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soaps-mohawk · 4 months

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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 20: The New Normal

Summary: Your pack settles into a routine as you learn to adapt to the shifting relationships between all of you.

Pairings: Poly 141 x reader, Price x Gaz

Word Count:

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, p in v sex, unprotected sex, threesome, BDSM elements, dry humping, language, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, angst, PTSD, flashbacks, nightmares, smoking, Gaz being the prettiest boy alive.

A/N: Not much to say about this one. Hope it's worth a two week wait...

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A yelp leaves your lips as your feet leave the ground, your body hitting the floor rather ungracefully. You roll from the force of the impact, stopping flat on your back. You stare up at the ceiling, trying to catch the breath that was forced from your lungs from your impact with the floor.

“You left yourself too open again.”

“Well how was I supposed to know which way you were moving?” You say, slowly pushing yourself back up to sit as you catch your breath.

“You can’t, that’s why you have to keep yourself guarded at all times. Anyone you’re fighting will do worse than that as soon as your guard is down.”

You stare at Simon’s shoes as he stops a foot away from you. The laces are pulled to the exact same tension on both sides, double knotted to avoid them coming undone and becoming a tripping hazard. Even the way his crew socks are pulled up over the legs of his sweatpants speaks volumes of how on guard he is. Always ready for a fight, always ready so that nothing can get in his way and put him at risk.

He lets out a quiet sigh as he drops down into a squat in front of you. “How have you been sleeping?”

Your gaze finally leaves his shoes, trailing up his legs to his arms where they rest on his knees. You follow the lines of his tattoos until you reach where his shirt sleeve covers the rest. You work your way up until you reach his mask-covered face, finally meeting his brown eyes. There's a softness to them now you've never noticed before, something you might not have taken notice of now had you not become brave enough to look that deep.

“Better,” You clear your throat, dropping your gaze to the mat. “But still not great.”

This morning had started with you shaking in Johnny's hold, his arms wrapped tightly around you as he whispered soft reassurances in your ear. The nightmares haven't gone away since your confession, nor have they even really lessened, but at least now you aren’t suffering alone when they wake you from your sleep. At least now your pack knows how to best comfort you when your mind insists on silently torturing you.

You still haven’t slept alone since they returned, nor have you spent any great length of time in your room. There’s still a lingering feeling of someone watching, of something staring at you from inside the walls. You’ve checked while they were at training for any cameras you might have missed, but you’ve come up empty handed. Maybe it was just the knowledge that your safe space had been invaded causing that paranoid itching in the back of your mind to linger. None of the guys have complained about you staying with them at night, though perhaps you have your confession about your nightmares to thank for that.

“The nightmares?” Ghost asks, snapping you from your thoughts.

You nod. “Yeah.”

The risk of them finding out about your nightmares has made you less afraid to sleep, but still the fear of what horrible scene your mind will come up with keeps you awake. You pull your knees to your chest, making yourself small as you sit in front of him. He’s just so big, so broad and bulky, truly the ideal specimen of a perfect alpha. He’s the kind of alpha your fellow omegas at the institute would whisper about. Some big, strong protector who would provide for them and keep them safe and satisfied.

If only they could see you now.

Despite the shift in your relationship with Simon, things haven’t changed much. He’s still the quiet, looming figure behind you, posing a silent threat to anyone who might think about approaching you. He still places a hand on your back to steer you, still stands closer behind you than he used to, still looks at you with a softer look in his eyes than you’ve ever seen before. Sometimes you’re tempted to push that boundary first, to lean in and rest your head on his broad chest, feel the muscle under his shirt again. You want to press up against his back while he sleeps and let his warmth seep into your bones. Sometimes when you’re alone and your thoughts begin to run rampant, you think about how you have nothing to fear because Simon would rip the face off anyone who tried anything.

Of course, he has to be here in order to do that.

You won’t have to be alone again. John had promised you that much. He’d fight harder to make sure you’re not alone again. Not, at least, for a while if it can be avoided.

“You’re thinking too much again.” Simon says, pulling you from your thoughts for a second time.

You stare at him, suddenly realizing he’s moved closer to you. You’re not sure when he did, too caught up in your own thoughts to be aware of your surroundings. It’s dangerous, your ability to sink into your mind and get lost there. You know it and they know it. Yet you can’t help it. It’s safer in your head, easier to exist in a place where you’re in control, where you can predict what’s going to happen next.

Simon’s hand wraps around your ankle, tugging you closer to him. You fall flat on your back on the mat, body sliding partially under his. He looms over you, settling his weight across your thighs as his hands come to rest on either side of your head. Your eyes are wide as you stare up at him, your heart pounding in your chest, as it usually does when you’re in this position.

“Now, what do you do when someone pins you?” He asks, the sharpness back in his gaze as he stares down at you.

Lay here and don’t move, or at least that’s what you want to do currently. He’s just so big and warm, and the way he makes you feel so small under him has your head spinning. How you wish he’d press his body into yours, let you feel him completely. The scents in the air begin to thicken as you find your head tilting back on instinct, baring your throat to him in submission.

His hand closes around your chin, forcing your gaze back on his. “Focus.” He says, projecting his scent more to try and cover yours. It goes straight to your head, your gaze sharpening just slightly as you stare up at him. The scent of alpha around you has your mind racing in several different directions. You know you should be afraid, but it’s Simon. You know him, you trust him. He’d never hurt you intentionally, but he’s still an alpha.

The strong musky scent has something in the back of your head prickling, your instincts teetering on the edge of safety and danger. You know the alpha over you, but what if it was someone else? That was the point of all of this, right? You won’t be fighting off Simon or John. It will be someone unfamiliar, someone who wants to hurt you.

Simon’s fingers leave your chin, trailing down your neck. Your pulse thrums faster as his fingers near the base of your throat. The scent of alpha is strong in your nose. How easily he could slip his hand around the back of your neck and squeeze, rendering you brainless and under his control.

Your mind goes blank and you move without even thinking. Your fist slams into his side right where he’d taught you to hit. He buckles at the sudden attack and you use his moment of surprise and disorientation to free one of your legs and drive your knee right into his stomach. You push him off of you, scrambling back a couple feet before your mind begins to clear. Simon lays on the mat, almost wheezing as he tries to get the air back into his lungs.

You flounder there for a moment, watching the giant alpha you had just incapacitated. You don’t know where that came from or how you’d managed it. No, that’s not totally true. You know where the fear had come from, but you also know Simon would never do something like that to you.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You say, shifting onto your knees in case Simon retaliates, in case he gets angry at you for attacking him. “I don’t know what just happened.”

“The hell are you apologizing for?” He coughs out, pushing himself onto his side. “That was bloody brilliant.”

You blink in surprise, taken aback by his response. “What?”

“That’s what you were supposed to do.” He says, pushing himself the rest of the way up onto his knees. “I asked what you should do if you’re pinned, and you did it.”

You continue to stare at him, not quite sure how to process the sort-of praise from him. He had asked you what you should do if you were pinned, and you had done what you were supposed to do. It hadn’t quite been for the right reasons, but you did do something correctly. You managed to incapacitate him enough to get out from underneath him, and without him going easy on you.

Maybe the training is working after all.

“Do that in a fight, you might just give yourself enough time to run.” He says, pushing himself up to stand. “Good job.”

You continue to stare at him as he passes you, heading to the bench where your belongings sit. You’re still kneeling there on the mat in surprise. You hadn’t expected such genuine praise from him. But why not? He’s doing this to train you, to teach you how to defend yourself against anyone who might want to hurt you. Anyone who’s stupid enough to try something when they’re not here to defend and protect you.

Something that’s already happened.

You’ve finally managed to defend yourself, to apply the things he’s spent weeks teaching you successfully. Why shouldn’t he be proud of you for that?

You’re still getting used to this new side of him, this accepting side, the softness that he’s showing you in his own way. It’s what you wanted, what you’ve been trying to achieve for weeks now, and now that you have it...you’re not quite sure what to do with it. Where does the boundary lie? What if you push too far? Will things go back to the way they were before? Will he shut you out completely?

Hands slip under your arms, lifting you to your feet. You turn, your head tilting back to stare up at Simon. He’s wearing that emotionless mask on his face, or at least that’s what you picture as you stare up at his eyes. It’s the look he carries the most, giving away nothing and effectively hiding what he’s feeling. You wish you could see his face. You’ve tried to draw up images of what he might look like, what he hides under the mask. He can’t be ugly, at least not totally. Johnny had reassured you of that much, but you wish for just a glimpse more than his chin and his lips when he eats.

“You’re thinking too much again.” He says, taking half a step back from you.

“Sorry.” You blink, trying to pull yourself from the depths of your mind once again.

“Come on. Let’s get breakfast.” He says, tilting his head towards the door.

You follow him from the gym, his steps markedly slower compared to how he used to walk. Gone are the days of almost having to run to keep up with him. You could almost swear he takes smaller steps too, instead of his normal long, purposeful strides. It’s almost as if he’s out for a stroll instead of being forced into the task of escorting you to breakfast.

His hand finds your back again as you enter the mess, guiding you through the tables to the line to get food. His palm is warm where it’s pressed against the middle of your back, his fingers splayed, pressing just slightly into your skin through your shirt as an alpha soldier passes just slightly too close to you.

He still won’t fill your tray for you, but you can respect that. It’s a big step, and only done if there’s interest in courting or caretaking. You don’t expect that level of intimacy from him, certainly not right now. Perhaps never.

He’s not your alpha.

He guides you to the table where the others are sitting, and you take your normal spot between John and Kyle. They both shift just slightly closer to you almost subconsciously. Everything is almost a subconscious action now. Simon’s guiding hand on your back, your alpha moving closer to you, the betas keeping you between them whenever you’re with them. It’s a good sign, or at least you think it is. It feels right, a sort of easy flow that has developed between the five of you. One you don’t have to think very hard about.

“How did trainin’ go?” Johnny asks between shoveling bites of eggs into his mouth.

“Fine.” You shrug. “Simon threw me across the mat.”

All eyes at the table turn to him despite your nonchalant tone. It wasn’t the first time it’s ever happened, and you’re sure it won’t be the last.

“She took me down herself afterwards.” Simon says, not bothering to look up from his porridge.

Now all eyes at the table are on you. Your cheeks warm and you slowly start to make yourself smaller under their gazes.

“Had her pinned and she disarmed me enough to get free.” Simon continues, his gaze lifting so he’s staring at you too.

“Christ, what I would pay tae see that.” Johnny says, grinning widely at you.

“So training is paying off then.” John says, patting your back gently.

“Guess so.” You shrug, still feeling a bit bashful under the attention. “Not sure how useful I’d be in a real fight still.”

“Well, your first defense is trying to escape. Running is always the priority, remember?” John says.

You nod. Right. Run first. Like you should have opened the window and ran when that beta knocked on your door. Like you should have run when you noticed your door was open. Like you should have run when someone tried to get into your room.

How disappointed they’d be if they knew how you failed to follow even the most basic instructions. What would have happened if you hadn’t noticed the cameras? Would whoever tried to get into your room that night still have tried to enter? What if the door had been unlocked? What if they had gotten in? What would you have done, then? Try to disarm them enough to run to Dr. Keller?

That is what you were supposed to do.

Instead you had been stupid and froze in your fear and let it all happen, and now you can’t even tell them. It’s too late, it’s been too long. They’d be too upset if you confessed now instead of if you’d done it right when they returned.

You have to bury it now and hope it stays that way for the rest of time.

John is the one that walks you back to the barracks after breakfast. You don’t remember the last time he walked you to a meal or back from it. Usually he was too busy doing his job, or setting up things, or whatever else it is he does. Walking you back to the barracks was far too menial a task for how busy he is.

You hold his hand as you walk, close enough that his arm brushes your side with every step. You don’t let go of his hand even when he walks you to your door, keeping your fingers laced as you turn to look up at him.

“You gonna be alright on your own?” He asks, staring down at you with a soft look in his eyes.

No. You’re almost tempted to say it, to throw your arms around him and confess, to beg him to keep you close, to stay, to take you with him. Anything so you won’t have to be alone ever again.

You swallow the lump in your throat as you nod. “Yeah.”

For a moment, just a moment you think he doesn't believe you. There’s a second of hesitation, a cold chill running down your spine as your anxiety spikes. What if he knows you’re lying? What if he’s testing how long you’ll keep up the charade? How long you’ll try to keep them in the dark about what happened. He knows something is wrong. He can tell.

Your back meets your door as he crowds you in, releasing your hand so he can press both into the wood on either side of you. Something warm stirs in your stomach as you stare up at him, feeling very small as he looms over you.

He lets out a low rumble in his chest as he leans down. For a moment you’re expecting a kiss, but he moves to the side at the last moment, nudging your chin so it’s tilted up, bearing your throat to him. “What’s got you so worked up, huh?” He murmurs against your neck, his beard prickling the sensitive skin. “Have we been neglecting you for too long?”

Saying yes wouldn’t be a lie. They haven’t really sought you out in that way since their return. The most you’ve gotten in the last almost two weeks was when Johnny slipped his hand into your sleep shorts, and you returned the favor. John and Kyle hadn’t really even tried to initiate anything, treating you more like you’d shatter into a million pieces if they touched you too much.

Maybe a good fuck would solve some of your issues.

It would at least help you forget for a while.

A quiet moan leaves your lips as John sucks on your mark, the imprint of his teeth scarred into your skin. The mark that claims you as his, bonded to him for the rest of your life.

Lust and desire burns hot in your veins and you find yourself cupping his face, tugging him away from your neck so you can kiss him. He lets out a growl against your lips as you kiss him like you want to devour him, your hands sliding to his shoulders to tug him closer to you. His hands drop from the door to rest on your hips, pulling you flush against him. You can feel him, his cock hardening through his cargo pants.

You’d let him take you right here, right now, right in the hallway. You don’t care that anyone could walk in at any moment, anyone would be able to see you. It feels almost like it would cleanse the barracks, free you from the fear in your mind. Allowing yourself to be so vulnerable out in the open could wipe away the worry that there’s someone around every corner, someone watching you.

Getting railed by your alpha against the very door that separated you from the room that now held your worst nightmares might just fix you.

But, just like everything else that’s happened recently, you don’t get that chance.

John’s watch begins to beep in your ear, causing him to pull away from you. You let out a quiet whine as you’re forced apart, suddenly feeling chilled from the loss of warmth against you.

John lets out a quiet sigh, leaning his forehead against yours. “I have to go.”

You wish he didn’t. You’re half tempted to beg him to stay, to fuck his job, his duties. You want him to stay, to give all his attention to you, just for a few hours. You want him to erase the fear and the anxiety and fix you.

“We’ll continue this later.” There’s a promise to his tone that he’s not done with you, a guarantee that you will get to continue this once the day is over, when he can go back to being your alpha instead of a captain. He leans in, kissing you once more. “Be a good girl for me, yeah?”

You nod, watching him walk out of the barracks, the door closing softly behind him. You lean against your door for a few moments longer before letting out a breath. There’s still warmth swirling in your stomach, your underwear sticking to your damp folds. An idea pops into your head. You don’t want to go into your room, you don’t want to be in there alone right now.

Instead you head for Price’s room, unbuttoning your pants as you close the door behind you. You strip out of your pants before you climb onto the bed, making yourself comfortable. You’re going to give him a little present, a little something in revenge for leaving you high and dry, a little something to help him look forward to tonight.

Screaming. It’s all you can hear. It makes your ears ring and your head throb. Hands cling to you, nails biting into your skin. Something’s pulling on you, trying to rip you away. You’re stuck in a brutal tug of war. It hurts, but no one can hear you over the screaming. Tears are sliding down your cheeks, blazing a trail along your skin. You shouldn’t be crying, you shouldn’t be upset.

He hates it when you cry.

Alphas don’t cry.

You’re not an alpha.

You’ve committed the worst sin in his eyes, denying him the perfect pack. You’re a stain on his perfect ledger, a mistake that never should have happened.

He’s going to make sure you’re wiped from memory, from history, just as he wants.

