#and the occasional con shots

[seagullcharmer]

watching that totk let's play and thinking abt the dragon costumes....... i know we all love the backless frostbite tunic (and i would genuinely love to cosplay that whole outfit) but then i remembered my abdominal scar and realised i would really love to do the charged outfit.... can you imagine....

[gremlingottoosilly]

What lies within (Tentacle!Monster!Konig x fem!Reader)

It's mating season for monster hybrids. Unfortunately for you, the colonel didn't have time to dump his eggs everywhere. TW and tags: Non-con, size difference, oviposition, monster hybrids, forced breeding, belly bulging, yandere Konig, possessive Konig, tentacles, double penetration. Word count: 3278

The brave new world of opportunities for monsters.

The illustrious life for those who are not afraid of being a hunter in the billion flocks of weak, stupid prey. 

There are endless possibilities for the ones who decide to serve in the various armed forces specifically tailored to monsters. 

And loads of other bullshit that König had to endure every day on the briefs. Propaganda, advertisement, and weak attempts to make a new generation of monster hybrids abandon their old ways and join either army or contracting forces, making them glorified mercenaries. Jaided and disillusioned, the colonel long abandoned the thoughts that service can be fun, that it can bring him something other than money and occasional bullets in various places. 

“Most inclusive workplaces for monsters,” his ass. They were fed bullshit on top of other bullshit, and he is already tired of war – but there isn’t much he can do besides it. The payment is nice, he gets to eat his enemies and tears through entire units of squishy, weak humans who make perfect snacks from their useless fucking bodies. 

— So. Abandoned by your team, ja? 

Unfortunately for him, sometimes war operations meant that he was not supposed to eat prisoners – he was supposed to take them, hoard them into rounds, and send them for either ransom or whatever higher-ups wanted to do with them. Sometimes, it’s torture for information, sometimes, it’s attempts to bring them to their side if they are worth it. 

Sometimes, he just looked in the eyes of a soft, squishy little prey and just couldn’t bring himself to pull the trigger. 

Well…” sometimes” is a very big word. He had never once thought about keeping the POW for himself before he met this stupidly beautiful, soft nurse with a perfect face, nice pair of legs in that ugly baggy uniform, and the most beautiful scent in the entire…

He never thought of keeping the prisoner for himself before he met you. 

It was supposed to be an easy mission for you – he can see it from your lack of normal armor. Either you had no idea that KorTac had their own plans for whatever you wanted to do here, or your contractor is extremely cheap. He likes either way – you smell like a human, and he likes dumb humans who would make perfect victims. You smell and look weak, trembling, perfect fucking pray for someone like him. König didn’t feel the need to transform for this battle. Your team ran away like a bunch of bunnies before he ever fired his first shot, but he could still feel his tentacles slowly stir under his hood. He can feel his body transforming without the need to – and he feels the pressure in his lower stomach. 

When was the last time he was able to put his eggs somewhere other that cold, unforgiving air? 

Even the bagginess of your uniform doesn’t obscure him from looking at the sway of your hips, at the perfect surface of your tummy, and feeling the smell of your ripe, fertile body. Having a strong sense of smell always came like a curse in the team of monsters where showering after a mission isn’t something that is done by many, buy König can appreciate his nose now – he can smell how perfect you are for breeding. How scared, too. 

Poor thing, probably terrified of his. König knows how he looks, even in his human form – tall, broad, bigger than any man you saw before, so much more muscular that even with your military training as a combat nurse, he could still break your spine with one hand. His size is something that made it impossible to find a partner normal ways – monsters are naturally too dominant to ever submit to him, and humans are simply too scared to deal with someone like him. He isn’t surprised, no – if anything, he understands completely. 

You sob, your voice is melting with incomprehensible pleas and little whines. You are shaking under him – a poor, dumb girl who wasn’t aware that her best shot at surviving was to try and shoot his crotch off before he pulled a gun out of your hands. 

— Pl…please, you can’t…you can’t do this! It’s a crime, I was on medical duty, it’s…

König likes humans because they are dumb. Civilian humans are even cuter – run around, thinking their lives are protected by sets of laws and rules that, in fact, don’t apply to the strong – and you, in your full half-military half-civvie glory, are fucking perfect. You whine and sib, tears running down your face when he presses you under him. Your hand hits the hard rocks of the ground, and he shifts slightly, dragging you closer to a softer patch of grass. 

He laughs when you are trying to scramble from under him, your lower half is pinned by his weight – he is surprised you can still move. You move your pelvis, trying to get out – and he moans quietly when you start rubbing your crotch against his. You freeze, fear spreading on your face – god, he missed that feeling. When was the last time he got to actually breed someone? Or even just have sex with someone as cute? 

— You really think so, Schatzen? That rules will protect you? 

He moves his crotch against yours, making you sob a bit more. You’re sweet and compliant, and he just loves breaking soft things like you – it’s a desire to break, to destroy, to make you his. He knows that, technically, forcing himself on women from enemy lines really is a war crime. He also knows that if he’d managed to breed you with his eggs, monster laws would never allow you to separate after mating. 

Besides, it's not like he is going to let you go, so you could tell on him. König never believed in love at first sight, but you would be a perfect vessel for his eggs and his tentacles – what else would he need from a wife, right? 

— You’re pretty. 

He says plainly, his hand goes to rub your chest through the fabric of your uniform. You won’t need those ugly clothes anymore – he’d make sure to buy you something nice and frail that won’t make you too uncomfortable to carry his eggs. Maybe a soft, frail dress or some of those cute maternity clothes when your body starts to change. He can’t wait to see his breasts swelling with milk – even if his unfertilized eggs won’t need it, he certainly would. Even if you’re too weak to handle his load, he’d make sure to get you a nice, firm plug and keep you on his tentacles constantly. 

You start to sob even more when you understand what he is trying to do – when he rips your pants to reveal the softness of your cunt and the fragility of your [anties, you actually manage to push your legs against his dick a good few times. He is too aroused to notice – if anything, he likes how fiery you are, your little yells and loud screams for help. No one will come to aid you – he barked the orders for his soldiers to go and fuck around somewhere else while he was busy devouring his little prize. Colonel doesn’t like having an audience – if anything, he is saving your dignity right now. If anything, he is remarkably soft when he pushes one of his long, red tendrils down your body, massaging your pussy through your panties. 

You’re moist already when his tentacle finds a way to your labia. What a slutty nurse you are – getting off the enemy colonel breeding you in the middle of the battlefield. Your tears mean nothing when he is too busy massaging and pressing and playing with your sticky, puffy folds – poor girl, so deprived of attention that even the weird texture of his extensions only fuels your desire. 

So fragile, so perfect – and so, so wet that your adorable white panties are already become transparent, sticking to your soft pussy. When he takes you home, he’d make sure to forbid you from wearing any underwear at all – you would meet him dressing in nothing but his shirts, a hand on your tummy to support the weight of your eggs. Walls of your pussy clenching on the plug he’d make to insert in you every morning. 

— Don’t…please, don’t, n…

You whine ever so sweetly, trying to close your legs so he won’t be able to touch you. It’s futile, just one of his tendrils is ten times stronger than your hands. He gets through your closed legs, buried in the moistness of your sweet, perfect pussy. You taste heavenly – just one minute enough to make him hungrier than before. König’s mating season was often postponed due to constant adrenaline rushes and things he takes to enhance his battle abilities – but he can feel eggs pressing at the inside of his body now, preparing to be released in the sweet heat of your body. But he has to prepare you first. 

— Quiet now. It won’t hurt unless you want it to. 

His tendrils are coming to moisten your pussy even more – sweet numbness filling your body from the lower stomach and right to your head. Knowing that you must feel dizzy and just a tad bit dumb, König can’t wait but chuckle. He likes you empty-headed, adorable dumbness in your eyes. He knows that he doesn’t know you, that you might even already have a boyfriend on the civil side of your life – but he doesn’t care. His mind doesn’t easily fall for just anyone,  but if he saw a perfect vessel in you, there is no escape. At least he is nice enough to be gentle. 

You whimper slightly when he pushes the first tendril inside of you. Too impatient to use his hands or tongue to make you feel a bit more at ease – after all, you are still on the battlefield, even if your friends abandoned you to get picked up by KorTac. Too impatient to soothe you with his words, he uses one of his smaller, thinner tentacles to push your pussy walls, make you squeeze him and milk for all his worth. You are wet, but not enough to take him without crying. Hot and soft, the cold texture of his extensions contrasts with your body too much – you are shaking, he can feel slight vibrations at the soft walls of yours. 

Fitting him like a glove, too perfect to exist – he just wants to take you with him, to flip you on your tummy and push all of his tentacles inside. You’re tight and warm, you make him go crazy from desire. It’s weird how a strong and mighty colonel can be so charmed by just some enemy nurse, but when you whine slightly and try to adjust your body to fit more comfortably under him, he just knows that he has to take you. That, no matter how much you are crying and praying for him to stop, you want to be used by him. Perhaps, with certain training, you would want his eggs, too. 

Second tendril caught you by surprise. Just when you started to adjust to the weird, slimy feeling of something writhing inside of you, spreading your tight walls around it and clashing with the heat of your insides, a second, bigger one started to press on your clenched folds. You wanted to beg, to ask him to stop – you’re too tight for this, too small, you would never be able to take even just one of his tentacles, you were…

But his tendrils press easily, he accesses lube spreading between your legs. You are sobbing from the feeling, and he is laughing. His hand goes to rip the upper part of your clothing, revealing your midriff. Fingers pressing on your tummy, just to feel his tentacles inside – he laughs when the skin of your stomach is tensed up, revealing the outlines of his extension. God, he can’t wait to make your body swell from him. Even though the eggs are not bearing his children, he can imagine you and a bunch of little ones – you’d look much better like this than pretending to be a nurse. Honestly, what were you even trying to do on the battlefield? 

— Stay still, ja? 

— Too much! Please, n…no more…

— Poor thing. You’ll feel so much better after I add the third one. 

He knows that he is overstepping a bit, that your body isn’t used to taking something as big as his tentacles – but König also knows that his pre-cum makes you feel dizzy warm. Acting like a natural aphrodisiac, you won't be able to resist relaxing under him. The lubricant is enough to allow his other tentacle to force himself in your ass – he isn’t going to breed that hole yet, but it doesn't mean that he can’t use it. 

He groans loudly when your asshole clenches around him – he had to stretch you quite a bit, that sweet numbness of his precum isn’t making you relaxed enough to take him whole, but he is managing, one agonizing centimeter after another. At the point you’re out of breath, with your face all flushed, he already knows he fucking won – he knows that you, poor, fragile thing, isn’t going anywhere. He would say that he feels horrible about forcing you like this – but this is the start of a new, better life for you. Being the bride of a monster of his rank is a dream for any lowly human like you. Can go as far as to say you’re lucky he ever laid his eyes on you. 

— Stop, please…’s too much. 

— You feel good, Katzen. Relax, and you’ll be even better. 

— I don’t…please, just let me go, I…

— Is this your first time with a monster? 

— Yes. 

— Gut. Would break you in for me. 

He laughs at your whimpers, his hand goes to cradle your face in an almost soft expression. He gently presses his fingers across your skin, making you all nice and warm for him – he wants to kiss you all over, but the only thing he can do in his more monstrous form is to press one of his shorter tentacles against your lips, mocking the way normal people kiss. You sob, but he presses the tip on your mouth, passing it through your teeth – you would feel better after ingesting his pre-cum, can even clench around him so more, chasing your own pleasure. 

König wants you to feel good, so he presses his hand against your face, allowing you to tremble and cry as much as you want. He wants to be nice to you, so his other hand presses on your clit, finding the tense bud and breaking the nothingness between your legs. You tremble even more when he starts to spread your folds around his fingers, both of his tentacles working to milk your holes and spread you as much as possible. 

He whispers sweet nothings in your ear when both of the tendrils working on your pussy suddenly change their direction – they start to spread your walls instead of just fucking it. You feel exposed and vulnerable, he can see the pink flesh and glossiness of your cunt. It’s embarrassing for you, and he knows it – but god, you’re too fucking perfect to pass. 

You don’t even manage to ask him what he is doing when you feel something much larger pressing against your pussy. The biggest of his tentacles – almost as thick as an arm, pushing inside of you. He had a purpose, a desire to do something with you that you could never understand – silly humans know nothing about his biological need to push his eggs somewhere, of course, but you’re just fucking perfect. Too perfect to pass on this opportunity. 

You plead and cry when he presses further, a little bump on your tummy is obvious now, with each centimeter of his tendril pushing. When he finally bottoms inside of you, pressing directly against your cervix, you are too fucked out to even think. 

It’s painful, you think. Three thick tentacles roam inside your pussy, pushing and grinding against your gummy, tight walls – and another one of his extensions in your ass, writhing and massaging your insides. 

It’s pleasurable, you feel. The tentacles are uneven, cold, each little bump makes you cry out from pleasure, the overwhelming feeling is something you could never achieve with a normal dick. He cradles your face and chuckles softly when you moan and cry at the same time when he gently presses his red tendril against your soft lips, and you part them because you don’t want to resist anymore. Because you can’t resist anymore. 

— So good for me. Such a good girl, liked being fucked by the enemy. 

— I don’t like it! He laughs at your misery, pushing his tentacles back only to fuck you harder. He can feel the tension multiply in his stomach – he feels the movement of eggs forming from inside and pushing down the biggest one of his tendrils. 

When you first feel the pressure of an egg in your pussy, you want to scream. 

You scratch on his hands like a wild cat, clenching on him like crazy. If he didn’t see horror and shock on your face, he’d think you wanted him. You are tight, tighter than you were before – your pussy is closing around him, not letting him go, and he can only smile to himself when he feels every little bump sending electric shocks right into your core when you feel his eggs traveling from the start of his tendrils down, to your soft, welcoming womb. 

God, you will look perfect, all swollen and helpless – he can bring you a fucking collar, maybe push you on his lap and parade you as his precious wife for everyone to see. His scent lingers on your body, no matter if you want it or not. Silly human, you try to fight him like you didn’t lose the moment you let him pin your body. So perfect, he thinks of where you were before he found you. How many partners do you have, and how well would you play the role of his little breeding machine.

 He massages your tummy, with each egg taking its place in your womb. Soothes tense skin and whispers sweet promises in your ear when you cry and try to push him away. So perfect, so sweet for him – he doesn’t know the fuck he lived without you. 

When the last egg takes its place, making you bulge from all the weight inside of you, he can finally calm himself down enough to bring his human form partially. When he finally retracted his tentacles from your tired, sensitive body, not forgetting to press against your clit a good few times to prolong your unwanted, exhausting orgasm, he could finally press a kiss on your lips. 

You’re a mess – torn clothes, covered in cum and thick transparent slime, trembling and crying softly. You close your pussy around every one of his eggs like a good girl, and he knows you would be a perfect mating partner – but god, you need a good shower and soft mattress so he can try to fuck you again in his human form, and steal all the hugs and silly affections he wanted. 

— Will you let me go? 

He laughs, picking you up swiftly. So fragile in his hands, he doesn’t even want to think about letting you roam freely. 

— Of course not, Schatzen. Just get used to it, ja? 

[toxicanonymity]

Non con sex pollen fic where Joel and the reader are waken up in a random room together and he recognizes who you are because he used to be friends with ur dad , he starts begging the people who took them to let him out because the reader isn’t the only person that’s ended up in this situation with him, and then there’s smoke that enters the room but it only has an effect on Joel, if you even decide to turn this into anything can you add oral f receiving pls and do the smut however you want! I’ll love it either way <3 IM SO SORRY ITS ALOT

Lazaretto (sex pollen)

2.6k ONE SHOT / joel x afab!reader / master

Part 2 HERE

WARNINGS: non-con, sex pollen, manhandling, oral f receiving, unsafe P in V sex, anal, reader menstruates. poorly edited. Horror elements apparently lol idk how sex pollen is normally written. 18+

You wake up in a heavy-duty four-wall tent with a burly stranger, both of you in hospital gowns.  You were sedated and you're still groggy when a man in a biohazard suit explains you’re being quarantined in a makeshift lazaretto outside the overcrowded army hospital.  Neither of you were bitten in the chaos earlier, but it’s a precaution.  You'll be monitored for 24 hours, treated with an antifungal fog, then monitored for another 24 hours before they release you.  You sign a release about potential side effects which include psychological and sexual disturbances. 

He doesn’t elaborate, but Joel is clearly disturbed as if it’s not his first time.  

“No,” he says.  “No!" He screams, then begs, "Let me out, or let her out, I don’t care.”

“I’m not authorized to let anyone out.”

“Then put me in my own tent!" 

“I’m afraid we’re far past capacity.  Most units have three.” 

“Can you at least tie me up or somethin’?” 

“I’m afraid not.” 

"Then get me away from her!" 

You're offended and confused.  The quarantine man leaves.  For a while, neither of you talk except to say some variation of, “this is bullshit.”  Joel seems genuinely distressed.  You have your own problems to worry about.  You’re at the tail end of your period and don’t have any provisions, not even any underwear. You want to check and see if you’re still bleeding, but not with this stranger in the tent. 

You ask him, “What are you so worried about?” 

He starts to say something but stops himself and says, “I’ll tell you later.” 

"What did I do?" You ask and your temples feel weak. 

He recognizes how mean he must have sounded.  "Nothing at all, sugar.  It's me. I had. . . a bad reaction in the past."  

He changes the subject and tells you he recognizes you.  It hits you - Joel Miller - he used to run a smuggling route with your dad.  Life has hardened Joel into a much stronger, more attractive man since then.  He’s not a big talker, but he occasionally indulges your questions about pre-outbreak life.  You start to really enjoy his company.  For a minute at a time, you manage to forget about the scary circumstances. 

-

There’s one old cot and a blanket.  He says you can have them because he won’t be able to sleep anyway.  You’re not comfortable but you manage to fall asleep.  You wake up shivering and ask if he’ll join you.  He hesitantly agrees, then settles in behind you.  You grab his hand and hold it tight.  You’re gushing between the legs.  You expect a nice red spot on both your gowns in the morning, but that should be the least of your worries.

“Do you think we’re okay?” you whisper. 

“Yeah, we’re okay,” he replies softly in your ear. 

You start sniffling.  “I’m scared.” 

He tightens his arm over you. “I know, sugar. You’re gonna be alright. We’re alright.”  You can hear his heart beating faster.  

As you drift off to sleep, it’s impossible not to notice through your gowns when his dick hardens against you.  He backs off a little but you push your ass back into him and tighten your grip on his hand.  His chest swells against your back and you feel him inhale your hair, but he doesn't make a move and neither do you. 

-

When you wake up, he’s lying on his stomach on the floor using his massive bicep as a pillow.  Before he notices you’re awake, you subtly dip your finger into youreslf to check for your period, and it’s not there.  You were just wet.  You sit up and look at the back of your gown.  Nothing.  When he sees you’re awake and sits up, the fear returns to his eyes.   He says, “I reckon the fog will come soon, now.”  There’s no clock, but he senses it.  He moves his jaw side to side anxiously and his eyes dart around the tent. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask. 

He opens his mouth several times then stops before he manages to say it.  “Look, if. . . If I do anything after they fog us. . .  it’s not me, okay?"

"Okay. . .do anything like what?" 

"It . . . The fog has an effect on certain people."  He swallows and looks away.  "Like a sexual effect. It can make you . . . Aggressive."

"Oh. . ."

"Listen.  You can fight me off, do whatever you have to do, okay?" 

"Okay."

Your heart beats faster wondering what's in store.  You can’t imagine it’s that bad. 

-

Finally, one side of the tent ripples as a small, circular portal is opened and something clicks into it.  The tent begins to fill with fog.  The fog smells faintly like a thunderstorm and settles toward the ground before it slowly rises.  Joel backs away from it, sitting in the very corner of the tent as it spreads across the floor.  As the fog continues to pour in, he stands up and turns his face toward the ceiling.  But it reaches him. He tries not to breathe it, with his mouth in his gown, but it’s no use. He squats down, facing away from you.  

He swallows.  “I’m sorry.”  His voice is shaky.  He looks back at you one last time apologetically, then pinches his eyes shut and takes deep breaths. The fog valve is shut.  For a few minutes, you can hardly see him. 

-

You hear the sticky footsteps of his bare feet on the floor, then he gets close enough to see him through the fog, just a few feet away from you.  His whole face has darkened.  And it further darkens as he looks at you in a trance.  He wets his lips like you’re something to eat.  His chest rises and falls with heaving breaths.  

Minutes ago, it was hard to imagine being afraid of him,  but he’s a whole different man now.   You get up from the cot,  walk backwards to the opposite side of the tent, and sit in the corner. 

He crosses the tent in two long, swift strides.  As he looms over you, it’s impossible to ignore the massive tent in his gown or his muscular thighs. 

“Get up,” he demands through the fading fog.  You look down and stay where you are, pulling your gown over your knees, shrinking into yourself.  

“GET UP NOW!” he yells with his mouth wide open, face red, hair bouncing.  

You still don’t.  

"I’m sorry,” he says, then darkens again.  “But you're askin' for it.”  He squats down and gently cups your face.  “Get up.”

You don’t. “You don’t want to do this.”  A last ditch effort:  “I have my period!”   But it only makes him more feral.  You see it in his face right after you say it. 

-

Joel grabs you roughly by both elbows and manhandles you to your feet, then pushes you over to the cot.   He tears your gown off and throws you down on the cot face-up.  He scans you head to toe.  You futilely try to cover yourself with your arms and hands.  You’d feel even more naked without the fog though, which still hangs in the air.  You start to sit up and he forces you back down, pinning you with an arm across your chest.  "Starving,” he growls in your ear, giving you butterflies.  He grabs your hand off your pussy then shoves his own between your legs and the butterflies swarm to your core.  You try and fail to keep your legs shut tight but the pressure of your thighs around his hand feels far too good between your legs.

“Joel, stop,” you plead. “You’re not yourself.”  You beg him to stop, but you're getting wetter by the minute.  His intensity turns you on. 

“No use, darlin’.”  He inserts his middle finger and breathes heavily.  “Nothin’s stoppin’ this." 

You still try, though.  You thrash and kick, then he grabs you by the arms so hard his fingers dig deep into your muscles, practically to the bone. “Sit still, damnit.”  He softens only for a moment.  “Don't wanna have to hurt you.” Then he darkens again.

Your face gets  cold and you swallow.  He kneels at the foot of the cot and uses your thighs to violently yank you toward him so your ass is at the end.  He pries your legs open and holds them that way with his massive hands.  His mouth latches onto your pussy and you’re flooded with a rush of arousal as the hook of his nose begins to massage your clit.  He really digs in, pressing his lips hard into you, thrusting his tongue inside you.  A ball of tension gathers in your traitorous core and you twitch.  

He’s grunting “Mm” as he sucks and laps.  You squirm and he forces you still again and continues, ravenous to consume you.  He looks up with black eyes, and the animal between your legs terrifies you.  He intensifies his eating and you feel it coming.  The next time he thrusts his tongue inside you, his nose drags up your clit.  You moan and your spine arches as you see stars. He stops and watches you unravel with his head still firmly planted between your legs.  Your eyes water with your pulsations as you stare up at the ceiling of the tent. He lifts his head and a lighter patch of his beard is just barely tinged with your period.  He dug it out of you.  He inserts his fingers and you clench around him with the aftershocks.  You close your eyes and catch your breath.

-

He must stand up, because before you know it, you feel his tip at your entrance.   Your body wants him inside you. You could make it easy on him, but you don’t want him to fuck you and regret it.  It’s not just your body – you’re realizing you want him, too.  You may be getting ahead of yourself, but it’s the product of a near-death experience, of being sealed in a tent with him for 24 hours, and of getting head within an inch of your life. The perfect storm. If you’re going to have him, it has to be under different circumstances or he may never want to do it again.

He begins to push in. 

“Joel, no!” You squirm and thrash.  

He sighs.  “You're just gonna tucker yourself out like that.” 

You still give it your best try, but he’s right.   You’re no match for his strength. He overpowers you, pins you down with his weight, then shoves his thick cock into you with a grunt.  Your wet little hole can hardly take him.  You yelp as his unforgiving girth splits you open and fills you up.  When his length retreats, you try to push him off, but you can’t.  “You’re takin' it one way or another, darlin’.” 

He bottoms out with a guttural roar like he’s charging into battle. He pounds you brutally, slamming to the hilt each time.  It hurts but it isn’t long before it starts to feel okay, then good, and then, the delicious stretch of his girth feels like something you never knew you needed.  After a minute or two, you stop squirming and thrashing. It's happening, and you might as well enjoy it. 

When you stop fighting, he takes his weight off you and stands at the foot of the cot, your thighs in his hands, pulling you back on his dick as his hips snap into you. His hair is messy and his face and neck are splotched red.  His big arms bulge out from under the gown.  You’ve never seen such intensity on anyone’s face before.  

After a few minutes of him pistoning into you, you feel another climax building.  You whimper and he rails you even harder, sweating, grunting, growling.  When you come, it’s a burst unlike anything you've ever felt. You hear yourself wailing as he fucks you through it.  Your walls are still contracting around his cock when he grabs onto your hips for dear life and plunges into you with more force than ever.  

You realize he’s going to come inside and yell, “No!”  You try to get away.  You try to fight back, but he’s too strong and determined.  Rage falls across his face.  A groan rips out of his throat as his cock erupts into you, pulsing massively, extending your climax longer than you thought possible.  It’s a feeling you’ve never felt before.  

Your whole body is spent.  When he’s finished coming, he slides out of you and you lie there limp with your eyes closed. It’s quiet for a minute. The fog has settled more. 

He groans softly. Then, "I'm sorry. . ."  You open your eyes and sit up. You reach for him  at the foot of the cot, but he backs away.  It seems like he can't look at you. His eyes are tearful.  

"It's okay.  Look at me, Joel. It's okay."

It's quiet for a minute.

-

"God damnit,” he whispers. He covers himself and when your eyes follow his hand, it’s clear he’s hard again or it never went away.   The fog has faded enough that it seems he at least has the wherewithal to jack off instead.  "Close your eyes," he says as he turns away and wraps his hand around his cock.  You study his eyes and they’re dark, but not as dark as they were. You lie down with your eyes shut and listen to his breath and the squish of his hand around his cock, wet with your slick.

