making you stumble slightly.

Sirius straightened in alarm. “Whoa, hey—where are you going?”

“M’fine now,” words rushed and breathy, brushing at your shirt like it could distract from your spiraling, arm burning at the stretch of your skin. “Really, I’m okay.”

“You’re still bleeding,” he deadpanned, brows pinched in concern, reaching for your waist again to steady you. “Let me finish. We can go home, yeah?”

You didn’t reply. Just nodded, eyes locked on the floor while he coaxed you gently back onto the bench. He kept working, patching the final gash on your forearm—but now there was something different in the air.

A silence that wasn’t peaceful. Tension had crept in, curled around the space between you.

Even as he applied pressure to the scraps, spread cold ointment over your skin, you remained silent—lips pursed together. Just the occasional hiss, and then silence again. Staring at your shoes, at the concrete your feet swung above.

When Sirius finally finished, peeling off his gloves with a snap, watching you closely. His voice was gentler now, lower—and you could feel his breath fanning over the surface of your skin.

“What’s wrong?”

You didn’t answer, not looking at him.

So he stepped in closer, arms sliding around your waist, hands warm against your sides, caging you in. He tilted his head, trying to catch your eyes.

“Hey,” he murmured. “Talk to me. Does your head hurt?”

You glanced up, lips pursing again as you shake your head slightly. There was no accusation in your expression—just uncertainty. Vulnerability. Like you were already preparing for rejection. And it made him pause for a moment—eyes scanning your face before his lips twitched at the corners.

“I do want to move in with you, love,” he said softly, eyes warm as he looked down at you. “Of course I do.”

He held you gaze as you blinked, lips parting. “You don’t have to say that. I’m not upset. It’s perfectly fine if you don’t want to—really. I don’t know why I even said it—” Your voice sounded meeker than you’d wanted it too, not at all convincing.

“I’m not just saying it.” His voice dropped, edged with that dry Sirius Black sincerity that only ever showed itself when he needed you to believe him. “When do I ever just say things?”

Your brows arched upwards, giving him a long look. A very pointed one.

He huffed out a laugh, tipping his head like he was conceding the point. “Okay—fine, fair enough. But you asked me while I was trying to stop you bleeding out, trying to keep you from staining your lovely little outfit, by the way. I’m a simple man. Can’t focus on so many things at once.”

You couldn’t help the little laugh that escaped your lips, even through the lingering ache of embarrassment. He leaned in and kissed your cheek—soft, warm, forcing any shame away. His voice was quieter when he added—

“But I meant it. I want to move in. I want to be with you. Always.”

It had your breath stilling in your lungs, he felt so much closer now—too close, maybe. Body still radiating heat, arms still looped securely around your waist, thumbs idly tracing the edge of your shirt. You felt flushed again, but not from pain.

Flushed like the blood was torn on where to go—bouncing around your body, from the tips of your ears, base of your neck to the plastered cut by your brow—torn.

“Really?” you mumbled, dazed.

His smirk curved slow and easy against your skin as he leaned in, lips brushing your jaw.

“Reaalllly,” he drawled, voice low and teasing—before capturing your mouth again, this time deeper. Certain. Like a promise. Like a yes.

And you melted into it, the sting of your wounds forgotten in the warmth of his hands, the slide of his mouth against yours—slow at first, like he was savouring the feel of your lips under his, but it didn’t stay slow for long.

The adrenaline hadn’t fully worn off; it simply shifted—into the warmth of his hands roaming under your shirt, the drag of his teeth against your bottom lip, the way your legs instinctively bracketed his hips when he stepped between them again. You were back on the counter, your fingertips tugging at the hem of his vest, pressing into the bare skin just beneath it, desperate to feel something real—him, all of him, grounding and warm and yours.

It was messy and breathless and a little bit frantic, Sirius always had that affect on you. Everything holding a bit more intensity than normal—his palms splayed across your hips, thumbs digging into the dip where your thighs met the curve of your body as his mouth trailed kisses from your lips to your jaw.

“’s good you said yes,” you murmured between kisses, breath hitching as his tongue flicked against your pulse, “because…I already cut you a key.”

He froze just slightly—only to chuckle lowly against your skin, lips brushing your throat. “I know,” voice rough with laughter. “Saw it in your bag last week.”

You pulled back, startled. “You what?”

Sirius grinned, impossibly smug, the kind of wolfish, pleased smile that could undo you far more than anything he’d just done with his hands. “Meant to be a surprise, was it?”

The glare you gave him was weak at best, completely undermined by the way your hands were still under his shirt, now dragging lightly against the curve of his ribs.

He laughed again—loud and delighted—before pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss just beneath your ear, hands sliding to the curve of your back, pushing you into him. “Darling, how did you plan on keeping it a secret when I pack your bag every morning?” he asked, his words broken up by soft bites down your neck, tongue soothing the marks he left behind.

But you weren’t listening anymore.

The kisses had gone from teasing to distracting, and you were already breathless again, head tipped back, clutching at his vest as your thighs pulled him even closer.