“You can’t take her from me!” Your mother’s voice is frantic, her nails biting into your arm as she tries to pull you back into the safety of your arms.

“She’s no daughter of mine.” Your father’s fingers dig painfully into your other arm, trying to pull you away from your mother, away from your life. He’s going to throw you out like you’re nothing more than trash.

The screaming gets louder as you’re yanked from your mother’s hold, and you’re not sure if it’s her screams or your own piercing your ears.

“We have to ensure the success of this program.” The voice has changed. It’s not the cruel hands of your father holding you anymore. “It’s imperative to the future of militaries around the world.”

“No!” You scream, kicking, fighting, lashing out, but the hands won’t let go. They’re like a vice around you, like a constrictor slowly getting tighter and tighter.

“All you have to do is be a good omega,” A hand slips around the back of your neck, your skin burning from the touch. The warning is screaming in your head, louder than the screams of protest spilling from your lips. “And do exactly as you’re told.”

The fingers dig into your neck, your mind flashing for a second before it goes blank.

“No!”

You move before you’re even fully awake, sitting up straight in bed. Your hands close around the back of your neck as you curl into yourself, taking a defensive, protective position. You can still feel the cold hand on your skin, the fingers biting into the sensitive spots on your neck. You’re crying, tears and snot dripping down your face as you press it against your knees.

“No!” Another terrified cry leaves your lips as hands meet your skin, not cold or clammy, but warm and gentle. Your half asleep brain is stuck in your nightmare and can't rationalize the difference, not while you're perceiving everything as a threat.

“Easy, easy.” A voice says, speaking quietly, calmly. You recognize that voice. It’s not one from your dreams. Arms slowly wind around you, pulling you against a warm chest. “I’ve got you. It was just a dream.”

Your breaths are rapid and shaky as you slowly begin to come back to your senses. It was just a dream. You’re awake now. You know that voice.

“Alpha?” You whimper, desperately seeking the confirmation that it’s really him, that you’re really awake and free from your nightmare.

“I’m here.” He says, clutching you tightly against his chest. “Need you to breathe for me.” He pushes your head against his chest so you can feel his breaths.

You’re still crying, your breaths catching in your chest almost painfully as you attempt to follow your alpha’s deep, steady breaths. His arms are still tight around you, pinning you against his chest. His beard tickles your forehead as he leans his chin against your head. He’s projecting his scent, the smell of earth and petrichor mixed with the musk of alpha seeping into your brain.

“Good girl.” He praises you as you begin to relax, your joins unlocking from their stiffened positions, your muscles slowly loosening from how contracted they had been in your defensive position. You could have slipped into distress easily in that position, the level of fear higher than you’ve felt in a long time.

He loosens his hold on you just slightly as you begin to unravel yourself as you calm down. Your hands are still clamped around the back of your neck, your fingers trembling from how stiffly they’re held against your most vulnerable spot.

“Keep relaxing.” He says quietly, his lips brushing your hairline. “I’ve got you.”

He continues to speak to you quietly, letting you work yourself out of your tense, defensive position. You slowly begin to slide your hands away from your neck as your mind begins to clear and you realize there’s no threat to you, nothing waiting just outside your line of vision to attack. Your alpha has you, you’re safe with him, well protected.

The tears continue to fall, however, as you think back on your nightmare. It had felt so real, maybe because in a way it had been real. You had been pulled from your mother, from your home to the institute, then from the institute to the CIA, from the CIA to here and straight into General Shepherd's lap.

“Promise me,” You gasp out, your voice hoarse from crying. “Tell me you’ll never scruff me.”

“Never.” He says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I promise I’ll never scruff you.”

You press your face into his chest, breathing out a quiet sigh of relief. He could always go back on his word, he could change his mind, decide you needed to be scruffed. You know it’s foolish, having those kinds of thoughts. He’s never once gone back on his word, never once proved himself untrustworthy to you.

“I need to know if you've ever been scruffed before.” He asks, the authority slipping into his voice.

A frown pulls at your brows. You can’t remember if you’ve ever been scruffed before. Was it possible you had, but had been made to forget? Everything you’ve learned about scruffing says you would know, even if you don’t remember what happened after. It’s a very distinct feeling returning to your mind afterwards. It’s just something you’d know.

“No? I-I don’t think so?” You say. “At least I can’t remember, but I think it’s one of those things that you would know if it happened.”

“I’ve seen it happen, and I’ve seen the aftermath. You would know if it had ever happened to you.”

His words bring a shred of relief to your worried mind. You don’t want to know, you don’t want to ask how he knows, why he knows. It’s not likely he would have been able to tell you anyway. Just another secret, just another thing kept in the dark. You knew from early on they’d have their secrets, things they wouldn’t ever be able to tell you. You just never expected to have one of your own.

You curl up closer against his chest, pushing the thoughts and the guilt hanging over your head away in favor of soaking up the calming presence of your alpha. For a moment, just a moment, you can imagine everything will be alright. What’s in the past will stay there and nothing will come back to haunt you. You can just move on, and pretend like nothing happened.

You know it’s not true, but for just a moment, you can pretend that it is.

He hates it.

He hates the way he feels.

The subtle change to his heart rate, the way his insides feel like they’re fluttering, twisting. The disappointment eating him when his existence is ignored entirely in favor of those who were brave enough to open up, to allow you in.

Why is he disappointed? He’s done nothing but brush you off, keep you desperately at arms length despite your attempts to wiggle in through the slowly widening cracks in his resolve. Cracks that were formed by your very insertion into their lives. They were happy, they were fine. Then you came along and fucked everything up.

The worst part?

He likes it.

He wanted to hate you. For so long he fought that desire in him to be near an omega again, to be close enough to smell your sickeningly sweet scent. He tried to hate you, tried to ignore you, push you away from the walls he’s spent decades building up. Walls that threatened to crumble thanks to your very existence.

He’s not sure when the change happened. It was gradual, a shift in his hatred that became fascination that quickly morphed into something more. Something forbidden. Maybe it was when you submitted to him during training, or maybe it was after your first time with Johnny when his beta had looked far too pleased, and shared the intimate details of what you had done to him far too easily. Johnny’s need to yap had won out and his beta’s words had caused a stirring in his stomach he hasn’t felt in a long time.

A stirring he’d been able to ignore for so long.

For a moment, just a moment there had been fleeting curiosity. Would you try to take control with him? What if he let you do it? How long could you keep it up before you tired out and your true nature took over?

He stuffed those thoughts into the far recesses of his mind, refusing to allow them forward. He’s not getting soft, he’s not going to allow you any closer to his already cracking walls.

He tells himself that, at least until they leave. Until he sees the effect you have on his pack. The ripples in the bonds, the changes that happen almost as soon as the ramp of the plane shuts, separating you from them for the first time since your arrival.

He’s a good soldier. He can pretend nothing’s wrong, force the feelings into the back of his mind better than anyone. At least, that’s what he tells himself.

It had hurt when you ignored him on your return, throwing yourself into Price’s arms desperately and clinging to him like he might disappear. The betas had sandwiched you between them, letting you cling to them desperately as you trembled and cried. It was pathetic, but not quite as pathetic as the bitterness and the sting of disappointment in his chest.

He tried not to let himself feel it, tried to bury himself in his paperwork, tried to keep the feelings at bay, at least until Johnny had knocked on his door, mattress in tow telling him to get a blanket and head for Price’s room.

It was Kyle’s idea. Had to be. Kyle is the most nurturing of the four of them, and judging by the state of you, he must have done it because he thought it would help.

By the time he grew the balls to enter the makeshift nest, the betas had already sandwiched you between them, your form almost smothered completely under Johnny. Price had laid himself out on Kyle’s other side, and the space for him was made up of mostly Johnny’s mattress. It had to have been a deliberate move, meant for his own comfort. Sweet Johnny and his beta senses. He probably didn’t even realize what he’d done. It had just happened naturally.

It’s at Johnny’s pestering insistence that he climbs into the nest finally, laying stiffly on the mattress behind his beta. It’s been a long time since he’s been in a nest. He doesn't sleep, not much anyway, but neither does Price. Both of them are too awake, too aware, too alert. The betas sleep peacefully and so do you, probably the most sleep you’ve gotten since your heat.

The warmth in the room gets unbearable fast, the blankets quickly kicked to the end of the mattresses, along with his own sweatshirt. It’s like a sauna, and for a moment he considers opening the window, but he’s too afraid to move, too afraid to disturb the nest.

It’s when Johnny gets up to go to the bathroom that you finally move, the first time in hours. You roll into the space he had vacated, lips slightly parted as you breathe in and out easily. Johnny, the bastard, takes your empty spot, trapping you between them. He turns his back to you in hopes you stay as still as you had before, which works for a while. At least, until he feels something press up against his back. He goes still, every muscle tensing as you bury your face between his shoulder blades. He should turn over, push you away. He should nudge you back towards Johnny, let you seek out his warmth instead. Yet, he can’t bring himself to move.

He shouldn’t like it. He can’t. He can’t allow you in, he can’t let you past his rapidly crumbling walls. Yet, he does like it. He wants to feel you pressed against him, he wants to see that hidden part of you that had brought his beta to his knees so easily.

He’s supposed to be keeping his distance, and yet, here you are, forcing your way in again. It almost feels like a silent apology for yesterday, your subconscious picking up on his disappointment, and so now it’s offering him this moment in hopes he’ll forgive you.

It’s working.

A quiet breath leaves your lips as you listen to the steady beating beneath your ear. The scent of coconut and saltwater floats in the air, taking your mind far away, back to a different time when things were simpler. Kyle’s calloused fingers trail across your arm, drawing absentminded patterns across your skin. You press your face against his warm skin, your hand splaying across his stomach. You can feel the ridges of his muscles, the way they flex with every breath.

“What’s on your mind?” He asks, his lips brushing your forehead as he speaks.

“Just thinking about when we used to go to the beach when I was younger. Back when my dad was stationed in North Carolina for a few months.”

“You like the beach?” He asks.

You nod. “Yeah. There’s just something calming about it. I don’t mind the sand and I like the sound of the waves hitting the shore.”

“We could go to the beach.” He says, making you tilt your head up just slightly. “When the weather’s nicer, closer to summer. Take a few days off, go on a vacation.”

“You could do that?” You ask, pushing yourself up on your elbow so you can see him fully.

He smiles at you, his hand dropping to your back. “We do get to go on leave every so often, barring nothing urgent happens while we’re away. I’ll talk to Price about it. We can start making some plans, if you want.”

You stare down at him, the softness in his gaze, the slight upward tilt of his lips. He might as well have just promised you the world with how he’s looking at you. Tears burn at the back of your eyes as you stare at him. You don’t deserve it, you don’t deserve such kindness, such care after lying to them. You can trust Kyle. He’d be the least angry, at least towards you, if you confessed right now. It would be so easy, but you’re not sure you could stand watching the love and happiness fade from his eyes as you confessed to your stupidity, your deception.

“What is it?” He asks, his brows furrowing. Of course he’d pick up on the shift of your emotions, the sudden anxiety twisting in your stomach. “We don’t have to go to the beach. We could do something else, or nothing at all.”

“It’s not that.” You say, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I just...I don’t deserve you. All of you. You’re too good to me.”

“Oh, love, that’s not true.” He says, gently cupping your cheek. “I think it’s quite the opposite, actually. You’re too good for us. The things we’ve seen, the things we’ve done. We’re not good people, and yet we were blessed with an absolute angel.”

Tears gather in your eyes for a different reason now. You certainly don’t feel like an angel. You’re too broken and you’ve lied and made stupid mistakes. “I’m hardly an angel.”

“Well, in comparison to us, you are.” He gently presses against your back, drawing you closer to his face. “Our angel, our sweet little omega.”

A shiver runs down your spine from the way your status sounds from his lips. His hand slides to the back of your head, pulling you down so your forehead is pressed against his. You can feel his breath on your lips, your tongue darting out to wet your own in anticipation.

He tastes like mint toothpaste, his tongue immediately pushing past the seam of your lips. His kiss steals your breath away, his hand tangling in your hair to keep you in place as he licks into your mouth. Your hand settles on his chest for balance, feeling his heart racing under your palm.

You shift over him, throwing a leg across his hips as you settle against his chest. His hand releases your hair, tracing a line down your spine to your hips. The shirt of his you had changed into before crawling into bed with him has ridden up, revealing the lacy panties you're sporting underneath. He groans against your lips as his fingers trace over the lace before slipping underneath, tugging them lightly.

You pull away from his lips, staring down at him. “I’m gonna need more pairs of these at this rate.”

“We’ll have to take a trip and pick up more.” He grins, snapping the waistband against your skin.

You bite your lip, pressing yourself up so you’re sitting over his hips. You can feel the growing bulge beneath his shorts as you begin to grind against him. He’s gone commando, your clit catching on his head through the thin fabric. Your hands press into his stomach, feeling the muscles contract as your scent thickens in the air. His hands close around your hips, guiding you as you grind against him. His eyes are hooded as he stares up at you, his teeth sinking into his lower lip.

You stare down into those big brown eyes, getting lost in the depth of them. If you could melt yourself into him, seep under his skin and become one with him, you would. He might be the most beautiful person you’ve ever laid eyes on. He might as well be sculpted from marble, or pulled right from a piece of artwork.

You shift so you’re leaning forward, your clit dragging against his stomach as you continue moving your hips. You grasp his chin, fingers digging into his cheeks. “You’re so fucking pretty, it’s not fair.”

He chuckles, giving you a dazzling, perfect smile. “Thank you, love.” He wraps his arms around you, pushing himself up to sit so you drop into his lap. “But I’m nothing compared to you right now.”

He keeps you grinding against his lap, his hands squeezing your ass as you soak the front of his shorts with every drag of your hips. Your head falls back as you moan, the friction against your clit quickly pushing you towards an orgasm.

“Haven’t even touched you yet and got you all worked up. You could cum just like this, couldn’t you?” He nips playfully at your lips, sliding his hand down further to press against your lace covered pussy.

You let out a whine, releasing your hold around his shoulders long enough to tug off your shirt. He curses quietly as your skin is revealed to him, his hands trailing up your back.

“Fucking hell, love.” He groans, pushing his hips up into you.

“Kyle,” You moan his name, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Need you.”

He curses again, wrapping his arms around your waist for leverage as he flips you over onto your back. He sits up on his knees, trailing his hands down your sides until he reaches the waistband of your panties, trailing his fingers across the lace for a moment.

“You alright?” He asks, checking in with you.

You nod, lifting your feet so they press against his chest. “You gonna take them off already?”

He grins, sliding his fingers under the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down your legs before tossing them to the floor. He parts your thighs to give himself room as he pulls off his own shorts, his cock springing free from the confining fabric. Your mouth waters as you stare at it, your teeth sinking into your lip in anticipation.

“Fuck,” He breathes as he pushes your thighs further apart, dark eyes glued to your glistening folds.

He slides his hands down your thighs, his thumb ghosting over your clit. Your hips jerk in response, pushing up against his hand. He chuckles, repeating the motion, watching the way your lips part in a moan.

“Always so sensitive.” He smirks, pressing his thumb into the bundle of nerves. “Even after Price fucked you senseless a couple nights ago.”

Your face warms at his words, your stomach fluttering excitedly. Of course they had heard you. You’ve long given up on trying to hide what goes on behind their closed doors. They all know, they already knew from the first night you spent with John.

He had been rather rough that night, fucking you into the mattress so hard the headboard had scraped some of the prison grey paint off the walls. You had asked for it, though, both of you needing the raw, carnal release it had given you.

“Yeah, we all heard that.” Kyle continues, slowly circling your clit with his thumb as he speaks. “Sounded like a couple of animals in there. If you hadn’t been screaming his name over and over, we might have been worried he’d mauled you to death. Simon and I had to keep Johnny occupied so he wasn’t tempted to join you.”