The  rhythmic squish gets closer and closer.   You open your eyes to the darkest look on his face.  He’s standing there at the foot of the cot, gown pushed up out of the way again as he strokes his stiff, imposing cock. 

“Flip over,” he demands but gives you no time to comply.  He grabs you under the arms.

“Okay, okay,” you comply and he forces you down on your stomach.  

He wedges the tip of his cock between your cheeks, aligning himself at your asshole.  You’re terrified.  You beg, "no, wait," but he's not there anymore.  It's not really him. 

He plunges into your tight, virgin hole and you yelp in shock. His hands on your hips lift your ass in the air and you bury your head in your arm, biting your own skin as he yanks you back into him, making your ass flush with his pelvis.  You’re stuffed full of him, fuller than you’ve ever felt, even fuller than when he was in your pussy.  

He pummels you with abandon and your eyes well up in tears.  You're mortified, you've never done this before, and you have so many fears – is he going to ruin you?  Is there going to be a mess?  But each time he buries his length in your ass, it feels better and your fears fade into pleasure. The longer he pounds you, the better it feels.  It feels surprisingly good, much better than you ever thought it would.  The tent seems to echo with his grunts and the slap of skin.  

Another orgasm is brewing as he pounds your guts.  It builds faster this time.  He grunts louder, then your whole body is seized by the deepest, most powerful climax.  You whimper, then your whimper turns into a groan as your ass spasms and your pussy clenches around nothing.  

And then he pulses inside you, filling up another hole.  By the time he's through with you, you're filled to the brim with him.  He slides out and you turn around. 

He stumbles backwards in horror at what he's done. 

“I’m sorry, sugar.  I’m so sorry."

-

Part 2 HERE

Thank you for reading and engaging! Might wanna follow me if you like this because my posts are getting reported and might not show up in the tags.

-

All joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @lokanda @blackvelveteen1339  @manazo @wolvesandvampires @taeslarityy @str84pedro

[tulipsandperfume]

I see you || Neteyam X Reader

Summary: You want to become friends with a certain Na'vi. Who would have known that your friendship would change completely?

Genre: Fluff, very slight angst

When the Sully Family arrived, you didn't think much of it, or so you told your siblings. You wouldn't lie to yourself and say that seeing Jake Sully, the Toruk Makto, hadn't fascinated you. After all, having grown up with stories about how he united the clans and defeated the Sky People, Jake Sully had become a sort of role model, someone whose strength you coveted.

After a back and forth between Neytiri and Ronal during which Tonowari and Jake wore heavy expressions, the final decision was made. The Sullys would stay and your siblings would help then navigate this new way of life. You were not requested to help seeing as you had a variety of other duties to handle. Being the oldest came with its cons and an overbearing responsibility. However, you could still visit them and make friends once you had the chance. But not now, not when you had a thousand things to take care of.

You walked swiftly past the Sullys towards the ocean and by doing so, caught the attention of a certain Na'vi and his sister.

"Hey, aren't you meant to help us?" Voiced Kiri, eyeing you suspiciously. Neteyam gave her a slight nudge, warning her to stop being rude.

"Sorry, I'm really busy so can't show you around. But my sister and brothers are sure to make you feel welcomed. If you need any help or my siblings give you any trouble, shout for me." You shot them your warmest smile and a slight nod before turning back towards the ocean. Tsireya urged them to follow her but Neteyam continued to watch your figure as you entered the water and called for your ilu, an unreadable expression etched onto his face.

---♡---♡---♡---♡---♡---♡---♡---♡---♡---

As the days went by, you had made certain to check up on the Sullys whenever you got the chance, bringing an occasional gift when you could. Jake seemed to have warmed up to you somewhat but Neytiri, well, it was a work in progress.

From what Tsireya had told you, the children were learning quickly. Their riding ability had improved greatly aswell as how long they could remain underwater. Whenever she gave you the daily news, you noticed how she spoke more of Lo'ak and how a small smile would linger on her lips as she explained how great his breathing had gotten and just how amazing he was. You would have teased her about it but worried that she might stop sharing her day's events so left it for another time.

Besides, who were you to tease her when you yourself had gained an interest in someone? It wasn't anything compared to whatever was going on between her and Lo'ak but you found that you unconsciously watched him during his lessons and that you would wait for Tsireya to speak of him, particularly finding interest in his improvement more so than others. What you found most interesting was how he would catch your gaze and how he seemed to always been near when you worked near the beach or in the ocean. Maybe it was time to go make a friend.

---♡---♡---♡---♡---♡---♡---♡---♡---♡---

The next day, you were swimming around in the ocean, wanting a moments rest from your father's demands and your mother's heavy gaze. You closed your eyes and just enjoyed the peace that the water provided, until a series of shouts and jeers interrupted your brief period of tranquility.

Quickly, you swam to the surface, searching for the source of those annoying squeals and wanting revenge for your ruined peace. You spotted Kiri and Lo'ak being harassed by your brother and his friends and instantly made your way to them. Before you made it onto land to intercept the argument, Neteyam strode to Aonung's side, pushing him back.

"You heard what she said. Leave them alone." He spoke, a protective aura surrounding him.

"Ah, big brother come-" Aonung signalled his friend to stop, raising his hands up in surrender. You didn't expect that, after all your brother was always itching for a fight. Neteyam had that sort of effect on people, made people want to respect him.

You had thought that would be the end of it and were ready to swim away, opting to forget about seeking revenge on you brother. He was being mature so you'd leave him be as a reward.

However, your moment of pride was short-lived when Lo'ak started a fist fight. This time, Neteyam joined in. You let them fight for a bit, finding it amusing how boisterous they were being and just how stupid it was.

Wiping your grin off your face, you swam to the shore and glared down at their bruised faces. Your disappointed expression was enough to have them stop their kerfuffle.

"Skxawng. Get up." You spat, grabbing an ear and a tail. You exchanged glances with Neteyam who had a bruised lip. He shot you a wary smile to which you smirked. It was time to make a friend.

---♡---♡---♡---♡---♡---♡---♡---♡---♡---

After the parents came to learn about the incident and you gave Aonung and Rotxo an earful, you grabbed some medicine and searched for Neteyam. This would be the perfect chance to get to learn more about the strange Na'vi.

The next few days, you spent whatever free time you had with Neteyam. Initially, he seemed surprised and there was a slight awkwardness in the air. But as time went on, your relationship improved and you felt you could honestly call him a friend.

Through short conversations as you made you way to your respective duties and longer ones when the sun was dying and Na'vi resting, you had learned that you two were much more alike than expected. Neteyam, also being the oldest, constantly had the burden of being the golden child and living up to his father's glory to which you could sympathise. When one felt like a disappointment, a failure, the other would be there to offer comfort and advice.

Soon, your friendship seemed to shift. Touches lingered for longer than necessary and were more intimate. A cheesy grin and a warm, bubbly feeling in your stomach lasted long after your meetings. It was a wondeful feeling and yet it worried you. Were you sick or had you not eaten enough?

---♡---♡---♡---♡---♡---♡---♡---♡---♡---

One night, you and Tsireya sat in your Marui, a sweet silence in the air and the sound of water swaying beneath you. The feelings that Neteyam left you with were becoming almost to much to bear and so, against your better judgment, you shared your worries with your sister.

"I don't know what is wrong. There is this feeling in my stomach. It's not a good feeling nor a bad feeling. Am I sick, Tsireya?" You inquired. Tsireya turned to you and giggled. A heartfelt giggle as she rolled slightly on the floor.

"My dear sister, I thought you were smarter than this. It is love, of course. Not a sickness." She squeaked, struggling to speak through gasps for air and fits of laughter.

Hearing the word"love"  left your mind reeling, a sense of confusion yet relief battling in your head. Love. It made sense. Yes, you were in love. Now, another question arose. Did Neteyam like you?

---♡---♡---♡---♡---♡---♡---♡---♡---♡---

For the hours between your conversations, Neteyam was all you could think about it. It got to a point where your quality of work was slipping and your parents had noticed. Rotxo jogged up to you, saying that Tonowari was calling for you and to be careful since he seemed upset. So, you ran to the Marui of the Olo'eyktan.

Between the time of your entrance to the time of your exit, all you heard was disappointment and anger and sheer dissatisfaction from your father. Being the oldest came with its cons.

By the time you left and were walking towards the ocean in need of some solitude, the day had transformed to night. You watched the stars through tears and couldn't help but let out a quiet sob. You let your tears fall, not bothered about your image at this time.

A hand on your shoulder brought you back to reality and quickly, you put distance between yourself and the intruder whilst grabbing the knife at your hip. Seeing Neteyam there, hands up and a worried expression on his face, your calmed down and put the knife away.

He walked towards you, arms outstretched. You walked into his arms, letting yourself cry into his chest as he caressed your head. The both of you stood their, enjoying the peace of night and presence of the other.

Separating, you sat side by side as you told him what had occurred. Just like always, he spoke the perfect words, said in the perfect way and like usual, your heart swelled. It fell into rapid strides as your breath caught in your throat. Why was he always so perfect?

Neteyam looked down at you, eyes glimmering with the night and his bioluminescent freckles dancing on his skin. He looked at you with that smirk, the one that made your heart falter and your eyes widen and you just couldn't breathe. He had successful stolen all of you, from your unconditional love to undivided attention. You were his, even he wasn't yours. But you would take him, have him kneel before you with his heart in his hands, ready for you to take.

You were perceptive enough. You had seen his flushed cheeks at your compliments and caught his stare more often than deemed normal. Even if those weren't indications of his feelings, what would be the point of going through the torture of hiding your feelings? Why willingly force yourself to pretend there was nothing between you two, when there just might be everything?

You turned so you were face to face with Neteyam, a fierce determination burning in your eyes. Grabbing his hands and taking a deep breathe in, you spoke. You spoke words that would change the trajectory of your relationship entirely.

"By Eywa, I have met you and fallen for you. I want your heart to dance with mine. Neteyam, I see you." Saying those words gave you some relief but that was quickly smothered by fear when you heard no reply.

Forcing yourself to look up, you stared into Neteyam's gorgeous yellow eyes flecked with shades of green, an unreadable expression on his face. You cowered under his intense gaze. What was he thinking?

His hands suddenly left yours as they cupped your cheeks, a lovesick grin appearing. He ducked his head and lay his forehead against yours.

"I thank Eywa for the gift she has given me in the form of you. I see you."

"Can I kiss you, again?"

You broke out into a wide smile, a wave of happiness and excitement flooding you.

"You scared me for a second there. I thought you were going to reject me." You whispered, hands falling to his chest as your tried, failed to bite back a smile.

"Sorry, I was making sure it wasn't a joke. I guess I should make it up to you, for the scare?"

He grazed his finger against your lip, eyes meeting yours in question. You were more than happy to oblige.

With a fervent nod, your lips interlocked in a sweet, slow kiss. It was soft and gentle yet burning with a passion that took hold of your entire being. One of his hands reached behind your head and another at your thigh, massaging the flesh there. It was pure and complete bliss - perfect.

Separating from the kiss, you stared into his eyes, witnessing your future in them and wanting nothing more.

"As many times as you want."

How perfect.

---♡---♡---♡---♡---♡---♡---♡---♡---♡---

Heyy, I hope you enjoyed. I love Neteyam so much aaah. Any and all criticism is welcome :))

[yelena-bellova]

Heartfirst: A Ted Lasso Story - Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen: Break My Heart

Plot: With Y/n and Jamie not speaking to one another, a trip to Manchester brings about opportunity and heartache.

Word Count: 8k

Warnings: f!reader, language, insinuated smut, mention of abusive parents

A/N: THIS is the chapter I’ve been looking forward to the most. Even though this isn’t the conclusion, I think it’s what the whole thing’s been building to. Well, this is part one of it, at least. I’m gonna shut up now and just let you read. Enjoy!!

—————

Sam Obisanya: Remember that movie we were looking forward to? It’s coming out on Friday. Want to catch it this weekend?

Colin Hughes: Haven’t seen you around lately. Everything alright?

Dani Rojas: We missed you at Isaac’s birthday dinner! Come visit us next time you are free!

Rebecca Welton: Your tea’s cold. Keeley’s confirmed you’re not dead. Several questions.

Ted Lasso: What’s shaking, Abe Lincoln? Don’t be a stranger next time you’re meeting with the boss.

There had been an onslaught of texts in the three weeks since Y/n had moved out of the Dogtrack. She hadn’t expected people to not notice she was gone, but she hadn’t thought so many of them would care.

She’d ignored every single one.

She wasn’t the only one who’d chosen to stick with Keeley. Barbara had stayed on as well. With Rebecca’s generous financing, the three of them were keeping their ship afloat all by themselves. Jack be damned.

True to her word, Y/n handled all Richmond business from afar, only popping in with Keeley for an occasional meeting with Rebecca and Higgins. She sorted press conferences and post-match interviews without ever stepping foot in the building. If it weren’t so unhealthy, it would have been impressive.

In her makeshift office, actually the conference room, Y/n paced around her computer. She eyed the screen each time she passed by. Roy had a presser scheduled for the afternoon. Sam and…another player were meant to join him. Sam she could handle seeing, though Lord knows she felt guilty for ghosting him. The other one…

“Oh,” Y/n waved herself off, feeling ridiculous. She was a grown woman. She could handle it, she thought, as she turned on the video feed.

Springing to life on her screen, Roy sat between Sam and Jamie, fielding questions.

Y/n’s insides locked up. Jamie.

They hadn’t spoken since the night he’d shown up at her apartment. Not a single text or run-in. It was no longer just Y/n avoiding him, Jamie was actively not speaking to her.

Y/n tried to focus on Sam’s answers, he spoke humbly about Richmond’s 15-game win streak. The last three had been unbelievable you-had-to-be-there kind of matches. Hiding in her apartment with a Sky Sports broadcast hadn’t compared to the real thing. Y/n missed the energy of the stadium and the joy of watching the boys.

Her eyes kept floating back to Jamie. He was hunched over the table, biting his nails, not making eye contact with anyone. He didn’t look like he wanted to be there at all.

Marcus Adebayo, though he answered to Roy’s nickname of ‘better Trent,’ stood and addressed Jamie. “On the heels of making your England debut, how does it feel to be named Premier League Player of the Month?”

“Eh, um, yeah. Yeah, it feels good, I guess,” Jamie answered hesitantly, “But it’s really the team making me look good. So, I should be doing a better job of making them look good, really.”

If Y/n had been in the room, Sam, Roy and her would have all shared the same puzzled look.

“So, yeah. Makes me feel bad,” Jamie finished with a pursed frown.

Roy leaned forward, “Uh, Jamie also led the league in assists this month so he’s done plenty to make his teammates look good.”

“Yeah, but they’re the ones who took all the shots,” Jamie corrected softly.

“He also scored a goal,” Sam interjected.

“T-that was meant to be a pass,” Jamie pointed out, his voice high with anxiety, “You shouldn’t count that. That goal is a lie. It should be retracted from the records.”

Y/n shook her head in confusion, whispering to the empty room, “What are you doing?”

“I apologize to everyone,” Jamie continued, “Especially to the kids.”

“Right, let’s call it there, everyone,” Roy decided at the exact second Y/n was internally stepping forward, “That was great. Thanks very much.”

Y/n stared at the screen, her gaze following Jamie until he was off camera. Whoever had been speaking wasn’t any variation of the Jamie Tartt she knew. He was so out of character it was concerning.

She glanced at her phone, the device silently begging her to type a message. Ask him. Talk to him. Find out what’s wrong. Help him.

Instead, Y/n took a deep breath, closed out the browser, opened her email and got back to work. No good could come from her reaching out. Jamie would be absolutely fine without her, better even. And she would be fine without him.

—————————

Y/n wasn’t a woman who ever thought a man’s presence added anything to a situation she couldn’t. But as she heaved the water jug onto the cooler, she wished that she hadn’t sent the delivery guy away under the assumption she could do it herself.

She returned to the main room to find Keeley in conversation with Roy, both of them turning to face her.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Roy asked.

Y/n motioned to the space around them, “I work here.”

“No, you don’t,” he replied matter-of-factly, “You work at Richmond.”

“Y/n has been here the last few weeks,” Keeley answered, “Just to get things back up and running while we’re short staffed.”

Roy took deep pride in not interjecting himself into anyone else’s business. Sure, he’d helped Isaac through whatever the fuck had caused his meltdown last month. Yes, he offered Ted advice from time to time. But the other 99% of the time, he didn’t particularly care what choices the people around him made. Their lives were theirs and his was his.

But Jamie and Y/n were another fucking deal.

He wouldn’t have invited Y/n along to their 4AM training sessions if he hadn’t known she helped keep Jamie’s spirits up. He’d caught the two of them leaving the parking lot together more than a dozen times. He’d noticed Jamie be the first one on the pitch whenever Y/n was observing training and the first one off when she was waiting on him for lunch. He was well aware the two of them were attached at the fucking hip. Y/n’s disappearance had thrown everything off-balance. Maybe it wasn’t the reason for Jamie breaking down in Roy’s arms earlier, but it certainly couldn’t be helping.

“Oh,” Roy humored the answer, smiling at Y/n. “That’s very kind of her.”

Y/n grinned back nervously, Roy could see through everyone’s bullshit but his own.

“She could help too,” Keeley suggested.

“Help with what?” Y/n asked.

Keeley gestured to Roy for an explanation. “Jamie’s going through some shit. I asked Keeley to talk to him, but since you two are close, maybe you could too.”

Big fat flashing red sirens went off in Y/n’s head. “Oh, I really don’t think I’d help anything,” she struggled, “I-I think Keeley’s much more suited.”

“Not necessarily,” Keeley disagreed as Roy continued to stare Y/n down, “I mean, you two are really good friends.”

“We’re not that close,” Y/n lied, “I mean, we’ve hung out a couple of times but really,” she extended a hand toward her boss, “You definitely know him better.”

Unlike her ex, Keeley had no problem inserting herself in other people’s business. She hadn’t yet approached Y/n about the headlines she and Jamie had made after the England match or the fact that she didn’t want to go near Nelson Road. Since coming back from London, Y/n had pulled away from everyone and everything, Keeley included.

Roy was taking some sick joy in egging Y/n on, “Oh, no, I think-“

“I’ll take care of it,” Keeley jumped to say, ending whatever confrontation was about to take place. “Promise.”

Y/n and Roy held eye contact, challenging one another to break first. Eventually, Roy’s desire to look at Keeley won out and he turned away.

“Thanks,” he glanced back over at Y/n, “I’ll leave you two to your work.”

Stealing one more fleeting gaze at his ex-girlfriend, Roy left the way he’d come, leaving Y/n with a whole new bunch of unresolved feelings.

“He’s quite handsome.”

Y/n startled, she hadn’t even realized Barbara was seated at her desk for the whole exchange. She headed for the conference room, eager to get away from every part of the conversation.

Keeley hung back a moment before following her and gently knocking on the door. “Hi,” she entered slowly, “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Y/n answered with faux cheeriness, seated once more at her desk/table, “Fine.”

“It’s just back there…you seemed a bit on edge when Roy mentioned Jamie,” Keeley broached the topic with care.

Y/n’s muscles involuntarily clenched, she tried to keep an even expression. “No, I’m fine.”

Keeley hesitated, nearly turning around and leaving before deciding to just go for it. “You know, if this is about the pictures of you two, I don’t think anyone thinks-“

Y/n sighed, “Keeley, I’m fine. I just think Roy should do his fucking job and take care of his players instead of pawning them off on one of us.”

“I’m not talking about Roy,” Keeley replied, “I’m talking about-“

“Jamie and I are not close,” Y/n said, her tone harsher than intended, “We are not friends. There’s nothing wrong with him, we’re just not as chummy as everyone seems to think we are. End of story.”

Keeley knew Y/n’s edges were sharp, but she hadn’t ever seen her snap so quickly. It only told her there was more to the issue than she’d guessed.

“Got it,” she gave a single nod, “I’m sorry I asked.”

Y/n regretted her words the moment she’d said them. Keeley hadn’t deserved her misplaced frustration. But the mere mention of that night triggered Y/n’s fight-or-flight response. Mixed with the knowledge that something was wrong with Jamie and that Roy clearly knew something, it was all too much.

She stared out the conference room window, landing on Keeley and Barbara’s desks they’d pushed together. She could have been with them, working together as a team. Instead, she was hiding away, once again deciding that the isolation could keep her safe from everything.

Everything except the gnawing fear that she was responsible for Jamie’s behavior.

—————————

Finally, the long awaited weekend arrived.

Man City versus Richmond.

Y/n left no stone unturned when searching for a new excuse not to attend the match. She’d had her period the first week of her three week absence, sick and exhausted the next two. If she’d had any family in the country, there would have been some fake emergency involving them.

She knew she couldn’t get away with a full month’s nonattendance. She had to go to Manchester.

Packing an overnight bag at 6AM and getting on the road by 7 had been her self-ruled terms. The last thing Y/n wanted was to be stuffed on a bus with everyone she was trying to avoid for four hours. Driving herself allowed not only space, but an escape route, if she needed it.

She was barely out of London when Keeley rang her. “Hi.”

“Hi,” the Bluetooth speakers of the car projected Keeley’s voice, “We’re loading the bus up. Just wanted to see where you were.”

Y/n sighed, she’d forgotten to tell someone she wasn’t coming with the team. “Actually, I’m already on the road. I couldn’t sleep so I figured I’d get an early start.”

“Oh,” Keeley sounded a bit disappointed, but not entirely surprised, “That makes sense. Smart choice.”

“Yeah,” Y/n replied, feeling the familiar burn in her gut that came with each lie she told, “I’m a bit ahead of you guys so I’ll see you when you get there.”

“Alright. Drive safe, yeah?”

“You too,” she said before disconnecting the call.

Y/n tried to listen to music, tried to play a podcast, but she found that anything other than silence just didn’t feel right. Every song seemed to trace back to her situation and every spoken word seemed to be speaking directly to her, telling her everything she was doing was wrong.

The silence was no more comforting, it only gave her more room to ruminate about the weekend. How was she supposed to avoid Jamie in such close quarters? How was she supposed to keep away from Ted, Rebecca, Keeley, the rest of the team? It felt like a mistake to come and an equally massive one to stay behind.

A long four hours later, Y/n pulled up to the Hacienda Hotel. The Greyhound bus had yet to arrive. She actually stood a chance at getting up to her room and dodging company till the match.

Y/n gave her car to the valet and dragged her single suitcase through the lobby. She headed straight for the front desk.

“Hi,” she greeted the concierge, “I have a reservation under Y/l/n.”

“Let me just check,” the man replied, typing the last name into his computer. He frowned, “I’m sorry, ma’am, we don’t seem to have that reservation.”

“No, that can’t be right,” Y/n calmly replied, “I called yesterday about transferring one room under the Richmond block to my name.”

The man scrolled through his list a second time, “Unfortunately, that request doesn’t seem to have been entered into our system. All the Richmond rooms are reserved under the name ‘Lasso.’”

Y/n sighed, she’d gone to extreme lengths to separate herself before even stepping foot in the city. So much so that she’d been willing to pay her own overpriced hotel rate.

“Fine,” she relented, “It doesn’t matter. Checking in to one room under the name ‘Lasso.’”

“Unfortunately, ma’am,” the employee grimaced, “Under hotel policy, we can’t check in individual guests if the reservation is under a different name. You’ll have to wait until the main guest has arrived.”

Y/n’s plan crumbled further, Ted had to check her in? Worse, she’d have to wait with the whole fucking team?

Just as she’d connected the dots, the hiss of a Coach could be heard outside. Y/n whipped her head around to see the AFC Richmond logo and the moving silhouettes of the boys through the dark windows.

“There,” Y/n pointed to the bus, “The main guest’s there. Check me in.”

The man hesitated, “I’m sorry, ma’am. I have to wait to confirm-“

“How many people named ‘Lasso’ do you think there are in this country?” Y/n whispered in a panic, “He’s right in there, he’s making shitty puns,” her hand bounced against the desk, “Check me in.”

Arguing would have been hard considering Ted was an anomaly in England. The concierge conceded to Y/n’s demand and began the process.

Y/n nervously drummed her fingers against the counter, glancing back to see Will emerging from the bus. Behind him were Isaac, Richard and Jan.

“You’ll be in room #601, ma’am,” the concierge reported and handed her a room key.

Y/n yanked the card out of his palm before he could tell her the bellboy would be happy to take her suitcase. “Thank you.”

She hurried across the lobby to the elevator, praying she could make a getaway without anyone see-

“Hey, Y/n!”

She stopped in her tracks, so close…

Y/n turned around and spotted Ted, hurrying across the lobby as one would after a long drive. She managed a smile and a wave, pressing the elevator’s button repeatedly with her other hand.

“Don’t forget,” Ted called as he made a beeline for the bathrooms. “Team movie, 7:30. I’ll give ya a hint; if you love Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan, you ain’t gonna wanna miss this one!”

In three weeks, Y/n had dodged a lot of invitations. A lot. Another declination and she was convinced she’d develop an ulcer.

“Sounds good,” she shouted just as the elevator doors opened. She jumped inside and pressed her floor number before anyone else spot her.

Just before the doors closed, she caught the first of the boys entering the lobby. Just past Sam, Y/n glimpsed the sharp edges of Jamie’s face. Her heart caught in her throat, the mere sight of him was enough to startle her.

She wondered how long she could pretend everything was fine before she proved herself wrong.

—————————

Y/n hid in her room the rest of the day. She didn’t dare leave to get ice or see the city, sure that with her luck, she’d run into someone the second she stepped out.

Half-way through the afternoon, a knock at the door surprised her. She peeked through the peephole to see Keeley. Out of anyone, she was the one that Y/n couldn’t totally avoid.

The door swung open and Y/n put on a smile, “Hey.”

“Hi,” Keeley greeted, “You beat us here.”

“Yeah,” Y/n chuckled, “Trust me, I’d have rather gotten the sleep.”

“Right,” Keeley chortled, “Can I come in?”

Y/n opened the door wider and allowed it. “What’s up?”

“I just wanted to steal your pillow chocolates,” her boss cheekily smirked but didn’t move to grab the candy.“And…to ask if you might reconsider talking to Jamie?”