You didn’t hear the car pulling around the corner.

Didn’t hear the idle screech of tyres over gravel. Or the distant clunk of the garage door as it creaked open.

Not until your eyes flicked sideways—catching a figure in your peripheral vision. A tall silhouette. Familiar glasses. Wide eyes.

A scream caught in your throat—coming out more like a shocked gasp, a strangled noise as you jolted as your entire body tensed—squeezing Sirius into a startle—nearly losing his footing as he spun around—arms coming up defensively like he thought someone had come to attack you.

Instead, there stood James Potter.

Frozen in the open doorway of the garage.

A bottle of wine dangling uselessly from one hand, and the most horrified, scandalised, absolutely floored expression etched across his face. His jaw hung open. Eyebrows nearly in his hairline. He looked like he’d walked in on a crime scene.

Sirius blinked, chest heaving, hair disheveled. “Prongs?”

His eyes landed on you first: flushed cheeks, bruised lips, a fresh bandage on your forehead, sitting on the bloody workbench like you'd been carefully laid out and devoured. His jaw all but fell off its hinges—finger point at Sirius as his eyes darted between the two of you.

James’ mouth opened and closed. Then opened again—arms lifting as he pointed furiously at Sirius. “What have you—what did you do to her?!”

Sirius opened his mouth to reply, utterly unrepentant, but James was already in melt-down mode, voice pitching as the dots connected in his head.

“This—you’re, I—”A slow, disbelieving exhale escapes his lips. “No,” he says finally, softly, like he’s trying to convince himself. “No, nope. I’m not seeing this.”

You scramble a bit—pushing Sirius out from where he was slotted between your legs, hands tugging your shirt straight. “James, I—”

He cuts you off. “No.” He looks at you, expression unreadable—turning his sights on Sirius, who was rather unbothered considering how unbecoming the entire situation was.

“She’s injured, Sirius. Injured. And you’re—what—ravaging my friend in your greasy murder garage?” His voice cracked halfway through the sentence.

“I was being gentle,”

Sirius shrugged with a light tone, dodging the nudge of your elbow that he knew was coming—and James nostrils flared slightly, like he’s biting down a thousand words.

Maybe you should have stayed silent—let Sirius deal with him, but you didn’t—words muttered beneath your breath, “He’s—he was patching me up?”

Sirius looked like he was biting his cheek to keep from laughing.

James gaped at you, expression mixed between disbelief and confusion “Right. Is that what we’re calling it!?”

You and Sirius stand in silence for a moment, his hand sliding around your waist again. And James drags a hand down his face again, throwing his hands in the air as he spun on his heel, already walking out.

“I don’t even wanna know anymore. I—I need a drink.”

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leviismybby · 10 months ago

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You smile as you hear the noises coming from the living room, you were cooking dinner while Levi watched over your little one. The happy giggles and babbels from your daughter and a few quiet chuckles from your husband filled you with happiness. Levi sits on the sofa with you daughter in his lap and a fuzzy teddy bear in his hand as he bops the baby's nose and tickles her with it. Little chubby hands reach for the stuffed animal, a gummy smile spreading on her face as Levi moves the teddy closer. He watches his daughter the whole time, a slight smile on his face, it was beyond what he asked for, despite all the scars and things he has seen, it was all worth it in the end for you and her.

Cleaning your hands you let the food to boil and go check up on Levi and your baby. The sight makes you melt, you lean on the doorway watching how gentle your husband is with your daughter. Levi catches your gaze, his attention turning to you. "Dinner done?" He asks, despite his best efforts to keep his voice indifferent, his tone is soft. "No not yet..." You walk closer watching the baby in his lap, she turns her little head, an excited squeal leaving her as she spots you. "..you're so good with her." Your hands lands on his shoulder and you squeeze, showing a little affection. His gaze returns to your daughter, he doesn't say anything as he runs his fingers through the baby's black hair. "I don't know what I did to desrve either of you." A gentle smile comes to your lips. "You deserved this more than anyone."

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ihops-golden-closet · 1 year ago

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How To Care For A Bunny 101

Pairing: Jungkook x Bunny Hybrid Reader, mentions of Dog Hybrid Jimin x Bunny Hybrid Reader

Genre: Domestic, Smut, Fluff, a little bit of angst, mentions of the past, a little bit of sliding timelines

Rating: 18+

Summary: You were head over heels for your owner but you always buried your feelings in fear of damaging your relationship with Jungkook. Unbeknownst to you, Jungkook was also in the exact same predicament. After you experience your heat for the first time, Jungkook decides it's finally time for him to come clean.

Author's Note: Hello! This is the first piece of work that I am uploading to this site. I hope I don't scare anyone off of here. A bit of a warning but there is a bit of a sliding timeline here. If this gets confusing, I would appreciate the feedback. If you liked this story, please leave a like and give my blog a follow! I would really appreciate it!