Your pussy flutters at the thought of the three of them together, riled up by you and John. You can almost picture it, Johnny in Simon’s lap, bouncing on his cock while Kyle sucks him off from the front. Or did Johnny submit to both and suck Kyle’s cock while Simon took him from behind? Or was Simon more of a giver and sucked him off while Kyle fucked him? Or did Simon take both of them after making them both suck his cock?

The endless stream of thoughts has your pussy clenching, slick dribbling out of you as your legs start to shake. It’s almost too much with the pressure against your clit, your body heating from the fire ignited in your veins.

“Liked that, didn’t you?” Kyle smirks, removing his hand from your clit to lean down over you. “Maybe next time we’ll squeeze you in right in the middle. Would you like that?”

You nearly cum from his words alone, your hands grasping at his shoulders. “Fuck, Kyle! I need you inside me right now.”

“So impatient.” He tsks, leaning forward to bite at your lips. “Such a needy little omega.”

“Please!” You almost sob, lifting your hips to press against his. “I need you.”

He shushes you, pressing a soft kiss against your lips before sitting back up onto his knees. He shifts slightly closer to you, propping your legs up over his thighs. His hand fists his cock, pumping the hard length a couple times before he drags the head through your folds. You whine impatiently, trying to lift your hips to grind against him but he presses a hand into your stomach, pinning you against the bed.

“Patience.” He scolds you, sending a shiver down your spine.

He drags his head through your folds a couple more times before he finally presses into you, stretching you open. You go lax on the bed, relaxing around him as he rocks his hips into you, sinking in deeper with every movement.

You reach for him as he sinks completely into you, pulling him down so he’s hovering over you. He presses his lips to yours, kissing you softly as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him as close as you can. His arms slip around your back as he begins grinding against you, his thrusts shallow and soft. It’s so very different from how John had taken you just a couple days ago. Kyle has always been softer, gentler, more passionate than rough and eager.

You moan softly against his lips, your legs wrapping around his waist to keep him locked against you. You want to get closer to him, but you’re not sure you can get closer than you already are. Bodies pressed together, his cock inside you, lips pressed to yours as he holds you. There’s a prickling under your skin, an urge to devour him, to keep him here forever. He snaps his hips into you harder, his lips trailing down to your throat, sucking at the sensitive skin. You tilt your head to the side, your eyes widening as a gasp leaves your lips. Your fingers dig into Kyle’s side, his head snapping to the side, sensing the disturbance in the room.

“Don’t stop on my account.” John leans against the closed door, a cigar in his hand.

You’re not sure how long he’s been there, how he got in without either of you noticing. Kyle especially, since he was usually so in tune with his surroundings. Pride flashes through you at the thought of him being so lost in you, he can’t focus on anything else. The scent of tobacco washes over you as John takes a long drag from his cigar. He must not have been there long, or maybe you’ve just been so caught up in Kyle’s scent you hadn’t noticed.

Kyle is frozen above you as John pushes off the door, approaching the bed slowly. Kyle shifts above you so he can hold John’s gaze as he stops at the edge of the bed. Excitement swirls in your stomach as you stare up at him in anticipation of what he’s going to do. His hand lifts, dragging down Kyle’s back to his ass.

John delivers a harsh slap to his cheek, Kyle’s hips snapping into yours in response as a moan leaves his lips. “Did I tell you to stop, soldier?”

“No, sir.” Kyle grunts out, starting to rock his hips into yours again.

You watch the change happen almost immediately, the natural shift between them. Kyle’s not in charge anymore, quickly handing over control to John despite the fact he’s the one inside of you. It’s a subtle submission, yet you can sense the changes in them both.

John massages Kyle’s ass for a moment before shifting so he’s closer to you. You stare up at him, lips parted as you whimper quietly. “There’s my pretty girl.” He praises you as he leans down, brushing his thumb over your lips before pushing it into your mouth. You close your lips around his thumb, sucking on it. “Such a good girl, isn’t she?”

“Yes, sir.” Kyle grunts, continuing to thrust into you harder than he had been before.

John takes another drag from his cigar as you moan around his thumb, your hands gripping the sheets as Kyle continues to thrust into you, the head of his cock dragging across that spot inside you from the angle he’s at. Moans slip from Kyle’s lips as you clench around him, his own hands digging into the sheets. Sweat has beaded across his forehead, a droplet sliding down his cheek to his neck, leaving a trail as it slowly drips down his chest. Drool slips out of your mouth around John’s thumb. You want to lick the sweat from his chest. You want to taste him.

John slips his thumb from your lips, dragging it across your chin, smearing saliva all over your skin. “Look at her.” He says, moving so he’s looking over Kyle’s shoulder. “Drooling already and you haven’t even made her cum yet, have you?” His hand slips around the back of Kyle’s neck, his fingers digging into the sensitive skin. “You gonna make her cum like a good boy?”

Kyle lets out a moan, his pace stuttering just slightly. “Yes, sir.” He grits out, picking up the pace as he slams into that spot inside you with every movement.

John takes a step back, continuing to smoke as he watches the two of you. It’s almost too much between Kyle fucking you and John watching. There’s a coil tightening in your stomach, the pleasure intensifying more and more. A fire has started under your skin, your eyes glued to John’s as Kyle pushes you closer and closer to the peak.

You hold John’s gaze as you cum, your back arching in pleasure. Kyle doesn’t stop, continuing to thrust into you as he chases his own high.

John waits until your moans have died down before he moves, stubbing out his cigar on Kyle’s nightstand before he grasps Kyle by the hips, stopping his movements. “Switch places with our girl.” He murmurs into Kyle’s ear, Kyle taking a second to breathe before he wraps his arms around you, flipping you back around so you’re on top again as John kicks off his shoes.

Your hands press into Kyle’s stomach to hold yourself steady, your legs still shaking from your orgasm. John climbs on the bed behind you, his clothed chest pressing against your bare, sweat slicked back.

“Gonna be a good girl and make him cum?” John says quietly, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

A shiver runs down your spine as you nod, starting to rock your hips just slightly. John’s hands settle on your waist, helping you move as you begin to bounce on Kyle’s cock. Kyle’s eyes are wide as he watches you and his alpha, John pressing kisses across your shoulders and neck as he helps you fuck his beta. Kyle’s hands grip your thighs, fingers indenting the skin as he holds on for dear life.

“That’s it.” John praises you, shifting your body forward just slightly so Kyle’s cock drags across that spot inside you with your every movement. You clench around him, your thighs tightening around his hips.

“Fuck...” Kyle moans, his own hips bucking up into yours.

“Gonna make him cum?” John asks, his hands abandoning your hips. One snakes around your stomach to rub your clit while the other slips behind you to squeeze Kyle's balls.

Kyle lets out a loud moan, his hips snapping up against yours as your walls clamp tightly around him. You can feel the warm ropes of his release spurting inside you, increasing the pressure as you cum a second time on his cock.

John works you both through your orgasms, your entire body shaking by the time he releases you, pushing you forward against Kyle's chest. You lay there, your cheek pressed against his sweaty skin, ass in the air right in John's face. He watches as Kyle's seed begins to seep out of you, forced out by the aftershocks of your orgasm. He drags his fingers through your folds, gathering Kyle's cum before pushing it back into you. You moan softly from the stretch of his fingers against your sensitive walls, pushing your hips back against his hand.

“Don't want to waste any of that.” John says, nipping at the globe of your ass cheek. “You know Kyle likes to clean you up himself.”

You let out a quiet moan, your pussy fluttering around John’s fingers. You’re about to be in for a very long night.

NEXT ->

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#call of duty #call of duty fic #cod x reader #task force 141 x reader #poly tf 141 #poly task force 141 #John price x reader #captain John price x reader #Kyle gaz Garrick x reader #gaz x reader #Johnny soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #Simon ghost Riley x reader #Simon Riley x reader #a/b/o #omegaverse #alpha/beta/omega

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bonny-kookoo · 4 months

Text

Jungkook

Princess | Limits [Final]

There's only so much he can take.

Tags/Warnings: Wolfdog Hybrid!Jungkook, Showdog Hybrid!Reader, Enemies to lovers, Angst, Fluff?, Brat!Reader, Jungkook has major brat tamer energy, misunderstanding, smut, (slightly) mean Dom kook, a slap to the thigh, uh, knot is mentioned, it's nasty, unprotected but MC is mentioned to be on birth control, he holds her by the throat? Idk he also has his fingers in her mouth-

Length: 5k Words

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

A/N: This will act as a final chapter. The main story is therefore wrapped up- but as always, if you want drabbles, you can still request them.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Jungkook has never understood the phrase of your ‘heart stopping’- because how could it ever? You’d be dead in that case. But right in this moment, he finally gains the knowledge by experiencing it first hand- eyes wide open and body frozen.

Why are you in his bed? Barely dressed, snuggled up to him who’s only in his underwear?

He thinks through the whole process of yesterday to make sense of this. Did you both get potentially drunk last night? No, not at all. You and him had simply packed your things to drive you to your parents hours away, after having contacted them and told them about everything. He remembers driving you there himself, unloading your bags, leaving you there after waving and driving off. And added to that, that was not last night. It was almost an entire week ago.

He hasn’t seen you in days. So what are you doing here?

It’s not a dream either, clock on his nightstand ticking away, world outside going about its day as the window isn’t all closed to let some fresh air in at night. And yet, you’re there- bare legs entangled with his, arms holding onto his.

He doesn’t really feel alarmed by the fact that you somehow entered his apartment- you know where he lives after all, and you know the passcode to his door, so it’s not really surprising at all. But what he is questioning is why you’re here- and why you’re in his bed, most of all. Has he forgotten some conversation you might’ve had? Or has something happened to make you so upset that you were craving the comfort of him at any cost?

Now he’s worried.

Shaking you a little to wake you up seems to not be very effective- because you just frown, slap his hand away and bury your face right back into his shoulder as if he’s nothing but an annoying fly. “I know you’re awake.” Jungkook tells you, and at that you actually open one of your eyes, looking up at him with your tail wagging beneath the covers. “What’re you doing here?” He asks, and you frown again turning onto your back to look up at him who’s sat up by now.

“Why do you sound so upset about that?” You complain with almost a pout in your tone, arms crossed. “I thought couples love reuniting.” You say, and he looks at you, confused.

“Couples?” He questions, and you nod, now visibly unsure as well.

“Well, yeah?” You say, attitude fading and being replaced by uncertainty. “I mean.. we haven’t said the L-word yet, but like.. I thought..” you start, scanning his face for any sign that he realizes what you believed you two were. “..since you uh.. called me baby in the car..” you drift off, and still- there’s no sign of anything on Jungkook’s face as he thinks, and digs around in his memories for the correct moment he might’ve said that. He did, maybe. But he doesn’t remember.

“did I?” He asks, and regrets it the moment he watches the shame visibly wash over you- from the way your ears pin back to the slight change in your gaze, he knows he fucked up by saying it loud- and he’s a little too late as you roll out the bed and run for the bathroom after picking something up from the floor, hiding away now. “hey- wait.” He asks, getting up to walk towards the bathroom floor, knocking on it just to not get an answer. “I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding-“ He starts, trying hard to calm you down- but it’s clearly not working as the door opens, and you slip right past him to run towards the door where your shoes are. “Hey no- stay, let’s talk-“

“Nuh-uh, nop, this is so embarrassing-“ You rant, visibly frustrated over the shoes not closing fast enough as your hands are too shaky to really tie them. So you just make a simple knot and stuff the laces into the corners, before a tattooed hand snatches your other shoe from you. “give that back!” You bark, not looking at him however as you reach for the shoe he’s holding too high for you. “stop-“

“stop, exactly. Don’t run off now, I’m sorry if I said something that made you think we were more than we are.” He explains, and you visibly deflate at that, ears down low just like your tail. “let me get dressed, and we can talk, okay?” He asks again, and you just shrug.

He sighs as he puts down the shoe and leaves to tug a shirt and pants onto himself- before he realizes his mistake too late-

Door already slamming shut, your jacket the only thing you left at his place.

Fuck.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

He’s been knocking since forever it feels like- but even at his third visit today, you refuse to open the door.

You still got a week left in your apartment- but he knows from first hand experience that you got almost no furniture at all in there anymore, so this can’t be an option for you to sleep at. He doesn’t want you to be upset at him- and in hindsight, he really could’ve worded things a bit better, but he’s still new to this as much as you are. “please let me in.” He requests once more as he’s done so often today, sighing. “I missed you too, you know?” He tries this time around, and to be honest, that’s not even a lie.

Its odd how at first glance, he never thought he’d ever get along with you. But having you gone for almost an entire week, he really felt the way you’d somehow snuck into his heart- every task back to being mundane without you causing a little chaos in his daily life here and there.

“That’s a lie.” You say, door open just a crack to glare at him through.

“Its not.” He denies. “I just think we never actually talked about what we want to be- so I was surprised to just.. have you turn up out of nowhere in my bed.” He chuckles a little, and you just look down to the floor in shame.

“M’ sorry.” You apologize. “won’t happen again.”

“What if I want it to happen again?”

Your gaze snaps up at him at that, confused. “I was just a bit caught off guard, and honestly worried. Did something happen at your parent’s?” He wonders, and you sigh, opening the door to let him into the almost entirely unfurnished apartment- a pile of clothes and a blanket being the last items that were probably used as a makeshift resting spot for you today laying in the corner of the main living room. You sit down there, before letting yourself fall to the side as if exhausted, before you shrug, Jungkook sitting on the floor across from you. “it was.. I don’t know.” You admit. “I love them. And I was really super happy to see them again, and spend time there..” you explain, before you pull the blanket between your fingers to have something to hold onto while you stare into nothingness. “But it was.. really a lot.. I don’t know how to explain.”

“I guess that’s normal. You know, being overwhelmed with it.” Jungkook sympathizes. “I’m exhausted too after spending a day or two with my entire family-pack. Nothing to worry about.” He explains, and you just nod, still avoiding eye contact. “I think what’s important now then, is what we are to one another. You can’t just break into my apartment and sneak into my bed without formally asking me out, you know?” He jokes, but your glare is filled with embarrassment.

“Now I don’t want to anymore.” You huff, before you turn around- and at that, Jungkook feels an odd rush underneath his skull, fueled by your subtle and underlying confession in your words.

“You love me though, don’t you?” He asks, leaning in closer as he sits near you now, a hand on your shoulder. “all you need to do is say it.” He chuckles, as you curl up more into yourself as if that would hide you.

“And then what?” You huff. “You’ll-“

“I’ll say it back.” He cuts you off. “or I’ll say it first, it’s no issue. At this point it’s pretty obvious that I’m starting to fall in love with you.” He easily spills, and you freeze before you slowly unravel, turning to look at him over your shoulder with a face full of wonder.

“You are?” You ask hesitantly, and he smiles, before he nods.

“I am.” He responds, confirms his words and you sit up at that, facing him now. “are you?” He wonders, and you nod.

“I am.” You answer, and he laughs.

“See? Nothing to be scared of. Now come on, I’m not letting you sleep here.” He says, standing up with you to pick up your stuff-

Unaware of the absolute Rollercoaster he just signed himself up for.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Jungkook did not know what he got into when basically confessing his growing feelings.

His mundane life is pretty much over at this point, with you always around and currently basically having moved in until you can figure out if this works or not. After all, you’re not used to living with someone else- and it’s clear that no matter what, you’re the opposite of an angel, still trying your tricks on him to make him dance around like you want him to.

But Jungkook isn’t this easy to control. And in a way, it’s a little fun to see how much you can get away with.

“Jesus christ, put some clothes on.!” Jungkook curses as be spots you laying on your stomach on his couch, in nothing but a simple top and underwear, tail wagging. The wolf hybrid has to turn away, distract himself with the task of turning the volume of the TV lower, while you just don’t understand what his fussing is all about, game on your little console in your hands on pause.

“Why?” You ask because of that, not sure why he’s being so overly dramatic in your opinion. It’s just your legs, maybe your butt. So?

“because- just put at least some pants on.”, he groans, and you roll your eyes, before you continue your game instead.

You’re not listening. And he’s not sure if it’s your character- or if you think his decreasing patience is funny to watch.