“Keeley,” Y/n sighed in frustration, rubbing at her face, “I told you-“

“I know,” Keeley held up her hands, “But I just talked to him and…he’s really in his head. It’s bad, Y/n. I’ve never seen him like this.”

While she could pretend all she wanted that Jamie meant little to her, Y/n was growing more and more worried. Every one of his dreams were coming true, and the ones that hadn’t were on the horizon. He should have been on top of the world and instead, he was spiraling. She wanted nothing more than to bang on his door, wrap him in her arms and fix it all. Put him back together until he was his glorious self.

“Look,” Y/n pushed on one of her eyes, “Keeley, whatever you think I’m capable of doing for Jamie, I’m not. I’m not a footballer, I’m not his coach, I’m not his girlfriend,” she found the last words uncomfortably difficult to get out, “I’m half his publicity team. That’s it.”

“You’re more than that,” Keeley replied, she had the kindest way of arguing. “You two have been glued to each other’s sides since you got to Richmond. Jamie trusts you. If you just talk to him-“

Y/n pressed her hands against her lips as Keeley spoke. The panic was beginning to swirl inside her again.

“Keeley,” she cut her off and enunciated her words, “I can’t help him.”

After a whole season of working together, Keeley could easily tell when Y/n was lying, both to others and herself. She didn’t need to know what her and Jamie meant to one another, all that mattered was they did. If Y/n wasn’t ready to acknowledge it, there wasn’t anything Keeley could do.

“Okay,” she replied, once again resigned in her failed quest, “I’ll leave you be.”

Y/n didn’t move as Keeley’s furry jacket brushed past her, shutting her eyes to hide the tears. Only when she was alone once more did she let them streak her cheeks. Somewhere down the hall, Jamie was hurting, and that meant she was hurting as well.

—————————

At exactly 7:30, Y/n made her way down the hotel hall. Different conference rooms lined the walls and she followed their numbers till she found the one Ted had texted her. She slipped through the back door, the lights were dimmed and everyone had already taken their seats. Her version of perfect timing.

From her vantage point, Y/n had a perfect layout of the seating arrangement. The team were gathered in the first few rows. Keeley and Roy were at one end of the back row, with Ted, Beard, Rebecca and Higgins following. Y/n couldn’t help but let her eyes run over the players’ heads, spotting Jamie’s mop of hair in the front row.

After evaluating her options, Y/n chose the safest one at the nearest end of the back row, next to Trent Crimm.

“Just in time,” he whispered as she took the seat beside him.

“Yeah,” she replied, “Got lost.”

Trent nodded, waiting a few seconds before speaking up again, “You know, I’m sure anyone would be happy to switch. In case you wanted to sit with your friends.”

Y/n peered over at Trent, whose eyes gleamed suspiciously with knowledge.

“I’m fine,” she readjusted in her chair to prove the point.

Trent nodded, trying and failing not to smirk, “I’m honored to rank so high on your priority list.”

Y/n’s glance turned into a stare, the former journalist was smiling as if she were made of glass. Were her actions so obvious that even he had noticed?

Trent settled back into his chair, shifting his attention to the opening credits. Y/n did the same and focused just as the main title popped up.

You’ve Got Mail.

She groaned internally, if the universe was out to get her, choosing one of the most romantic comedies of all time was the greatest insult it could hurl.

For an hour and fifty-nine minutes, Y/n squirmed uncomfortably in her chair. She couldn’t go more than thirty seconds without sneaking a peek at Jamie, who hadn’t moved at all since the start. He was a fidgeting mess every waking minute of the day. Something was terribly off.

After Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks kissed in the New York garden and his golden retriever leaped to embrace them, the lights came back on. Y/n distractedly clapped along with the rest of the room, already eyeing her exit.

“All right. Listen up, you big softies,” Ted announced, “10PM, lights out. Then get yourselves some beauty sleep for tomorrow’s big meet-cute with Man City. You hear? Alright, Ephron on three. One, two, three-“

A few people, Beard being the loudest, chanted the filmmaker’s name.

“Lovely to see you again,” Trent said, a tease to his tone, as Y/n got up and out of her seat.

She hesitated, catching his knowing expression once more, and debated saying something. She decided it wasted energy and turned on her heel, making it only two steps before Keeley grabbed hold of her arm.

“Come on,” she ordered, pulling Y/n behind her.

“What?” Y/n asked, “Where the-“

Keeley didn’t answer, tugging her across the room towards the door Roy was holding open.

“Keeley, what-“

“Shh,” Keeley hushed, finally letting go of Y/n’s arm.

Y/n followed alongside her boss and Roy, unsure of where they were leading her. When they got to the lobby and she caught Jamie’s silhouette ahead of them, she came to a halt.

“No.”

“Y/n-“ Keeley began.

“No,” Y/n slashed a hand through the air, “I told you no.”

“Fuck your no,” Roy snapped, “I don’t care what the fuck’s going on wth you two, but your job is to make the club look good,” Roy pointed to Jamie’s fleeting figure, “And he makes us look good. So you’re gonna do your fucking job and you’re gonna help us fucking fix this.”

Y/n chuckled with deep annoyance, “You know what? Fuck you, Kent. I’m not one of your footballers you can boss around any time you’re in a shit mood,” she stuck a finger out at Roy, “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“Oi!” Keeley exclaimed, her heels slapping against the floor as she marched back, “Both of you, stop it. Come on!”

Roy and Y/n broke their stare, Jamie was rounding the corner and heading out the hotel’s doors. Sparing each other one more hardened glare, they followed Keeley.

The three of them exited the hotel, Keeley spotting Jamie passing the Richmond bus, and they traced his path. Against all she told herself, Y/n went on her own free will, chasing him through the Manchester evening.

Keeley’s stalking technique involved scurrying behind cars and lampposts, while Y/n clung to building walls. Ever the least subtle of any group, Roy simply walked the street, not using much caution to mask his presence.

They followed Jamie through neighborhoods and into the inner part of the city. They crossed bridges, climbed stairs and finally ended up on one side of a florescent lit tunnel. On their descent down the steps, they lost sight of him.

“The fuck is he?” Roy asked.

“I don’t know,” Keeley answered, “You’ve lost him.”

Roy glanced around them, “You said he went down here.”

“I did not,” Keeley argued, “You said that.”

“No, I said he’s in a tunnel,” Roy corrected as the three of them marched down the way, “I didn’t say he was in this tunnel. She’s the one who thought it was this one.”

“He did come down this one,” Y/n said sternly.

“Well, there’s no other tunnel, is there?” Keeley reprimanded them, “I don’t believe it. You’ve lost Jamie Tartt.”

“We didn’t lose him,” Y/n argued, silently worried. The second she’d lost eyes on Jamie was the second their surroundings suddenly became unsettling.

“You can’t lose Jamie Tartt,” Roy replied.

“Well, you have,” Keeley fired back.

“OI!”

Roy, Keeley and Y/n jumped at the exclaim, spinning around and shouting various expletives.

“Fucking hell!”

“What the fuck?!”

Jamie stood, hood over his head and hands in his pockets. “Why are you following me?”

“Just wanted to make sure you’re okay, you prick,” Roy spoke kind words with contrasting anger.

“What’s going on, Jamie?” Keeley asked, “Are you buying drugs?”

Jamie’s confused stare turned to Y/n, he locked up. The three weeks of not seeing her made her sudden presence feel like a hallucination.

Any face Y/n had been wearing dropped the second her eyes met Jamie’s. This was the closest they’d been since that night outside her apartment.

They came back to themselves quickly, hiding whatever they were feeling for the sake of Keeley and Roy being present.

Jamie nodded towards the path ahead of them, “Come on.”

Roy, Keeley and Y/n followed without question as Jamie guided them through the tunnel. It led up to a crowded neighborhood, a council estate that looked like it had seen better days.

Y/n made an effort to follow Roy, keeping as much distance as she could between her and Jamie. Her presence would probably mess with his head even more so than her absence might have. She was starting to wonder if the choice to come had been a selfish one.

They passed a group of kids kicking a football against a brick wall.

“Oi,” one of them called, “Are you Jamie Tartt?”

Jamie pushed back his hood, “Yeah.”

“More like Jamie Fart,” the youngest taunted.

“Screw you, dickhead,” the tallest one shouted, “Prick!”

“Yeah, who are you?”

“City’s gonna fuck you up tomorrow!”

Through the haranguing of insults, Jamie smiled, glancing over to Keeley, and sneaking one at Y/n. He led them away towards the row of houses.

Roy stuck around, turning to stare down the kids, who’d gone dead silent. Y/n readied herself to drag Roy away kicking and screaming from unloading on them.

Instead, he held up his hands in an ‘ok’ sign, “Good lads.”

While the kids were clearly thrilled at having been complimented by the Roy Kent, Y/n slapped his arm as hard as she could. Roy grasped it and silently protested before Y/n pointed to where Jamie and Keeley had gone off to.

They arrived on the doorsteps of one of the houses. Jamie rang the doorbell and they waited till a pair of eyes popped through one of the door’s glass bits.

“Hey,” the man exclaimed before opening the door, greeting them with a wide grin, “Jamie!”

“How you doing, Simon?” Jamie smiled and pointed to the group, “This is Keeley, that’s Roy, and that’s Y/n.”

“Come on in, come on in,” Simon waved them into the home.

Jamie entered first, shaking Simon’s hand, “How are you, mate? Good seeing you, man.”

“Yeah, great,” Simon replied as he ushered his guests in.

Keeley, Roy and Y/n all gave various greetings as they crossed the threshold. None of them knew quite where they were.

“Georgie,” Simon called up the stairs, “We’ve got visitors!”

A female voice called back down, “What was that, love? Someone at the door?”

Jamie made a beeline for the bottom of the staircase, just as a woman stopped at the top, frozen by what lay in front of her.

“Hello, Mommy.”

Y/n’s eyes widened.

Georgie screamed as she ran down the steps, leaping into her son’s arms. “Jamie!”

“Mommy, I’d like to introduce you to Keeley,” Jamie turned to face his friends, “And this hairy prick’s Roy,” his smile dropped an imperceptible inch, “And that’s Y/n over there.”

“Hi,” Keeley greeted in her normal bubbly tone.

“Hi,” Y/n managed to eek out, holding up a nervous hand.

“Hey, you,” Roy said smoothly.

“Hi,” Georgie greeted them all while hugging Jamie once more, “It’s lovely to finally meet you all. I’d come and give you a hug,” she squeezed the sides of her son’s face, “But I’m not letting go of this one!”

Jamie lifted his mom into the air and spun her around.

“There they go,” Simon observed, “Right, who wants some sweet treats?”

Simon slipped off deeper into the house while Georgie and Jamie stayed in their embrace.

“Look at your gorgeous face,” she exclaimed as Jamie carried them both down the hallway, “I love it. How have you been? Look at you.”

Run. All of Y/n’s instincts told her to run right back out that door and take her chances with being abducted in the sketchy tunnel. Roy and Keeley must have sensed her unease because Keeley reached back for Y/n’s hand and Roy kept behind her, forcing her inside.

Georgie and Jamie had managed to separate long enough for Jamie to snuggle up against his mom on the living room couch. Keeley, Y/n and Roy stood at the entrance to the room, unsure of where to go.

“Oh, come and sit down,” Georgie gestured to the rest of the room.

Keeley and Roy entered less hesitatingly than Y/n, who took up a seat on the arm of the couch. To say she was uncomfortable was an understatement of epic proportions. Here she’d gone to every effort to avoid Jamie, and she’d ended up in what was clearly his childhood home with his mother.

She glanced over at the shrine to Jamie on the far wall, various pictures of him from different stages of life proudly displayed. Baby pictures all the way to league headshots. Y/n wanted to evaporate into thin air.

Simon popped back into the room with a plate of baked goods, dishing one out to each of his guests as Georgie and Jamie talked.

“It was just poopy,” Jamie quietly vented to his mom, his thick accent changing the word entirely, “You know, it really upset me. This guy on Twitter, he kept saying that it was blonde, but I’m like, ‘It’s fucking walnut mist, mate.’”

Y/n nearly spit out the bite of scone she was chewing. If this whole debacle was about his vanity, she’d march out the door. They’d argued several times over the exact shade of the highlights.

“Yeah, obviously,” Georgie agreed, stroking her son’s hair, “He’s done a lovely job, it’s dead natural.”

Simon finished pouring the tea, looking up expectantly at the party. “What do you think?”

Keeley smiled, “It’s really yummy.”

“Yeah, it’s wonderful,” Y/n managed to find her voice.

Keeley elbowed Roy, who was lost staring at the sight of his former nemesis cuddled up with his mother like a lost child. “It’s fucking delicious,” he said distractedly before returning.

“Well, it’s a Paul Hollywood recipe, but I’ve gone a little bit rogue on it,” Simon explained.

Allowing herself to slip back into a world where Jamie was damn near the center, Y/n wondered who Simon was. He clearly wasn’t Jamie’s biological father, he was the complete antithesis of the man she’d heard horror stories about. Jamie had never mentioned having a step-dad.

“Babes,” Georgie said softly, “Do you wanna give Roy, Keeley and Y/n the grand tour? Show them around a bit?”

“Yes,” Simon agreed, catching the signals his wife was throwing at him. “Good idea. Thank—“ he stood and hit his head on the overhead light, “Oops! Right, follow me. We will start in the kitchen, aka my laboratory.”

Y/n was the first to stand, but fell behind Keeley, making her a buffer. When Roy hesitated to leave, she tugged him harshly out the room.

“Fuckin’ grip you’ve got,” he complained as they walked to the kitchen.

“Oh, bite me,” Y/n retorted. Keeley had good intentions, but she was ready to kick Roy for dragging her into this.

Simon took them on a full tour of the house, showcasing his kitchen and its appliances off as if they were his most prized possessions. All along the walls of the house were pictures of him and Georgie on various trips and holidays. Scattered between them were childhood pictures of Jamie.

Eventually, Simon led them up the stairs and down a short hall. “And here is the main attraction,” he announced, opening a door and flipping on a light, “Jamie’s room.”

“Oh, sweet Lord,” Y/n muttered under her breath. This was way too deep in.

The room seemed untouched since the day Jamie had left it. Both childhood toys and teen paraphernalia were stacked on shelves and dressers. The bedding had a football pattern to it and there were various trophies for the sport nearby. On the walls, there were school certificates and diplomas and-

“Fucking hell.”

Y/n turned to see a poster of Roy, sporting a Chelsea kit and a very shaggy haircut tacked to Jamie’s wall.

“Ah, yes,” Simon looked to the footballer, “Many posters have come and gone over the years. Henry, Gerrard, Ronaldo…but Roy Kent, always remains.”

Y/n slapped a hand over her mouth and snorted, ignoring the daggers Roy was sending her way.

An phone alarm went off and Simon pulled the device out of his pocket. “Oh! Meat pies are done,” he said, “Excuse me.”

As he shut the door, another poster was revealed. This one of Keeley during her more risqué modeling days, holding two footballs against her breasts.

“Fucking hell,” she grunted.

“Yep, no, can’t do it,” Y/n finally found her voice and the doorknob. She wasn’t sure she could spend another second in Jamieland without her head exploding. “Simon!”

Their friendly host had barely made it down one of the stairs, “Yeah?”

“Let me help you with the pies,” Y/n jogged down the hall.

“Oh, no, you go ahead and look around,” he said kindly.

“No, really,” Y/n followed him down the staircase, “You’re kind enough to deal with three strangers barging into your house. It’s the least I can do.”

Simon scoffed lightheartedly as he led them into the kitchen, “No friend of Jamie’s is a stranger in this house,” he slipped on a pair of oven mitts, “Right, if you want to place these on the cooling rack.”

Simon pulled out the tray of pies and set them on the stove. Y/n went about setting them on the racks, wondering if she’d made the better choice. Now, instead of sitting in Jamie’s bedroom, she was cooking with his step-dad.

“So,” Simon spoke as he moved about the kitchen, “I can gather what brought Jamie here, but what made you three tag along?”

“Oh,” Y/n searched for an explanation, “He’s been a bit…off…lately and we were just worried about him.”

“Ah, that makes sense,” he replied, “Coming home’s a big deal, especially in this case.”

Y/n furrowed her brows, “How do you figure?”

“Well, if you were playing against your hometown in your hometown,” Simon wiped his hands on his apron, “Might stir up some feelings.”

Said out in the open, it all sounded so obvious. Of course Jamie was struggling with playing Man City. Not only that, he hadn’t spoken to his dad in ages and it was almost guaranteed the bastard would show up to cheer against his own son.

Y/n sighed, she felt like an idiot.

“Speaking of home,” Simon broke her out of her head, “Your accent doesn’t suggest you’re from around here.”

“No,” Y/n returned to their conversation, “I, uh, moved here for school and never left.”

“Oh, fascinating. What made you stay?”

Y/n shrugged and placed the last of the pies on the cooling rack. “I was just settled and didn’t want to leave.”

“That must’ve been awful for your parents,” Simon said, “When Jamie moved to London, Georgie was devastated, and that’s only a half day’s drive. I can’t imagine a whole ocean’s worth of distance.”

If Y/n thought the night couldn’t get any more uncomfortable, the mention of her parents proved her wrong. Between the location, a vulnerable Jamie in the next room, and her family being brought up, she thought she might burst into tears.

“They’re okay with it,” she answered.

“Gosh,” Simon commented, stood at the island, “That can’t be true.”

“It is,” Y/n replied quickly and spun around, attempting a smile, “But I’ve got a lovely life here.”

“Of course,” he grinned, “Working for a football club’s got to be exciting. Jamie’s mentioned you plenty.”

Y/n wasn’t moving, but she could feel everything inside her stop. “Jamie’s…mentioned me?”

“Loads,” Simon nodded, “He calls round every once in a while. Obviously he keeps busy, but the name Y/n has come up nearly every conversation. I thought I might break into hives when Georgie told me about the Christmas dinner you two cooked.”

Simon began to recount all the memories shared between Jamie and Y/n that he and Georgie had become privy to. It wasn’t just the more notable moments like their chaotic Christmas or helping Y/n move to Richmond, but the little ones too. Sneaking into the stadium for lunch breaks in the seats. Post-match interviews Y/n oversaw and how Jamie would try and make her laugh with his answers. Y/n making Jamie decorate his house because the bareness of it drove her crazy. Jamie showing up on Y/n’s doorstep on her birthday right at midnight. Trying to learn how to cook together after the disastrous Christmas dinner and kind of, almost, sort of succeeding. Picking one another’s songs at team karaoke nights. Conversations in the hallways of Nelson Road. Movies and shows suggested to one another and the reactions that followed.

The whole of Jamie and Y/n’s relationship was played back for her in his parent’s kitchen.

She was speechless.

“I, uh,” she managed, her eyes beginning to glisten, “I didn’t know Jamie talked that much about his friends.”

“His friends?” Simon looked to Y/n before ducking his eyes away when he saw she was serious, “Oh, yes…his friends.”

The small slip was enough to confirm what Y/n already suspected.

“Um,” she said, her throat suddenly thick, “It’s getting late. Would you mimd telling Roy and Keeley I took a cab back to the hotel?”

“Of course,” Simon smiled, “Can I send you home with a pie?”

“Oh, no, that’s alright,” Y/n was already crossing the kitchen, “But thank you so much for the scones. Please tell Georgie thank you for letting us interrupt your night.”

Simon waved her off, “Nonsense. Get back safe.”

Y/n speed walked down the hall, not sparing so much as a glance in the living room’s direction. She threw the front door open and hurried down the way. With shaking hands, she pulled out her phone and ordered an Uber.

Her breath came in quick puffs, the anxiety creating quite a home in her chest. She was on the verge of having the worst anxiety attack of her life, all because she’d come to the conclusion that she was cared for. No, this wasn’t care. This was something else entirely.

Little did she know, the second he’d heard her brush through the hall, Jamie was on high alert. He’d looked up from his mom, jumping to a seated position as the door slammed shut.

“Was that Y/n?” He asked Simon as he passed by the living room.

“Yes, she said she had to get back to the hotel,” Simon answered, grabbing the plate of half eaten scones from the coffee table.

Jamie was up and off the couch in an instant, hurrying down the hall and out the front door. Y/n was stood on the sidewalk, her hand pressed to her chest as if she was on the verge of collapsing.

“Hey.”

Y/n’s head whipped around, Jamie was jogging down the steps to her. He kept a fair bit of distance between them at first, unsure of how she felt about his presence. All she could do was attempt another breath.

“Hey,” Jamie crossed the space, deciding to reach for Y/n’s arms, “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she shook her head and avoided meeting Jamie’s concerned eyes.

“No, what’s wrong?” Jamie’s thumbs stroked over her sweater.

For all her fight, Y/n couldn’t bring herself to battle the warm grip Jamie had on her. She’d missed it.

“I’m fine, Jamie,” she lied once more, “I just want to go back to the hotel.”

Jamie scanned her face, finding the tears in her red eyes before she could hide them. Just as much as there was something wrong with him, there was something eating away at Y/n.

In the three weeks they’d stayed away from one another, Jamie had found life to be unbearable. The anxiety about playing Man City and the possibility of seeing his father once more had manifested in his playing. He’d struggled through training more and more, slowly becoming paralyzed by the lack of his usual fire. Without Y/n there to go and vent all his fears to, someone who understood without him ever having to explain a thing, it had all snowballed. Breaking down in the boot room and sobbing into Roy’s shoulder could have been avoided. His panic attack when Keeley had come to his room to check on him would have never happened.

But it wasn’t just that. Jamie found himself missing Y/n in the dullest of moments. Making dinner for himself, searching for something on television, driving home from work. Sleep was nearly impossible now that he’d gotten to fade out with her in his arms. The vacancy she’d left in his life was overwhelming. Jamie had never wanted to share such insignificant moments with someone in his life. He’d never felt as unsettled without someone.

This wasn’t some infatuation. He couldn’t live without her.

“Look,” Jamie tilted her head up, her eyes finally meeting his, “I know everything’s wrecked a-and we fucked it all up but…” his breath came out trembling, “But I love you.”

Y/n cries began to shake her chest.

“And I know this is the worst fucking time to say it,” Jamie bit back a laugh, but he felt ten tons lighter with the words finally spoken, “But I don’t regret what happened. If I could go back and do it a hundred times over, I would.”

A single cry escaped Y/n.

“And I need you,” Jamie spoke urgently, dragging a hand to Y/n’s cheek, brushing a thumb over the wet skin, “I need you with me ‘cause I don’t know what the fuck I’m doin’ without you. I don’t. You’ve fucking ruined me.”

Y/n was caught somewhere between a frown and a smile. Her worst fear and her greatest wish.

“Don’t leave, please,” Jamie pleaded, slipping his free hand around Y/n’s waist when she didn’t recoil at his touch. “I wanna be with you.”

Y/n’s sobs caused her whole body to shudder, which only made Jamie to pull her closer. She ended up enveloped in his arms, the only place she’d truly desired to be since the moment she’d left them.

Jamie pressed a kiss to Y/n’s forehead, trying to ease whatever pain and pour out his sentiments. The relief of holding her again was all-consuming and he reveled in it.

For a moment, they both realized what they could have. They could put the whole horrid separation behind them and let themselves be happy. They could come home to one another. They could hold nothing back from each other. They could build a life together and give each other all the love they’d ever been deprived of.

Where Jamie felt hope, cradling the girl he loved, Y/n felt panic, fearing the risk more than the loss.

“Jamie,” she whispered, “No.”

Jamie pulled back, fearfully gazing into her bloodshot eyes. “What do you mean?”

“No,” Y/n repeated, “We can’t.”

“Wh-“ he stammered, she was slipping away from him, “What are you talking about? We can.”

Y/n whined, “I can’t, Jamie. I can’t.”

“You can, you can,” Jamie insisted, holding Y/n’s cheek with purpose. He caught the headlights of the Uber coming down his street, “Why? Why can’t we have this?”

“Tell me,” Jamie softly begged, “Tell me why. Why can’t we have this?”

Finally, Y/n’s emotions burst, everything flooding out in a mess of terror.

“Because I don’t want this,” she exclaimed tearfully, “I don’t want this, Jamie. I don’t want y-“

She caught herself before she could finish it, but it was still too late. The damage had been done, and the wreckage spread across Jamie’s face. His lips parted in shock and his touch lost its urgency.

In her blind panic, Y/n hadn’t expected such a lie to come out of her mouth. But there was no taking it back, and the fear of all Jamie was ready to give was possessing her. This was the only way to keep herself safe.

Behind them, the Uber driver had pulled up to the house. “Oi, one of you Y/n?”

Y/n blinked up at Jamie, who was searching her eyes for the dishonesty in what she’d said. He found it so easily, but her determination to run was visibly clearer.

“Please let me go,” Y/n asked, her voice barely audible. She couldn’t even look him in the eyes as she spoke.

Jamie knew there was no more fight to give. He’d poured the contents of his heart out to her fruitlessly. He couldn’t force her to face the truth, that she might love him back, or that she even cared that he loved her. He was out of plays to make, all he could do was let her walk away.

He dropped his hands as slow as he could, savoring the last feel of her he’d get. Y/n trembled as his fingers left her face, committing his touch to her memory. This was the end before they even reached the beginning.

“In or out, love,” the driver interrupted.

Summoning the last of her strength, Y/n sought out Jamie’s eyes, glistening with tears now. She’d dealt the ultimate blow to an already wounded soldier. Slowly, she backed away from him, fighting every urge to run back into his arms and take it all back. If he took one step towards her, she knew she’d do it.

Jamie obeyed her wishes and didn’t move.

With one final gaze, Y/n turned away, climbing into the backseat of the Uber. He didn’t wait to drive, pulling the car away from as soon as she’d shut the door.

Y/n watched Jamie in the rear view mirror before it became too much. She dissolved to silent wracking sobs, caving in on herself. Not only had she walked away from the man she knew she surely loved, but she’d broken his heart doing so. The self-destruction was no longer only affecting her, she was destroying those around her.

Jamie wiped a shaking hand over his face as he watched the car carry Y/n away. He struggled to comprehend all that had just happened. He’d lost her.