Italics=Past

Clutching the stuffed animal closer to your body, you watched as the alarm clock struck midnight. It’s been over an hour since the tattoo shop that your owner works at was supposed to close but Jungkook has yet to arrive home. The stuffed toy, which you affectionately named Cooky, was a birthday gift your owner had gotten you. In times when you feel lonely, such as this one, Cooky provides some comfort but you would rather be cuddled up in Jungkook’s arms as he lulled you to sleep with his gentle singing.

It didn’t take long for you to fall head over heels for Jungkook after you started living with him. How could you not? Jungkook was everything a girl could want. He was sweet, had the voice of an angel, attractive (although you always felt too shy to tell him that), and cherished every moment he spent with you among other things. Most importantly, he cared for you, a feeling you were robbed of growing up in that wretched hybrid care center you used to call home.

You don’t think of your past home as much as you used to. Preferring the memories you make now with your loving owner than the lonely ones back at your old home. It was at this bunny hybrid care center that you could recall your earliest memories. It was there where you were raised by the facility’s caretakers and received your education, making a few casual friends along the way. As kind as some of your caretakers were, you never grew as close to any, at least not in the way you did with Jungkook. They often never stayed long to form that kind of connection anyway. It wasn’t the best place for a child, the facility not receiving as much funding as it should to properly care for its residents. You often felt alone. You had some friends but for the most part, you missed out on forming deep and meaningful bonds.

You didn’t get adopted as a kid. Most families preferred to adopt hybrids when they were still very young. But you aged out of the preferred age bracket and eventually came to the realization that finding another home might as well be impossible. Hybrids who chose to stay could work for the center in exchange for basic housing and money (albeit a poor wage). With nowhere else to go, you really had no other option.

That was up until Jungkook came into your life.

It was never Jungkook’s intention to adopt a hybrid. He had only come to your residence to accompany his friend Eunwoo. Eunwoo already had his own hybrid at home but wanted to adopt another one as a companion. It was on that day that Jungkook met you for the first time.

He first came across you doodling on your sketchbook at the care center’s living room area. You were curled up in a huge chair besides the room’s massive window. He even remembered exactly what you wore that day because of how cute he thought you looked. A fluffy oversized sweater and some fuzzy socks. You were so focused on your work that you took no notice of the buzz around you.

“She’s cute, isn’t she?”, Eunwoo quipped from behind Jungkook, snapping the other out of his staring daze.

“Y-yeah, she is”, Jungkook choked, feeling sheepish at being caught, “have you seen her yet?”

“No, but I’d like to get to know her”, Eunwoo shrugged, “maybe she’d be a good match for my Hana.”

After asking around a bit, Eunwoo was able to land a meet session with you that same day. He just wanted to get to know you better, see if you’d be a good match for his own hybrid at home. Being that Jungkook was already there, he stuck around for the meeting. Although if he was being honest, he was curious about you too.

“I like your body art.”

“Body art?”, Jungkook asked, “you mean my tattoos?”

“Oh I meant tattoos! Sorry! ”, you quickly apologized, embarrassed at your own mistake. You have seen tattoos before in magazines and in movies but didn’t know what to call them.

“No worries, I knew what you meant”, Jungkook laughed, “wanna see them?”

“Sure!”

Jungkook giggled at your enthusiasm before removing his jacket. You blushed at the sight of his well defined biceps decorated with numerous tattoos. His body itself was it’s own work of art. The next couple of minutes were spent with you gushing over how cool Jungkook’s tattoos looked, curious to find out the meaning and detail behind every one of them. Jungkook doesn’t think he has ever met anyone as excited about tattoos as you were, especially with how innocent he thought you looked.

Although the session was meant for Eunwoo to get to know you better, he ended up basically being third wheeled for the remainder of the enthusiastic exchange between the two of you. It didn’t bother him however, it was pretty amusing watching his friend of over a decade turn into a pile of putty in front him.

“She seems smitten with you”, Eunwoo commented over his steaming cup of coffee.

After the session was over, Eunwoo had let the staff know that he needed more time to think it over before adopting you. Both he and Jungkook deciding to stop at a cafe close by after the ordeal.

“What do you mean?”, Jungkook replied over his own iced americano.

Eunwoo shrugged before taking a sip of his own drink, “have you ever thought about adopting a hybrid?”

“No.”

It was true, it had never really crossed Jungkook’s mind before. He knows of people who have, and from his perspective, it seems like a huge hassle. There are specific diets, expensive medical visits, the dreaded heat spells, and who knows how many more complications out there.

“Well if you ever change your mind, I know a cute one.”

Being a new and relatively inexperienced owner, Jungkook missed all red flags of your impending first heat. You were extra affectionate and clingy. Not that it bothered him at all. He loved basking in the extra attention and affection you provided, chalking it up to you simply missing him due to the heavy work schedule he had that week.

Then it was the restlessness. Just before he left for work or to run errands in the morning, he would stop by your room to check up on you only you find you still awake from the night before with red eyes and a tired face. The lack of sleep was an immediate cause of concern in his eyes. He thought it warranted a doctor’s visit but you insisted that it was nothing to worry about and it was all caused by you staying up late to play games on your computer. His instincts told him it was something else but he took your word for it anyway and decided to wait and see if your sleep improved.