“Do I have to turn the wifi off to get your full attention?” jungkook asks a little irritated, and you shrug.

“Don’t care.” You respond, eyes on the little screen between your hands. “the game doesn’t need internet.”

Suddenly however, the console is taken out of your hands, as he saves your current progress, and puts it into the charging station near the TV. “Hey!” You complain, getting up now to rush towards him- and as he makes sure you can’t get to your precious game again, he notices that God fucking damn it, you’re not wearing a bra beneath this very flimsy shirt.

You’re really testing him.

“Put pants on.” He says, and you have the audacity to laugh.

“Nah.” You deny, stretching before you step away from him, walking towards the bedroom. “I’ll just take a na-“ you don’t get to say much else, as he suddenly tugs on your tail with just enough force to make it count- but nowhere near enough to hurt. “Hey!” You turn around instantly, just to be basically cornered by the wolf hybrid, who’s backing you into a wall in the living room.

“You’ve got a real smart mouth there.” He simply says, but it sounds like a threat almost-, a very specific kind of threat that makes your skin shiver. “But you tend to forget when to shut it, clearly.” He scoffs, as your back hits the wall, making you swallow your own saliva nervously.

But he can sense, smell, that this is affecting you not in the direction of fear- but something else entirely.

“You’re so lucky, you know?” He asks, somewhat- and you look at him with question. “I’m not usually patient like that.”

“What would you have done?” You ask, unable to really keep it in as you know that if you hesitate for just a second, you’ll never be able to say this out loud, ask for such things. You want them, but you’re also nervous, considering you’ve never actually gotten this far with anyone before. “Put me in timeout?” You almost challenge, tail beginning to sway a little with newfound confidence, when he just shrugs it off, and shakes his head.

“No.” He denies. “Brats like you need something that.. Lasts longer.” He words out, and at that, scenes manifest inside your head that make you visibly shy.

You’re not sure if he realized it yet, but a lot of the things you do, you do on full purpose. You like this game of push and pull, you think its exciting and fun- so you hope that with words like that, he means them as such, because that would mean that he’s both aware of the little game you’re playing, and also a willing participant in it.

You don’t want him to just feel like you’re made of porcelain, possibly breaking at the slightest touch.

“Such as?” You ask, and he leans in closer at that, almost unbearably so.

“fuck around and find out, Princess.”

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Turns out you can be sickeningly sweet almost when you really want to- currently happily laying on his stomach after helping him cook and wash the dishes after, awfully nice today and in a good mood.

It makes him wonder. Are you up to something? Or are you simply not who he thought you were? It would be just a slight bit disappointing, if he was to be honest- considering he’d actually grown quite fond of the idea of you with your ass spanked bright red, Jungkook basically having to work for your submission. But maybe you’re just all bark and no bite- just yapping around, nothing more than that.

Even that would be fine at this point, as long as he’s got you.

It’s when the male lead kisses the female love interest in the admittedly boring drama you both watch on TV, than he notices you staring at the scene. He’s notice too that at this point in time, one might think you would’ve kissed by now- but that’s not the case, neither of you seemingly brave enough to make that step towards the other. But it’s clear from the way you look at the scene in front of you with a shy sense of longing, that you want it- he just needs to find the perfect moment for it.

After all, he doesn’t just want to be any partner for you. He wants to be the one and only.

“I’m tired.” You yawn and stretch, arms above your head before you look at him. “can I get a goodnight-kiss?” You boldly ask, and Jungkook laughs, before he moves to basically lean over you entirely, hands pressing into the cushioning of the couch below you.

And then he finally leans in to peck your lips- or at least that was his intention. You chase after his lips and even move your hands to pull him back, making him act on instinct as he pushes them back, pins them down with his fingers around your wrists. But he has to admit, either the lip balm you’re using is sweet as honey, or he’s surely found the perfect person to kiss in you-

Because he doesn’t want to stop either.

“You said you’re tired.” He hums in when you break apart for just a second, and you shake your head.

“not anymore.” You deny his claims, making him chuckle.

“Not anymore?” He repeats, teasingly escaping your advances. You shake your head, as your legs move to rest around his waist, signals sent pretty clear to him as he watches you try and seduce him. “You’re right.. You’re clearly not yet tired.” He mumbles, as he leans down to kiss you again, letting himself be swept away by the moment, as you both just enjoy each other’s presence.

“Jungkook..” you whine impatiently, hips squirming around in search of any form of friction, while he just laughs under his breath.

“What do you want?” He asks. “this is our first time, after all. I don’t know what you like- or what you can handle.” He teases- though it’s clear that there’s an underlying truth to his words. This is indeed clearly going in a very obvious direction, and you feel warm inside knowing that he actually cares this much about your experience during this.

“I don’t know..” you admit. “I just.. always do it myself, so I don’t know.” You tell him, and he nods, accepting that as his kisses move to your neck, where he makes sure to leave his marks.

Because he wants you to be his, and his alone.

“how far do you want to go?” He asks, pausing his advances for a moment to look at you.

“All the way.” You tell him, and he nods.

“You sure?” He questions, and again, you nod- this time visibly serious.

“There’s no one I’d rather be with like that than you.” You say, and he soaks those words up like a sponge, before he leans back down to kiss you- softer now, more gentle, as if he’s savoring you and your open appreciation for him in this moment.

And he does. He really does.

And you know, through the softness of his touch and the slow and gentle manner in which he undresses you, that tonight, he’s going easy on you.

Tonight, he’s just going to show you real love.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Something clicked into place last night.

As if he’s finally committed himself to you, he’s relaxed, comfortable and most of all; confident. And you’re strangely excited about this new side of him, because it’s unbelievably entertaining to play around with him now that he’s not holding himself back any longer.

Youre currently all laughing, some friend’s of Jungkook’s having spotted him at the grocery store with you, eager to get to know the girl who made him catch feelings. And you’re having a lot of fun hearing some embarrassing facts about your now boyfriend- who’s also laughing along, despite being the butt of the joke. Even when you make jokes about him too he doesn’t seem bothered-

Until a hand finds the back of your neck, fingers pressing down a little to make sure you know he’s got a good grip on you. And like a cat grabbed by its weak spot, you freeze, one look at him making you almost cower in public as his dark eyes gaze down at you. “yeah- but I think we’ll better head home now.” Jungkook decides to his friends, casually smiling while he says goodbye to his friends. And even when his hand leaves you, you’re strangely affected- waiting for something to happen, as he calmly brings the groceries to the car.

You must’ve gotten away this time, since he seems pretty relaxed on the way back home. Good thing you were in public.

However, once back inside your now shared four walls, things take a turn again when, instead of helping him unpack the groceries, you lounge on his sofa- TV instantly turned on as you watch, and Jungkook makes sure to put everything where it belongs by himself.

Your punishment follows late- but you know when it’s time.

The TV is wordlessly turned off, but you stop mid-breath trying to complain about it, because the smile he sends you is none of pure kindness. He looks almost like a villain ready to move on with his sinister plans, as he approaches you. “You think it’s funny, don’t you?” He asks, and when you don’t reply, he clarifies further. “you love getting on my nerves.” He states, and you have the audacity to shrug.

“What’re you gonna do about it?”

That was definitely your last mistake made- challenging him, well aware of how he will potentially punish you.

He’s quick to grab at your hips, no matter how fast you’d wanted to dash off. His grip is tight and secure as he carries you unto the bedroom, where he closes the door with his foot, putting you down on the big mattress. And there you sit- waiting, not sure what his silence means.

“Early bedtime, huh?” You scoff, trying to appear unimpressed.

“Its what you make of it.” He however answers. “this is your last chance to get on my good side, Princess.”

“or what?” You ask with an attitude, still not believing in hit bite at all.

Jungkook sits down at that, back against the door, eyes reflecting a little in the darkness of the bedroom. He’s a wolf, deep down, even if he’s mixed- he’s got time, and patience, and he knows it. He’s well aware that after yesterday’s endeavors, you’ve been trying to ‘seduce’ him all day long- wanting more, wanting it again, because as you’d told him last night, you ‘can’t do it the same he does’. It’s normal, as a hybrid-

And as someone like you in particular, who craves everything pleasurable in life.

You’re still sitting there, waiting, adjusting your position a bit, squirming under his watchful eyes. You’re not sure what he’s aiming at here, but it makes you a little uncomfortable-

Mostly because you can feel the way your underwear is soaking up your arousal over this entire situation.

“Go to sleep, baby.” He tells you with fake gentleness in his voice. “it’s late, isn’t it?”

“I don’t want to sleep.” You respond, and he chuckles.

“I know.” He tells you.

“Jungkook..” you whine, hoping this will be enough to break him. “I’m sorry..” you admit, ears drooping low, as you look at your lap in shame.

But he’s not fooled.

“try again, princess.” He simply says. “I know you’re not sorry.”

Fuck. What else could you do to get him to crack?

Manipulating him into doing what you wanted him to has worked in the past, so it shouldn’t be this hard. And he’s already seen you naked yesterday, so you don’t have to have shame about what you do next- moving your legs to give him a bit of a teaser to your soiled underwear beneath your skirt, feet digging into the bed below as you try and get under his skin this way.

“…can you help me?” You wonder, noticing how his eyes were captured by the sight for just a second.

“I can.” He nods, getting up to walk over to you- and your tail wags, triumph yours to claim. It’s still so easy to make him dance around like a puppet on strings, because down the line, he’s just another guy who’s quickly caught up in his own lust-

His face is inches from yours, eyes piercing into yours as he still got that wolfish smirk on his lips.

“But I don’t want to.”

Wait- that’s not part of the script.

“do it yourself, puppy.” He laughs, opening the bedroom door. “You know how to-“

“No!” You call out, making him turn his head over his shoulder to look at you. “I want you!” You argue, making him laugh.

“too bad.” He denies, and at that you get up, one leg out of the bed already. “get back on the bed.” He demands, and you huff.

“so you really putting me in timeout?” You scoff, stepping out with the other leg as well.

“You want to act like a brat so I’ll treat you as such.” He explains. “get back on the bed until I’m done cooking.”

“No.” You deny, walking closer.

He says your name, low and clearly in a warning, but you don’t care.

It’s then that your world turns upside down for a second, before you’re thrown back onto the bouncing mattress. You can’t help the sound that escapes your lips at his display of strength over you, a hand still on your arm to push you down. “does pissing me off make you that horny?” He asks, almost in a demeaning tone. “gushing into your panties just because you’re getting on my nerves, huh?” He continues, and your tail still wags.

“Its funny.” You admit, giggling, when a hand slaps your inner thigh, skirt having risen up to cover basically nothing anymore. “ah-!” You call out in surprise, making him laugh.

“it is.” He agrees. “it’s funny how you think you can play me.”

The next second, he’s tugging your underwear off of you, strings of sticky arousal still trying to hold onto the soiled fabric for a good stretch before the piece of clothing is thrown somewhere. “gotta get you off to make you listen?” He asks, agitated, hand between your legs a complete contrast to the gentle way he’s helped you reach highest pleasure last night. “gotta fuck you stupid so you’re finally a good girl for once?” He questions, and you just nod, frantically, overwhelmed by the way he pushes two of his fingers in already, thumb rolling over your most sensitive spot.

“Please-“ you start, but he only laughs down at you.

“Please? That’s a new sound.” He mocks you. His ruthless acts down settle down at all however- instead, he takes his hand away from you, and wipes it on his pants. You’re left alone, watching him, unsure what’s happening. “You ready to listen?” He asks. What an asshole. He knows exactly that in your state you’d accept anything-

“Why did you stop?” You whine however, and your downfall has been sealed.

Only moments later, as you try and escape, he’s on top of you, using his entire body to cage you in, hand around your throat- though he’s gentle enough to not hurt you at all. The hold he has still arches your back, pushes your behind right into him. And considering the fact that you’re on birth control, he doesn’t need to search for any other contraceptive right now, able to just pull himself out of his cotton pants, not needing much to get himself ready.

You whine in complaint when he pushes in. He knows it’s a bluff.

“oh shut up.” He growls into the back of your neck. “You can take it.” He states, well aware that you can. And it seems like finally, you’re quiet and compliant- if only after his fingers press down on your tongue, occupying your mouth with something other than whining. “so this is what it needs to shut you up?” He mocks you. “my cock inside, and my fingers in your mouth?” He purrs against your neck, and you just whimper pathetically.

His pace is steady, but he doesn’t even need to move anymore he notices- you’re for once doing all the work for him, bouncing on his lap like you’ve done this a million times already.

Your stamina does however not match up with his, as your thighs quiver, orgasm approaching you and causing you to lose tempo. Something he catches up on- taking over as he rolls his hips into you with dancer’s precision, while you emit sounds of pleasure the second his digits leave your mouth. You fall forward once he lets go of you entirely, spent.

“I’m not done with you yet.” He however days, as he manhandles you onto your back beneath him, hands tugging on your legs to move them exactly where he wants them. “wants to be fucked stupid but can’t even keep up with me.” He teases, shaking his head as he pushes his length through your thighs, remnants of your own arousal making the movement easy and slick. Your hands reach out sleepily, fingers touching the very tip every time it appears between your legs, and you giggle, visibly out of your mind.

But he notices something else too.

You look entirely relaxed, not even a glimmer of any of your usual insecurities present. You’re just existing in the moment, enjoying this, enjoying what he offers you, and nothing else.

Your head must really just be TV static.

You open your legs again, whining once more as he watches you reach for his hips- one orgasm not enough still, or maybe you just want to please him the best you can. He’s going easy on you this time, he decides, complying with your wordless demand to get back inside you, a wish he happily grants.

You don’t hold back, only shutting up when he leans down to kiss you, needy and chaotic, tongue and bitten lips. But once his hand is between you both, pushing you over the edge alongside him, you squirm once more- his release spilling inside of you, something swelling that you didn’t feel yesterday.

It’s him. He’s locking himself inside you to make sure you don’t spill any of it.

Which isn’t all that easy, since he appears to be a but of an overachiever- some of it already escaping you the second he softens up, cunt pushing out the translucent white as he pulls out of you.

You’re a mess.

Clothes somewhat still on, skin sweaty, opening between hour legs still gaping, clenching around nothing as your body calms down.

But, to be fair-

You also, finally, shut your mouth.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

“You can be so gentle!” You complain as he helps you put lotion on your skin after your shower, already back to your old self not even a couple of hours after.

“I can.” He laughs.

“But something tells me that you like it rough.”

Oh-

How right he is.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #hybrid imagine #bts smut #bts jungkook fanfic

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twstfanblog · 2 months

Text

~Manhwa AU- A Fairytale Do-Over~

A/N: Holy shit look at this. the first chapter of the manhwa AU! Hope you guys enjoy! I'm gonna look into making a story title card for this series, to be added later! Word Count: 2.5K Pairings: Crewel/Crowley (They hate each other but they are married) Warnings: Mentions of blood Next

Yuu snaps awake, body thrown forward by the force of a scream that had refused to leave her throat finally ringing out into the air. She pants, eyes wide, blurry vision focusing over time as she calmed herself. Her hands traced along her surroundings, the soft covers of a bed, the fur of a stuffed animal…

Her breathing had finally slowed, allowing her to slump back into the overstuffed pillows that normally adorned her bed. She…survived? That was the most terrifying experience of her life. The echos of summer bugs buzzing in the garden, the harsh light of the sun in her eyes, the burning of the stone on her skin that slowly grew wet before she slipped away…

Looking out the window she noted how it was nighttime. A question of how long or how many days she had been out was barely pondered before she noticed her curtains. The color to be more precise. The soft, chiffon pink that ombred into a deeper shade with gold threaded stars scattered closer together near the bottom of the fabric. Lovely drapes, but not the ones in Yuu's room at that moment. She had a set of thick, light-blocking dark teal drapes, as she had her room redone years ago, they matched better.

But, she had owned this set of pink curtains since she was a child.

She blinked, staying down, her eyes started to roam around the room. Taking it all in just how soft and whimsical the design was. The dream room of a little girl on the edge of leaving social infancy and still not allowed to be called a young lady. Not at all the room of her twenty-year-old self.