Somehow, he carried himself back inside. He shuffled robotically back into the living room. His mum and Simon were seated on the couch, speaking in hushed tones.

Georgie looked expectantly to her son. Jamie had never needed to talk about him and Y/n in so many words. She knew exactly what he felt. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Jamie stared ahead at the carpet.

“Did you talk to her?” Georgie asked, asking something far deeper.

Jamie nodded.

“Does she feel the same?”

There was the true answer, and there was the easy answer. Jamie chose the latter.

“No.”

——————

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[worseforwords]

Crescendo

(Alessia Russo x Reader)

Chapter III of Marshmallow

The Monday after the weekend off marked the return to training. As you locked your car door and approached the training center, your mind still replayed the events of the past weekend.

“Hi!” A sweet voice brought you back to the present. You turned around to meet Alessia’s now all-too-familiar blue eyes. “Morning Marshmallow,” you said, a half-smile playing on your lips. “So, I guess we're back to normal now, huh?” you said.

“Yeah, friends,” she replied as the two of you strolled towards the building. As you entered the changing room together, Katie let out a dramatic wolf whistle. “Well, well, if it isn’t our two lovebirds! I guess you’ve just moved in together already.”

Laughter echoed as you shot Katie a playful glare. The spotlight was on the two of you, and everyone seemed curious about the weekend’s charade. Vic decided to get straight to the point. “So, spill it. How’d it go? Your parents buy the whole lovey-dovey act?” She asked.

You nodded, trying to play down the attention. “Yeah, they bought it.” As you moved to take a seat next to Leah, Alessia found her own place, and the atmosphere in the room buzzed with curiosity. Beth couldn’t resist chiming in, “Really? You actually pulled it off?”

“Alessia here was playing the ideal daughter-in-law. Perfect performance,” you said with a smirk, earning a few chuckles. You were hoping to leave it at that, which was of course too good to be true. “So what’s the next act? Break up after a while?” Vic inquired.

Before you could respond, Alessia jumped in, “Actually, Y/N’s sister is getting married in Paris next month, and we’re going together.” Jaws practically hit the floor. “Paris!?” Katie exclaimed, clearly taken aback.

“Yeah, why not? Always wanted to go, and it’s a free trip with a friend.” Alessia said with a casual shrug. For some reason, the word ‘friend’ hit you like a sudden jolt, though you knew she wasn’t lying. You noticed yourself zoning out as the conversation continued on the other side of the room. “Hey, are you okay?” Leah suddenly asked quietly, noticing your distant expression.

“Yeah, fine,” you replied, but the truth lingered beneath the surface. You busied yourself with your shoelaces, gaze straight to the floor. “You know, I’m surprised your parents bought your little act. You’re not exactly a great liar Y/N/N,” she said as you both got up to leave the changing room, clearly not fooled by your tough act.

The rest of the month leading up to the dreaded Paris trip went by a lot faster than expected. You and Alessia seamlessly transitioned back into your roles as teammates, though there was an undeniable shift in your relationship. To everyone else, it appeared as if a new friendship was blossoming, but to you, it felt like a delicate dance between savouring your time together and avoiding getting too close.

You enjoyed the conversations you had with her and the occasional playful teasing. Yet, you set unspoken boundaries. The line between friendship and something more blurred at times, and when the teasing veered into the realm of flirtation, you found subtle excuses to distance yourself from the situation. It was a self-imposed rule, a defence mechanism to keep your emotions in check.

When the dreaded weekend arrived, it started on a high. You had won the London derby, the roar of the crowd still echoing in your ears as you and Alessia boarded the plane. An hour and a half flew by as you chatted away about the hard-fought victory. When you landed in Paris, the city of lights welcomed you with a glow that mirrored the spark in Alessia’s eyes.

Stepping into the hotel lobby, Alessia’s hand found its place on the small of your back. It was a simple yet familiar touch, a signal that the roles were back in play – girlfriends for the public eye. In that moment, a surge of conflicting emotions washed over you. The elation from the match, the allure of Paris, and the gentle touch on your back created a concoction of feelings that you knew you would have to suppress all weekend.

When you swung open the door to your shared hotel room for the weekend, you couldn’t stop your jaw from dropping as your eyes scanned the room. Soft, warm lights adorned the walls, casting a gentle glow across the room. The scent of vanilla and lavender wafted through the air, creating an atmosphere that whispered of indulgence and intimacy.

The centrepiece was a double bed, adorned with satin sheets and a multitude of plush pillows, rose petals scattered artfully across the bedspread. The suite, beyond the bedroom, featured a cozy sitting area adorned with plush armchairs and a low coffee table holding an assortment of gourmet chocolates and a bottle of champagne on ice, complementing the romantic atmosphere.

“Well, they really went all out on the couple vibes, didn’t they?” you remarked with a faint grin, glancing at Alessia. She chuckled, seemingly unfazed. “Seems like it. Guess we’ll be embracing the honeymoon suite feel.”

As you walked in, you found a little note sitting on the bedside table. “Your first romantic getaway little sis! Have fun you lovebirds. x Charlotte.” You snorted as you read it out loud to Alessia. “Typical Charlie turning her own wedding into a romantic getaway for someone else,” you remarked.

Alessia giggled as she walked up to the window, taking in the gorgeous view, whilst you found yourself staring at the double bed, only now realising its implications.

“Hm, so,” you cleared your throat. “Since they gave us only one bed...” you paused for a moment as Alessia turned around to look at you. “You can take the bed, and I’ll take the floor. I’ll go request some more blankets.”

Alessia raised an eyebrow playfully. “Come on, Y/N. We’re not twelve. If you’re okay with it, we can share the bed. If not, I’m more than happy to take the floor. Your call.”

“Yeah, sure, no big deal,” you mumbled, trying desperately to sound casual. Alessia flashed a warm smile. “Great! As long as you’re comfortable.” She looked at you in anticipation as if checking once more if it was really okay with you. “Absolutely, all good,” you replied, maybe a bit too quickly.

That night, you had planned to meet your family in the lobby for a drink, whilst Andrew, your sister’s fiancé spent some time with his own family. Alessia, charming as always, effortlessly endeared herself to your family.

The night was a success, with your parents clearly appreciating Alessia’s company. Your brother, Colin, and his wife found her delightful, and even your sister, the bride-to-be, was glad to see you with such a wonderful person—a relief, since Charlotte had a tendency to be very protective over you. Alessia’s ability to navigate through conversations, blending in with your family seamlessly, only solidified the image of her as the perfect girlfriend.

As you all left the venue, there was a warmth in the air—a promise of a beautiful wedding day and a sense that Alessia had, once again, proven her mettle in this elaborate charade. The only challenge, it seemed, was the quiet struggle within you as you continued to suppress the feelings that once again had begun to blossom. Or maybe they had never really stopped.

Later that night, your hotel room was hushed, illuminated only by the soft glow of your nightlight. You sat up against the headboard, engrossed in a book, the occasional rustle of pages filling the silence. Alessia lay beside you, already cocooned in the sheets, her rhythmic breathing like small waves washing over the stillness.

When you had first started reading, Alessia was still scrolling on her phone. Now, however, the sound of soft snores broke your mind away from the captivating narrative of your book. Your eyes wandered to where she was peacefully asleep beside you, and you couldn’t help but let a warm smile form on your face, matching the warmth you felt inside at the sight of her.

With a tender touch, you pulled the blanket further over her, shielding her exposed shoulder from the chill. But as you lingered, you found yourself entranced by the subtle rise and fall of her body with each breath. Your gaze lingered longer than intended, tracing the contours of her form.

Reality snapped back as you became aware you had been staring at your friend for minutes now. In a hurried response, you left your book on the nightstand, turned off the nightlight, and shifted your body down to let your head sink into the pillow.

You briefly stared at the ceiling, but found yourself distracted by the slightest of movements still visible from the corner of your eye as your eyes adjusted to the darkness. Fighting against the current of your emotions, you turned onto your side to face the other side of the bed.

However, even in the absence of her sight, you could feel her presence like a magnetic force against your back. With a racing heart, you stared into the black void, and when the internal struggle reached its peak, you made a decision. Quietly, you slipped out of bed, hoping not to disturb her peaceful slumber. However, Alessia, even in her sleep, seemed attuned to your movements. She stirred slightly, her eyelids fluttering open.

“Everything okay?” she mumbled sleepily as she reached for her nightlight. You hesitated for a moment before replying, “Yeah, just can’t sleep.” Alessia, still in a drowsy state, offered a comforting smile. “Tea?” she suggested, the word accompanied by a gentle stretch.

She hardly gave you a chance to protest as she got up to turn on your hotel kettle, returning moments later with two cups of chamomile tea and a soft, sympathetic smile.

A quiet and peaceful minute later, with the cups emptied, Alessia encouraged you to lie back down. “Now turn to your side,” she added. A sense of vulnerability washed over you as you pondered which side, and you hesitated. You ultimately decided to face away from her again, knowing the possibility of feeling her breath on your face was simply too much for you.

Shortly after you moved, however, you felt an arm softly land on yours, gently wrapping itself around you. You tensed up a little at the unexpected contact, but you slowly felt your body relax as Alessia hesitantly edged closer to you. “Is this okay?” she whispered.

The gesture was unexpected, and you felt a mix of emotions. Somehow, it felt right. “Yeah,” you whispered back, your voice barely audible, and she held onto you a little tighter. Had you not been as sleep-deprived, your judgment of the situation might have been different, but in Alessia’s embrace, the room seemed to still, and you gradually drifted into a more peaceful state.

The morning of the wedding greeted you with a soft glow, sunlight streaming into the hotel room. As you opened your eyes, you found yourself in Alessia’s arms, her warmth a comforting presence. The gentle rise and fall of her chest against your back momentarily lulled you into a sense of security.

However, you were quick to resist the allure of the moment. With a silent sigh, you carefully escaped from Alessia’s embrace, not wanting to disturb her peaceful slumber, and slipped into the bathroom.

After your shower, Alessia had woken up and did the same. As she occupied the bathroom, you used the mirror in the bedroom for your little morning chat with yourself. Today’s chat was more of a tirade, spoken with a stern whisper, since the main character was just a door away. You kept it short, deciding to use the time to get dressed.

Earlier this year, prompted by your sister’s wedding announcement, your family had visited to a tailor, which had resulted in a cohesive theme threading through each member’s attire. A shared fabric choice subtly connected all of you in the celebration. Opting for a suit, you added a personal touch underneath—a graceful camisole that exuded both elegance and individuality.

The jacket was expertly tailored, cinching at the waist to accentuate your silhouette. The trousers were tailored to perfection, elongating your legs in a tasteful manner. As you turned back towards the mirror, you felt a sense of confidence wash over you.

However, said confidence disappeared in an instant when a little while later, Alessia emerged from the bathroom. The sight of her took you aback as she looked nothing short of stunning. Her outfit exuded elegance and grace. She wore a floor-length dress with a fitted bodice that accentuated her figure. The colour was a soft, muted tone that complemented her skin beautifully and matched the shade of your camisole. The dress had delicate lace detailing, adding a touch of sophistication. Her hair, styled in loose waves, framed her face with effortless charm. She looked beautiful.

Moments must have gone by as you stared at her before she spoke up. “How do I look?” she asked nervously, eyes moving up from the floor to yours and a shy smile on her face.

The words caught in your throat for a moment before you managed to reply, “Absolutely breathtaking.” The sincerity in your words was undeniable, even as the underlying complexity of the situation lingered. Alessia’s smile widened, appreciating the compliment.

“You look great too,” she said, scanning your suit. “I’ve never seen you in a suit before. It’s— different,” she added. You felt your cheeks flush as every drop of confidence left your body. Different? What on earth did she mean by that?

She must have noticed your slightly somber expression when she added, “Good different, I mean. It’s— I really like it.”

“Oh, thank you,” you said shyly, a soft smile creeping its way onto your face. “So, you ready, marshmallow?” You asked in an attempt to lighten the mood and she giggled. “There’s no way you’re calling me that when I look like this,” she said, crossing her arms.

“Fine. Are you ready, beautiful?” You really meant for that to sound sarcastic but were pretty sure that’s not how it came across. “Yes I am, gorgeous,” she retorted. You extended an elbow and she quickly took the invitation, intertwining her arm with yours as you left your hotel room to meet up with your family.

The ceremony itself, while undoubtedly beautiful, proved to be a bit of a blur. As vows were exchanged and the union was sealed with a kiss, your mind occasionally drifted to the subtle touches exchanged between Alessia and you. All of them part of your charade, of course.

The reception was where the day truly came to life. The venue sparkled with twinkling lights, and soft music wove through the air, casting a dreamlike aura over the celebration. Tables adorned with delicate flowers dotted the space, and laughter echoed as guests mingled. You found yourself mostly sticking by Alessia’s side, introducing her to friends and family.

Caught up in conversation with your cousin, you momentarily lost sight of your pretend girlfriend amidst the laughter and chatter. An undercurrent of panic flitted through you until, scanning the room, you spotted her engaged in a lively conversation with your mom.

As dinner unfolded, the atmosphere transformed with each heartfelt speech. Stories were shared about Charlotte and Andrew, from their initial dislike towards each other when working together to an accidental cooler confinement that changed everything.

Eventually the microphone found its way into your uncle’s hands, who fancied himself a poet after a few drinks. “Life is like music,” he began. "We all navigate through the complex cacophony that is the world as our own melodies. But it’s when we listen to those around us that we find unexpected harmonies.”

Glancing at Alessia, you found her eyes already on you. A shy smile passed between you as you related the poetic metaphor to your own story— the harmony between you and Alessia, unexpected yet undeniable.

“It’s the unexpected that makes both music and life beautiful, but love is not just about one simple harmony,” your uncle continued. “It’s about finding a way to move your melodies in sync, with whatever tempo, pitch, or dynamics the world throws at you. Charlotte, Andrew, I can’t wait to listen from afar to the next movements of the symphony of your love.”

Cheesy as the speech was, your uncle was right. No matter how much you felt the two of you harmonise when you were together, her melody wasn’t in sync with yours. It was with someone else’s.

After dinner came the highlight of the night— the party. The crowd gathered in the grand dance hall, and the band kicked off with some casual tunes. Your sister and her newly-wedded husband valued family a lot, so they wanted you all to be part of the first dance. The newlywed couple would start with a slow song, and as it progressed, close family members would join in. Then you all would do a small routine together to another song.

The original plan was for you to share the dance with your brother, a strategy devised by your mother to prevent you from being on your own. However, with Alessia as your date, plans swiftly changed. Your mother broke the news mere minutes before the grand moment. You attempted to protest by saying Alessia didn’t know the dance. However, unbeknownst to you, when your mom had briefly taken Alessia away during the reception when you whilst chatting away with your cousin, she had quickly taught her the routine.

Nerves began to bubble within your stomach as the band’s singer instructed everyone to form a large circle, with the newlyweds taking center stage. The chosen song for the dance was “Finally // beautiful stranger” by Halsey, a bit of an inside joke as it happened to be Andrew’s ultimate guilty pleasure and a challenge for him to hold back tears.

Nevertheless, to his credit, he continued slow dancing with Charlotte, and your turn was approaching. “Are you sure about this?” you asked Alessia, who responded with a nod, extending her hand for you to hold. You complied, and she practically dragged you onto the dance floor.

Not a fan of the spotlight, your face started heating up as you felt everyone’s eyes on you. Alessia must have noticed your flustered state as she quickly directed your hands to her waist, wrapping her own around your neck. She slowly guided the two of you, swaying to the music as the band launched into the final chorus.

“Beautiful stranger, here you are in my arms And I think it's finally, finally, finally, finally, finally safe For me to fall”

As you looked around you, you felt your palms getting sweaty and your throat closing up. Sensing your nerves, Alessia whispered softly, “It’s okay, just look at me.”

You did as she said, and although her bright blue eyes did not make you any less nervous, her encouraging smile made you temporarily forget about everyone else’s eyes on you, hers the only pair that mattered. Alessia became your anchor on the dance floor, subtly guiding you through the steps.

As the night unfolded into a lively party, drinks flowed freely, and the dance floor beckoned. Your pretend girlfriend, being the new addition to the family, soon found herself surrounded by eager relatives, each wanting to share a toast or pull her into a dance.

You were in the midst of a conversation with your aunt when Alessia suddenly whisked you onto the dance floor. Guiding your hands to her waist once again, she inched closer, and the dance felt different from before, carefree in a way. Her hands explored your body more intimately than usual, and you decided to attribute it to the influence of alcohol and chose to savour the moment.

Just as you were becoming lost in the dance, your brother Colin’s playful interruption cut through the enchantment with a teasing grin. “Hey, lovebirds, mind if I cut in?” His comment, though light-hearted, momentarily disrupted the dance’s spell.

Another interruption followed when Alessia’s phone chimed with an incoming call. She gracefully excused herself, walking away to take the call with an apologetic smile. However, you couldn’t help but glimpse the caller ID on her screen—Dan, accompanied by a little heart emoji.

“Who’s Dan?" Colin inquired, raising a suspicious eyebrow. It seemed you weren’t the only one who had caught a quick glimpse of the screen. “He’s just a friend of Alessia’s,” you quickly replied.

“Why did she add a heart to his name?” he persisted, unwilling to let the topic go. “They’re good friends, like family almost,” you offered in explanation.

“Family? Really? Would you take a photo like that with me?” he skeptically questioned. He seemed to have gotten a better look at the screen than you had thought. “Y/N what’s going on here?”

“Nothing is going on. You’re just looking for drama, that’s what’s going on!” you retorted, shoving your brother away as you headed to the bar, eager to escape the conversation.

Fortunately, Colin didn’t follow you, and you settled onto a barstool with a glass of water to cool down. 

“Hey, did I do something wrong?” Alessia asked when she found you at the bar a little while later. “I just ran into Colin. He was being weird. All of a sudden, he was telling me I can’t hide anything from him,” she explained.

“Shit,” you muttered before pulling Alessia into the hallway and explaining your encounter with your brother. “I don’t know what to do, Less; he might be onto us.”

A hushed silence fell between you as your minds raced to find a solution. “I think I might have an idea,” Alessia suddenly broke the silence, and you looked at her expectantly.

“It’s a bit weird, but don’t freak out please,” she said and you nodded nervously, but you both jumped when Colin’s voice suddenly rang from around the corner, calling out your name.

“Shit okay, no time to explain,” she continued, turning her body towards you. Her blue eyes locked onto yours as she took a deep breath. “Y/N, can I kiss you?”

Perhaps it was the alcohol, the rush of the situation, or simply your brain short-circuiting at the question, but whatever it was, you nodded almost instantly. “Yes?” she asked, seeking assurance, a warm hand cupping your cheek as you closed your eyes.

“Yes.”

The approaching footsteps neared the corner of the hallway where you stood when you suddenly felt a pair of soft lips crash onto yours. For a moment everything around you disappeared. Your hands found her waist once more like on autopilot, and her hand moved to the back of your neck. She slowly walked the two of you backward until you felt your back connect with the cold wall behind you. The kiss was hungry and a little sloppy, nothing like how a first kiss was supposed be, yet you never wanted this moment to end.

Had your brain still been functioning you would’ve realised the heat of it all was due to Alessia trying to perform a convincing drunken make-out. But your brain had little to do with what was happening right now. For a moment, you didn’t think. You disappeared into the kiss easily, as if the two of you had done this numerous times before. Harmony. Synchronisation.

Alessia broke away from you what must have been minutes later, your brother long gone. As you felt your heart all but beat out of your chest, you wondered whether she had noticed that just moments ago when she had you trapped against the wall.

“You think he bought it?” Alessia asked, her warm breath mingling with yours as it took you a while to form an answer. 

“I would assume so,” you finally answered, only now remembering the reason behind the moment you shared.

The party continued in a blur of lights, laughter, and music, but your mind remained in a state of disarray. The hallway kiss with Alessia left you dazed and confused. What did it mean? Why did she do it? The questions swirled in your mind, each one more bewildering than the last. One thing was certain; it didn’t feel like nothing.

As the night wore on, you and Alessia eventually decided to call it a night. The world outside the grand dance hall seemed quieter, and you both made your way back to the hotel room in a companionable silence.

Once inside, the question that had been nagging at you surfaced. “Hey, about the call from your boyfriend earlier, is everything okay?”

Alessia nodded, “Yeah, it’s fine, just had a planning issue,” she explained. Curiosity brimming, you probed further, “Is he really okay with all this?”

She hesitated for a moment. “Yeah, he’s... not really the jealous type,” she finally responded. The air grew heavy as you dared to ask the question that hung in the room, “Are you gonna tell him about the... you know, thing we did earlier?”

“I guess so,” she mumbled casually. “Doesn’t really matter anyways…” Her voice trailed off, and her gaze seemed distant, as if already lost in other thoughts.

That admission hit you like a stab to the heart. It was a stark reminder of the insignificance of the shared moments, at least from her perspective. You fell silent for a while, processing the weight of her words.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” Alessia’s voice was filled with concern. You forced a smile, “Yeah, all good. I’m just gonna take a shower.”

In the confined space of the bathroom, the sound of water cascading drowned the noise in your head. You let the water cleanse not only your body but also the lingering confusion and hurt. As you stepped out, Alessia was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps sensing the need for space, she’d let you be.

When Alessia returned, you were already in bed, eyes shut, pretending to be asleep. You remained still when you felt her quietly slip into the other side of the bed.

The next morning was a quiet one. You both packed your belongings and left for the airport, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken words. The flight was silent, with occasional glances at each other, a mixture of confusion and hurt and still, for whatever reason, curiosity in your eyes.

Neither of you dared to broach the topic of the previous night’s events. Was it a mistake, a game, or something more? Or was it really nothing? Were you making things up? The questions lingered as the plane landed, and you shared an Uber to take both of you home.

The Uber dropped Alessia off first. As she gathered her things, she turned to you. “Hey, want to come in for a bit?” The question hung in the air, loaded with unspoken implications. You hesitated but agreed, curiosity overcoming your reservations.

Inside her place, the tension was palpable. Alessia attempted to break it with a joke, "So when’s our next performance?”

You forced a chuckle, “Don’t worry, I can come up with excuses for you for the next couple of family events, and after a few months, I’ll just tell them we broke up or something.”

Alessia’s expression shifted, sensing something beneath your words. “Is everything okay, Y/N?” She asked, a concerned look on her face as she tried to catch your gaze, which you avoided.

“Yeah, fine,” you lied. “I’m just not going to drag you to every family thing ever just because you said yes to it once. It was really nice of you to help me, but you should get to spend your time off football with your actual boyfriend.”

“Right, Dan. Y/N, I—” she started but the keys jingling in the door interrupted her. The door opened, and in walked her boyfriend.

He greeted Alessia with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, and your heart sank a little as you watched, unable to shake the tinge of jealousy. You wished you could hate him, find some flaw, but he was genuinely a nice guy who had done nothing wrong. Still, you couldn’t help but wish you could recreate the intimacy you shared with Alessia just yesterday, a privilege he seemed to enjoy effortlessly whenever he wanted.

When Dan asked you if you wanted to stay for lunch, you politely declined, saying you already had plans and you excused yourself, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible. 

You shut the door to Alessia’s apartment and with it your pretend relationship. Why did this fake break-up hurt so real? 

One thing was for sure, it was all your fault. And still you had a lingering feeling that this wasn’t the last chapter of this strange tale.

---------------

Note: Hi! Just wanted to let you all know that I love hearing what you think about the story thus far and what you would like to see happen next so feel free to leave a comment/ask/message!

-> Chapter IV

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Congratulations on 5k

Could you do 6 and 16 for Orm if he's not allowed Steve.

.⋆｡Dosage｡⋆.

Orm Marius x plus size reader

You get stuck babysitting the Ocean Master, you should’ve guessed that he would stir up some trouble

Warnings: sex pollen so little bit of dub-con, mention of tranquilisers and death, Batman not being helpful, swearing, no smut but nudity and implied smut

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

5k Follower Celebration

You wondered what you did to warrant this terrible punishment. The lab was silent, your music having been forcefully turned off by your employer an hour before and you were pinned to your seat by the icy blue eyes of your charge. 

Babysitting, that’s what you had been reduced to. It’s not like your three PHDs could be put to better use than making sure Arthur’s brother didn’t wander off and get himself into trouble. You rationalised that you could deal with it fine as long as he kept his mouth shut and his hands to himself but evidently the ex King of Atlantis had a serious staring problem and it was so much more distracting than if he had been chatting your ear off.

Sighing heavily, your head dropped between your shoulders and you pulled your glasses off your nose. “Do you really have to stare at me the whole time like some kind of fucking vouyer?” Orm huffed, finally looking away and giving you a chance to observe the Atlantian.

There was no doubt that he was beautiful, with a chilled jaw, perfect skin, fluffy blond hair and a body that would rival Michelangelo’s David but as soon as he opened his mouth, all that beauty melted away. He was arrogant and entitled and for some damn reason he refused to let you work in peace.

“You should be honoured to be in my presence human.” Your eye twitched in annoyance. Breathe Y/N, breathe. You told yourself. You crossed your legs and shot Orm a look that would’ve had Batman shaking in his boots.

“Just- find something else to do and let me work, please.” He raised a dark brow at you but nodded anyway. His muscles rippled beneath the compression shirt he had been given upon his arrival to the tower. You forced yourself to look away and back to your work. “All I need is an hour and then we can find something productive for you to do.”

He hummed noncommittally, which you were perfectly fine with. 

The lab settled into a blissful silence and you were finally, thankfully, able to really plug into the data analysis that you had been putting off. Occasionally, you could see the disgraced prince out of the corner of your eye as he wandered around the lab, his hands clasped behind his back. He could follow directions well, you would give him that.

You didn’t mind the company, now that he was not staring at you like a fucking creep, in fact he was quite comforting considering you spent most days in complete isolation save for when Batman needed yet another project completed. 

Just as you were reaching the final compiling, Orm’s voice rang through the lab as if he were commanding his people. “What the fuck is sex pollen?” Your entire body seized with fear and as you turned your chair to face him, time slowed.

His large hand had turned one of the many labelled specimen jars in the open cabinet at the other end of the lab, the cabinet that you had forgotten to lock when Bruce had barged in earlier. Your eyes widened almost comically as the delicate jar tipped and the neon pink dust gathered to one side. Orm tried to grab the sealed beaker but the glass was already rolling off the shelf.