He finally dragged you to see the doctor after your restlessness only worsened and you started to complain of hot flashes. You tried to brush that off with different excuses as well but nothing you said this time was going to stop this doctor’s visit from happening.

“She’s experiencing her first heat.”

Jungkook nearly chocked on his own salvia upon hearing those words come out the doctor so nonchalantly, as if it wasn’t that big of a deal. It hadn’t even been 5 minutes since Jungkook described your symptoms to the middle aged woman before she already had a diagnosis.

“Are you sure? I mean, the symptoms are kind of broad, could it not be an indiction of something else?”

“I’m positive”, she left out a laugh and adjusted her glasses, “I see it all the time. Besides, she’s due for one. I’d be more concerned if she hadn’t experience her heat yet.”

Jungkook chewed his lip. He had researched your symptoms on his own and found that your symptoms marked all the signs of a hybrid heat but he had just wanted to make sure. He felt his heart drop as he remembered all the posts recommending hybrids go through their heats with other hybrids.

“I see…she’s going to need a hybrid partner, right?”

“Ideally, yes. However, any partner will do so long as she has her needs met. Whether you decide to find her a hybrid partner or assist her yourself is going to be something for you and her to decide.”

As much as he despised the idea of another man touching you, Jungkook knew that he had to set his feelings aside and do what’s best for you. He didn’t want to take advantage of your instincts.

He knew of another hybrid like you who could help you through your heat. Jimin, a dog hybrid, was his coworker and one of his closest friends. Many businesses actively discriminate against hybrids and typically don’t hire them but Seokjin had known Jimin for a while and knew it’d be silly to pass out on a valuable employee because he happened to have ears and a fluffy tail. Most customers loved Jimin anyway because of his charm and skills, few ever turned him away for his hybrid status.

He feels uneasy at the prospect of asking Jimin if he would be willing to help you with such an intimate activity but he knew he could trust Jimin. Sex between hybrids is almost always done for instinctual needs and intimacy isn’t an aspect typically involved but Jungkook can’t help but feel his stomach churn at the thought.

“I’ll do it.”

Jungkook felt his heart drop a bit. Theoretically, he should be thankful that Jimin didn’t outright turn on him or even worse, cut all contact with him then and there. But still, part of him had hoped for a little more resistance from the hybrid.

“A-are you sure?”, Jungkook hopes Jimin doesn’t catch on to the reluctance in his voice.

“Yeah, I mean, why not? I know how much of a pain heats are, especially when you don’t have a partner to help you out. She’s really lucky to have an owner like you who looks out for these kinds of things Kook.”

Jungkook didn’t speak to Jimin for a couple of days after that night. He knew it was a wrong and shitty thing to do but he couldn’t stomach any sort of interaction with him. Every time he looked at Jimin, the image of you beneath him crossed his mind and it haunted him. It’s not like he was mad or upset with Jimin. Jungkook was the one who had asked him for his help after all. He just needs some time to forget the whole thing. As much as Jungkook tried to not show how bothered he was by the whole ordeal, the others quickly caught on to the change in his character. He didn’t joke around or engage with the others as much as he used to.

After the tension between them became too unbearable for Jimin to handle, Jimin decided to finally confront Jungkook privately. He wanted to catch Jungkook at closing hour as soon as the others left but he’s not too sure how that’s going to work out considering Jungkook is almost always the first to leave these days. Jimin knows that was surely in an effort to avoid him since Jimin had to almost drag Jungkook out of the parlor after closing before. Fortunately for him, Jungkook had forgotten a few of his belongings back in the parlor so he had no choice but to come back and retrieve them.

Jimin was just about done sweeping up the place when he heard the unlocking of the parlor’s door. There stood Jungkook, who looked like a deer caught under headlights as soon as he met Jimin’s stare.

“H-hey”, Jungkook could feel his hands start to get clammy as soon as he realized he was alone with Jimin, “I just realized I left some of my stuff here so I came back to pick them up.”

“Oh yea, no problem. I left them on the counter in the back”, Jimin quipped. Despite not confronting him yet, Jimin already started to feel awkward.

Jungkook bolted for the door as soon as he had grabbed all his things. He was only a few steps away from the exit when Jimin made his move.

“Jungkook, wait.”

Shit.

“Yes hyung?”, Jungkook had inched towards the door, resting his hand on the handle but he had turned around to reply to Jimin anyways.

“We should talk.”

Despite trying to avoid the situation altogether, Jungkook knew this would inevitably happen. It was difficult for him to completely hide the change in his character altogether. Jimin was also a sensitive guy by nature, he knew Jimin could feel the tension in the room become impalpable when they were together.

Jungkook let out an awkward cough before speaking, “sure, what’s on your mind?”

He could have replied that he had somewhere to be and spared himself from the conversation at hand but he already felt like a piece of shit for avoiding Jimin. This was the least he could do.

Jimin sighed. How does one even start a conversation like this?