Looking down, she didn't see her dark-colored long nails with delicate gold designs. Instead, she saw two tiny hands with short and neatly cared-for nails. Her eyes travel upward on her right arm, crisp white ruffles leading into light purple velvet sleeves. She scrambled out of bed, falling onto the plush carpet face first as her legs were tangled in the soft grey duvet. Recovering, Yuu made her way to the full-length tri-fold mirror stationed in the corner of her room. She stood before it, drinking in her appearance.

Small. She looked so small.

A round baby face stared back at her, large black eyes with perfect baby doll lashes. She was wearing a long-sleeved nightgown; cozy and warm, buttery soft and intricate lace almost bursting from every opening, small pearls used as buttons keeping her collar closed.

She looked like a doll, an adorable little doll. Just the way her papa would dress her until she turned 13 and he allowed her to finally have more say in her wardrobe. Yuu slowly lifted her hands (So tiny), one to pat her soft cheeks and the other to run down a braided pigtail of two-toned hair. She breathed out in a shudder, her voice higher than she remembered, before she turned and ran out of her childhood bedroom.

Running down the hallway, Yuu Crowley realized she was eight years old, again, for some reason. But she couldn't complain. It was better than meeting her end by bleeding out at the bottom of the hot summer stairs of the royal garden…her feet were cold now that she thought about it. Looking out the grand windows of the manor as she ran, she realized they were frosted over. Bare trees seen in the distance through the ice in the chilly late hours of the night. She should have put her slippers on; Papa had made her a knitted pair that looked like his snow boots that she loved…

Soon she came to the double doors, or what she remembered, of her parents' room. Yuu reached a small hand to one of the levers and quickly shuffled her way inside.

She doesn't remember entering her parents' room much, never had a need to. She scarcely remembers them even entering her own room, but maybe that could change; maybe she could spend more time with her parents and learn more about them this time. Yuu looked around, noting the room looked different from the most recent memory of the space. She did really like the look of the iridescent curtains covering the door to their large balcony. The sheer fabric casting the room into an almost eerily shifting color tone, making the area calm and dreamlike even in Yuu’s awake state. Catching her breath, Yuu Walked closer to the lavishly dressed bed, staring down at the rare uncovered face of her father.

Dire Crowley, Grand Duke of the Noctorn Empire, arguably one of the most powerful men in the land. And if you asked her papa, without a doubt one of the most frustrating. He snored, mouth hanging open with his star and moon printed button-up pajamas messy from his tossing and turning; a loveable embarrassment…

A gasp calls her eyes to look at the other side of the large bed at her papa. Divus Crowley nee Crewel, Grand Duchess of the Noctorn Empire. He had his hair wrapped up in a fine patterned scarf and a hand clutching his silk robe closed, his eyes wide as he stared at her before huffing.

Divus leaned into his hand, taking care to not smudge the cream spread under his eyes as his lips turned into a scowl, “What are you doing up, puppy? I know it's far past your bedtime…” To any other person, Divus looked as though he was annoyed to be dealing with his child, and he was. But after years of knowing, loving, and being loved by her papa, Yuu was aware he was annoyed that his method of putting her to bed seemingly needed to be worked on again, not that she was bothering them.

“...” Yuu looked at her papa, blinking before taking in a shaky breath and whispering out her question, “Can I sleep in bed with you?”

“...Oh, puppy…” Divus groans, an elegantly sharp nail tapping against his creased brow. His darling daughter was eight now. Close to the double digits and being expected to start behaving in a mature manner, yet still so painfully young. He had somehow managed to train his clingy toddler to sleep in her own bed years ago, a feat that was hard enough as is. But how was he to deny his puppy his comforting embrace when she was still so cute!?

Clasping his hands over his mouth, he breathed in. Raising an eyebrow at his strangely still daughter he asked, “Why do you want to sleep in our bed, puppy? You haven’t asked since you were four…”

Yuu blinks, taking in another quivering breath as it all seemed to be hitting her at once. The years of her friendship with the men she grew to love that meant nothing in the end, the years of cold eyes and harsh off-handed comments. The fall, the crack, the pain, the blood.

“...I died…”

“...” Divus sat up straighter in his bed, eyes gaining a new worried flicker as he stared at his daughter, “What?”

“I-I…I…” she hiccuped, the tears finally welling in her eyes as her hands clenched onto her nightgown. Words were lost as all she could do was take in shuddering gasps and let out pitiful chokes, unable to stop the grief fully settling into her body.

Divus slapped Dire's chest, each hit coming quicker and harder the more distressed Yuu's cries became, “Dire. Dire! Wake UP, you crow BASTARD!”

Dire blinked his eyes open, bewildered as to why he was being forcibly woken in the middle of the night. His remark quickly lost on his tongue as he noticed his crying child right beside him, “Oh, my darling! What's made you cry like this?”

“Stop asking stupid questions and pull her into bed!” Divus slapped Dire’s shoulder, nearly punching the other man in an effort to bully him into doing as he said.

“Ow! I am!”

Yuu started to sob as Dire gently pulled her into the bed, placing her between the two fretting adults. She could feel their arms wrap around her, trying to soothe her tears with soft words and gentle pets. Her father had rung his service bell like a madman, no doubt sending the servants into a panic and scrambling to heed his call. Soon a flustered servant ran into the room, Dire ordering them to bring a midnight snack selection of his daughter’s favorites, anything to ease his child's crying. Yuu didn't get the chance to eat any of the snacks, having slipped into a pitiful slumber locked in her papa's arms.

She had somehow traveled back in time over a decade, long before her death and the betrayals of her closest friends. And as she laid curled between her loving parents, she made the decision to not look this gift in its mouth. For whatever reason, she was given a second chance and Yuu didn’t plan on dying the same way twice. Her old life wasn't worth repeating a second time, she knew her heart couldn't take it again…

The morning wasn't much better. Dire and Divus had canceled all of their meetings, choosing to crowd and dote on their daughter. Yuu had been strangely quiet since she woke up. Even throughout Divus's daily outfit selection, she had remained silent, letting her papa hold up dress after dress to her body without complaint. They had moved to the family lounge of the home to spend time together after breakfast.

The family lounge had always been Yuu’s favorite room past her own bedroom. Dark wooded panels caging in forest-printed wallpaper that was so detailed it almost felt real. Artwork of dogs and crows littering one of the walls as though they were locked in a never-ending war as her fathers keep replacing portraits with their favored animal. Couches framing a large and elaborate bricked fireplace, the fire's flickering warmth in contrast to the bleakly white outside.

Dire and Divus were quiet, each almost afraid to speak to break the silence. It was concerning, the way things had progressed from the early morning hours. Dire looked at his family from his armchair, watching Divus fuss and pick at their child in an attempt to engage her in conversation. Yuu would only give weak answers, seeming content yet still so tired. She would give little sighs and nuzzle into the fur-lined collar of her papa's long-tailed vest whenever Divus pulled her into a hug. His sweet, rambunctious child had never been so reserved and passive. Not even as a baby…

Divus was barely keeping it together, emotional yet holding it in for the sake of his daughter. The fur-clad man moved to busy himself by brushing Yuu's hair into more styles he had been meaning to try. The fact she let him only made his nervous energy stay and slowly fester, “Hmmmm…half-up styles look more elegant for you right now. But you still look positively adorable with pigtails…which do you like best, puppy?”

“...I don't mind what you pick.”

The comb in Divus's hand snaps, the man holding back his growl and stomping away, muttering he was going to gather more hair accessories. He loved his daughter, he truly did. But she was possibly the most argumentative, wiggly child he had ever known and he knew it was from his blood. While any other day he would have been overjoyed at Yuu allowing him to dress her up to his heart’s content, knowing she had a breakdown no more than ten hours ago ruined whatever joy he could gain. A feeling that was only growing as she refused to explain herself.

Dire watched his husband stomp out of the room, standing from his seat and kneeling with a smile at Yuu, “My darling, do you want some cake? Or maybe a new doll? Tell your papas, we will acquire anything your heart desires…”

Yuu was quiet, unable to look at her father. As the seconds passed, she couldn’t stop the hiccup of her breathing as another wave of tears crashed over her.

“Oh, my sweet girl…” Dire quickly gathered her into his arms, patting her back when she clung onto him. He shushed her cries, walking with her as he would have when she was younger to soothe her.

He and Divus share a worried glance across the room as the other man re-entered the lounge. Yuu had had nightmares before, that was simply a staple of childhood. But they were always told to them with a smile in the morning over breakfast. She'd describe them almost with a sense of pride at how hard her little mind had worked to terrify her. But this dream of her dying had truly terrified her. They were quickly reaching past the realm of simple concern and into the fields of trepidation; Crowley worried if it was a dream of foresight. If he needed to prepare for an unseen threat to his child.

A pair of servants announce their presence with a knock from the doorway, both wearing excited smiles. One of them stepped forward, almost giddy as she bowed and presented an ornate silver tray holding a few letters in a neat line, “The mail, my lords!”

Crewel and Crowley lock eyes, both of them smiling. New years had passed and the next major event of the empire was the young prince's birthday party. Malleus was one of the people Yuu adored most; without a doubt, the invite was the item needed to lift their child's mood.

Divus rushed to the servants, snatching the black letter from the tray and holding it up in excitement, “Oh, puppy! Look what's arrived!”

Dire beams, trying to pull Yuu from his shoulder to look at the elegant black and silver lined envelope sealed closed with the enchanted green wax of the royal family, “Darling~! The prince's birthday invite has arrived, now you and your papa can finish your dress! And the present you were so excited to give-”

“No.”

…

The servants looked at each other, the girl holding the tray quickly scurrying back out of the room with the other close behind. Excusing their presence, they closed the doors of the private family room and left the three in their silence.

Divus's hand was shaking, eyes looking toward Dire with a barely contained fury as though he were the one to cause this dramatic change in their child.

Dire nervously averted his eyes, his arms holding Yuu tighter to use as a shield against his husband's anger, “Dearest…what do you mean ‘No’? Do you not want your papa to pick out your dress-”

“I'm not going…I don't wanna see Malleus”

…

Divus felt the letter flutter to the ground from his slack grip, his face ashen at the shock, “...CROWLEY!”

Dire was already across the room, Yuu still in his hold as he fumbled with a telephone, “I'M CALLING! I'M CALLING!” He rang for a doctor, demanding they come to their home at once to give his daughter a check-up.

Their worry had fully bubbled into a hysteria. Yuu Crowley, refusing the invite of the crown prince Malleus, his child had clearly fallen deathly ill…

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #twst wonderland #yuu oc #papa crewel #dire crowley #divus crewel #manhwa au

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lovewithmary · 11 months

Text

(not) moving on — a max verstappen x stark!oc x charles leclerc series

★ fc: madison beer ☆ summary: evangeline "evie" stark is in love with her best friend, max verstappen, but he tries his best to keep her at arm's length. but what happens when she starts to get close to his fellow drivers in the paddock? ★ notes: early chapter bc I am too impatient so I’m taking the poll results as is and assuming charles is the winner. anyways, drama is happening!!!

previous next series masterlist

"Evie's baking,"

"We know,"

"My daughter is baking for two tiny villages or two super soldiers, and none of you thought to ask if there was something wrong?" Tony asked, watching as his fellow Avengers, his wife, and his youngest daughter were all eating the pastries that Evie had been baking since she got off the phone.

"Parker tried grabbing the spatula from her hand, but she threw a bowl at his head. But luckily his Peter Tingle saved him and he dodged," Bucky explained, mouthful with a slice of one of the cakes Evie made.

"I told you not to call it the Peter Tingle!" Peter complained.

"I think she had a fight with Max," Morgan's tiny voice piped up, oblivious to the heads that turned to her.

"Morg, why didn't you say that earlier?" Pepper asked.

Morgan blinked innocently and shrugged, then said, "You didn't ask,"

"Okay, who wants to be the one to ask her about Max?"

A tense air fell between some of the most powerful people in the world, only for them to touch their noses and say, "Not it!"

Unfortunately for him, Tony himself was the last one to do it, which made him curse. "I should've just stayed in my lab," he muttered but went to the kitchen to see that Evie was already starting another batch of cupcakes as if the pile of used cupcake liners between Steve and Bucky wasn't enough.

"Hello, tesoro," Tony greeted, concerned at the fact that Evie barely reacted at the sound of his voice.

"The dining room isn't that far from the kitchen, papa. I don't need to have powers or be a Super Soldier to hear you guys," Evie commented.

"So, will it be easier to ask what happened between you and Max that's made you spiral into a hurricane of frosting— is that macrons? When did you learn how to make macrons?" Tony asked, caught off-guard.

"Max and I had a little misunderstanding. And I didn't know how to make macrons until earlier," Evie responded.

"A little misunderstanding? You're taking over my kitchen with baked goods for a little misunderstanding?"

"I will find a way to bake you if you don't stop!" She threateningly responded, the aforementioned spatula Peter tried taking was in her hand menacingly pointed at Tony.

Tony raised his arms up in surrender, "I won't ask then. I will just be here, in the corner of the kitchen, giving you moral support," he said, taking a step away from his daughter and near the door just in case.

Silence fell between the father and daughter, Evie angrily making a bowl of frosting while Tony was thinking about whether or not he had to bring in Pepper for his own moral support.

That was until, "Do I insert myself into people's business too much? Is it something I do regularly?" Evie blurted out.

"I think you insert yourself into people's business when you think you need to. I don't think it's a lot, but then again, you help me with my business, so I can't say it's too much," Tony shrugged.

She groaned, not getting a clear answer. She should've known that her dad wasn't going to outright tell her when she was being too invasive. "I'm serious, dad," she told him.

"Did Max say something? Whatever he said, ignore it. He drives for a living, he's wrong no matter what,"

"I thought you liked Max. You've known him since he was a kid,"

"I don't like him if he makes my daughter upset,"

"Dad..."

"What did he say?" Tony asked once more.

Evie sighed before washing her hands and grabbing her phone from the pocket of her apron and then giving it to her dad, unlocked and the texts already on the screen. She watched as her dad's face turned angry.

"I'll shoot him out of the sky with one of my repulsors—"

"Dad, no,"

"He didn't have to talk to you like that! That little shit—"

"What do I do?" Evie interrupted him, knowing that if she let him rant, he'd end up wearing one of the Iron Man suits, already on the way to wherever the next race was.

"Do what Starks do best,"

"Which is?"

"To get under people's skin,"

#f1 imagine #f1 instagram au #f1 x oc #f1 ig au #f1 oc #f1 smau #f1 social media au #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #max verstappen smau #max verstappen x oc #max verstappen fic #max verstappen x reader #avengers crossover #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x oc #charles leclerc smau #charles leclerc fic

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infamous-if · 4 months

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Is there a reason the chapters are so long? I'm not complaining it's just that I struggle with feeling like there's enough story in mine and I was curious of your process? Love the game btw!

To be honest, I didn't know my chapters were considered 'long' until I kept seeing it around ahaha I thought the lengths were pretty standard for IFs (which I think not standard but there's def IFs I've seen with much longer!)

Personally there's no "process" beyond outlining a chapter. Once I know how a chapter starts and ends everything else just comes naturally. I don't think I'd be able to write if I impose some arbitrary number on myself and force myself into a mindset of "okay this chapter is going to be 60k words this one is going to be 30k etc etc." I mean if like chapter 16 (random number) turns out to be 20k words then that'll be fine too if that's what the chapter requires (though I doubt it because pacing and whatnot.)

My advice is to outline and just write everything the chapter needs. You can cut everything later anyway if it feels like too much.

Plus if you read Infamous you'd know I'm big on describing things so that adds a lot.