Your hand was already moving towards the contamination shut down as the container met the solid ground, shattering immediately. 

The pollen exploded outwards, coating everything within 2 metres of the impact point in a bright pink dust. Orm coughed and tried to wipe it from his skin, but the pollen was already soaking in, quickly making its way into his bloodstream. 

The lab doors slammed shut and the industrial strength locks clicked into place. You yanked a medical mask from your workstation and quickly tugged it on as you rushed towards Orm, whose face was now flushed. His chest was already heaving with laboured breaths and as you drew closer, you could see the sweat collecting on his brow.

“Hey, I need you to listen to me very carefully right now.” His gaze snapped to you and you held up your hands to show that you weren’t a threat. “We can fix this, we just have to work together. Understand?” He nodded his head and you sighed in relief.

“I need you to strip off your clothes, the longer you’re in them, the more pollen you’ll ingest. And then I’m putting you in the decontamination shower until I figure out how this is going to fuck with your fishy DNA.” You expected some fight out of the prince but he followed your directions to the letter, his eyes staring intently into your own. 

You were thankful for your mask concealing your face as he pulled off his shirt, exposing the toned muscles of his stomach. You swallowed thickly, heat defiantly pooling between your thighs as his thumbs hooked into the waistband of his sweatpants and yanked them down. Evidently, Atlantians didn’t wear underwear. He leaned closer to you, his nostrils flaring. 

Orm’s eyelids fluttered as he let out the most erotic groan you had ever heard. “Fuck, why do you smell so fucking good?” You hated to admit it, but your knees buckled at that. Swallowing down the whine that threatened to spill from your lips, you pulled yourself together.

“O-okay now, into the shower.” You nodded your head towards the stall in the corner of the lab but Orm remained still. His breathing was quickening and his pupils were blown, leaving only a sliver of blue around the black. You stepped in that direction but still, he refused to follow.

“Goddamnit.” You muttered and grabbed his muscular shoulder, forcefully yanking him to the stall and quickly shoving him inside before he had a chance to refuse. You locked the door, knowing that there was no possible way for him to drown himself, and started the auto decontamination.

As soon as he lost sight of you, Orm gave a shout of protest and slammed his fists against the door. “No! Come back!” The glass trembled with the force of his blows and if it weren’t for Bruce’s tendency to make everything strong enough to hold Clark back for a minute at least, you would have been scared of it shattering.

You carefully walked backwards to your desk, your eyes locked onto the shower which was now running but it was doing nothing to hinder the man inside. In fact, his efforts to get out doubled as the water hit his overheated skin. “You’re mine!” He screamed and a crack appeared in the glass.

You snatched up the phone that directly connected you to Bruce, pressing it to your ear as you continued to back up. As soon as you heard his gruff voice, you shouted at him. “Orm ingested that sex pollen shit from Ivy, what the fuck do I do?”

There was a pause and for a second you thought the line had dropped. Then he sighed heavily into the receiver. “Fuck. The antidote you developed won’t work on him since he doesn’t have any human DNA and his body won’t burn out the pollen fast enough before his system overheats.” Silence settled between you as the solution dawned on both of you at the same time. “So-“

“So I’ll have to help him through it or he dies.” You finished his thought for him.

“I’m sorry kid.” Then the call cut off. Orm threw his body at the door and another crack appeared. You had a choice here, there was a tranquiliser in the drawer of your desk that could put down Flash, you could wait for the door to shatter and use it against the raging prince. Or…

Your mask dropped to the floor, along with your shirt and pants. His shouts had now devolved into unintelligible growls that only served to make your inner thighs even wetter. By the time you reached the shower, the frosted glass now resembled a spider’s web and you were completely bare.

You hit the override switch to the side of the stall and the screaming stopped. The damaged tracks groaned as the door slowly opened, revealing you to Orm once more. “Take what you need, I only want to help.” 

The air was knocked from your lungs as strong arms grabbed you and pulled you into the shower with him. Cold water washed over your naked body though it did nothing to lessen the fire between you. A moan was forced from your lips as Orm ducked down and buried his nose in the crook of your throat, pressing his hard body to your soft one.

His chest rumbled happily as he inhaled. “I will not be gentle, I cannot. But once this curse has passed, I will treat you like a goddess, a queen.” His tongue licked up the column of your neck until he could rise to his full height once more. “You will experience pleasure like never before, my claim will be laid upon you.”

And you could only nod as his large warm hand gripped your knee tightly, bringing your plump leg up to wrap around his lean hips. “Prepare yourself for your king.”

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[obsessivevoidkitten]

Since everyone really enjoys shorter drabbles I will attempt to mix a few more in here and there instead of just focusing on fewer larger fics. I am not doing titles and word counts for little one-shot drabbles though. (CW: non-con, character death, magic, necromancy, blood drinking, general yandere behavior, undead yandere, gender neutral reader)  

Imagine you live in a realm of monsters and magic. You’re the village mage, and have studied the mystical realm your entire life. You mix potions to help the ill and cast blessings to secure the harvests. Your magical protection even keeps away some of the scarier creatures of the world. But one day your best friend dies, you had been like family since childhood. Trying to move on and accept the loss completely fails, you are devastated. You are devastated and delve into very taboo magic. Forbidden magic. One night you steal away his remains, pack up your magical equipment, and set up a dwelling deep in the woods where normal men dare not dwell. You practice and research dark sorcery and commune with demons deep within the layers of Hell. Once you have the knowledge and enough of the appropriate ingredients you practice reviving animals and finally you feel you are ready. The ritual calls for the bones of the dead and the blood of a living loved one to anchor them back to this world. You repair the body, it looks like he is sleeping, but there is no soul yet, you cast the final incantations and paint the sigils on his body in your own blood. It is done. You wait. He breathes. It has worked! He has returned to the realm of the living once more. He remembers nothing of the afterlife and you explain to him what happened and how neither of you can ever return to your former home. It’s fine, he had no other friends or family there anyway and the two of you manage to do just fine on your own. But slowly you begin to realize your friend was… changed… by the ritual. He came back… wrong. He occasionally needed human blood to feed the magic binding him to this world, but you were the only person available. Each time he ingested your blood he became more and more attached to you. Clingy. Suffocating.   Eventually it got to the point where he wouldn’t leave you alone. He began to leave lingering touches on your body, attempt to caress and even kiss you. You tried to tell him you weren’t interested but he needed more and more. Your essences had been mixed by blood and magic and he now craved you in every way possible! What’s worse is no matter what you tried he was immune to all your spells and potions. And he had ungodly strength. Now you were sobbing as you were helplessly pinned below him with his cock pistoning in and out of you with great force. You would never escape him. There was a reason this type of magic was forbidden.

[ambrosialdesire]

what are your thoughts on yandere levi 😩

my thoughts are: HELL YES

assuming that this is captain levi you're talking about, he's an already pretty terrifying force to be messing with in the first place, whether you are part of the corps or the enemy. to add on the yandere trope onto his character, you're in deep trouble LOL

ngl for me, it really varies on what kind of yandere he is depending on who he's interested in. for now, i'm only going to be explaining the instances and scenarios of reader either being a survey corps low-ranked soldier, marleyan captain enemy, and civilian.

i didn't mean for this to be so long but levi's been one of my favorites since middle school (literally was insane for him back then before reiner's s4 glowup lolol)

this is written as a gender-neutral reader sorta, no pronouns are used but it's slightly implied that this is a fem reader.

tw: manipulation, abuse of power, inappropriate touching, possessive behavior, implied non-con, implied mind-breaking

if you're part of the survey corps but serving as a low ranked soldier compared to levi, he constantly abuses his power over you. it doesn't show at all that he likes you, it's him mostly making you do things for him like you were his personal secretary. he takes you out of training to clean his office instead (he'd make you do it over and over again if it's not up to his standards), takes you away from your lunch group so you can boil his tea for him, sometimes just pulling you out of anything you're doing just to hang around him. at first, you were excited to take any job from him, after all, levi's one of the top soldiers in the corps. it was completely out of respect for the man until you begun to realize that he's just using you to only do "desk-jobs". you start getting sick of doing meaningless jobs for him but you're terrified of even saying anything about it to humanity's strongest soldier. levi's never going to be the really touchy type in any of my renditions of him being a yandere, but you've occasionally felt his faint touches around certain parts of your body as if a ghost had brushed past you; other times, he sternly grips your forearm or shoulder whenever he's in a not-so-pleasant mood. since him and erwin are buddy-buddy, he turns an eye with his behavior towards you, telling you that he would report the mistreatment to the higher-ups but really just throw away the files. he doesn't want his best soldier to falter anytime soon and you being a little special treat to satiate his appetite is nothing short of a itty bitty loss in the ranks. he's manipulative, wavering the threat of forcibly having you dishonorably discharged when you don't do as you're told. you wouldn't want your family to know that you're a shameful excuse of a soldier, would you? so be a good little pet, get down on your knees and beg for his forgiveness by any means necessary.

if you're a marleyan enemy soldier, especially a captain like him, FUCK there's so much tension between the two of you. his paradisian devil soldiers made a complete mess that night, killing many of the underlings and your coworkers, incapacitating the warriors as if they were nothing short of pests. you saw the absolute speed of that man who tore through one of the hinges of galliard's jaw and completely cut down jaeger's beast titan form, swearing nothing but completely hatred for that demon. levi thought you were interesting the moment he spotted you witnessing his attacks, eyes wide with admiration but stewing with disgust at the same time. there was a certain kind of fear that he's never seen before and the two of you shared a long stare before you took a shot, barely missing your intended target: him. a frustrated scream ripped out of you as you had to powerlessly watch them leave through one of the many blimps in the air. you didn't realize that he soon shot his ODM spears towards you, zipping in your direction and kicking you down to the ground. it was like he teleported in front of you as he stood over your body but you were soon knocked out with the butt of your own rifle. you woke up tied to a chair, hair being pulled back and gaze focused on the blinding light above you. he started asking questions, hitting you around like a training dummy but you refused to budge no matter how much pain you were in, spitting and laughing at his face. one of his comrades told him that it was useless trying to make you spill out anything, that they already knew everything that they needed to know from the marleyan defectors and zeke. part of his motivation for this (at that point in the anime) is because he's so sick of losing everyone important in his life so having someone to control, knowing what the outcome is because their future is strung by his own hands, it made the pain easier to deal with. on your side, for some godforsaken reason, he refused to let you go or kill you. oh no, no, no. he wants you to break. he wants that terrified, but idolized look in your eyes again. levi wants you to completely forget the person you are and who you served, only becoming his sweet and obedient marleyan prisoner.

if you're just an average citizen, it's a slow build-up of when levi began to take an interest with you. it was on accident but he starts to occasionally spot you whenever the scouts come back from outside expeditions, eyes wandering over the injured with a sullen expression. he couldn't decipher whether you felt simply ashamed of their loss again or that you felt bad that they had to keep doing this to themselves. that's usually only the few times where he sees you, usually trying to keep to himself and ignore the other bystanders. you were always there however, as if his eyes were automatically always darting to the same spot when he looked over into the crowd. when hange forced him to get out of the stuffy corps building and out into the city, he found himself staring at you while you serve drinks out to customers. it's filthy the way you brush your hand against theirs, winking at them to rub it even more. it was reminiscent, as if he was back watching an underground whore working for better tips. it felt strange seeing you outside of something he was used to, especially if it's something as deprecating as this back-alley bar. levi couldn't stop himself from standing up and trudging over to you when some pig put his hands on you, more so from what you're obviously comfortable with. it felt like he was back in the underground, the way he dug his fists into that sorry son of a bitch's face, fighting the group of men that he was with as well. hange eventually joined in as well, cheering in joy as they threw a beer glass into some guy who was sneaking up behind him. as the fight started to get more insane, he snatched you away from the scene when the moment was right (he may have left hange behind but they're more than capable of handling themselves in a fight). you thanked him profusely and offhandedly mentioned that you were definitely not working back there again after what happened. it could've been the traces of alcohol in his system or the adrenaline, but he kissed you right there. you pushed him away of course, completely shocked that the humanity's strongest had literally just kissed you unwarrantedly. he wanted to take his time to get to know you, he really did. yet levi realizes that he's no different from the disgusting man that he had just beat his face in, his grip around your arm tightening as he forces you against the grating wall in the dark alleyway.

[fishwithtitz]

A Simple Existence (a Papa Emeritus IV x f!reader one shot)

A/N: This one was written specifically for my sweet cheese, my main babe Jen (@copias-juicebox). Her birthday was on Wednesday and this is a very belated present created with her in mind. Girl, you wanted subby sweet Copia, you got him! Love you so much and I'm so happy I met you. Alles Gute zum nachträglichen Geburtstag!

Also, special shout out to @anamelessfool, @eyeslikelilith, and @portaltothevoid for beta'ing and feedback <3

If you'd like to be on my tag list, please comment!

⛧⛧⛧

Rating: Explicit, 18+ MDNI

Papa Emeritus IV x f!reader / 5.1k words

Warnings: dom/sub relationship, hints at dub-con (if you squint?), oral sex, piv, language, cock worshipping

ao3 link

Over the past few weeks, it had become more commonplace for Papa Emeritus IV to be sitting at his cherry wood desk, pen in hand as he rifled through various Ministry tasks late into the night. 

To many, Papa was a figurehead of the church — both through his leadership in the spiritual sector of the Ministry and as frontman of the Ghost project. But so many didn’t realize the influence he had within the planning and implementation of the church and its projects as a whole. 

It was almost as if he breathed much-needed oxygen into the lungs of the abbey and transfused his own lifeblood into the theatrics of the band. The Ministry was, to put it simply, his everything. It was something you had come to love and loathe about the man.

Tonight was no different than any other night the past few weeks. Copia sat perched in his worn office chair (the one he’d taken with him from his stay at the abbey in Venice during his time as a bishop), papal paint smeared somewhat from the occasional swipe of his palm against his cheeks as he thought through a complex task. A banker’s lamp and the starlight were the only sources of illumination in the office space — a tell of how late into the evening it had become. 

You’d sat up night after night waiting for your Papa to come back to his chambers at a reasonable hour. Most nights ended with you falling asleep as you sat  against the headboard in your shared bed or lounged on the loveseat in the sitting room. Tonight, however, you’d had enough. You were worried that the ministry was taking advantage of the Satanic pope’s hardworking and passionate spirit and the last thing you wanted was for him to spiral into burn out. Tonight, you would put your foot down. 

It was a short walk from the Papal chambers to Copia’s office. You’d made the trek what felt like hundreds of times and this specific time, it was as if the route had been cut in half. Perhaps that was the speed at which your bare feet carried you, or perhaps it was the simmering frustration you had bubbling in your chest. Nevertheless, you didn’t bother to knock before you pushed on the oaken double doors to Papa’s workspace. 

As soon as you shut the heavy door behind you, Papa’s head sprung up in alarm as if he had been shaken out of a trance. You walked into the spacious office, nightgown flowing behind you like an estuary, and stopped a couple of meters away from where he sat. 

“Il amore mio, what are you doing h-”

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” You found yourself cutting off his tired greeting.

Copia pressed his thumb and forefinger against his temples, gently rubbing them as he closed his eyes in defeated frustration. “I haven’t looked at the clock in a while.”

“It’s nearly one in the morning,” you answered for him, taking a step towards the cherrywood desk. “Come to bed.  It’s not doing you any good burning the midnight oil.”

Copia’s hand dropped from his temples and on any other occasion, you would smirk at the sight of the smudged paint on his fingertips. “I assure you that I have plenty of fuel left for this candle’s flame, amore mio,” he said. 

“But you’re burning it at both ends!” you retorted, voice raising in a mix of sympathy and frustration. “Copia, it’s not a matter of if you’ll drive yourself into the ground but when.” You moved to round the large wooden desk, and as you approached him, your expression softened. “All of this can wait until tomorrow,” you said, voice slightly calmer now.

You shifted behind him and snaked your arms around his shoulders, resting them on his strong chest. Your lips pressed to the hair atop his head.  The salt-and-pepper streaked strands that once were combed back on his head but had since begun to fall into his eyes and around his temples. “Just, come to sleep. I miss you. I miss my Papa.”

And you realized that this man, this hopelessly devoted man beneath the cloak of your arms was the picture of leadership. A perfect blend of authority and quiet strength. Measured. Loving. Dedicated. And when necessary, absolutely ruthless. 

Papa sighed at your admission and reached up to place his non-dominant hand over one of yours, his pen still gripped tight in the other. “Il mio amore,” he began, voice apologetic and oddly tinged with dampened annoyance, “you must understand that I am everyone’s Papa. The work I do is necessary to maintain and grow the ministry — our outreach, our education, charity — the very diffusion of our beliefs lies within my leadership.”

At his dismissal, you felt your grip around him loosen, your hands sliding from around his shoulders as you stepped away from him. “You think I don’t know that? You are one man, Copia. You can’t do it all,” you began as you ran your hand through your hair in frustration. You stepped to the side to better face him, hoping to see him — even just a glance at the mismatched eyes you were growing to love. “I’m tired of watching you run yourself ragged trying. And quite frankly, I’m tired of being left behind while you choose your work over everything else in your life.”

Copia’s eyes finally rose to meet yours. His voice changed from his more understanding and apologetic (possibly even patronizing) tone to one of seriousness. “My work is my duty…my oath to the lightbringer, to his infernal majesty.”

The earlier simmering of frustration in your chest came to a roaring boil at his retort and you moved to face him, arms crossed over your chest as you leaned just slightly over his desk. “Well, I suppose it’s good to know where your duties lie.”

With that, you left the office, leaving Copia to ruminate in the reverberating slam of the heavy oak door and the ringing of your words repeating in his head.

Copia tried his best to finish up the task he’d been in the middle of when you’d stopped by his office at the end of the clergy wing, but no matter how much he attempted to focus, he couldn’t drag his mind away from the argument you’d just shared. Perhaps you were right. Perhaps he had been neglectful in other areas of his life. After a light yawn escaped from his lips, he decided to pack up his work and return back to your shared room. Afterall, he probably owes you an apology.

He didn’t even remember walking back to the papal chambers, the weight of his exhaustion being so heavy that it dulled his sense of time. Despite this, when he entered your shared room, he still had the wherewithal to show slight shock that you were still awake and waiting for him on the sitting room chaise. 

“Tesoro,” he started, walking around the loveseat to approach you, “I am sorry for the way that I spoke earlier—”

His apology was cut off, however, when you held up a hand as if to nonverbally signal for him to stop. His eyebrows creased just slightly in confusion.

“Go to our bedroom and get undressed,” you said, voice devoid of any emotion yet strangely demanding given your usual countenance. As he opened his mouth to protest, you raised an eyebrow, holding your hand up again to silence him once more. With this, Copia’s eyes adopted a slight glimmer and his lips fought the desire to curve into a smirk. He knew what this meant. 

He took a step closer to you and his voice lowered as he spoke. “You want to play Papa tonight, dolcezza?” As he approached you, you fought the desire to conform to him, to allow him to take hold of the reins that he so often gripped. 

You steadied your countenance and gave him a simple nod in retort. 

This time, his lips made the final curve into the smirk he had tried to withhold. As he made his way into the bedroom, his gloveless hand reached towards his neck to loosen his blue cravat (a favorite of yours, he remembered), and unfasten the buttons lining the center of his shirt. He shrugged both of them off and set them on the bench at the foot of the bed before working to remove his pants, belt, shoes, and socks. Soon enough, he was left only in his boxers, and he began to move towards the bed, assuming your insistence that he get some rest.

Instead, you nonchalantly walked by him as you rounded the four-poster bed. “I said undressed, Papa,” you remarked coolly.

He turned to look at you, eyebrows raised once more, before his expression crinkled slightly. “As you wish, amore mio,” he said. Your face remained stoic.

The truth was, as you waited for him to return from his office after your discussion, you realized that you had two choices. You could be angry with him for the neglect he’d shown to your relationship. It would definitely be well-founded, and you had every right to give him a prolonged cold shoulder in retaliation. 

Or, you could approach the situation with the empathy you had craved from him. You could help him realize that his ascension to papacy did not require him to work himself to the bone. On the contrary, it should allow him to revel in the devotion that others craved to provide to him.

You’d decided on the latter.

Papa slid the silken fabric of his boxers down his toned legs (oh, how you’d love to worship those legs) and let them pool on the floor below as he stepped out of them. You motioned to the bed with nothing more than a flick of your gaze, and he sat against the edge. 

“Back against the headboard, Papa.” Your voice felt weirdly not your own. Not that you were complaining, by any means. You felt a surge of confidence and power prickling through your body and you couldn’t help but wonder if this is what he felt like when he presided over Mass. 

Copia scooted his body back to the headboard, back flush against the aged wood, and set his palms down against the pillows. After reaching down to grab his discarded cravat (to which you internally smiled as you noticed the blue hue), your feet carried you towards him, padding softly against the carpet in the papal suite, and you pulled up the sheer organza of your nightgown to reveal the thigh-high stockings you’d adorned while waiting for him to finish in his office. His pupils widened. 

Slipping them off with deliberate purpose, you gathered them both in your hands by their length and reached to grab his right wrist. Without hesitation, you looped the black nylon fabric around him and began securing him to the headboard. “You better than anyone know the values of our church,” -the nylon tightens- “the importance of self indulgence” -pull- “practicing the sin of lust” -loop- “showing our devotion to the one below through celebration of carnal desire.” He watched as you tightened the knot, testing its strength, his eyes deeply curious as he allowed this scenario to play out. You then brought forth his cravat and secured his left hand to the other side in symmetry. 

You backed away and admired your prize. There he sat — the leader of the Ministry of Satan, Papa Emeritus IV, his Unholy Eminence, looking back at you while restrained against the bed with his infernal eye burning. With what? You wondered. Curiosity? Anger? Lust? Annoyance? Intrigue? He opened his mouth to speak, and you reached forward to press a single finger to his lips. 

“You’ve spent so much time speaking on behalf of the church that I think you’ve forgotten how to listen.”

And it was true. All of his duties hung heavy on his shoulders. His ascension to papacy only seemed to increase the workload, and in recognizing his competence, the other senior clergy members dumped task after task upon him that he knew were not required of his predecessors. But, he’d wanted this. He’d yearned for it for so long. How could he stand up against the very ministry that he vowed to serve eternally?

Once more, you lifted up the flowy nightgown to reveal a pair of white satin lace panties. A symbol of purity, innocence — a stark contrast to your actions and the wicked man in front of you. Your thumbs hooked under the waistband and you slid them off, before neatly balling them up in your fist. “Open,” you directed. Surprisingly, Copia obeyed. You smirked and pushed the fabric past his lips and into his mouth, effectively silencing him. 

Your attention turned to his legs splayed out before you. His strong thighs sat parallel to one another as they rested against the pillow-top mattress. Stretching forward, you began to run your hands along each thigh, enjoying the feel of the muscles beneath your palms as they lightly flexed under your touch. “I love these thighs,” you murmured, almost to yourself. You moved to straddle him, climbing just above his knees with your legs on either side of his. Lifting your arms slightly, you loosened the front tie to the bodice of your nightgown, then pulled both breasts out of the scoop neck. They sat directly in front of his painted face, and your eyes watched his as they traveled across the expanse of your chest, his kohl-colored lips barely parted. You swore you heard a noise escape from them. 

You leaned in, breasts brushing against his bare skin as you hovered your mouth by his ear. “Patience,” you breathed, a smirk evident in your tone. As you pulled away, you licked your lips and continued. “You’ve proven that you’re very good at doling out orders. Now,” you trailed your finger down his chest, pausing at the bottom of his sternum, “let’s see if you know how to follow them.”

You knew at this moment that your attention, your affection, was what he craved. However, you also knew that for him to learn to let go, you couldn’t give him what he wanted so easily. Not just yet. So, you leaned back slightly and hovered your bare crotch against his own. You could feel the heat of the both of you and you smiled, pushing down just barely to push your mons against his length. It involuntarily twitched against you and you used this moment to pull back further, earning you a near whine from him (which you purposefully ignored). 

As you sat back against his legs, you looked back down at them, biting your lip. “Fuck, touring has done so much for you. I can’t get enough of these,” you spoke, running your hands along the skin of his quads. “You never have time to let me feel them against me. How sculpted the muscles are, how strong they feel…”

With that, you shuffled your body so that you were straddling his left thigh, your own heat ghosting against the skin of it. You began to press your core down against him, putting pressure against your clit. Looking up, you locked eyes with him. “Do you feel what they do to me?” you asked, beginning to move your hips just slightly, just so, so that he could feel your wetness slipping against him. “How wet it makes me just thinking about touching you?” 

Copia groaned against the fabric of the panties in his mouth. It was muffled but audible, which made you realize just how loud it would be without the gag. 

“And yet…you deny me? All for your work?” Your voice took on a tone of inquisitive mock innocence and hurt, and you creased your eyebrows for effect. Forgetting about the restraints, Copia moved his arms to grab onto you, but groaned again as he realized he was secured into place. 

“What was the saying? ‘All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy?’” At this, you reached down and grabbed onto his erection, trapping it between your leg and his as you ground down on the top of his thigh, pussy pushing down much more forcefully. You let out a moan and tilted your head back at the feeling. He was nearly shaking beneath you. 

Your hips found a slow yet strong rhythm as you gyrated against him. With every forward movement, your leg squeezed against his cock and he let out a series of noises — muffled whimpers and moans — and eventually, his eyelids tightly pressed shut. 

“Is…is pastoral care one of your duties, Papa?” You breathed out, your own voice becoming more lust-dipped as you moved against him. “When you’re taking care of your flock…all of your flock…does that include their desires?” You reached up and grabbed his jaw, forcing him to look at you. “Aren’t I not part of your flock, Papa?”

He nodded in your hand, eyes nearly ablaze as he all but came undone beneath you. He was so hard it was almost painful, and as you moved above him, riding his thigh like a fucking mechanical bull, your own visage was morphed into one of powerful pleasure. Your tempo increased and you let out a shaky moan at the pressure building low in your abdomen. You were close to feeling the release you’d craved from him for god knows how long. This, along with his own impending orgasm, caused him to spit out the panties from his mouth. 