“Well…to be honest, I just feel like something’s changed between us”, Jimin let the words flow out, it’s too late to go back now, “I don’t if you been trying to avoid me lately but that’s the impression I’m getting. I just wanted to know…if I did something wrong or something?"

“N-no”, Jungkook suddenly felt extremely guilty, “of course not hyung. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Jimin knew Jungkook was still hiding something, so he pressed further, “but something’s definitely bothering you Kook, I can tell. You know you could always tell me right? I won’t be hurt or offended.”

Jungkook sighed, he going to have to come clean for Jimin’s sake, “it’s not you hyung. Really. It’s me.”

Setting his stuff down, Jungkook decided to tell finally tell someone what was on his mind.

“I’m sorry for avoiding you. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just that…after that night between you and Y/N…I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Jungkook started trailing off again, he wanted to Jimin his true feelings but the words just keep getting lodged in his throat. Jimin was relieved to hear that he didn’t fuck up his and Jungkook’s relationship but it still bothered him to see Jungkook look so down. He’s been close friends with Jungkook for so long now that Jungkook is practically like a little brother to him. Even if Jimin isn’t the reason for change in Jungkook’s character, he’s still going to help him in any way he can.

“What do you mean? Is Y/N still in pain?”

“No”, Jungkook quickly interjected, “she’s ok now, what I’m trying to say is that this is more about me than it is her.”

Jimin thinks be beginning to understand now.

“I love her hyung and not in a way that an owner should be with their hybrid,” Jungkook felt a huge weight lift off his shoulders as he began to pour out the feelings he had bottled up inside for so long, “you did nothing wrong. I’m not mad at you or anything. I just feel… hurt and jealous about the whole thing. I know it’s a shitty thing to be feeling that way but everytime I’m with you…all I can think about is you and Y/N, well y’know.”

Oh. Jimin had a small hunch about what was really going on but he never thought that Jungkook would actually come to him and confirm it. Jimin felt like shit. He was just now starting to understand just how deep Jungkook’s feelings for you ran and he had jumped in and ruined it. Jimin felt as if he had betrayed his own brother.

“Jungkook, you have to tell Y/N.”

Jungkook’s eyes doubled in size at Jimin’s word of advice. How could he tell you something like that? What if you don’t feel the same and it totally ruins your relationship? He couldn’t burden you with something like that.

“Hyung, I’m not sure if that’s a good idea-”, Jungkook started but Jimin quickly interjected.

“You can’t carry this burden forever. And Y/N deserves to know the truth. How do you know she doesn’t feel the same way if you don’t confess how you truly feel? You have to trust her.”

Jungkook understood what Jimin was getting to. His feelings were getting in the way of his relationship with you and Jimin. He had to tell you how he truly felt so he could finally let this burden go.

He just hoped you felt the same way.

Jungkook didn’t say another word as he walked up to the dog hybrid and wrapped his arms around him in a tight embrace. He was just glad that his relationship with Jimin could be salvaged. As vulnerable as he feels right now, it felt good for Jungkook to open up and have this talk.

“It’s going to be okay Kook”, Jimin reciprocated the younger man’s embrace, he’s grateful that Jungkook could be honest with him.

“I’m so sorry hyung for everything, I hope you can forgive me”, Jungkook felt guilty for making Jimin believe he did something wrong. He’s doesn’t deserve to have someone as kind and understanding as Jimin as a friend.

Jimin chuckled, patting Jungkook on the pat, he reassured him, “it’s ok Jungkook, I understand. That’s something hard to go through, especially when you bottle up those feelings and keep them to yourself. Everything’s gonna be ok.”

Jungkook’s been with a few girls here and there but his relationships never latest for more than a few dates. Not after they would find out about you. Of course, when the topic would inevitably come up, Jungkook always insisted that his relationship with you was strictly familiar. Most of the time, it would work in qwelling any relationship doubts but only temporarily. It was impossible to miss how Jungkook’s eyes would light up when you walked into the room, the attentiveness he displayed everytime you spoke, or the sweet smile and giggle he gave you when you said something funny.

Jungkook could feel himself start to feel nervous again as he fumbled with the front’s door to his apartment. Either you would awake and waiting for him (it’s a cute little habit of yours to always wait for him after work to greet him, no matter how late) or you would be snuggled up on the sofa fast asleep if you couldn’t suppress your sleepiness long enough to see him.

Jungkook finally opened the door only to be greeted to the sight of you quietly asleep on the softa. He felt his heart melt at how peaceful and gentle you looked snuggled up under the heavy pink blanket. Your face was just barely peeking out of the covers as was your favorite stuffed animal Cooky.

The conversation would have to wait until tomorrow.

Quickly locking the door behind him, Jungkook was quiet as he set his things away as to not to disturb your slumber. In times that you would fall asleep on the couch, you would wake up and find yourself in your room again. Jungkook moving you back to your bedroom the night before. As peaceful as you looked, Jungkook figured the couch probably wasn’t as comfortable as your mattress.