I love Describing. I just love Description. Like fuck yeah let's use our seven senses what does that character smell like? oh this ottoman is nice let's spend three sentences talking about it lmao

#inbox #turns out I suck at describing people though considering Blake was a question mark for so long (and Chris too lol)#like I just give people their name and call it a day #working on it lol

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 7 months

Text

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 4: It's My Party and I'll Eat Cake If I Want To

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy. This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter four of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 4.1K

Warnings: References to sex, Cursing (a few times), Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC,

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

**********************************

Philadelphia 1935

"Stop fidgeting." Your mother snaps under her breath as you pull at the high collar of the monstrosity covering your body. Not one inch of skin is visible, the high collar, long sleeves, and knee-length skirt hid every shred of your body from view. It made you feel like you were drowning in chiffon all the while being choked to death.

"But mother it's itchy-"

"I don't care." She snarls, lip curling back. "It makes you look presentable and you need to focus on greeting your guests."

You sigh and look back over the groups of people that flood through the front doors of your home and into the living room. Waiters in sharp uniforms weave through the crowd with trays of appetizers, glasses of wine and champagne, and slices of birthday cake. Most of the guests were friends of your parents, and had begun flocking to the wet bar in the corner that your mother set up. Your brother and his new wife were standing in the corner of your large sitting room surrounded by groups of their friends.

Your sister-in-law smiles as she catches your eye. She was one of the nicest people you knew, perfectly matched with your older brother, who looked at her like she was his entire world. They had only courted for a month before they both realized it was love and against your parent's insistences for them to wait, had been married. But they were so blissfully happy together that it made your heart ache for the same.

You wondered if there would ever be a day that Ben looked at you that way.

"Good evening Mrs. y/l/n." Howard appears in the doorway, reaching out to kiss your mother's hand. He's wearing the same sand-colored suit as he was earlier in the park.

"Mr. Stine. Lovely to see you this evening." She curtsies graciously and glares at you to do the same. "We are happy you could make it tonight."

"I was honored to receive an invitation." His eyes drift to you. "Ms. y/l/n." He takes your hand and presses a kiss to the back of it. His hand is clammy and you try not to make a face.

Ben still hadn't shown up. Which meant that he was either out drinking and he forgot, fighting with his father again, or he was waiting to make his grand entrance.

You really hoped that he hadn't forgotten. When he dropped you off at your home a few hours prior to the party, he said something about going to get a drink and changing. What you'd wanted to say was, didn't you have enough earlier, but you didn't.

The few hours before the party had been harrowing, filled with your mother snapping at you whenever you complained about her pulling the corset too tight, jerking your hair, or rubbing the lotions and ointments into your skin too roughly.

"Would you like to dance?" Howard asks you with a smile.

"Um-" You begin to say.

"Of course she would!" Your mother says all but shoving you forward into Howard's arms.

He leads you away to the sitting room. Your mother had the staff clear out all the furniture to make room for a string band in the corner and a dance-floor. There were already a few couples swaying back and forth to the soft tones that flitted through the air on wings.

Howard pulls you against him awkwardly, one of his hands tightening on your waist, the other clasping your left hand in his sweaty right. Everything about dancing with him feels wrong. The way your bodies move together, the smell of his cologne is unfamiliar, the feeling of his hand on your waist, and the way his feet sporadically knock into yours, that are pinched tight in a pair of heels that make you taller than Howard. The dance you share is filled with silences that you can't avoid.

Silence.

"You look really nice." Howard tries.

"Thank you."

Silence.

"So, um- you like to paint." Howard says with a strained smile.

"I do."

Silence.

"Did you see President Roosevelt's plans for the Social Security Administration? I think that it will definitely help with taxation and the living situations in America!" Howard smiles.

"Um. No I didn't."

Silence.

It shouldn't be this hard to talk to other people. You think to yourself. When you and Ben talked, there were never any uncomfortable silences, if anything sometimes the silence was nice. The one between Howard and you felt like it was big enough for an oil tanker to pass through.

You heard a commotion at the front door and raise your eyes to look over Howard's head, and feel your heart drop into the pit of your stomach. Ben is standing there, his arm looped tightly with Missy Callahan.

Missy was your best friend in grade school, but you quickly realized that it wasn't your friendship she was interested in, it was Ben. And as soon as Ben realized that she was interested in him, he all but jumped at the chance. Ben and her spent time together on and off over the past few years since the three of you were thirteen. And as much as you wished that they wouldn't spend any time together, you couldn’t come up with a way to voice your displeasure to Ben without telling him that you loved him.

You tried not to compare the way she looked to you. Her beautiful blonde hair fell in effortless waves down her back, her figure was slim, her eyes an enchanting blue that captured anyone under her gaze, and her steps so graceful she seemed to float across the ground rather than walk. Her voice was musical and lofty, accentuated by her timeless features, perfect cupid bow mouth, and wide eyes that always seemed full of stars and innocence. Tonight she was wearing a sleek red dress that cupped her body in a way that made everyone else in the room look like they were wearing potato sacks.

Of course you knew she was more than innocent. You'd caught her on several occasions saying terrible things about you, but the feeling was mutual. Her snide comments about how you looked and what you wore used to hurt more than they did now. But when Ben was around, she was perfectly kind to you, overly sweet that it made you want to choke her out of frustration.

You watch the two of them come through the front door, and notice Ben's eyes survey the room. You fight the urge to duck and run to hide the horrible dress. You know that he's looking for you and deep down you hope also he doesn't see you with Howard. But at the same time you know that what you’re about to do is much worse.

"Howard." You force yourself smile at him, dropping your eyes to the man dancing with you.

"Yeah?"

"Will you twirl me?" You lean towards him as if he's everything you wanted. Deep down you feel like a terrible person for using him like this, but you didn't want to be lonely. And when Ben was with Missy, that's exactly how you felt, lonely.

"Of course." Howard's smile breaks your heart. He twirls you away, and as he does, you catch Ben's eyes momentarily. You see something flit through them that you notice is the same emotion he had earlier when your mother wrapped that coat over your shoulders earlier, but it's gone as soon as it appears.

When you land back against Howard's chest, you ignore how wrong he fits against you, and instead you giggle.

"So Howard, what do you like to do in your free time?" You ask him, ignoring the feeling of Ben's gaze on you.

"Well, I've been researching the steel industry and trying to predict how it will bounce back-" Howard begins to slip quickly into a monologue about the United States steel production and the possible growth in the coming years.

Oh boy. He continues to speak while you sway to the music and you immediately begin to regret everything you've done in the past few minutes. At least he can multi-task.

You hoped that Ben and Missy weren't still standing there watching you, if they were Missy was probably laughing at you.

Finally, Howard stops talking and leads you over to the living room where people have begun to clump up and talk with one another. A waiter walks over with a tray full of birthday cake and just as you reach for a slice Missy materializes on your right like the devil on your shoulder.

"Y/n!" She smiles wide, saying your name with fake cheer. "I had no idea you would be here!"

"It's my birthday party." You say, voice slipping into a monotone.

"Oh well Benjamin didn't say anything about why we were coming here. Just said party and well, here I am." You hate the way she says his name, like she's emphasizing the fact she has him and you don't. "What an interesting dress!" Her eyes skate down the abomination your mother picked out.

"Thanks." You reply through gritted teeth.

She leans forward to whisper in your ear. "Do you really think birthday cake is a good idea?"

Your cheeks blaze bright red and just as you open your mouth to tell her exactly where you’d like to shove the birthday cake, Ben appears beside her.

"Hey."

"Hi." You don't bother to make your voice cheery.

When I sent you a birthday invitation I didn't say you could bring a plus one, and especially not this bitch. You try to say with your eyes.

"Did you have a nice dance Howie?" Ben turns his eyes on Howard, who stiffens at the use of the nickname.

"Yes we did." You answer for him and take Howard’s hand.

Something flashes in Ben's eyes when you use the word "we."

"Oh Benjamin, I love this song! Let's dance." Missy says, grabbing Ben's wrist and pulling him away.

You stand there and watch them dance for a moment, noticing how closely they're pressed together, how Ben's grip on her waist tightens as they sway back and forth, how Missy's head rests against the smooth fabric of his black jacket. An irrational amount of jealousy crashes over you as you watch them dance together, but you can't look away. It's like a trainwreck.

Well, couldn't look away until Missy catches your eye and shoots you a smirk that makes you consider all the places in Philadelphia you can hide a body. The list is detailed and quite long, considering you'd been working on it for as long as you'd known Ben.

"Y/n?" Howard says.

"Hmm?" You turn to look at him. "Sorry I was-" Thinking about all the ways to kill Missy. "Lost in thought."

"I asked if you wanted a piece of cake." Howard smiles and you hate that you feel absolutely nothing when he does. There's no butterflies, no tightening in the center of your chest, no warmth tracing through your body like fingertips flaring against your skin. You hated that's what happened when Ben smiled at you.

You think about what Missy said about the birthday cake, looking once more at her statuesque figure that bends gracefully away from Ben as he dips her, and shove the thought away. "Sure."

**************************

You sit on the end of your bed, but you don't reach for your sketchpad, you were too angry for that.

Ben had barely said two words to you beside the hello that you shared when he came to your birthday party with the most odious girl alive, of course that didn't mean that you lost them in the crowds of people. And that also meant that you'd seen him and her making out in one of the dark corners of the living room.

Anger, frustration, and jealousy swirl together and congeal into a ball in the pit of your stomach. You were angry at Ben for bringing her, jealous of Missy that she was the one who got to be with Ben, and frustrated at yourself for your inability to tell Ben the truth.

Why can't tell him? You sigh. And then what? I tell him and he immediately cuts me out of his life? Your eyes trace the room around you and fall back on your bed. Your bedroom always seemed too big without him, the bed cold, and the room dark. It made the whole in your heart open up when he wasn't there.

You hated how much you needed him and how much you depended on Ben showing up in your life. You wondered if he needed you too.

The memory of him and Missy in the corner, with his hands on her hips and his lips fused to hers, darts across your mind and makes you pluck a pillow from the head of your bed and scream into it.

It doesn't help.

"Hard day?" Someone asks.

"What are you doing here Ben?" You sigh, not needing to look up to know that its him.

He's standing with his feet on your window seat as he comes in from the ledge.

"Thought I'd stop by. We didn't get to talk much at the party." He shrugs.

You try not to look at how his lips are a little pinker than usual and how his hair is sticking up in the back like someone has run their fingers through it.

Damn Missy.

"Well I noticed you were plenty occupied. I guess it's hard to talk with your tongue shoved down Missy's throat." You huff, practically kicking off your shoes. It's a miracle that they don't hit him when he climbs down from the widow seat.

The image of him and Missy Callahan in the corner of your living room kissing flashes over your mind again and makes your temper flare red hot against your skin. The jealousy that electrifies in your veins you know is unwarranted. Ben wasn't yours. You didn't have a claim to him just because you were friends. Just friends. Great friends. And you knew that he didn't feel that way about you.

But how can he not see me as more? How can he spend so much time with me and only see me as a friend? You wanted to scream. All those times falling asleep talking with one another, all the times we woke up in the early morning pressed against one another. How can Ben not want to be more?

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you sound jealous Doll." Ben smirks.

"Of what? Missy Callahan? Please-" You blow a raspberry, even though it's unladylike and you know that if your mother was there she would slap you for doing so. "I don't know what you see in that vapid self-centered debutante. I doubt the two of you can find anything to talk about-"

"Well we don't do much talking. And you and Howard looked plenty cozy together." Ben's smirk turns more into a taunt and this time it makes you want to slap your best friend, but you hold yourself back. "But you sure sound jealous."

"I'm not jealous!" You snap, tugging at the collar of your dress in frustration, both at Ben and at the material in your hands. "Damn it!" You curse, not at Ben, but continue tug at the collar of the dress. Despite wanting to take it off, you hadn't been able to do it by yourself and your mother was busy ordering the waiters downstairs clean up, and it was getting harder to breathe and not to mention terribly hot.

"You doing okay there sweetheart?" Ben's smirk shifts to a worried expression.

"No I can't breathe." You choke out.

Ben immediately steps forward before you can stop him and unzips the back of your dress. It pools at your feet, making your breath catch, leaving you in the tight white corset that was causing you to asphyxiate. Although it went to your knees you still felt almost naked. Ben had only seen you in nightgowns, but it didn't mean that he hadn't felt your curves pressed against him in the morning when you woke up together.

The corset your mother insisted was necessary to shave down your hips, flatten your butt, and squeeze your breasts so tight against your chest that each time you took in a breath you weren't able to expel it.

Ben doesn't look away from your face, but it looks as if it's causing an amazing amount of effort for him to do so. "Do you want me to loosen it?" He rumbles. His jaw clenches with his words, and a darkness blooms in his eyes that sends a thrill down your spine.

"Yes." Your voice comes out more like a squeak than anything else.

Ben turns you in his arms slowly as if gauging your reaction, before you feel his fingertips trail down your spine as he begins to loosen the ties on the back. The tingle that follows his fingertips makes your chest as tight as the garment that squeezes you. You try not to think about how many times you imagined this exact scenario, with you and Ben in your bedroom together. Ben turns your body around so that you're looking up at him again, your faces so close that his lips are leveled directly where your hair sprouts from your forehead.

His hands remain on your waist, thumbs rubbing soothing circles through the material where it rests on your hips, tracing the crest of your pelvis with each stroke, his eyes lock with yours. They are deep and dark and filled with promises that makes you shiver and you're sure he feels. Your own hands have come up between you to rest against his solid chest, admiring the muscle beneath his dark suit. You can't help but notice how he leans forward into your touch as you do and feel the rapid beat of his heart against the palms of your hands. It mirrors your own that feels as though it will break free and flutter away.

"Ben I-" You begin to say.

A loud knocking at your door makes you shove him backwards away from you so hard that Ben stumbles, tripping over the edge of your bed and onto the ground with a loud thud that you try to cover with a cough.

"Who is it?" You ask, voice frantic.

"It's your father."

Your wide eyes lock with Ben's, who doesn't look nearly afraid enough. "Get under the bed-" You whisper-yell.

"I love it when you order me around." Ben smirks as your cheeks flush and his eyes trace your figure one more time in a way that makes you burn.

"Ben!" You hiss.

He crawls under the bed and you grab your bathrobe, wrapping it around yourself before saying "Come in."

Your father enters, a glass of scotch clasped in his hand. His black suit is impeccable, perfectly tailored to him, as it should be, he was, after all, one of the most powerful men in Philadelphia.

His gaze sweeps the room for a moment as if looking for someone, tracing over your bed once, and you think you see the end of his lip quirk for a minute, but then it fades.

"Hi." You smile at him, your cheeks still flushed, heart beat pounding against your ribcage.

Don't look under the bed. Don't look under the bed. Don't look under the bed.

"I apologize for the intrusion, I just wanted to say goodnight." He crosses the room to hug you with one arm. You can smell the tobacco from his nightly smoke on his jacket. You and your father had always been a bit closer than you and your mother. Especially when you were younger and you'd sit in the parlor at his feet watching him smoke his pipe before bed. Over the past few years you hadn't been able to spend as much time together, and it made you sad to think that you were growing apart from him.

"Did you have a good birthday?" He pushes back some of the hair that's fallen into your face with a warm smile.

"Yes I did. Ben got me some new brushes and I got to try them out today when we went to the park."

"That was nice of him." Your father smiles for a minute before he takes a sip from his scotch. "I saw you dancing with Howard Stine."

"Yeah. He's…" Boring. "Nice."

"Hmm." Your father nods. "He's from a good family. Your mother certainly thinks that he's suitable-" He pauses. "But I'm not sure he's right for you."

"It was just a dance. I don't think that makes anything official." You laugh.

Please let my future not end with Howard Stine.

Your father shrugs his shoulders and takes another sip of his scotch. "Your mother and I started with just a dance." The look in his eyes changes for a moment and you wonder if he's reliving the memory of them together. It was moments like this when you saw how much your father loved your mother. It was difficult for you to understand given everything that she'd said to you over the years, but it brought you joy that your father was happy. He shakes his head as if pushing it away. "You always seem happier after you've spent time with Benjamin."

Your cheeks flush bright red, knowing that Ben can hear the conversation. "We're just friends."

"Perhaps." His lips twitch. "So you did have fun at the park? Any new paintings?"

"A few."

"May I see?"