“Dolcezza, please, do not tease me like this,” he whined, words dripping with need. His papal paints were smeared around the mouth and chin from your touch and you bit your lip at the sight. He pulled on the wrist restraints. “Need you,” he choked out. You smirked and immediately ceased your motions against him. His face fell.

“Let’s see if you can use your mouth for something more useful.”

You moved from his thigh, leaving his cock unattended as it dripped for you, hungry and red, nearly pulsating. Suddenly, you stood up and straddled him, bringing your core directly to his face. His increased breath danced across the slick of your pussy and you held back a groan of your own. “If your duties lie only to the church, then maybe you should prove your devotion to honoring the one below.”

Without warning, you slid your hand into his hair and brought his mouth to your wet heat. A strangled groan erupted from him and he immediately dove in, nose against your mound as he fervently moved his tongue between your impossibly slick folds. You reached out with the hand not currently lost within his hair and gripped onto the top of the headboard to steady yourself. 

Copia flattened out his tongue and you began to buck your hips against his face, riding him as he broadly licked up and down your clit and to your entrance. You were certain you were making some sort of pleasurable sound, but at the moment, it was as if the world and all of its stimulation paused. The only thing you could focus on was the feeling of his skillful mouth against you, his eyes shut as he ate you out like a starved man. 

His tongue moved to flick against your sensitive bud and he wrapped his lips around it before sucking harshly. It was a move that he knew drove you crazy, and the burning in your thighs as you tried to stabilize yourself heightened the pressure. You could feel your own legs shaking, but you continued to grind against him, and for the first time, you wished his hands weren’t restrained so that he could fuck you with his fingers, too. 

“You are so good at this,” you hummed out, looking down to watch him as you rode his face. The previous tension from your near orgasm on his thigh was back, and your own reserve was faltering. He flickered his eyes open and growled against your cunt at the sight of you above him, trembling and absolutely wrecked from arousal, and the combination of the vibration of his noises and intensity of his stare sent you reeling over the edge.

You cried out his name, head snapped back as your hand gripping onto the headboard turned white-knuckled. He continued to move his tongue up and down your folds, occasionally flicking his tongue against your oversensitive clit as he helped you through your orgasm.

Eventually, you pulled away sea-legged and released your grasp from his now messed coif, sinking down onto your knees. Your own breath was ragged and you gripped onto his shoulders as you tried to steady yourself. He looked directly ahead at you with a prurient expression, the paint of his cheeks and nose and chin smeared and saturated with your arousal. In a normal situation, he’d make a racy or teasing remark, but he remained silent. It was as if he had finally learned his place. 

You leaned forward, bracing your hands on his shoulders as you placed a solitary kiss to his sternum, relishing in the feeling of his chest hair against your lips and chin. You then moved south, mouth lightly kissing and sucking on the skin of his abdomen, the angular hip bones that framed his cock, and the trail of hair right below his belly button. 

His neglected length twitched as your face brushed against it and you smirked, sitting up just barely to look at it. Reaching out, you grasped onto him, grip firm, and began to languidly stroke. 

“How could I forget about you?” you cooed, thumb pad pressing against his frenulum before you continued your pace. “You deserve to feel good.” He groaned at the contact and his head jerked back against the solid headboard. You chuckled darkly and licked your lips at the sight of him below you. “The lightbringer would be disappointed if their chosen figurehead didn’t properly spoil in self-indulgent sins of the flesh? Wouldn’t he?”

Copia whined beneath you, but you paid no mind, continuing your slow movements. You lowered your head, breath tickling against the end of him, and began to rub his shaft and tip against your cheeks and lips. “I love your dick,” you said, voice barely above a sultry whisper. You began to press kisses to every inch of his cock, savoring him, worshiping him. 

He squirmed beneath you, and unable to restrain himself, he groaned out, “Cazzo, please.”

You stopped and peered up at him. His eyes were shining with tears of frustration and you were sure that the mix of submission and denial was pushing him to his limits. But despite the look of exasperation on his face, you knew him well enough to know what he truly desired in this moment. And he trusted you completely, fully, to deliver him to reverie. 

“Let me take care of you,” you said, pressing a kiss to the very tip of him before laving your tongue over him slowly. Copia moaned loudly and his hips twitched up into your mouth, requiring you to hold him down with your other hand. “You don’t need to control everything,” you responded, mouth still pressed against his length. 

Had you been looking up, you’d have seen him nod in response, but you were too focused on what was throbbing in front of you to pay him any mind. Lips parted, you descended down his length, taking him as far into your mouth as you possibly could. Copia hissed in response and you smirked around him. You knew that the sudden sensation of warmth would be nearly unbearable, too much, and you delighted in being the one controlling his fire. 

You hollowed out your cheeks and slowly popped off of him. With a swift readjustment of your frame, you straddled his thighs (marveling at the drying slick on the left one), and took his chin in hand. “Look at me,” you murmured, and he obliged. Your non-dominant hand traced the contour of his jaw, fingertips now glazed in white and grey paint, and you dipped your index finger between his lips as you positioned yourself over his cock and sunk down. 

The Satanic Pope’s mouth dipped open and a low groan slipped past your finger still perched on his lip. Your own center was still sensitive from your recent orgasm and the sensation of fullness was almost overwhelming, so you stilled your movement to allow for the both of you to adjust to the feeling. For the first time, you dipped your head forward and rested your forehead against his own, your hand cupping his jaw. You could feel the sweat slicked between the both of you and you closed your eyes as a soft, shaky breath escaped you.

After a moment of blissful stillness, you opened your eyes to look at the man you currently had caged in by your arms and thighs, and you carded your fingers through his hair. His gaze held a knowing fire that you recognized as one of silent permission, of need, desire, of his own restrained dominance. With that, you gripped at his hair near the scalp and tipped his head back as you lifted yourself almost completely off of his length. 

“Out there, you might be the leader of our congregation. You might proselytize to millions of siblings and fans. But right here,” your grip tightened, and you leaned in to whisper against the shell of his ear, “right now, you answer to me. How badly do you want it?”

“Merda, badly, so badly,” he growled. You pulled away and your telltale smirk returned to your features. He looked positively sinister. His face flushed beneath his skull paint and sweat was beading across his brow. Both of his eyes nearly black from lust-blown pupils. A manifestation of evil incarnate. 

“Then take it. Take everything you need.”

And take he did. His hips canted up into you and he slid in to the hilt, flesh pressed against flesh, and you fell forward into his shoulder with a near-howl of your own at the fullness. Your hands found purchase against his pecs and you matched his movements as he pumped into you frantically. Every movement stretched you further, licked flames against the sore muscles of your legs, but you ignored the pain and moved with purpose. Your lips found his and you kissed him for the first time this evening, pouring out your loyalty into the action as his tongue pushed greedily into your mouth. 

As you shifted your position atop him just slightly, his cock brushed against your g-spot and you cried out in euphoria. The corners of his lips curled against yours as he panted through his movements, knowingly hitting that spot with every single upward thrust. 

You swallowed back another moan as you tried to speak. “Fill me so good,” you nearly slurred as you pulled from the kiss. “Look at me,” you said, voice less commanding and more sweet. You knew your release was imminent and you wanted him to visualize the effect he had on you. How he made your body implode as he dragged you down to hell himself.

Your own words were rushed, nearly babbled as you continued. “Look at how good you make me feel.” His eyes locked with yours and you rested one hand on his chest, the other snaking to grasp onto the nape of his neck, while moonbeams erupted in your skin as your climax took hold. Your jaw dropped just slightly and although your mouth threatened a moan, no sound came out as he fervently bucked up into you. 

Your shared motions sped up and you could feel how close he was by the sloppiness of his thrusts as he helped you ride out your release. “Take what you need,” you repeated in a pant. “Take everything you need from me.” 

You pushed through the overstimulation and watched as his hands balled into fists in the restraints and he planted his feet firmly onto the bed, fucking up into you like he never had before. His eyes shone with unsprung tears and he was spitting out a slew of curses in Italian, with affirmations of love peppered in throughout. 

“Cazzo, dolcezza, I-” And just as hard as he had climbed, he crashed down violently. He came roughly with a sound that sounded like a mix between a groan and a sob, hips jerking as he pumped his spend into you with wild abandon. He filled you so deeply that you could feel him beginning to leak down your inner thigh as he pistoned through his orgasm. 

“So good for me,” you purred, pressing a kiss to the place where his hairline began at the top of his forehead, ignoring the sweat-soaked strands that fell into his tear-filled eyes. As you pulled away, you saw one of those tears fall and you quickly swiped it with your thumb. And with that, it was as if the dam had been broken, and both eyes began spilling rushed streams down his cheeks. 

You moved to quickly untie his wrists from the headboard and as soon as he was set free, his arms wrapped around your middle and his head fell to your chest. “So good for me,” you repeated, more of a coo this time, and you pressed another kiss to the top of his head as your hands lovingly traced up and down his back. 

You sat like that for a while, holding him as he softened inside of you, his tears and quiet sobs the backdrop of your denouement. He almost surprised you when he lifted his head to properly look at you. 

“Mi dispiace, tesoro. I don’t know…I’m not sure where this is coming from,” he admitted, thumbs rubbing against the curve of your spine. 

You smiled softly, reassuringly, and brought one of his wrists to your mouth. A red mark had formed from the friction of the cravat, and you kissed at it soothingly. “You have needs too, Papa,” you said as you continued to kiss at the sensitive skin. He hummed in response and you smiled again, this time a little wider. 

“Thank you for letting me love you.”

And in his eyes, you saw a dawning realization, a comfort of sorts that came to flood his mind. He had known this had been an exercise of shared power, of course, of allowing you to express your needs in a way that the both of you enjoyed, even though you hadn’t previously explored the swap in control. However, as you took the reins, you’d gifted him with something he hadn’t anticipated — you’d guided him to liberation, encouraging him to release his expectations (the ones he’d built up of himself and the ministry) and just be. 

Your permission for simple existence was the best thing he hadn’t known to ask for.  

image/gif credit: imgur

[thatsthewrongwallcraig]

From Helvete With Love

Summary: Euronymous' twin hippie brother is in town and up to cause some chaos! (Bear with me, I'll make it work!)

Pairing: Euronymous x fem!Reader x Kappa

Word Count: ~1.8k

Content Warnings: Double Trouble Smut 18+!, You Don't Really Expect This To Have A Noteworthy Plot Do You?, Threesome (mfm), Spit Roasting, Hair Pulling, Subspace, Emotional Cheating, Implied Substance Use (Alcohol and Pot), Dub-Con Due To The Substance Abuse, Kappa Having Insane Amounts Of Audacity While Euro Is Kind Of An Asshole

A/N: I really hope the nonnie with the Threesome request from 2-3ish weeks ago sees this 👀 Also not proofread bcs I literally need to catch the bus to work in like 3 minutes.

Tagging the horny horde:

@crypticsewerslut @quicksilversg1rl @cc-luvr @icarus-star @milaeth @roryculkinsgf @spookyorchid @arch1viste @whoareyoi @angelsanarchy @b4sementgrl @blueberrypancakesworld @rocketqueen-world @r0ttenmess

Cry

Who do you need? Who do you love

When you come undone?

Who do you need? Who do you love

When you come undone?

- Come Undone By Bad Omens

In a high pitched jingle, the little bell above the door indicated that someone had entered the record store but you didn't really bother looking up from the latest issue of Kerrang! magazine, your eyes busy with studying an oven-fresh Duff McKagan interview.

"You call that shithole a record store, huh?" A somewhat familiar voice asked in a cocky tone.

You couldn’t quite pinpoint the person it belonged to and the snarky comment certainly had you raising your gaze towards the counter, shooting right towards the new visitor.

With a sleazy grin playing around his mouth, a well familiar face stared at you with strikingly blue eyes just like those of your boyfriend.

"Look what the cat dragged in…it's the hippie cunt!" You teased right back at the man that happened to be Øystein's twin brother, Kappa.

"Oh, mean, missy!" He scoffed and arched his brows in amusement.

"What do you want, trashbag?" You sneered, smiling at him while your eyes roamed over his features.

You only had met him on a few rare occasions but it never failed to befuddle you just how similar and yet dramatically different Euronymous and Kappa were. Polar opposites in everything but being terribly eccentric and pretentious jackasses.

"I'm in town and I thought to say hi to my brother, is he around by any chance?" Kappa inquired, leaning his torso against the counter whilst throwing you a borderline flirty smile.

"In the back." You nodded your head towards the bureau behind the countertop to gesture him the way.

"Thanks, sugar!" Kappa quipped whilst walking around the counter, heading towards the bureau.

"Fuck off, hippe." You beamed at him with a cheeky smile before lowering your gaze back onto the glossy pages of the magazine.

Neither of you had really been ready for the way this day played out after this seemingly innocent interaction. Everything started with a few guiltless beers at the pub nearby, maybe a few shots of vodka too and the occasional cigarette to go with tipsily firing neurons, craving one hit of serotonin after the other at this point. However, the nicotine in your bloodstream turned into herbally-pungent THC by the time the three of you arrived back at Helvete, sloppy steps scratching over the cold asphalt illuminated by cool-toned street lights. Of course, Kappa had brought some weed with him and neither of you held back in indulging in it to the point where your body felt like one buzzing cloud made out of cotton candy. At some point you weren't sure anymore whether the couch was actually a part of you or not as your weary eyes grazed over a scenery of crushed beer cans, shot glasses and scattered vinyls. The air around you was thick and heavy with the smell of alcohol and pot, the smog covering the record store in a white, translucent veil seeping into every last nook and cranny.

Your bloodshot eyes felt like simply fluttering shut and you could've sworn they did but you weren't sure of this at all. Did you black out for a moment or where did the memories go that would’ve explained how your train of thought got back on track again as you heard yourself breathing out a muffled moan?

"There she is! Got me worried there for a second, sugar." You noticed Kappa talking to you in a breathy tone from above.

The hits of information reached your brain one after the other in a violent flush of realization. You knelt on all fours, a soft mattress underneath your palms and knees swallowing up a good part of the recoil caused by your body being penetrated from both ends, Kappa in the down your throat and Øystein buried deep inside your oozing cunt, both their cocks fucking into you in a firm pace.

Pulling in all the air you possibly could through your nose, you reluctantly looked up to Kappa as you noted how sore your jaw felt with your lips eagerly wrapped around his girth, sucking him off like you never did anything else in your life. How the hell did you get here? The question burned inside of your racing thoughts but you tried to push it to the side as your gaze met with Kappa's, who was looking down at you with an unexpectedly warm smile.

"Don't worry, I got you, make sure you’re okay, hun." He whispered to you in a raspy voice as the hand, that wasn't grabbing fistfuls of your hair to guide your head back and forth over his throbbing cock, went to your cheek to give you soft caresses filled with affirmation.

"Good girl.", He praised, the tip of his hard on nudging against the back of the throat, "Øystein really lucked out with you as a girlfriend. You're funny, you're smart and hella pretty."

"Could you not?" It was now that you really took notice of your boyfriend behind you with his hands on your hips and his lap rocking against your rear in desperate thrusts.

"What? You gotta make her feel at least a little special right now." Kappa sneered back at his brother without ever taking his eyes off of you, practically hypnotized by the way his cock disappeared into your throat with every roll of his hips.

"I think I can do that very well on my own." Euronymous huffed, tightening his grip around your waist before pushing himself into you with such brute force that it nearly hurt.

You winced around Kappa's cock, a few wayward tears pricking at your lower lash line and his thumb wiped them away before they could even really trickle down your face.

"Issok, sugar. C'mon, close your eyes and enjoy yourself." His broad hand cradled your face and you trusted him, allowed yourself to.

"There you go…" Kappa cooed to you in a saccharine-sweet voice, hips rolling against your face in a steady pace, careful to not hurt or overstimulate you.

With that you let yourself go, adjusting to his rhythm while your mind rendered blank. You've never ever felt this filled up before and it was continuously bordering on the very fine line of being just too much for your body but instead of your actual boyfriend it felt like Kappa was guiding you through this, all his attention was on you and you only. Of course, he loved the sight of his cock slipping in and out of your mouth in wet, sloppy sounds, making him feel ready to burst at any minute now but he not once put his own pressure released over your well-being in this constellation. Quite the contrary to his brother who was railing into you at a merciless pace from behind, rendering your tightening cunt sore from within. In a way, he knew that he wasn't having the upper hand here anymore and in desperate, failing attempts Øystein tried to turn your attention back to him which only led to you being even more infatuated with the gentle yet firm ways of his brother.

Kappa put you in a headspace you've never experienced before and to say that this state was blissful oblivion would've been an understatement. Mixed with all the substances in your bloodstream, you felt yourself slipping into beautiful nothingness and just felt your body, felt Kappa's cock sliding down over your tongue again and again while he held your head by your hair, steadying you, making sure to not accidentally choke you with his girth. He made it known that he was here for you and it made your chest feel all warm and secure, a warmth that would shot right down between your legs in the very next second, making you clench down around Euronymous' cock in what turned out to be the first contractions of an orgasm that took you by surprise. You inhaled sharply as undefined moans and whimpers vibrated around Kappa's hard on which he only reluctantly pulled out of your mouth. While Øystein rode you through your orgasm, gradually losing himself in it, Kappa stroked himself off with a few quick pumps of his fists, spilling and splattering thick ropes of his seed right onto your face. With your entire body convulsing around your boyfriend one rouge thought escaped its prison and ran wild inside your mind. For a moment you couldn't help yourself but to wish that it was Kappa's cock you were cumming on right now. Your eyes shot wide open as a sharp pang of shame and guilt chased right after the orgasmic high.

"Dude, really?!" Øystein groaned behind you, drilling himself into your now utterly overstimulated pussy one last time before coming undone deep inside of you himself. You recognised how he filled you up with himself like so many times before but you couldn't pull any please from it right now, instead you stared back up to Kappa who was breathing heavily.

"What? I thought it to be a bit more decent than busting my load down your girlfriend's throat, no?" Kappa scoffed at his brother, lowering his hand down to your face again, gathering a dollop of his cum from your chin and smearing it just over your trembling lips, the tip of his thumb prodding against your mouth, leaving it up to you whether to open up or not. Entranced by the way his icy blue eyes were beaming down at you, you did just that, a part of you defiling your boyfriend for never taking care of you the way his brother did.

[bippot]

Summary: Spencer is a germaphobe. He detests the thought of someone sneezing in his general area. There is an exception, though. He seems to be able to handle his girlfriend's sick day without batting an eye.

Additional Tags: Caretaking Idiots in Love, Domestic Fluff, Sickfic, Spencer Reid Gets a Hug

Previous part (but can be read as one shots) : Magic Hands

Criminal Minds, Dr Spencer Reid Masterlist - here

Spencer Reid naturally has dark patches under his eyes, always had. For the last couple of months, though, the bags that usually accompanied that darkness weren't there any more. He'd been stressed and sleep deprived for most, if not all, of his life up to this point. And recently, he'd been taking care of himself a lot more.

Well, that's not entirely true. Y/N had been taking care of him, and she was doing a better job than he ever had. His girlfriend lavished him with so much love and care and affection that Reid found it hard to believe how happy he was. Life was much easier with Y/N by his side than it had ever been before.

It was weird, this happiness thing, and it was kind of like learning a new language. There was a new vocabulary he used, a new set of rules that he lived by, and he didn't refer to himself as a singular pronoun anymore, no, it was plural. His 'I' had turned into a 'we' now. It was odd but he liked it. A lot. Like, a lot a lot.

One of his favourite things was waking up. That might sound strange but, to Spencer, it was one of the most wonderful things in the universe because he was always woken up with the most giggly kisses to his cheeks, his forehead, and his jaw, or anywhere Y/N wanted to kiss him really. This was the best alarm clock he'd ever had.

He'd never been a morning person and continued not to be, yet Y/N's affection made him less grumpy when he first woke up. He was still grumpy, just a fraction less than before. And if they had enough time to lay in bed and simply snuggle for however long they had left before he had to go to work, his grumpiness would melt away pretty quickly.

So, when he woke up to the annoying ring of his actual alarm one morning, he was unbelievably cranky. His hand reached out to Y/N's side of the bed. She wasn't there. He didn't feel her body at all, and that was weird because Y/N never left their bed without waking him up - if she happened to be awake hours before him, she'd read a book or scroll through her phone until he began to stir - but she had gotten out of bed and was nowhere to be seen in their room.

Wiping his eyes, he got out of bed with a grumble and started the search for his girlfriend. She wasn't in the living room, nor the kitchen or bathroom, and he almost believed she'd started work down in the bakery until he saw that the door to the spare room was nudged open a little. Ever since they'd become a couple, his old room had become more like an office and occasional guest room since he found himself in Y/N's bed every night.

Why was the door open?

The door was soon opened wide to reveal Y/N surrounded by scrunched up tissues, her nose ruby red and the duvet creating a hood over her head as she watched a movie on her laptop. As soon as she noticed him in the doorway, she warned, "I'm sick, lovely. Stay over there."

Germs in general weren't Spencer's favourite thing in the world and Y/N knew that. His heart warmed at the fact she had gone out of her way, or out of their bed rather, to ensure her sudden increase of mucus didn't aggravate his germaphobia.

Yet, this only deepened his need to take care of her because she was so considerate towards him. He desired, no, he needed to do the same for her. If Y/N was in distress in any way, he wanted to help her. So, Spencer moved further into the room. He didn't go fully next to the bed - there was still a solid foot between the two - and seriously weighed up the pros and cons that came from embracing her.

Pro: Makes Y/N feel better and provides her with comfort. Also, it provided Spencer with comfort, and with how grumpy he was, that was needed this morning. He'd get a better picture of how sick she was. And it was possible he could diagnose what was wrong with her in an effort to more effectively care for her.

Cons: Gross. Snot and other mucus. There was a high chance of contracting whatever she had. She could accidentally cough in his face, that was a concern. And, she'd be able to see that he was in a bad mood because she hadn't woken him up, thus resulting in her feeling guilty for his bad mood.

It was a real pickle.

"I'll be okay. Go get ready for work, Spence," Y/N urged. Her words were unheeded as he finally made up his mind and took the leap. And by leap, he meant holding the back of his hand up to her forehead to check how badly she was burning up.

She was burning up. Badly. Really, really badly. Her forehead was like a furnace.

"Oh baby," he cooed.

He made up his mind. She spent so much of her time looking after him, it was about time he did the same for her. Reciprocity is essential in healthy relationships, after all.

"I'm going to call Emily - "

"No, sweetie, I can look after myself - "

"I am looking after you! No arguments."

"But I'm all snotty!"

"No arguments."

A dopey, wide smile erupted from Y/N's face. She knew he loved her. He told her every day. Yet, this proved it. She had witnessed Spencer don protective gloves and a mask when Derek merely coughed in her boyfriend's presence. He was hyper vigilant when it came to avoiding sickness with everyone but her. She was the exception. She was special.

"You really love me, huh?"

Pink overtook his cheeks. He knew she knew that but it still made him a little nervous to hear, like it was still his dirty little secret despite the fact it wasn't much of a secret these days. That's why he was a bit shy when he admitted, "Yeah, I do," and sat beside her on the bed. "Just know I'm going to be super whiny when I inevitably get this."

"I wouldn't expect anything less from you," she jeered, a bit of energy coming back so she could tease him without faltering. And there certainly wasn't any disruption when she professed, "I love you too, Spence."

His big palm smoothed down her hair. "Have you messaged Avery? Or Jonas? -"

"They know. I'm a very good boss."

"Yes, you are, honey," he agreed instantly.

It was true. Y/N was very honest and open when communicating with her employees, whether that was being confused at the memes they'd send in the work group chat or if they should really be playing Ashnikko over the speakers just as the school run rush begins. They were paid well and treated even better. So, he wasn't surprised that Y/N had sorted her sick day already.

"I'm going to the store to pick up some medicine then, I promise, I am yours to use as a pillow for the rest of the day. Sound good?"

"Sounds perfect."

With a soft kiss on the forehead, he left to go through his to-do list one by one.

Emily was surprised and delighted that Spencer was asking for a day off rather than having to be forced into one. Admittedly, she would've preferred it if Y/N wasn't sick but, hey, every cloud has a silver lining.

He did go downstairs once he got dressed and poked his head into the shop to check if they needed any assistance but Y/N's employees had it locked down. And since everything was running smoothly, a cream cheese bagel going missing wasn't going to cause a problem.

The trip to the store didn't take too long. He went heavy on the creature comforts - chocolate and coffee was a must - and bought as much flu medicine as he was legally allowed to. He also added way too many heat pads, two hot water bottles with fuzzy covers, ten pairs of fluffy socks so they could mix and match, and an adorable teddy kangaroo that he knew Y/N would love.

Grocery bags filled to the brim, he got home to find that Y/N had hauled herself and the duvet into the living room. She was half asleep and half falling off the sofa so his first point of call after he put the bags down was to kneel beside her and gently push her back on the cushion.

"Hey you," she greeted.

"Hey honey. I see you made it all the way to the couch."

"Uh-huh, got a bigger tv."

"I see you have your priorities in check." His hand darted out to find one of the bags. "Do you want a buddy to watch along with?"

When she nodded, he brought out the stuffed toy and held it out to her. The kangaroo was immediately cuddled close to Y/N's chest and Reid wasn't sure if her eyes were watering because of her sickness or if she was crying.

"Aww, I love this, love you," she choked out, the tears streaming down her face increasing. It was a mix of both, he concluded as he wiped at her cheeks. "You're so nice to me. So sweet."

Y/N's babbling was snotty and nasally and wet but Spencer didn't mind. Weirdly, he thought her emotional outburst was a little cute. It was a gross mess of fluids, yes, yet he knew he was going to be 10x worse when it was his turn.

Even when he wasn't sick, he was prone to getting choked up about how sweet she was to him. Once, all she did was tell him that he was 'Soooooo smart' when they were watching some cheesy game show and he got a trivia question right, and Spencer literally started sniffling at her compliment.

People called him smart every day. He was smart. He knew that. He's a MENSA genius for christ sake. It must've been the way she said it so casually, or maybe it was because it was late at night, or even because Y/N said it with such reverence in her voice. Whatever the case, he knew he was safe and this was a judgement free zone so emotional outbursts were just a thing that happened sometimes, and that was fine.