After Jungkook finished setting his things away, the first thing he did was pick you up as gently as possible from the couch. Being mindful of not making too much noise and making sure he brought Cooky with you, he swiftly moved you from the couch into your bedroom as if you weighed nothing. He’d get ready for bed after he moved you.

Jungkook had just set you down on your bed when he felt you stirring beneath him. Shit. He must have awoken you during the procress.

“Kook?”, you said in a voice heavy in sleep, “that you?”

“Yeah Bun, I’m just moving you”, Jungkook replied, almost whispering, “sorry for waking you, I’ll be leaving now, ‘kay?”

“Wait no, don’t go yet Kook”, you were fully awake now, you grabbed Jungkook’s hand in a weak attempt to get him to stay, “how was work?”

“It was great. Lots of clients”, Jungkook shrugged, moving to sit next to you on the bed, “you sure you don’t want me to leave so you could go to sleep baby?”

“Nah, I’m ok”, you replied with a shake of your head, “I’m fully awake now, see? Don’t worry ‘bout me. Why’d you come home so late? Was it really that busy today?”

“N-no. I just forgot some things at the parlor so I had to go back. Then me and Jimin talked for a bit about something important…”

“Oh?”, you sat up now, using your elbows to prop yourself up from the bed, “what about?”

Suddenly, the world started to feel like it was slowing down to a stop. Jungkook felt extremely vulnerable again under your curious gaze. Even more so than when he was with Jimin. He can’t recall if he ever felt as nervous and as clammy as he did right now. Can he really go through with this?

“Y/N…there’s something important that I’ve been meaning to tell you for awhile now but I never had the courage to say it.”

“Yeah?”, you fully sat up now, feeling your heart speed up now in anticipation at what Jungkook had to say, “what is it Kook?”

Jungkook sighed. Why did this have to be so difficult?

“Y/N, the reason why I stayed up so late was because I told Jimin the truth about how I felt. About that night between you and Jimin. About you.”

Jungkook was gnawing at his bottom lip now, it was too late to go back now. He had your attention completely. He felt like a 12 year old boy confessing to his crush for the first time. His heart could burst out of his chest at any second now.

“The truth is”, Jungkook took a second to clear his throat before he continued, “I’ve loved you for a long time now. I’m in love with you and I know as an owner I shouldn’t feel- hmph”

Without thinking, you pressed your lips to Jungkook’s, cutting him off before he could finish his sentence. It wasn’t lustful or needy but a delicate kiss. For a second, Jungkook froze. Your lips were softer than he had imagined. You two locked lips for what seemed like forever before you gently pulled away to properly respond to Jungkook’s confession.

“I’m happy to hear that Kook because for the longest time now, I’ve loved you too. I was also scared to tell you because I didn’t know if you felt the same or not. I didn’t want to make you feel awkward in your own home. To be honest, I’ve always tried to hide my feelings but I knew I couldn’t ignore them anymore when you brought another girl here for the first time. It was that client from your work, remember? I felt so jealous that I cried that night. I don’t think I can handle seeing you with anybody else.”

Was this really happening or were you still dreaming? Even if this was a dream, you didn’t want to wake up. Not yet.

Jungkook felt the massive pressure he had carried with him for so long just dissipate in an instant. It was just like all his worries and doubts had been flushed out of his system. You loved him back. Not just in a familiar sort of way but you were in love with him too.

“Ok, I won’t ever bring another girl home again, I promise.”

Jungkook couldn’t help himself but slowly smile at your cute confession of jealously, who knew you were so possessive?

“Kook, why didn’t you help me with my heat?”

Jungkook chewed at his lip again, not knowing how to best respond, “It just didn’t feel right for me as your owner and a human to use your natural instincts as an excuse to have sex with you. I just wanted to do what was best for you and so I fiigured finding you another hybrid as a partner would be the best course of action.”

“You wouldn’t have taken advantage of me Kook, I may be a hybrid but I have enough control to know what I’m doing”, you reassured Jungkook. You were finally glad to hear that Jungkook didn’t offer himself as a partner to you because he felt unsure of himself and not because he didn’t want to be your mate, “Jiminnie… he’s nice but…I wanted you to help me.”

“Hmm, is it too late for me to take care of my baby girl?”

Maybe it was low or the raspy tone in his voice, but his words immediately made you squirm.

Taking your hands in his larger ones, he brought your hand up to his face, tentatively leaving tender kisses on your fingertips. Its little actions like this that turned you into a pile of putty in front of him.

“Mhm”, you inched closer to him, practically purring your next words, ”I mean, it’s not too late at all, please mate with me Kook.”

You didn’t have to ask him twice, his lips were already back on yours at your command. Unlike your first kiss, this one quickly turned into one laced with pure lust. You moaned as you felt Jungkook’s tongue slip inside your own mouth before exploring everything he could.

Breaking the kiss, Jungkook leaned back and took a couple of seconds to take you in. Here you were, beneath him and in desperate need of his touch. Even in this state you were beautiful, your hair was fanned out, eyes glossy and heavy, and your lips were parted as you let out short breaths.