Usually you liked when your father looked at your work, but the thought that Ben was hiding under your bed and could be discovered at any minute, set you on edge.

"Sure." You walk around the bed to get your watercolor pad on your bedside table, before holding it out over the bed for your father. And just as he takes it, Ben's large hand fastens around your ankle. You clear your throat, kicking your foot to get him to let go, but he doesn't release it and you can hear his muffled laugh.

"These are quite something." He flips through the pages, finally stopping on the one of Ben from this morning. "I can't believe he sat still long enough for you to paint him."

"Ben is difficult. ALL the time." You grit out, kicking with your foot again, but he doesn't let go. "And annoying." You grumble low enough for only Ben to hear.

"Yes. I believe that." Your father hands you back the pad of paper. "But he certainly makes you happy, and that's all I want for you."

"Dad-"

He smiles, but shakes his head at you. "Goodnight darling." Your father turns to walk towards the door before he stops. "Your mother will be coming upstairs in a few minutes, perhaps Ben should not be here when she does." And then he leaves.

Your entire body flushes bright red with embarrassment. HOW DID HE KNOW THAT BEN WAS HERE?

Ben crawls out from under your bed holding back laughter.

"It's not funny!" You snap.

"Kinda funny." He smiles. "Do you think he's going to tell your mom?"

"No. I mean I hope not. I think if he does, she'd nail the window shut and cut the tree down." You stand there for a second. "But you should go if she's coming."

"I could hide in the closet this time, see if she can find me?" Ben jokes.

"It's not hide and go seek or Marco Polo!"

Ben laughs at you, before his expression turns serious. "Are you sure you want me to go?" You know that he's asking you that because he knows that no matter what your mother wants to speak to you about will not end well.

"I'm fine Ben. Go. It'll be okay." You smile despite your rising nerves.

"Okay."

He stands there for another beat, eyes dropping to your robe, and for a second you believe that he's thinking about how you looked a minute ago. Your cheeks flush at the memory, feeling his hands trace your spine to loosen the corset, and then how they felt on your waist. What would have happened if my father didn't come in?

"I'll see you tomorrow. I still have five days of freedom before boarding school number seven and I'd like to spend at least one at a baseball game." He finally says.

"Sounds boring."

"I can always take Missy." He replies smugly.

"And by boring I mean it sounds like everything I've ever wanted." You force a smile.

"That's what I thought."

But before he leaves, he pulls you into a hug.

"Goodnight y/n. Happy Birthday."

"Goodnight Ben." You say into his shoulder.

And then he vanishes out your window without another word, leaving you with the memory of what almost happened, and the rising dread that your mother was going to come in at any minute.

******************************************

Thank you so much for reading! If you would like to be added to my taglist for this series let me know :)

Also, everyone say thank you to @deans-spinster-witch for giving me an idea for this chapter! ❤️

Taglist: @roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak @cassiecasluciluce @muhahaha303 @deans-spinster-witch

#soldier boy x you #jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy/ben #the boys fanfic #the boys #soldier boy fic #soldier boy fanfiction #the boys amazon #jensen ackles #the boys season 3

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catsfor2 · 2 years

Text

hit me, pt 1

word ct.: 2.3k, largely unedited gen: boxer!ellie x med student!reader au!!!, reader is a barista, ellie is mean (she has her reasons), reader is a pretty princess femme because i said so, also ellie says dyke (because i said so)(but not in this chapter lol) warnings: swearing/language, age diff (reader is 19 ellie is 23), drug use (alcohol), eventual smut, angst

a/n: this chapter is a kinda slow start, i mostly just wanted write some establishing dialogue type stuff. i want this to be a medium length ish fic. definitely nsfw in the future. i’m also going to (attempt) to have a more organized pov switching order? idk maybe each part switches between ellie and reader or maybe 1 switch per part? idk. lmk what u think. if you like my writing pls interact on this post or even visit my blog to submit a hc, drabble, or fic idea! requests are open

a/n 2: also, thank you sm to everyone who voted on the poll!!! will totally be doing more of those in the future

part 1.5

You were so drunk. Like, so fucking drunk. Legs wobbling and cheeks flushed, an idiot could notice how intoxicated you were. Hanging off of your friends and approaching strangers. A mess, is what you looked like. You'd learned to restrict yourself over the years, as your friends have informed you of all of the humiliating behaviors you exhibit drunk.

You weren't too worried about anything, though. It's your first night drinking in a while—you're up at university now. Rarely do you get to join Dina and her friends by actually consuming the alcohol—you usually just pass. However, tonight, you wanted to get fucked up. You wanted to forget. Fortunately Dina's a good host, and an even better friend. If anyone was going to be holding your hair back at the end of the night, it would probably be her.

The very first thought you had was holy shit, this is not Dina holding my hair. You shouldn't say 'holding', really. Whoever's hand was in your hair was gripping, hard.

"Shut up, you're fine. Here—drink. No, not sip, drink." A voice directs, bringing a cold cup of water to your mouth.

The first sip is disgusting, the stale tastes of alcohol on your tongue washing down your throat.

Oh Christ, is this one of Dina's friends? How do I not remember her? And her...huge shoulders?

"Seriously—fuckin' drink or I'll make you." The same voice says, meaner and harsher. This person talked to you like you were an animal.

The hand that clutches your hair lets go, and surprisingly gently, rakes over your head a few times to smooth it out. You absentmindedly lean into the touch, too far past the threshold to stop yourself.

The hand moves to your nape as you start to drink, cradling. Her fingers just barely reach around the sides of your neck.

You hesitantly gulp about half the glass of water before the brunette puts it back on the counter.

"Ewwww, is that sink water?" You whine, your face scrunching.

"What, it's not good enough for you? You want Fiji? Fuck is the problem?"

Her tone sobers you up for a moment, locking your eyes to the tiles. You couldn't look at someone while they yelled at you.

Slouching on the floor while she hovers over you, you pull the edges of your dress over your folded legs, only just now feeling the bareness. Your hands stay clutched in the fabric.

"Are you done now?" She says. Rudely, you think. She could've meant 'done' with your vomiting or with your complaining, you weren't quite sure.

"Yeah...I think so. Thank you. Um, really, thank you." You try to say, still feeling stuffy and weighted from all the liquor in your system. She looks at you so intensely you turn your head to escape her gaze.

"Dina asked me to." She takes a damp towel and wipes around your face. "Plus you're so drunk it's a fuckin' liability."

"I'm—m'sorry. Who are you? I've never seen you at one of Dina's...things...before, I don't think."

Her hand stills, wet rag still in it. Her eyes hold yours for a moment, closely and intensely, before darting away again.

“Yeah, you haven’t.”

She rolls up her sleeves before wiping over your collarbones and you spot her tattoo. It takes your gaze up the length of her arms, and you simply let your eyes wander over her figure for as long as you want.

"You should probably throw that dress away. Y'got shit all over it now." She states.

Well.

You look down and see that the moisture on your dress has made it completely see through. Your arm moves to drape across your chest to cover your vibrantly patterned bra and your breasts awkwardly spilling out of it.

"Come on, that's jus mean," you complain. "...ignoring me like that. Please, please, pleeease tell me your name..." Your voice is drunken, high-pitched, and definitely annoying. The woman in front of you grimaces.

"No."

"Why not?" You giggle a bit. "I'll tell you mine."

It was kind of your specialty. Annoying people. Her eyebrows shift downwards. No response.

"Hm, ok. I'll ask Dina." You say, a tiny smile trying to break through your face.

"Do it. See if I give a fuck."

"Woooaahhhh, somebody's got a bee in her bonnet! Who peed in your wheaties?"

"You did. And you're at least sixty-fucking-years-old for even saying that," She tosses the rag behind her and puts her hands on her knees to stand all the way up. "y/n."

Your face lights up an in instant. You scramble to your feet.

"How--how do you know mine? But I can't know yours!?"

"Just how it is. I have to go now." She says, throwing her khaki jacket on her back.

"But--hey, hold on, I don't have a ride home anymore! Everyone's left by now!"

"Not my problem. Call your fucking boyfriend or something." She barks, hands now defensively in her pockets.

A laugh promptly bursts out of you, and you impulsively reach out to grasp her shoulder. Your fingers brush over the collar of her jacket.

"O-kay," you quip, "hold on--cause, I don't have a boyfriend, silly," Her eyes bore into yours as your face draws even nearer. "I'm a lesbian..." You whisper giddily, as if it's something only she gets to know.

Her eyes flit away from you as her mouth purses and flattens, like she's contemplating on how to deal with you. In a moment her pupils are locked with yours again.

"Wow, so fucking special, aren't you, princess?" Her last word is a little less bold, less certain than the rest, like it wasn't entirely intentional. You blush, full body and wholeheartedly.

Princess. Princess?

Your grin widens uncontrollably, and you feel yourself giving in to the hazy pleasure of the alcoholic buzz in your blood. Your hands palm your own thighs as you speak.

"Oh...princess? I like that. I've never—I've never been...called that, before. Before now." You breathe out, eyes fluttery and tired.

She didn't snap at you immediately this time. No, instead, she begins to smile. A lazy, smug, confident smile that burns your stomach.

"You're gonna be real fuckin' embarrassed when you remember this tomorrow. Fuckin'—prissy bitch like you acting all shameless."

“You don’t know who I am,” You mutter, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear. "and this? This is not shameless. Do you wanna see shameless? What that actually looks like?" You ask, voice quiet on purpose.

"...No. Fuck no." She denies, that microscopic crack of a smile still evident on her face.

She's very pretty when she smiles. Sooooo pretty.

"You swear way too much, you know that?"

"No, I didn't fucking know that."

Her eyes don't leave yours, like she's waiting for something. Finally, something breaks.

The hand that was resting on the doorknob jiggles it open and she stands in the frame for a moment, just staring. Her compelling eyes force your words out.

"Ok but before you go. One question. Just—just one question.”

"What."

You freeze. What did you want to ask her? You remember it being something about her age.

“Well fucking spit it out. I’m trying to leave.” She urges.

Before you can even recall, another thought appears in your head.

"Okay, okay. Call me princess again? Pleeease? Just once before you go. I don't even want a ride anymore.” You take a glance at the bathroom. “I'll just...sleep… here." You whisper, a little upset thinking about how after this woman leaves, you'll be standing in this bathroom, alone.

"..."

She steps forward, mostly expressionless, pulling up the straps of your dress to cover some cleavage you didn't realize was showing. Your face heats shamefully.

She lets out a sigh.

"Dina has a pull-out in the basement. There's another bathroom down there too if y'need it. Go to bed," Her eyes scan you up and down so quickly you almost miss it. "and finish that glass of water."

With that, the door shuts behind her.

And she's gone.

_____________

You did end up talking to Dina about the person you met last night. Around noon, of course, as you both had slept through the entirety of morning.

"Wait...that's Ellie? Are you fucking serious?!" You clamor, barely comprehending what she’s saying.

The person who helped you out last night knew you, and it also happened to be Ellie. You wanted to hit yourself. Knock yourself out. Be unconscious.

"I thought you knew! She doesn't look that different."

"Dina. I haven't seen her in four years, cut me some slack. And she has like—a whole new energy now. It's....different."

She smirks at you. "...Different?"

"I—yes, different. I know I'm not wrong. I'm not."

The last time you saw Ellie, she was 19 and you were 16. You hadn't come out yet, and hung off of your asshole boyfriend's arm for as long as you could when he was around. Ellie hated the guy. You were insufferable, but Dina must've seen through it enough to befriend you. You’re eternally grateful.

Ellie is a family friend of Dina's, so naturally your paths crossed pretty frequently back then. Until two days before her 20th birthday, when she ran away only with plane tickets and a plan to 'elope' with her girlfriend of three months. They broke up a month later.

You haven't seen her since—excluding last night, of course.

"Oh—oh, fuuuuck. Dina, I know why she was so mean to me last night." Your hands reach up and you drop your face into them.

"She was mean? You didn't say that, the hell?"

"Yes—she was mean, Jesus Dina, keep up. Listen I didn't even recognize her. Like, at all. I kept asking for her fucking name, like, over and over and over again! Oh god, she probably thinks I'm such an asshole." You sulk, rerunning the things you said and did last night in your head.

"Yeah, she totally does."

"No! shut up! You're not helping. How was I supposed to--? She has these arms now, she didn't have those three years ago! And her shoulders? They're so much...wider!" You exclaim, bewildered by this entire situation.

"Hah, ok--"

You cut Dina off.

"And the tattoo, oh my god the tattoo! She's basically unrecognizable!"

"Calm the fuck down, perv. She got a new job three years ago and it just changed her a bit. She does a lot of...physical stuff, now. But she's basically the same, I swear."

"Yeah? Ok. That's...reassuring, I guess..." You say, half truthful. Dina looks at you with something you can't identify. "so...what job."

"Uhhhh—well, not my place to say. You'll...definitely have to ask her. Yourself." Dina winces, trying her best to not let out more info than she should.

"Hm. This is getting...less and less reassuring as you go on. But, thank you Dina."

"So you want her number?" She grins, holding up her phone.

"Are you kidding me." You reject. "I do not text first. You know that."

“You freak, not for that,” Dina shakes her head. “but so you guys can fucking make up and not hate each other, maybe?”

She laughs before getting right on her phone and looking for Ellie's contact.

"I'll just send your number to hers then, jeez."

"No, don't do that either. If Ellie's all upset I couldn't tell who she was, she can be a big girl and tell it to my face. And I don't even care if you tell her I said that. Honestly."

Dina looks up at you. Eyes unmoving and apathetic.

"Both of you are so fucking dramatic. Don't think I'm on your side or her's at this point. I’m completely out of this.”

She throws her phone on the couch before tossing her whole body on it as well. She grabs the remote to turn on the TV.

“Oh shit,” Dina laughs.

“What?”

“Ellie’s gonna fuckin’ flip when she finds out you’re gay now,” Dina says with an acute smile.

I already, accidentally, drunkenly told her. Problem fucking solved, you think.

“Ok? Why’s that?”

“Oh, no reason. Just, pure shock, probably.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” You respond lightly. “…I guess she still pictures the me from highschool, right?”

“Is that your way of asking me if she still hates your ex-boyfriend? Cause yeah, trust me, she does—”

An impeding stream of knocks cut her off. You both whip your heads towards the sound.

The door swiftly opens and in steps Ellie.

Nobody speaks for a few seconds.

“…I have coffee. Thanks for leaving the door unlocked, morons,” Her leg kicks backwards and loudly shuts it. “I hope you get fuckin’ robbed one of these times.”

She walks ahead and hands a hot cup to Dina, and then, to you.

Her thumb rubs along the inside of the carabiner clipped to the loop of her jeans. There’s a smidge of silence before she looks up, only really looking at you.

“I need to show you something.”

And that’s all she says. No context, no elaboration.

“Uh—now?” You question, still in the beat up makeup from last night and hair sticking in all different directions. You couldn’t go out in public like this.

“Uh, yes, now.” She unclips the carabiner and spins it around her pinky. “Let’s go.”

“But what if—what if I have plans?”

“Do you?”

“Well no, but I’d like to at least—”

“Jesus Christ both of you are like this? Here: your hair looks great, your makeup is perfect, your boobs are huge. Can we fucking leave now?” She tells you, completely causing you to forget anything you were saying.

In a moment of panic, you glance at Dina.

Her eyebrows and shoulders only give a limp shrug, as if to say, ‘I don’t know what this is about, but you’re on your own!’

Naturally.

“Yeah, we can leave,” you take a sip of your coffee. “…Ellie.”

The second you say her name, her head is turned to you. Her eyebrows creasing and eyes unwilling to break your gaze. So now you know what the stare was about.

You wonder if your cluelessness last night genuinely hurt her. Made her feel unwanted. Unknown. You felt like shit. You just hope she doesn’t feel similar as you do right now.

She says nothing.

And in that silence, with Ellie cutting in front to get the door for you, you leave.