More and more tears were shed, though Y/N was laughing through them now and it was far more obvious that they were happy tears. Happy, snotty tears.

Medicine was taken, tissues used, scrunched up and thrown in the bin, and soon, Spencer's body was being used as a pillow for his girlfriend, just as he'd offered. Y/N tried her best to keep the fluids inside, but there was no stopping the flow once it began.

10 years ago, this would've been Spencer's worst nightmare.

1) An attractive girl that he was utterly in love with was near to him and he was expected to act normally without turning into a pile of mush and shutting down mentally.

2) She was literally on top of him! That's so much physical contact. He definitely would've shied away from merely holding her hand back then, let alone this.

3) Her snot and tears created a growing wet patch on his shirt, which still would send him into overdrive if it had been anyone else's snot and tears.

"Are you comfortable?" He asked, looking down at her and swiping some hair off her forehead. Y/N nodded, though she did move her legs around a little to get maximum comfort, and her fluffy socked feet brushed against his ankle. "Are you warm? Need more tissues? Is it too bright in here, do you want me to -"

Before he could begin to go through a very long list of things he could do to make her feel better, she gave him a look. People often gave him a certain kind of stare whenever they wanted him to shut up, but he'd never seen one that was fuelled with such softness before.

"Just want you. Don't move, never move." She squished her cheek further against his pec, her fingers fiddling with one of the button's of his cardigan. The tv was on in the background, yet Y/N was mainly paying attention to her boyfriend's breathing. Thanks to her sickness, breathing was a little difficult out of one nostril but she was trying to keep it even.

Spencer only moved a little bit. He wished he had telekinesis so he could psychically move the book he wanted to read off the coffee table to his hand, but alas, he had to disrupt her bubble just a smidge. She groaned her disapproval but was quickly quelled when he scratched the back of her head until her eyes started to droop.

"Spencer?"

"Yes, honey?"

"Read to me? Please?"

His hand reached back onto the table to grab his glasses and place them onto his face, accidentally poking himself in the eye with one of the arms. He let out a low curse before getting his bearings back and assuring Y/N that he hadn't blinded himself. Once he was ready, he began to read aloud.

"On an exceptionally hot early evening early in July a young man came out of the garret in which he lodged in S. Place and walked slowly, as though in hesitation, towards K. bridge."

"Book?" she mumbled, already teetering towards sleep.

"Crime and Punishment."

"...Got it."

By the way she said that, he knew she had mentally checked out. It was obvious. It was only two syllables but it had been so muffled with sleep and his shirt that it sounded incoherent. Still, he carried on reading, one hand holding the book and the other caressing up and down her back as she drifted in and out of consciousness.

He continued for the next couple of hours. It was far more therapeutic than he ever expected. There were 2 things he absolutely loved in life - books and Y/N - and he'd joined those two loves together for an extended period of time. Maybe he'd ask Y/N if they could do this, albeit without the illness, more often. Just take a day off work to relax and read together.

Was this the sort of thing Prentiss wanted him to take days off to do? If so, he regrets never taking her up on that offer. Why would he not take this opportunity? He would in the future, he decided at that moment.

Avery, Y/N's employee, made her way up the stairs to check up on Y/N and poked her head in to discover the two on the couch. Spencer stopped mid-sentence when he noticed the sound of the bakery door opening and turned to see his photo being taken.

"You two are cute. Don't look at me like that," Avery argued in a hushed whisper and, yeah, Spencer would have to agree. "Do you need anything?"

"We're good, kid. Thank you."

"See you, Spencer."

Then, Avery left and Spencer was left gazing down at his girlfriend in the silence. He didn't start up where he left off because he was too entranced. If someone asked Y/N if she felt beautiful at that moment, she'd say no. Blocked sinuses. Red flaking skin. A grumbly faltering voice. Shaky, staggered breathing. But to Reid, she was still the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen, and ever would see.

"Hi baby," he greeted once her eyes fluttered open. He was already looking at her so softly but, as her lips stretched into a smile, his gaze got impossibly softer. "Hi there, honey."

"You're so handsome," Y/N mumbled back, and although she believed that wholeheartedly, her voice still had that dreamy quality to it that indicated that she had no idea she'd said it out loud. It was merely what was at the front of her subconscious mind, and that fact ensured that Spencer blushed far more than he ever did when she said the exact same thing while fully awake. He couldn't help the giggle that flew from his lips.

"How are you feeling?"

"...Urgh."

"My poor baby." He rested his palm against her jaw and caressed her cheek with his thumb. "Does chicken soup sound good? I have my mom's recipe."

"Sounds so good."

Even with the understanding that he needed to get up in order to be able to make her soup, Y/N grumbled when her pillow started to move away from her. She was mostly quelled when Spencer leant down to give her a quick kiss on the forehead and returned the toy kangaroo from where it had fallen off the sofa back into Y/N's arms.

But she didn't stay on the couch for long.

Within 5 minutes, Spencer felt a pair of arms wrap around him from behind. "Hey baby, I thought you'd fallen back asleep," he commented after hearing her sigh and nuzzle her nose between his shoulders.

"Missed you." The words came out muffled by Spencer's shirt but he knew what had been said, nonetheless.

"Yeah?" he let out.

Having a girlfriend was something that still boggled his big ol' brain, but having a girlfriend who missed his presence when he was 1 room away and had only been absent from her arms for a total of 300 seconds was truly something else entirely.

"You're warm." She pressed a kiss to his clothed shoulder blade. "And handsome. Can't help myself."

He snorted as if she had said something unbelievable and turned slightly so she was giving him a side hug instead. One hand stirred the soup and the other wrapped around his girlfriend's waist, keeping her close and comforted by his body heat, whilst he pressed a kiss to her temple and hummed softly to himself.

Now he knew how difficult it was to cook and mix ingredients around with someone clinging onto most of your body. Though, he wouldn't be able to argue that he disliked the feeling of having Y/N attached to him. It was almost as much as he liked being attached to her because he really liked being held by her. And Spencer was sure that whenever he acted like koala and clutched at Y/N whenever she was baking, that she had this same feeling. Sure, it would be easier to move around without the cling on but was it as intimate? As warm? As sweet?

No. No, it wasn't.

Once the soup was perfect, they moved past the dining table and returned to the couch to eat their meal. As she sat next to Spencer with the bowl cupped in both hands, Y/N looked up at him with a content sigh.

"I love you. Thank you for this."

There were many things Spencer could have answered to that declaration. He could've told her, in case she wanted confirmation, that he loved her too. That he cherished her, adored her. That the sight of her sleeping peacefully with a dopey grin on her face warmed his heart so much that sometimes he didn't know whether he was actually alive or dreaming whenever he saw it. However, none of those words came out of his mouth.

"My mom made me this when I had days off from school because of anxiety," he admitted instead with a bashful smile. "Well, when she was lucid enough to do so."

"That was nice of her. I'll have to thank her whenever she comes to visit next."

"My mom really likes you, I think. When she's lucid, she asks for updates about us all the time."

Being liked by Diana Reid was high praise. Y/N got a bright grin on her face at the news, but then fell silent as she took a sip of soup. It was only now that Spencer noticed she was shaking slightly. With his free arm, he gently pulled her closer and rubbed his palm up and down her bicep comfortingly.

"Are you cold?" he inquired worriedly.

"No, I'm okay."

But he wasn't convinced. In an instant, Spencer was darting into their bedroom to find the oversized jumper that she always wore around the house and instructed, "Put your bowl down for me, honey, then arms up." Y/N did as she was told and was rewarded by her boyfriend tugging her jumper over her body and pressing kisses to her hair.

When he pulled away from her again, he asked, "Better?"

Y/N nodded and allowed herself to melt back into the couch with a content little huff as they continued their meal, enjoying each other's company quietly. Spencer would sneak a glance at Y/N every once in a while to check if she was okay and whenever she caught him doing so, he would quickly turn back to his food and pretend nothing had happened. She smiled at him every time he did.

After dinner Spencer thought it would be best to run Y/N a bath. Her fever was better than it had been this morning but she was still shivering and sweating heavily, and he couldn't help himself but worry. As they waited for the bath to fill, Y/N sat on the closed lid of the toilet and was busy picking at the bobbles of her sweatpants, leaning against her boyfriend's side so she didn't slump over.

"Just know I'd give you a really sexy strip tease if I had the energy," Y/N joked, earning a laugh from Spencer that sounded like music to her ears. Her undressing was far from sexy since she had sweat patches and snotty marks and was groaning every time she had to move even the slightest bit.

Nevertheless, Spencer held out his arm for her to hold and she gladly accepted the invitation for his help into the bathtub. The water was perfectly warm and soothing and when she sunk down into the depths of it, Y/N relaxed into the sensation.

"Do you wanna get in?"

"Do you want me to get in?"

"Course I do, but I understand if that's a bit much for you. Baths are basically a germ soup, afterall."

Spencer made a face. "That's a gross way to put it," he complained, yet was quick to add, "You're lucky I like your germs."

He was soon throwing his clothes off and jumping into the bathtub with his girlfriend, inching her forward a little so he could wedge himself between her back and the porcelain. She rested her head back against his chest and sighed contently as he placed kisses on the crown of her head.

"For someone who was so shitty at taking care of himself, you've taken real good care of me," Y/N joked softly, her words coming out as a whisper thanks to how tired she was feeling, but still audible enough that Spencer understood them perfectly. "Thank you, lovely."

"Anytime."

His head tipped downwards to pepper her shoulder blades with feather-light kisses, and although they were small and tender and seemed to tickle her skin, they sent shivers down the length of her spine all the same. Her muscles relaxed and her eyes closed shut as she basked in the feeling of Spencer's touch on her as Y/N began to play with his fingers to ensure she didn't nod off just yet, knowing full well that it would be such a hassle for her boyfriend to carry her completely naked sleeping soaking wet body across their apartment to their bedroom.

It was peaceful. Usually, Spencer didn't stop yapping - he often mumbled in his sleep - yet, at this moment, he was content to keep his mouth shut. Was this what peace is? As someone whose mind is constantly overflowing with everything going on around him, was this what it felt like to be able to sit here and simply think of one thing, or rather, one person.

"Honey?"

"Hmm?" Y/N replied without opening her eyes.

Slowly, he ran his hands along her arms before resting them upon the curve of her hips and squidging until she craned her head back to look at him properly and smiled when their eyes met.

"Kiss?"

"No, baby. I don't want to get you sick."

The corners of his lips upturned even more. "Baby," he parroted back in the exact tone she'd used. "There is a 98% chance that I've already been contaminated with your germs by touching you or, I don't know, the fact that we're sharing bathwater."

A soft chuckle escaped Y/N's lips before she leaned forward to press a kiss onto his cheek. That, however, wasn't enough for him and he hooked his forefinger under her chin to tilt it towards him but as he leant in, she backed he head away.

"I have sick person breath."

"Y/N," he whined. "I don't mind."

"Maybe not in theory but, in practice, it might freak you out."

"Please kiss me? Pretty please? I'm okay with this. I swear."

She hesitated but finally relented and gave him a chaste kiss on the mouth. Once again, that wasn't enough and Spencer chased her lips to extend for another kiss, which she obliged to.

After a few seconds of kissing, Y/N pulled away but only to rest her forehead against his. His hand was still cupping the nape of her neck and his thumb started rubbing in circles in a slow repetitive pattern. This was nice. This was relaxing. Just this little piece of intimacy with her lover was enough to make her feel at ease.

"You're going to be so whiney in a day or two," Y/N teased in a low voice as she traced her finger across his jawline.

"I'm going to be such a baby."

"My baby," Y/N whispered before placing her lips on his.

It was slow and innocent and sweetly romantic as they relaxed in the tub together. Spencer peppered kisses all over her face and her neck, his fingers tracing lazy patterns over her bare shoulders and down her bicep and back up again.

Eventually, though, the warmth of the water started to decrease and so they got out, dried themselves off quickly, and dressed in their pajamas to settle down for the night. Well, evening. Dusk wasn't even upon them yet and the pair were already pulling the duvet back onto their bed from the sofa and snuggling underneath it, facing one another as they spoke in hushed voices.

"Achoo!"

Surprising himself by the sheer volume of his sneeze, Spencer had to give himself a few seconds after to regain his bearings. It was official. He was sick now too, which wasn't the best news in the world but, hey, if the price of making Y/N feel better was a day or two sneezing and sniffling, he'd take it any day of the week.

"I'll go get the medicine," Y/N declared, offering him no time to comprehend what she'd said before she was making her way out of the room. It was as if a switch had flipped. As soon as Spencer seemed even the slightest bit under the weather, whatever illness she was going through was put on the back-burner for a minute so she could care for him.

They would look after each other, they'd decided with the unconscious part of their brains, and if that meant sharing a bottle of ibuprofen, so be it. Y/N came back with the pills, regular bottles of water, and 2 heated water bottles.

"That's why you were gone for so long." (She'd been in the kitchen for just over 5 mins)

"Uh-huh, I was warming up these bad boys." She lightly hit the centre of one of the bottles, squishing the water to ripple across the plastic. "Did you miss me?"

"I missed you so much," Spencer admitted, reaching up to wrap an arm around her waist to pull her flush against him. She giggled as she managed to keep everything she was holding in her grip and not send it tumbling towards his face.

His neediness had kicked back into gear.

Once she'd deposited everything in her hands, they were cradling his head as she got comfy with her knees on either side of his hips. He hummed happily into the contact, and although he was a little disappointed at himself for being a wimp as soon as one simple little sneeze occurred, Spencer just sat there and watched as his sick girlfriend checked his temperature, gave him the pills and water before she took some herself, and made sure he was cosy.

How could he do anything else? He was far too content with watching her. His eyes were round and sparkling like saucers and his lips were pursed in a cute pout like a pet who was looking for attention, and while Spencer tried his hardest not to coo and giggle like a lovestruck fool, he couldn't quite manage to hide how smitten he was.

If he had known that this was what life would be like after falling so deeply in love with Y/N, he would have done it a long time ago. Even when they'd been 'just friends', he'd been aware that she was pretty and kind and perfect for him but had been too blinded by his work, too consumed by his insecurities, too scared to mess up their friendship to admit it to himself.

Jesus, it was crazy to ponder how good his life could've been these past few years. Remembering all of the bad stuff that happened to him, if he'd come to his senses earlier, would that have happened if Y/N was by his side? He assumed that some of it would've gone down the same way but he would've had his girlfriend by his side. Maybe it wouldn't be less mentally taxing but he would've had a shoulder to cry into, he wouldn't have to go through all his trauma by himself, and wouldn't have had to wake up alone every dreary morning.

Perhaps his life would've been a whole lot happier overall.

"Where'd that brain of yours go?" Y/N asked once she noticed that he had zoned out on her and she was now stroking his hair soothingly. She looked at him in amusement as she saw the dopey expression painted across his features and chuckled.

"Hmm? Oh." Spencer shook his head slightly as he returned to the present. "Just... thinking."

"About what?" Y/N playfully poked him in the ribcage.

"You."

He broke out into a gleeful grin and wrapped his arms around her waist to flip them over. Y/N squealed at the surprise burst of energy which suddenly surged throughout him and allowed him to pin her on to the mattress with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

"Spencer!" Y/N laughed as he planted sloppy kisses along the sides of her face. She reached over to push him away but he easily moved her hands aside and continued his assault. Her face was turning red from all his affection. The tips of her ears. Her cheeks. All around her. And when he pressed his lips firmly against hers once again, she didn't back up because she was concerned with transferring her lurgy.

Since he'd already got it. He was sneezing. He was snotting. And she was sure this hyperactivity was going to deplete whatever remaining energy he had left in no time. Why bother now? Indulging in each other would make them feel better sooner, right? So, yeah. Why not?

Well, the urge to sneeze is hard to resist, you see. Say if your mouth was close to another person's and you couldn't hold the urge at bay, yeah, you'd make what had once been a sweet and lovely embrace into one filled with mucus and betrayal.

Y/N froze in shock. Her face clenched immediately as she felt the onslaught.

"Thanks babe," she mumbled sarcastically as Spencer rushed to wipe away his sneeze with the sleeves of his sleep shirt and to apologise profusely with a string of stammering words leaving his mouth. He was babbling.

"I am so sorry. Saliva can burst from a person’s mouth at nearly a hundred miles an hour and I swear I didn't mean to hit you in the face with germs that fly at the same speed as a Eurasian Hobby. It snuck up on me, okay? It was unintentional-"

"God, I love you."

Weird. If Reid was asked what would happen after he committed an act of biological warfare towards his girlfriend, he never would've guessed that.

"W-why? What? I don't understand."

"You apologised for something that a) you couldn't control, b) was my fault for passing this bug onto you anyway, and c) couldn't stop yourself from blurting out not one but two facts during your apology." She propped herself up onto her elbows. "Would I prefer to not get sneezed on? Yes. But, let's be fair, I am overrun with Spencer Reid's germs so a sudden 'burst' is not going to bother me all that much."

Her words caught Spencer off guard and his eyes widened at her confession. Was it really that simple? That easy? Did she really not mind? Life as a whole is extremely complicated, Spencer Reid's more than most, yet somehow this was perfectly simple. This was calm. This was content. This was happy.

Admittedly, they would've preferred to be disease-free and happy, but hey, you've gotta look for the silver linings.

The pair brushed their teeth, washed their faces and clung to their hot water bottles side by side. Their bed was warm and cosy despite the fact that there were 2 sniffing idiots under the duvet. Though their sickness wasn't comfortable in the slightest, their surroundings and the way they clung to each other was enough to quell them.

And when the morning came, Spencer was as whiny as they'd expected. He awoke with a groan - which wasn't that unusual for him - and immediately spiralled into a coughing fit that woke Y/N up. She huffed in protest against waking up early, but did sit up to gently palm at his back, rubbing circles between his shoulder blades until Spencer had calmed down enough to catch his breath.

When his coughs finally subsided, he flopped back onto his pillow, and rolled onto his back with one arm stretched lazily towards Y/N. "We're staying here all day," he concluded matter-of-factly, causing Y/N to smile contently as she shuffled closer on the bed to snuggle into his side.

[ecoamerica]

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[gremlingottoosilly]

Lovefool [dark!Konig x fem!Reader]

Konig gets to secure a little trophy from the battlefield. Hope you're in for a ride.

!TW! Kidnapping, Yandere themes, Dub-con, dark!Konig

Tags: Yandere, Dark Romance, colonel!Konig, dark!Konig, Size kink, Age gap(Konig in his thirties and Reader is in her twenties), Stockholm syndrome speedrun, Konig is a huge pervert, submissive Reader

You never knew who he was before he attacked.

Your teammates did – whisperers about KorTac getting on their tails, stories about their crazy psycho commander who could barely pass a word to his subordinates while smacking heads off trained men in full armor. Spooky tails for the recruits who refuse to train in their free time – something about “If you aren’t getting in shape by the end of the month, König is going to get you”.

You never knew who he was – you barely knew the organization you worked in.

Cyber security, lowly private military. They are hiring based on CV alone and didn’t ask for a fancy college and a few degrees in hacking that you could never get. They wanted experience, and you had at least a bit of it – you passed through basic training, never serving in the military before, but fine with promises of never actually going out in the field since you would be giving them intel and cyber support from the sidelines.

Well, they never told you that “the sidelines” would be 100 meters away from the actual battlefield.

You don’t even remember what the mission was about – something important, you guess, because they asked you to be here, on sight, computer in hand, and your comrades, with whom you barely talked outside of work, alongside you. Something about weapon smuggling, though you never actually understood if you were stopping it or doing it. Working in the middle of the European Union pays a lot, and it sort of counts as free travel – you’re somewhere in Germany, maybe on the border with Poland or Austria or Czech Republic. Nothing but fields of grass and occasional mountains. They gave you a riffle, a sidearm, and instructions to try not to get too wounded since they wouldn’t be dragging your body out of the field. S[read sheet with intel opened on your computer – you’re not their secretary, but at least they don’t want you to hack the Pentagon.

You heard screams from your tent: “KorTac”, “Compromised”

“König”

What was the weirdest thing – he was alone. A single man shouldn’t be able to take on a team of trained mercs, even as lowly as your company was. You all had weapons, armor, and means of at least taking him down as a group – and you were like a bunch of babies with toy guns on the playground when a pitbull came in.

Your leader fell first – you saw his head explode with a perfect shot right between his eyes. no one screamed sniper, but you still ducked under the field table, hoping that it would save you a few minutes of peace before you’d manage to delete all of the important files from your laptop. This was the protocol – if you are in the middle of dying, you need to first make sure that the enemy won’t get a hold of precious company correspondence and deeply personal photos of your cat.

You leaned forward to see what was happening on the field – you heard screams, you heard gunshots, you heard…

Laugh.

Deep, loud, the laugh that sounded both malicious and cheerful at the same time. It sounded like the man had a field day of breaking necks and stabbing his teammates. You've never seen so much blood on someone. You wish you never had.

Your teammates are falling like porcelain dolls when the elephant hits the kitchen, and you are trying your best to be a good little hacker and not let your company down before your inevitable demise. Turning on your laptop, waiting for whatever ancient version of Windows you had since the budget was mostly going into flashy guns and cool night vision headsets, you are getting ready to format all the disks when….

“The Windows update is in the process. Please, wait approximately 9 hours to complete”

Oh, hell no. You are not going to wait another 9 hours, you could barely survive for the next 9 minutes! Of course, naturally, obviously, you can just turn off the computer and get it off work because the files will get fried up and it won’t turn on again, ever. Which would still complete your goals, so…

— Come on, please…f-fuck, please, just let me…

“As a method of complete data loss prevention, Windows has disabled the ability to manually turn off your computer. Please, wait approximately 9 hours to complete”

— Found you, Maus.

Something – a hand, big, covered in the type of protection you never saw on your fellow soldiers – yanked your ankle, dragging you from under the table you were hiding under. The air stinks of blood and you involuntarily whimper, hands are going to grab the laptop. You need to smash it, destroy it, maybe just drop it hard enough on the floor, push it against the wall, and try your best to kick it enough to damage the disk and prevent KorTac from accessing the files.

The guy steps on your hand, taking the laptop away. You swear to god you hear a crack – you prayed that he would accidentally smash the laptop, but it was your hand under his boot.

— Hurts? Good.

You whimper as he carefully puts the laptop away, checking if it’s still working. He then returns to you – laying on the floor, fingers still shaking in pain, and attempts to grasp for the computer that was snatched away. There is nothing you can do – you have a gun, yes, and he has at least three guns and deadly man-bear hands, so even if you were fast enough to draw a gun before he would, he can just kick you like a puppy.

König – it’s him, it must be him, your teammates were screaming his callsign and talking about a devil who wears a sniper hood and has the height of a not very small tree – kicks you in the ribs, turning you from the side to your back, facing him. If you were stronger, you would do something cool – bite his ankles, for example. Or spit in his face as the last remaining tip of your dignity, before he would kill you or torture you or feast on your flesh.

— Verdammte Feiglinge, can’t even face your death like a man. Look at me, ja?

Crying isn’t a shameful thing to do. So, you cry. Soft little whimpers, sniffles, you are probably looking wet and disgusting, but you hurt, scared, and fucking tired and you want out of here, and you never actually wanted to be a soldier, and they all lied to you while promising to keep you out of the field, and this uniform is horrible, and you feel your tears soaking the half of bandana you were using as a face mask and…

He snatches the mask from your face. Look you in the eyes for long enough to make your whimpers even more audible. You can swear to god that his pupils were dilated. That his hands were shaking. You could see his eyes getting scrunched in that particular way that their owner is smiling – sincerely, openly, from the bottom of his heart.

— Please…p-please, be fast, I don’t know anything, I will…I won’t, I…

Rough, calloused hand goes to cup your face. The material of his glove is tough and soaked in blood as he smears it on your cheek, your fingers are going to wipe away the tears – you don’t understand what’s happening and you are even more scared, and your mouth is twitching in a terrified grimace. He pushes the tip of his finger into your mouth, making you suck on the blood and dirt of the fabric. You think you are going to throw up.

— Quiet.

You don’t understand why he didn’t kill you yet. He is touching your face, slowly, his one hand is enough to cover your entire head and you’re sure that if he’d want to just squish your brain like a rotten cabbage, he could just fine. He pushes his finger even deeper in your mouth and you lick it involuntarily because this is an intrusion and you have the brain of a two-year-old who sees the world through their ability to devour things, and his pupils dilate even more. He looks at your frown, your tears, and your lips wrapped around his finger.

He yanks you on your feet embarrassingly easy.

— You’re a hacker?

You blink a few times. Now, the protocol is that no, you can’t state who you are, If he knows that you are a hacker, he can take you away for interrogation, maybe torture you for passwords and the intel on your company, and being tortured isn’t something on your monthly calendar. Now, the protocol also states that you have to be able to die for your company, and…

He grabs your neck, lifting you – surprisingly gently, softly even, a hand supports your waist so you won’t be able to either kick him or get choked to death because of his grip.

— Answer me, Maus. I might have a reason to let you live.

You do want to live. Maybe not long, definitely not until you’re 100 years old with dozens of grandchildren, but being able to live past the next few hours and then days and then weeks does sound incredible.

— Y…yes. I’m a cyber security specialist.

He squeezes your neck more. Pushes you up, making you cough in your grip. You never experienced anything like this before – never had a guy strong enough to handle you like this. It would look cool from the side, probably – like something from a videogame. It would look hot in the porn, probably, if it was consensual and happening between two passionate lovers.

But you are his enemy, and he is yours – cold blue eyes peering right into yours. He is looking at you like a piece of meat, and not even in the lustful, hungry way. He looks like a butcher in front of a very good beef cut, thinking about where should he sink his knife to get the best steaks. A hunter standing over the wounded deer, thinking if he wants your head above his fireplace or taxidermy your whole body as a wicked trophy.

— Didn’t know they’d allowed someone so fucking small in the field.

You can swear to god that you saw him smile, under this hood. You can’t see his face, obviously, only the blood-soaked fabric and his eyes, but something still tells you that he is smiling. Enjoying your attempts to escape, maybe – you tried to kick him a few times, producing a deep, amused chuckle from his lips. He holds you so easily like you are nothing but a sweet little kitten. You might not be as big as him, but he still shouldn’t be able to lift a grown woman in full gear with just one hand. Right?