In Jungkook’s attempt to better re-adjust his position to where he was hovering above you, his rapidly inflating shaft had unintentionally made contact with your clothed pussy. You moaned as you felt him rapidly stiffening under your touch.

“What do you need from me baby?”, Jungkook’s voice was laced with pure lust, “No need to be shy now, I’m all yours.”

“Want you to touch me here”, taking his hand in yours, you trailed it down to your body right down to your cunt. Your wetness had soaked through the fabric and although you couldn’t see yourself, you knew you had surely left a huge stain.

You shuddered as you felt Jungkook’s larger hands finally reach the place you most wanted them.

“We just started and you already made a huge mess Bun”, Jungkook teased as he slipped his hand beneath the band of your panties. He could your slick immediately coat his fingers as he rubbed lazy circles around the sensitive flesh.

Before you could respond, Jungkook slipped his finger inside you. You were already so wet that the action brough no discomfort.

“Hngh”, you squimed at the sensation of Jungkook fully immersing a digit in you. Jungkook watched your face scrunch up in pleasure as he slipped yet another digit inside. Using his free thumb to rub small circles on your numb, Jungkook began to slowly pump his fingers in and out of you. He curled them slightly to fuck you at a more pleasurable angle. He only had two digits in you and yet your cunt was already squeezing tightly around him. When he moved his fingers out, he could feel your pussy try to suck them back in.

“So tight around my fingers,” Jungkook spoke, moaning at his own words,”How are you gonna handle a cock stuffed inside you, baby?”

“Mhm, I c-can handle it.”

You suddenly felt Jungkook slip his fingers out of you, instantly letting out a whine at the loss of him inside you.

“Don’t worry bunny”, Jungkook laughed at your adorable whine, “we’re not done yet.”

Jungkook pulled back, now moving himself down your body to bring himself closer to your quivering core. He was pleased to find a huge wet stain decorating the front of your panties as he gently tugged you pajamas off of you. You lifted your hips slightly so Jungkook could fully remove your pajamas off of you. After discarding your pajamas somewhere on the floor, Jungkook leaned his face in to hover over where you desperately wanted him before placing a gentle kiss through the fabric.

Hooking his fingers on the sides of your panties, he slowly peeled the fabric off, taking every second of the view. Once again, you slightly lifted your hips to assit him with taking the wet fabric off. You shuddered as you felt the cool air hit your exposed core.

As much as he wanted to take in more of the gorgeous view in front of him, Jungkook decided not to waste time any longer and lowered himself until his face was mere centimeters from your pussy. You smelled as divine as you looked. Tentatively, he placed another soft kiss on your folds before licking a strip.

You mewled at his actions, earning a hum of satisfaction from him.

“That felt good huh baby?”, he chucked from in-between your legs. Slipping his hands beneath your thighs, Jungkook hoisted them over his shoulders to give himself better access to your clenching pussy.

“Mhm, want more of it Kook”, you muttered breathlessly.

Only this time, instead of going straight for your needy cunt, Jungkook opted for a bit more foreplay to prepare you. He placed a few more gentle kisses on the surrounding flesh of your core. Very gently, he bit and sucked on a few areas, leaving behind the faint marks of hickies in some places.

“Kook, p-please”, you were practically muttering to yourself at this point. Diving your fingers down to your pussy, you parted your lips to show Jungkook exactly where you needed him, “touch me here.”

Jungkook chuckled at your needy request, “since my princess asked so nicely...”

He dove straight to your pussy, his mouth covering the slick flesh. Jungkook wasted no time in attacking your pussy with his tongue and lapped at the slick pouring out your wet hole. A wave of pleasure washed down your entire body. It’s like you were experiencing your heat all over again only this time Jungkook was the cure.

Jungkook’s free hand came down to rub gentle circles around your clit as his tongue continued it’s assault on your cunt. With just a few more laps, you came completely undone. Your thighs began to shake as you rode off your orgasm with Jungkook’s tongue still buried in your pussy. Jungkook ensured that not a single drop of your juices went to waste.

With your orgasm fully washing over you, Jungkook pulled away to give you a few moments to let your body calm down. His hard cock was now digging through the fabric of his jeans and his balls heavy from neglect. Never had he given himself blue balls from a sight as beautiful as this before. Catching your breath again, you felt a vivid shade of pink dust your cheeks as you caught on to Jungkook’s dilemma.

Jungkook’s hard cock sprung out from his pants the instant he peeled them off. You moaned at the sight, your thighs instantly spreading a little farther as Jungkook wasted no time in getting inbetween your legs. He looked down at you with his pupils blown out in lust as he stroked his throbbing cock.

“Ready, baby?” You nodded furiously, almost forgetting your own voice. All you could focus on was Jungkook’s throbbing cock so close to your pussy. Jungkook took notice and decided that you suffered enough to keep teasing you. Hoisting your thighs and pulling you close to his lap, Jungkook proceeded to run the tip of his cock up and down your slit. You squirmed at the sensation, instinctively pushing yourself closer to what you needed.