— I’m not…not s-small.

You don’t have much fight left in you. You are on the verge of just asking him to kill you, to be honest, your neck hurts and the pain spreading from your fingers pulsates and transforms. You hope they are not broken – even though you understand that your chances to live past these few minutes are very slim. Even your usual snark is lost, forbidden in the hands of a giant who likes to play with his food.

You do feel like a mouse – in a way that you would die under his boot very soon.

He – König, monster, colonel, fucking deadly mercenary – chuckles again. You can get used to this sound. Melodic almost, in a way that most alarms are melodic while telling you about inevitable catastrophe.

— Kleine verfickte Maus. Ich wette, dass du auch ganz eng bist.

He is laughing, again. Laughing and chuckling and you can’t take it anymore because he is so obviously stronger than you, it’s not fair. You want to put your foot on the ground and tap it like a spoiled brat, like a baby on the playground whining for their mom to take them home because other kids don’t want to play by their rules. The difference in skill is so obvious, that you aren’t even able to put on some sort of fight.

— Wh…I don’t speak German.

Your other hand – the one that didn’t get squished under his boot – goes to scratch his arm. Maybe put up enough struggle that he would accidentally let you fall right from his grasp. He doesn’t react and you feel hopeless. Weak, useless, you remember all the times you decided to miss training so you could just chill in the lounge with other rookies or do something on your computer.

— You will, Maus.

Then, there is only darkness.

***

You woke up…somewhere.

Come to think of it, it wasn’t the first time you woke up. You remember opening your eyes, feeling the vibrations under your cheek, hearing the noises of a car or other vehicle moving fast. Too fast for your already spinning head and stomach – you don’t remember if you were coughing or vomiting, but the movement wasn’t stopping to ever let you breathe. You were being transported somewhere, without a chance of knowing where you were heading. At least now, when you get to the final, as you think at least, destination, you’re clean.

As much as someone tied up to a chair somewhere that reminds you of a basement can be.

You’re stripped of your weapons obviously – not like you had a chance to use them anyway. Your hands are tied behind your back, your legs are bound to a chair, and your tragic lack of clothes is…more evident than you wanted it to be. At least you still have your underwear on – it still didn’t make the situation better. He saw you naked, completely, and he might do god knows what with you now.

Although you have some feelings about what he can do with a weak enemy hacker, half-naked and tied up in a secure place.

You would panic, but it requires energy. A resource that you don’t have right now.

— You woke up. Gut. Started to think I went too much again.

His accent is weird, you think. The thought only occurs to you now, when you can hear him more clearly while not being that afraid of getting out of this alive. His voice is weirdly calm for someone of his size – you want to think of gentle giants but this man is far from gentle and is almost too big to even be called a giant. A colossus, you want to say.

— Again?

Your voice is raspy, both from your sleep and from lack of water. When was the last time you drank anything? Probably more than a few hours – your throat is dry as sandpaper, and your head is dizzy from both your trauma – he either strangled you to unconsciousness or beat you hard enough – and the dehydration. You don’t want to spend another minute in this basement – you think this is a basement, at least, the high humidity on the walls and some garbage tossed to the corner is fairly evident. It’s large, too – you never saw anything like this. It might be a KorTac prison, but the remains of a bike and a few shelves of canned foods tossed to the other side of the room tell otherwise.

— We’re allowed to take trophies home. Sometimes I get…impatient.

You’re in his house? Does a monster like him even need a house?

“A trophy”

Funny how you don’t even feel that dehumanized. He didn’t kill you, you don’t feel the evidence of violation on your body – you are clean, neat even, your stomach and private parts aren’t hurting, and, as much as you hate to say this while tied up to a chair, you are as comfortable as a person in your position can be.

— What are you going to do with me?

You shake like a leaf. He finally steps closer to you, coming from the ladder – you can hear the lock and a heavy door being closed, setting your hopes of escape. Not like you could, in your position – the bruises already forming on your legs and hands, a numbed pain in your head and fingers. You feel shitty and comfortable at the same time, trying to tune off the discomfort and just concentrate on talking to him.

He didn’t kill you – this is good, you can work with this.

He left you alive – this is bad, he is going to torture you, he is going to do a million terrible things with you and you are not a part of a regular army, You didn’t get the torture resistance training. Maybe, if it was some of your friends, other girls in the group who got through military school and never missed gym to sit on their computers, they would have survived. You never felt so weak before – not even on the battlefield.

God, you’re scared.

— Your computer. My employer needs the info you had on it.

Oh.

It’s not personal, at least. He is here for the information, not to take advantage of your weak, fragile body. It made you almost feel at peace, almost made you forget about your lack of clothing and the damp basement you’re being put in.

— What sort of info do you need?

You slowly start to wiggle your hands in your binds – he used plastic locks, those stupid unremovable things that are slowly cutting the soft flesh of your wrists. You can’t untie them, but you can try at least tear them on the metal of your chair. You can try to, just to say that you did, and not feel bad about not resisting him at all.

— Your last mission. You were trying to smuggle weapons into the EU border.

— We were trying to stop the smuggling of weapons.

At least, you think you were – your head hurts, your memories are dizzy, and they never actually told you what kind of job you had. Come to think of it, actually, you never asked whether you were the good guys or the bad guys – it was always about money, paychecks, getting your job done and not dying from lack of nutrition because most tech-jokey jobs are already filled with uninspired chatbots and graduates from fancy colleges with a dick between their legs. Not reserved for tired women like you – so you turn to, ironically, paramilitary organizations. How the tables have turned.

— That’s not what our intel says, Maus. Do you want to lie to me?

You don’t. You just don’t know if you are telling the truth or lying because you are too fucking tired to even think straight.

He comes closer, and you whimper involuntarily. His breath hitches.

— Scheisse…they knew who to hire.

He grabs you by the neck again, and you can finally see him fully – towering over you, cold blue eyes staring right into you. You sob, not able to handle your emotions because, oh god, he is going to rape you, torture you, and then put a giant burning stick right in your ass because everyone knows that this is the best way to hack a computer – you just need to find the person who put the password in the first place.

— Can’t you just hack the computer yourself?

He chuckles – you’re getting tired of that sound. You hate that you found his voice attractive, you hate the fact he is keeping you down here. You want to destroy that part of your body that likes the attention – how his eyes are only kept on you. Never had a guy kidnapping you before, and you fight the feeling of disappointment that strikes you when you remember that he is here because he needs the intel. Not because he wants you.

— It wasn’t a…conventional operation. Can’t waste manpower on breaking the walls you installed.

His hand goes to cup your face again – you frown, breathing stops because he is so close and he takes off his gloves, allowing his rough, calloused fingers to linger on your cheeks. He squeezes your face in an almost adorable manner and steps back again. You lick your dry lips again, trying hard to keep at least one part of your body moisturized, and his breath hitches again.

He goes behind you, ruffles through shelves – you can hear something falling, his awkward grunt as he had to pick it up. He is more clumsy than you though – more nervous also, hands are jittering and fingers twitching every time you look at him. Adorable, really, how this huge mess of a man can look so innocent and almost nervous in front of you.

König returns after a minute or two, holding…a water bottle. Closed, lid still on, little plastic wrapping in place. You have half a mind about just drinking it, even though he doesn’t offer it to you. Not like you could open it yourself, with how your hands are still tied up behind your back.

— You don’t speak German.

It’s not a question – it’s a statement. you watch him opening the bottle with ease, large hands are working on something so fragile and delicate. You can’t remember the last time you had sex, not with how fast your head is spinning and memories still foggy, but you think it was a long time ago – because you feel your cheeks heated from the simple actions of his large fingers ripping through soft plastic.

God, you don’t really remember what was happening before you got here, not in detail, but you know that you needed to get laid like, a year ago.

— No.

— You will.

— Wh…what do you mean?

Is he going to make you install Duolingo? Is this what it all was about? Some elaborate prank, a marketing campaign, a tough lesson for silly girls who think that knowing just your native language is enough to live your life and…

— When you want something, Maus, you have to say “bitte”.

If you were a strong and cool soldier, you would use this moment to jump from your chair, using the weight of your body to fall on him and make him lose balance, and then spit in his face as your last remaining blast of human dignity.

But you aren’t a cool and strong soldier, and you really need to drink.

— B…bitte. What does this mean?

— Please.

He is almost whispering, the water bottle tanging in his hands in front of you. You take your time, considering the possibilities – you can play like a good little prisoner and allow him to take your pride and just toss it aside. You can play like an obedient hostage and ask him nicely, hoping that it would be enough.

You don’t know what to do – appearing too shy and soft can give him…ideas. And you don’t want this crazed giant who is keeping you bound in his basement to get ideas. You can…you probably can spend more time without water. Or food. Or shower and change of position.

You take your time answering, and his demeanor seems almost…anxious. His eyes are darting between the water bottle and your face, between his hands and your body – like he can barely keep a calm facade and not force you into doing something nasty. Like he is almost afraid that you are not going to cooperate and he would really have to hurt you in a meaningful way.

— Can I have water, bitte?

— Gutes Kätzchen. Drink, you’ll need it.

In the end, you broke down first. Not because you are this weak, but because being a brat won’t save you in a situation like this. You don’t want to die over something as trivial as your pride.

König seems…at ease. He takes off the bottle cap and brings water to your lips, allowing you to drink as much as you want. You lick the remaining drops from your lips and he puts a half-empty bottle aside.

— I won’t tell you the password.

You mumble under your breath, barely audible. He chuckles.

— I count on it, liebe.

[tinydefector]

TINY-DEFECTOR WORK MASTERLIST

REQUEST & ASK OPEN

Please feed me request they are keeping me sane.

information

1. I WRITE M/M GENDER NEUTRAL READERS OR CANON CHARACTERS I WILL WRITE TRANS MALE.

I am not a Fem writer

2. have the right to not do request if I don't want to.

3. I get a large number of requests, and sometimes they get lost in my inbox.

4. Every three months I will do an inbox clear out. And will save what I'm working on into my drafts.

5. I write as a hobby to keep myself busy, (atm I'm not overly active due to moving house)

it's been a long while since i've written on tumblr. I lost my last account, but I'm hoping to get back into writing fics or oneshots again. Mainly going to be Writing Transformers.

Transformers Live Action -knightverse, ROTB. On occasions I may make Bayvesre content.

Transformers Prime

Transformers Gen 1

Transformers Mtmte, IDW

Character list and links below ⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️

Requests & ask Rules:

I don't tend to close my request unless I get over 30+ of them.

- 1 character per request if you want a longish one shot fic.

- you can make requests for multiples with scenarios but but I tend to keep them short with a few headcannons added in.

- Specify if you want a continuation of a previous fic.

- I will do both human and Cybertronian and occasionally Experimental monster readers.

-if requesting Cybertronian for smut, they have both a valve and spike as I write all Cybertronians with both parts, all cybertronian characters I write have both parts. (I will accept request with the fem bots, I just don't write Fem readers)

- your more than welcome to ask for NSFW, SFW, Angst, fluff and all sorts. I'm pretty chill. All Smut and NSFW content is marked with #valveplug

I write: gender neutral, or Male characters, (I'm not good nor do I like writing fem character, I'm a guy, if I do get fem readers I'm going to write them as gender neutral)

I will do:

- Scenarios

- Yandere and possessive.

- family content

-disabilities (human only)

- Fluff/Angst

- fearplay, mouthplay

-Vore: soft vore/ light vore (may experiment, but very light)

- NSFW, kink:

and Dub-con/ consensual Non-con

size kink 

skin fetish 

hair pulling 

Scent/ smell/ pheromones

Sex pollen/perfume.

silk and ribbon play

cum inflation 

breeding

pet play

Predator/prey

(On occasions will write Alpha/Omega/Beta, I write it rather differently to the classic AOB. But I will only write it on very rare occasions)

vore

fluid play and consumption (paint, energon, oil, cum, spit, lubricant,)

spiking warming

Heart and spark syncing 

new spike and Valve modifications to test on their human lover

(Just ask pretty much)

-Pregnancy

- death request are alright just keep it civil I won't go into details on the deaths.

- The AUs:

First Contact PotatooftheLand

Tasty AU of @callsign-relic

Energy fluid AU - (my silly energy drink transfluid ones)

Sparkeater AU

Human pet

I will NOT do:

-Incest

-Pedophilia

- Self harm

-Minors (exceptions if they are children of the Bots and reader but only exception)

- Don't get angry if I'm not willing to write fem characters, I'm a guy, and I tend to stick with trans content, M/M, or gender neutral, but I'm leanent but respect my boundaries.

Slightly iffy:

- death of parents (I recently lost my mother in an accident so please be aware I that things one's sometimes I won't do due to my own feelings on these fics, while other time I may because it gives me comfort)

I enjoy making silly little one shots or even just sweet little things. I will eventually do up a master list for links once I make more stuff. (Pretty much anything you can think of up that alley I'm more than happy to do)

If you want a request of one who's not on the list, please submit it. These are just all the ones I can remember off the top of my head, people enjoy.

Ps I love writing silly little things too outside of the fics and even enjoy making art to go along with them when I feel up to drawing.

So nothing is too silly ask away over all the strange little things you want to know.

__________

Tiny art dump

My little spot for art

Food feed to me

_________

Random Works

Transfluid headcannon

Non specified ship works

______________________

Character list and links:

Beachcomber

Breakdown

Bumblebee

Bulkhead

Cyclonus

Drift

First aid

Ironhide

Jazz

Knockout

Megatron

Mirage

Optimus Prime

Perceptor

Pharma

Prowl

Ratchet

Rodimus

Rung

Starscream

Skyfire

Skywarp

Skids

Swerve

Soundwave

Shockwave

Swindle

Tailgate

Tarn

Thundercracker

Ultra Magnus

Whirl

[avonne-writes]

question of the day: are buck and bucky kinky???

Now that is indeed a good question for today 😄 kinkiness headcanons coming below.

What they love:

They're not hardcore kinky but they both have their own sweet spots that really get to them.

Gale has a massive praise and erotic talk kink. Not dirty talk because he doesn’t like rude or derogatory terms even in that context, but he’ll shudder and gasp if Bucky calls him his little kriegie Marconi baby doll and tells him how well he’s doing taking what Bucky gives him. It’s all about being loved and valued by someone from whom he believes it. He wants Bucky to talk as much as possible, and he likes to hear in explicit detail what Bucky likes and what he wants. Sometimes, he resists Bucky's attempts at luring him into bed until Bucky tells him exactly what he desires and how.

I also think that Gale has an oral preference, if not a fixation, and he likes to keep the reins in his hands unless he needs extra reassurance - then, Bucky is able to take over and get him into subspace. Those are some of the most intense nights they have. If Gale is in the mood for it, he’s an amazing sub.

They both enjoy barebacking too, which works out quite well for them, not so much for the sheets.

Bucky is very eager and partner-oriented. He's all about giving Gale pleasure, and he’d be willing to try almost anything if Gale asked for it. His libido is also higher than Gale's but it's okay because Gale likes how much he wants it. He doesn’t mind Gale leading when they make love but he doesn’t submit completely, so it's usually a more equal dynamic than the times when Gale wants him to call the shots.

He has a thing for Gale's hands, which is quite lucky in their circumstances because a simple handjob can be enough to drive him crazy with pleasure if he gets to watch Gale's fingers move on him. He loves leaving marks on Gale and just biting him in general, it makes him feel like Gale belongs to him, that their relationship is something that lasts and exists beyond the here and now. Some of his other instant turn-ons are Gale whispering in his ear and Gale being competent because Bucky is just so proud that it turns into arousal. If he has a bad day, he wants pain and asks Gale to be rough with him. Thankfully, Gale is good at walking the line between fulfilling this need and hurting him.

Sometimes, they roleplay a little. It’s always fun and easy, but it's a spur of the moment thing.

What they don't really like that much but occasionally do for the other:

Bucky: bondage with him being bound, sex toys (he just wants to touch Gale, is that too much to ask? He gets jealous of the toys), wearing a condom (he doesn’t protest if Gale wants it but he sure has a preference)

Gale: rimming (receiving), not being allowed to come (he just wants to let go of all his restraints), exhibitionism, sex while being dirty

What they'd categorically refuse to do:

Bucky: non-con play, sharing Gale in any way

Gale: non-con play, cutting, breath play, being hit or spanked (childhood trauma), humiliation, sensory deprivation if it's more than a blindfold

Overall, they're both attentive to each other and tend to have playful, easy sex together, and they like the teasing push and pull of their power dynamics.

[candywife333]

Fish-wife or No Wife

Summary: Did Jungkook have a wife? The rumor mill had been churning for years, divided on this one topic. He was a successful worldwide pop star who was always seen with a different lady on his arm, as he flitted from country to country enjoying his prolific career. The reason for the lingering suspicion was a cryptic social media post showing a picture of 2 kids who shared the same exact eyes and smile as him. So in fact, if he truly did have a wife, who was she? And why had the public never seen her? Perhaps she didn't wish to be seen.

Description : famous pop-star/idol jungkook x chubby y/n , might be two-shot or trilogy

Disclaimer: The character of Jungkook shown in this fanfic does not accurately represent Jungkook's true personality or actions. Please treat this story as fiction.

Trigger warnings: mild voyeurism, dub-con (still debating on this), rough sex

Part 2- https://www.tumblr.com/candywife333/733312853462974464/fish-wife-or-no-wife

I looked out the window, joyously peering at the bevy of daisies and pink carnations crowding outside. As usual the entire mansion I lived in with my two kids, Iro and Mari, remained peacefully quiet except for their occasional tinkling laughter floating downstairs. My babies, aged 4 and 7 were having their tutoring sessions at home. The tutor, a sweet girl by the name of Lim Nara frequented our house to teach them math and science. They loved her as did I.

For the perhaps millionth time in the past 6 years, I patted myself on the back for the wise decision I had made. Marrying Jungkook was the smartest choice I had ever made. We had a marriage of convenience that the general public had no knowledge of. He had proposed marriage to me when he was left with Iro, still a baby at the time, after a one night stand with a foreign model.

I had always desperately wished for children, even as a I had worked a pretty rigorous career in PR for HYBE. Being 25 at the time, I wanted a life of leisure after working all throughout high school and college to support myself and my sister, Wei, when my parents had succumbed to loan sharks and eventual death at the hands of alcohol.

One night I had been getting ready to head home when Jungkook, the notorious play boy pop-star had stumbled into me as I was exiting the building. He had a baby in his hands, who could've been not more than 1 year of age. I didn't realize that I would meet the love of my life that night. I was arrested in place by the little chubby baby with fat rolls all over his little thighs and miniature arms, with soft curly black hair, a round face resembling that of the full moon, and big black eyes that sparkled with happiness and love.

I remember the day as if it were yesterday. Shocked at bumping into the pop star with a little baby I had jolted in surprise, "Are you alright Jungkook-ssi? Everything ok with you? Do you need any help?" The indefinitely reserved man had expressively opened his doe shaped eyes as far as he could and stuttered in a manner unlike his usual, "Could you please take care of this baby for the night? I will pay you. I have to be at a fashion event which goes on later this night. And even though I tried contacting the baby sitter, she is not picking her phone up right now".

I was shocked for a few seconds at this sudden plea for help. I didn't even know Jungkook that well, except for a few meetings in which PR employees were required to iron out some rules about social media engagement for him and the rest of the members of BTS. Partly still paralyzed in bewilderment and a sudden unworldly connection with this beautiful little bundle of fluffy giggles and flailing chubby limbs, I took the baby from him, "Sure Jungkook-ssi. I don't mind watching the baby for the night."

Jungkook know his request had been odd and rather rude as Y/N was an entire stranger. However, he couldn't decline this event. It was a prelude to a bigger calvin klein shoot that would take place later this year in Tokyo. And he had to be there. Anna , baby Iro's mother, had left him on his doorstep in the most callous way, jetting off to Madrid for a different photo shoot with her modeling agency.

He had made the stupid mistake of not using protection that night, and had wrought the consequences. Jungkook stared at Y/N briefly, assessing her. Even though he knew she was not in a relationship, she looked like a mother. She was the type of girl who you knew would take care of babies and nurture them. She was curvy , with luscious thick hair cascading down her back and a very warm face. The quintessential girl next door. Nothing dazzling or glamorous to look at, but sweet and friendly. Like a neighborhood librarian. Or the girl next door who you could ask sugar from.

All the members of BTS knew she was the fixer upper of the PR time, very skilled at her job and aware of what she had to do to avoid bad press. Extremely efficient but kind, human in a way that they had not seen in years, even since their debut. Jungkook was at a loss for what to do and he had been coming to the agency to look for his manager. Yet, to his great luck he had found Y/N.

The next morning he had popped up at Y/N's apartment to take Baby Iro. When the door opened, he noticed Baby Iro giggling and playing with pokemon stuffed plushies in a corner as Y/N made something that smelled like sweet rice congee. She was dressed in a pink satin robe that concealed yet hinted at her lush frame. Her hair was in a bun as she ladeled him a bowl with a plate of cooked salmon and seaweed soup.

"Please eat, you must be exhausted from the shoot". As she walked over to Baby Iro, placing him on her lap as she persuaded him to take a bite of congee, Jungkook had the brightest idea. "Y/N, would you marry me?" Y/N almost fell off the sofa shocked at his sudden abrupt proposal. She chuckled in disbelief, mouth frozen in confusion, "What do yo mean Jungkook -ssi? Is this some type of prank?"

Jungkook ran over to hold her soft hands in his. He rambled, eager to get out his explanation before she put him outside his door on his way, "I need someone to look after Iro. With my lifestyle and the way I want to live, a baby does not fit into my plans. But I do not want to abandon my flesh and blood. If we are married, I will gaurantee you a third of my wealth written in a pre-nuptial and whatever else you would like. We would keep your identity hidden. Please consider my proposal. We can have a marriage of convenience, written out in a contract. No feelings, just business."

I stared at him in shock at his boldness and audacity. As the request filtered through my brain, I realized it for the great opportunity it was. I wouldn't have to serve a man, but would have all the privileges that came with being married to such a prominent star. He would barely be in the house, jetting god knows where with god knows who. And I could have wealth, peace, baby Iro and a baby of my own. Everything I yearned to have since I was a little girl. Babies of my own and money. Money that would not trap me into a desolate life. I could pay for Wei's college and set myself up for a stable life.

Measuring my words carefully, I solemnly uttered, "If you want this to happen, I want complete anonymity and my name written into the pre-nuptial with the amount you suggested. My only other stipulations are that I have a separate house for me and Iro, away from you. I need to ensure Iro has a stable upbringing without having to see models and other stars come in and out of the house constantly. The last condition is that I would like to have your child. We can do this through artificial insemination in a clinic. I have always wanted a house with children and if you intend on asking something this big from me, I intend to do the same. You and I will never engage in sexual intercourse and will keep this strictly a marriage of convenience. You will visit the kids at least once a month. I have no other say in what you do with your life, and wish you follow the same boundaries with me".

He sat there shell shocked at my quick rejoinder to his preposterous proposition, chewing on his lip ring , bangs occluding his dark eyes, pondering my requests. His voice reverberated through the room with finality, " I agree. You have a deal. I will have my lawyers draw the papers and that is what we shall do." We had a civil ceremony the next day itself, taking less than 15 minutes for the signing of the papers. He had looked disinterested and barely spoke through the ceremony.

After this interaction, I didn't see him till 2 months later. I had shifted into a beautiful house resembling a gargantuan cottage placed in Jeju near the coast. It was exactly what I had been hoping for, a home, away from the pollution of the city. He had written a third of his wealth into the pre-nuptial, which would be used at my discretion. The first thing I did was to pay off Wei's tuition for university and any debt our parents had left us.

I took a decent sum of what he had written in my name and invested it in many other tiny resorts in Jeju, making sure that the money would multiply. My kids and I would be set for generations. That was the aim. Iro was growing day by day, from a chubby little baby who giggled and snorted at the swaying daffodils and baby turtles that washed up onto the beach near the house, to a healthy glowing kid, friendly and happy, intelligent with a beautiful voice reminiscent of his father.

Jungkook kept his promise and showed up for a fortnight once a month to visit Iro the first year. The year after, his visits decreased. And with each passing birthday of Iro, the visits dwindled even further. He had kept his promise of providing sperm for artificial insemination, and as Iro turned 4, I had Mari. Wei came to help me during that time and we both watched Iro. The nights together were beautiful. Wei would help me cook all my favorite dishes and desserts, as we relaxed with house staff in the evenings, setting up beach promenades and tiny little parties for Iro and baby Mari.

My life became exactly as I envisioned it. Born on Christmas, Mari showed up as a mischievious chubby little tot into the world, breaking the glasses of the doctor who had delivered her. She was ridiculously strong, turning over entire flower beds even at the age of 2, learning to walk ridiculously quickly. Breastfeeding her was a travesty. She would tug at my nipples impatiently with her teeth sometimes , forcing the milk to enter her mouth.

My babies and I were living the dream. Jungkook stopped showing up a month before my delivery. He never saw Mari or Iro. From tabloids and news, Wei and I gathered that he was too busy hanging out with his members, attending parties and fashion events, living the busy pop star life. The tabloids held sensational titles of his new paramours, a new one close to every month. The women were so beautiful, otherworldly compared to me. I stayed healthy but curvy, thick thighs and butt, with a plusher stomach. The only drastic change to my body were the big boobs that had been blessed from pregnancy, that grew to be 2 bigger cups.

I had loose skin, and cellulite, and slightly droopy breasts. But I was happy and peaceful. I had everything I could ask for, taking care of my babies, stacking our money continuously as I wrote novels under a pseudonym. My romance novels were popular, and I had a book signing lined up next month in Seoul I intended to take the kids to as well.

Just as I was booking tickets for Seoul, I received an invite from Jungkook's secretary, "Hello Ms. Y/N. Mr. Jeon Jungkook is requesting you attendance for a banquet that is happening in his main residence. His parents will be attending and he would like to introduce the kids to them. Please promptly be there in the next 2 weeks at 9 AM. Thank you."

Well I guess the kids and I would be going sooner than I expected.

[ecoamerica]

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!