“So impatient”, Jungkook let out a small laugh, though truthfully, he himself couldn’t wait much longer. You felt the air in your lungs disappear as Jungkook gently slowly pushed the tip of cock inside you.

“F-fuck”, Jungkook grunted, bottoming completely inside you. Your walls were squeezing his cock deliciously but he resisted the urge to fuck you. You were clearly still trying to adjust to his size, your face cutely screwed up in a mix of pleasure and slight discomfort at Jungkook’s full size inside you.

Jungkook took a moment to drink in the beautiful sight of you beneath him, taking him in completely. It’s like you were made for him.

The initial discomfort of Jungkook’s cock buried inside you was quickly fading into pure bliss. You started to wiggled your hips a little, trying to fuck yourself on his cock, desperate to find the relief you were looking for.

“Fuck, you know how fucking cute you are, right?”, Jungkook leaned down to peck your lips, “you’re so good for me.”

“M-move Kook, puh-please”, you stuttered, too far gone in the absolutely euphoria you were experiencing.

Taking your word, Jungkook began moving his hips in a steady rhythm. He too became increasingly more vocal the more he fucked you. He was entranced with the sight before him. Whether it was the way your breasts bounced with every thrust he made, the sight of his cock disappearing in and out of your tight pussy, or your face screwed up in pure bliss. He didn’t know where to look.

Unbeknownst to Jungkook, you too were just as entranced at the sight before you as he was. You don’t think you can ever get enough of the sight of Jungkook’s cock sliding in and out your cunt.

You racked your hands up Jungkook’s abs and chest before wrapping them around his neck, instantly pulling him a little closer to you.

You always admired Jungkook’s well defined abs, he had the physique of a greek god. You remembered the first time you caught a glimpse of his hard abs and how weak in the knees it made you. Jungkook had just come out of shower with only a pair of sweats on. You were in the living room, buried in a book when he strotted into the kitchen to grab a bottle water. You remembered blushing furiously as you tried to hide your face behind your book before he could catch you staring. Since then, you dreamt of feeling his abs beneath your fingertips.

Once again, you felt your breath hitched in your throat as Jungkook leaned his face only a few centimeters away from yours. He was now resting himself on his forearms from above you. Your heart was beating in your ears now from how close his face was to yours. You could feel his warm breath on your skin and you could count every eyelash as he fluttered

Catching you by surprise, Jungkook pressed his lips onto yours, snaking his tongue into your mouth. As he pulled away, a thin string of salivia connected you two.

“How could I have been such a fucking idiot to let another man have you like this?”

“M-mhm, no need to worry Kook”, as fucked out as you were right now, you managed to pull yourself together to give him a coherent reply, “a-am all yours..”

Jungkook felt his heart swell with pride in his own chest at your declaration, “and I yours, bunny.”

With each thrust hitting you in your sweet spot, you inched closer to that familiar sensation. Jungkook too could tell that you were getting close, evident by your pussy clenching more sporadically around his cock. Griping the sheets beneath you, you started babbling pleas and cries for more almost incoherently as you felt yourself getting closer and closer.

Re-adjusting his position, Jungkook now sat up and griped your hips as he began fucking you faster and at a deeper position.

“C’mon, bunny”, Jungkook grunted, he too was unsure how much longer he’d be able to last, “Cream all over my cock.”

It was Jungkook’s words that finally edged you to your high. You felt your eyes squeeze shut as you screamed in pure bliss, muscles contracting as you finally felt the relief that your body had been begging for wash over you.

It was a glorious sight, really, watching you lose yourself beneath him. You were milking his cock for all he was worth and he could feel himself start to lose himself as well. You could feel it too, his thrusts gradually becoming more shallow and losing their rthymtic pace. Locking your arms around his neck, you leaned forward to pepper kisses on his jawline.

“Come in me, Kook”, you whispered softly, batting your eyelashes at him, “wanna feel you.”

Not a second longer passed by and Jungkook’s warm seed was spilling inside you, filling you up completely. The world around you seemed to slow down and you drew dizzy at how full you felt in the moment.

Slowing down his pace to a stop, you felt Jungkook lay himself to rest behind you. Still partially buried inside your hole, he wrapped his arm around your tummy, pulling you snug to his chest. For a few moments, the two of you laid like this, just caught up in the moment and trying to catch each other's breath.

“You good now, bunny?”, Jungkook asked, finally breaking the silence. You replied with a hum of satisfaction, buring your head deeper in his chest, you could hear his rapidly beating heartbeat slow down a bit.

Feeling you relax beneath him, Jungkook slid his cock out from your trembling pussy. A conconation of his semen and your juices instantly squelching out. You whined at the loss of him and at the sensation of your juices running down your hole.

Grabbing a few tissues from the side of your bed, Jungkook lazily wiped both of you down as to not sully the bed further. Making a mental note to wash your sheets first thing in the morning.

“Jungkook?”

“Yes Bun?”

“Don’t date those other girls anymore, ‘kay?”

Feeling himself melt at your cuteness, Jungkook chuckled before leaning down to kiss you on your forhead.

“Okay, promise I won’t. Not when I have you.”

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