#ellie x reader #ellie fic #ellie tlou #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #lesbian #tlou fic #tlou #tlou part 2 #catsfor2

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johnwickb1tsch · 5 months

Text

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 31 all chapters

WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

Maybe it’s silly, but you feel as though you have a new lease on life, in the days that follow.

John is still undeniably clingy, but so very sweet. It is a much easier form of obsession to bear.

You are still a prisoner, but at least you feel loved.

Perhaps even more precious, you begin to feel safe.

Whatever possessive madness gripped him before seems to have receded for now, and maybe you’re a fool, but you dare hope in time he might make a full recovery.

Now that you’ve reached a sort of understanding, John seems bent on making up for lost time. There is no doubt that you are still his prey, but now he ambushes you with the express intention of making you cum—whether you like it or not.

Again, you find yourself begging him for reprieve, though this time through laughter rather than tears. He swallows your protests with devouring kisses, eating your cries whole as he slides his long fingers inside you and works your clit masterfully with his thumb.

When you complain of your difficulty sitting down, a gift of a hemorrhoids donut pillow appears. You think he meant it as a joke.

John likes to give gifts, you find.

When one day you walk into your studio to find a bejeweled set of headphones bedecked like a crown, you cannot help but grin like an idiot. It is ridiculous what those fucking things cost, and you’d thought you’d been clever about concealing your enchantment with them in Italy, but nothing escapes John Wick’s sharp eye.

When he finds you later wearing your new coronet, singing out of tune while you put paint down on canvas, he presses you into the worktable with his hips and his kisses, going down on his knees before you with a murmur of, “My beautiful queen.” His words make your knees weak, as does his insatiable tongue in your slit. It’s all so much, and when you beg him to take you there on the table he is all too happy to oblige, scattering your pastels in a rainbow of projectiles with a sweep of his arm before driving himself inside you. With legs wrapped around his waist in a desperate effort to hold on, you take the fury of his adoration with a cock-drunk smile.

If you learned anything in the darker times before, it is that this man is a predator to the bone, and no matter what his mood, he loves a good chase. It becomes your favorite game, and it starts one evening when you splash him while doing the dishes. The look of surprise on his face is priceless, and with a screech you run for the stairs.

You only get so far as the living room before he catches you, his arm like a band of iron around your waist hauling you from your feet entirely. It happens too fast to register, but by some form of ninja magic you are suddenly on the floor, the lean length of his body on top of you. On the plush oriental rug with his thick cock inside you, this man makes you see God.

It feels alarmingly, magnificently, terrifyingly, like truly making love.

“Has anyone ever loved you, the way I do?” he demands desperately, filling you impossibly to the brim.

“Never,” you barely manage to answer, the force of his thrust stealing your breath away.

The next question is much more vulnerable.

“Have you ever loved anyone, the way you love me?”

“Never.”

It’s true, and in the softening of his gaze you dare to hope that someday he will believe you enough.

It is surprising, how quickly the time passes. Despite the circumstances, it is not terribly hard to live with John Wick, like this. He is sweet, and loving, and he spoils you rotten. You could almost mistake your relationship for normal—if one didn’t look too hard at the locks on all the doors.

Soon summer is fading, giving way to the golden hours of early fall. You see it out the window, but since your little car ride, you still have not been allowed outside. You’re an outdoorsy girl, and frankly, it’s starting to drive you a little crazy. You find yourself clawing at the impenetrable windows with a sigh.

John’s mood has been steady, but your heart is still in your throat when you dare ask, “John, can we go out?”

He looks up from his book, the fall of his dark hair covering half his face as he cants his head in thought. They say familiarity breeds contempt, but even after all this close proximity, you still find him beautiful. You do not think that will ever change.

“Why?” he finally asks, and you detect the shadow of suspicion in his tone.

“Because I miss it.”

You used to hike every day off you had. Being indoors this long…is doing things to your brain.

You watch as his nostrils flare, his chest rising and falling as he considers this request. You can tell he doesn’t like the thought at all, but you force yourself to stand your ground. He won’t punish you for this, surely? Just for asking?

Of course, he might punish you for what you’ll do later, if the answer is no.

In the end he nods, though more to himself than to you. “I’ll think about it.”

“Think about it fast? The weather will be turning soon.”

The look he pays you then is less kind, his eyes sharp as glittering obsidian. “I said. I’ll think about it.”

You sigh, assuming the answer is no, and retreat to sulk in your studio. You are painting the view from your favorite outlook on the mountain trail nearby from memory when you start to hear an odd, rhythmic toque…toque sound, over and over.

You go downstairs, searching for the source. No dice in the living room or the kitchen. You follow your ears to the bank of windows off the living room. There’s another door (locked, of course) that leads to a patio. You see John outside…chopping wood? Watching the pine rounds explode under the sharp blade of an axe in his hands shouldn’t be this fascinating, but you find yourself pressed to the window, transfixed. The definition in the muscles of his forearms as he swings down are a sight to behold.

You’re not sure he can see you, the way the glass is mirrored on the outside, but you knock on the widow anyway. He looks up at you with narrowed eyes at first. Then, a small smile. It feels like a little gift, just for you, and it quickens your heart. Watching him do everyday things moves you, and you acknowledge to yourself uneasily for the umpteenth time that you’re in so deep.

As it turns out, the wood was for a little pit fire, which you sit together and watch with a glass of wine that evening out on the patio. The tall trees loom all around you, pitch black outside the ring of your little campfire. It feels so good to be out of the house, but it’s not quite what you wanted. As though he senses that you’re not exactly satisfied with his offering, John tries to distract you with his kisses, laying you down on the outdoor couch to wreck you with his mouth. You make love with your skin bared to the great outdoors, but no one to really see you in your seclusion. Later you snuggle under a soft blanket together.

Sated, you let it go, for now.

-But John doesn’t forget, and one morning he wakes you early with kisses on your ear. “If you want to hike, we have to go now,” he tells you. You have become spoiled in your captivity, no longer at the mercy of coffee house hours, now used to sleeping through the morning after John keeps you up late with his kisses and his beautiful cock, but the offer of getting to really go outdoors has you up and at ‘em in minutes.

You find your old pair of broken-in Merrel hikers in the walk-in closet, and realize John must have accessed your possessions from your previous life at some point. It’s so strange to see them—you realize in the suspended reality of your current situation, you’ve almost written off everything that came before.

There is a distinct mental separation in your personal timeline—BW, and AW; Before Wick, and After Wick.

You have a quick breakfast and coffee before stepping outside, the sun just peeking over the horizon.

You can hardly describe the elation you feel, at last being allowed to walk out that front door like you are almost normal. You are so happy just to feel the morning air on your skin. You stand in the driveway like a simpleton, your face lifted to the sky, soaking in the sun. There is a cool breeze that smells of pine, and it is the sweetest thing you have inhaled in a long time.

John watches your reaction intensely, and you do not think you invent it, when you see a glimmer of guilt in his expressive mocha eyes. Intent on assuring him, you stand on tiptoe, pressing a kiss to his bearded chin with your front flush to his.

“Thank you,” you say, and he relaxes slightly against you, resting his forehead against yours.

You are practically skipping as you hit the trail in his woods that connects to the bigger loop. You cannot help but think about that day in the snow, when you met him, alone, on that very path. How easily he could have had you then. It is another clue that tells you he hadn’t decided yet—or he had not yet cracked.

This early, in the middle of the week, it isn’t likely you’ll meet anyone in the woods. You feel a trill of nervousness, as you wonder what would happen if you did. You have been kept to yourself for so long, the thought of contact with other people out in the world feels strange, a little frightening, even.

As you walk an exuberance overtakes you, fills you head to toe. It almost feels like you’re…free. The only contradiction to that is the tall man in black walking by your side. He has let you have free reign, not insisting on holding on to you. He doesn’t have to, you know. He could just run you down with those delectably long legs of his any time he wanted, surely.

That doesn’t mean the thought of it isn’t titillating, even if you absolutely know you would be destined to lose. Perhaps he truly has broken you at last, but you have come to love the game of chase too. It is your most exciting distraction in your world that is limited to the confines of the Wick cabin.

You are going to be sore the next day, you know. It’s been…forever, since you’ve been able to walk like this. The most exercise you’ve really gotten has been engaging in your sexcapades with John—as much of a workout as that is—it’s a different group of muscles.

Perhaps he does not insist on holding you, but it doesn’t stop you from reaching for him. You squeeze John’s hand in thank you.

Despite everything…it feels like a perfect day.

“Maybe this is far enough for today,” he says as you approach the junction with the main trail, the line of his private property and the park that adjoins it.

Disappointment spears through you. You are not ready to go back into your prison. It’s turning into a beautiful day, and you have so much energy to burn.

You make a pouty face, playing cute while you are flirting with rebellion inside.

“But the overlook is so pretty this time of year,” you insist, batting your lashes. Lately, that’s been enough to get your way on little things in the house. Today you feel like you can’t lose. Everything is too good.

He narrows his eyes down at you, as though he senses your internal mutiny, but in all your elation you feel strangely impervious. You realize you feel high, the kind of mood lift usually people have to ingest pills to get.

“Y/n…” He reaches for you, and without thinking you step just out of reach. You’ve played this game a dozen times now in the house. A game you’ve never, to this day, won, but you’ve found it’s the thrill of a lifetime, to be chased down by this man, trusting he won’t really hurt you. It always leads to mind-blowing sex, and maybe you are thinking a bit too much with a lust-addled brain alongside your elation for the great outdoors.

There is a very pregnant moment between you, and you smile when his intense eyes meet yours, your lips curling in what you know is a shit-eating little grin. What happens next is pure reflex; an extension of a thing you’ve done repeatedly together, with a dash of that age-old ingrained instinct of prey in the presence of a predator. But now you’re outside, and your jubilation is magnified times a hundred.

You run.

“Y/n!”

He lunges for you, his fingertips just brushing your arm, but in the end he’s–amazingly–too slow.

You are a human missile, rocketing down the hill, fueled by gravity and the knowledge of how to move in this environment you’ve trained for since you were just a child. You may as well be a wood sprite, for this is your element. This is your mountain, and no matter how many wealthy interlopers buy it up and carve it into parcels and drive up the price of everything so that locals like you can barely live—this will always be your home.

It feels so good to run.

Your feet fly over the needle-strewn forest floor, jumping over rocks and dodging trees. You laugh like a madwoman, the sweet sweet mountain air filling your lungs. You run like a wild thing of the woods, the way you used to when you were a child, before your parents decided to break the oath they'd made to each other and split your happy world to pieces. While your parents fought you would flee to the trees to be free, and you feel that desperate euphoria again. That feeling like you can fly, jumping over rocks and launching from boulders.

You sense more than hear John behind you, your own ears filled with the rushing of your blood and your racing heartbeat. His fingertips brush your back before you juke him around a tree. You hear him curse and you laugh—you do sound mad.

“Have to do better than that, old man!” you crow.

You realize with another rush that you are far more agile than John is. The trees are your friend, the way you dart around them and power yourself down a new line of retreat. You hear him curse after grazing one, and you realize you might break the poor man’s neck, making him pursue you like this.

In a pine-needle carpeted clearing you make yourself slow down, and you are so high on adrenaline it doesn’t even hurt when he finally tackles you to the ground, your grin like a baring of teeth, giddy from the chase. He pins your hands above your head, sharp pebbles digging into your skin as you laugh.

“What the fuck—” You interrupt him mid tirade with your mouth on his, a hungry kiss that swallows his fury, but does not quench it. Already anticipating the passion of your (and his) reward with his delicious weight pressed down into you, your legs are wrapped around his waist, pulling him close.

“You think you’re cute?” he snarls above you when at last you separate.

“I am very cute,” you assert, still giggling to yourself. “Don’t be mad. You love this game.”,

“Maybe I’d love to spank that cute ass of yours raw?”

“Nuh-uh. No hitting.”

You’d made a deal, after all.

He narrows his eyes down at you, and this is when you finally start to sense that maybe he is not half as amused as you are. Your blood runs cold, and before you can blink he has you flipped over on your belly, your pants down around your thighs.

“No—”

You try to squirm away, but his inexorable hand is in your hair—it makes for a damn good handle, the bastard. His big hand digging into the globe of your ass makes you quiver under his fingers.

Your heart plummets into freefall, as you realize he’s serious. And you can tell he’s not talking about the playful little smacks he sometimes gifts you in the middle of riding his cock to completion. He means to punish you, and the knowledge takes you from the highest high to the blackest despair. You can barely hear past the sound of your heartbeat in your ears, the familiar fear and uncertainty from before creeping in. Not again. Life was so good. Please don’t go back to this shit again. You can’t go back to the way things were. You can’t live like that again.

A revelation settles over you with irrefutable clarity. You accept it as truth with every cell of your being, and you know there will be no going back after this.

“If you hit me we’re done.”

There’s no hint of playfulness in your tone either now. Just…resolve. You mean what you say, to the very marrow of your bones.

“I think I must have confused you, y/n. You are not in charge here.”

“Maybe not. But I’ll tell you this. If you hit me, I’ll fight you to my dying breath. I mean it.”

Like watching yourself from the outside, you almost find it interesting that this is the true limit of your generosity with him. This is the cliff’s edge. The point of no return. Your resolve is unmoving, even if it fills you with absolute misery. You could lose him now, today, this very minute. This man who keeps you prisoner, yet with whom you have lived happily the past months. This complicated, broken man, who you love with all your heart.

In this insane moment you realize with soul-shaking clarity…you don’t want to leave him. What would you do with your life? Go back to your stupid little existence at the coffee shop, working your fingers to the bone, doodling on the chalkboard, waiting? You’ve spent most of your life just fucking waiting. Waiting to travel. Waiting for something good to happen. Waiting…for this man to come through the door, so you could pester him for five minutes, knowing it would be the highlight of your day.

Could you possibly go back to looking up at the mountain, knowing your Beast in his castle resides there? That a man who loved you like no other is there pining for you?

But if he crosses this line—you will have to leave, somehow. Or die trying. That is your heartfelt resolution. That is the promise you make to yourself. You’ve made too many compromises as of late, and this is a battle for your very soul.

You feel him like a malevolent storm cloud behind you, trembling in his fury, but for once, torn as to what to do. You realize this is the only time you’ve seen him doubt himself, when he’s contemplating teaching you a lesson.

You dare to try to talk him down, your voice calmer, or perhaps more distant. You don’t know how you muster the courage; perhaps only in the knowledge that this could truly be it for the two of you. No more we’ll see how it goes or maybe it will be better tomorrow. There is only now.

“This thing we’ve somehow built together, despite everything…” You shake your head, trembling as much out of fear as despair. “It will be destroyed, and you’re the one who will have broken it.”

“You’re the one who ran from me!”

You can tell from the hushed fury in his voice that he is hanging on by a thread. You realize now, what a stupid thing that had been to do. That despite the games you’ve been playing in the house, out here, he just couldn’t handle it. Even just the slightest possibility of you leaving is enough to drive this man off the edge.

“I let you catch me.” You will him to believe you. You even half believe it yourself.

“The hell you did.”

“It’s true. I know these woods better than you. I’m smaller. I’m faster. I let you.”

“Bullshit.”

Before you can hardly think about what to do you lower your face to the dirt, offering your ass in the air. You know he can see your puffy slit, your glistening opening just begging for him. This is how he has warped you; or maybe you were a twisted little thing all along, just waiting for him to show you the way to your ruin. Either way—you want him, and you will him to see it for himself.

“I let you catch me,” you insist again. “So give me my reward.”

You feel the tremor run through him, from his fingertips to his core.

You realize that he wants to believe you. That maybe punishing you was never really the fun for him at all, in this deadly game you’ve been playing.

You feel him shift his position behind you, his merciless hold moving to your hip. When his long fingers slide into your wet folds you mewl like a cat; half relieved, and half just needing him. He makes you buck by circling your bud, before delving inside your weeping channel with two of his fingers. It makes you moan, and if someone walks up the trail my god will they get an eyeful, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“Does that feel like someone who’s afraid of you?” you bluff. Because wanting this man has never really stopped you from fearing him. Fearing what, exactly, has shifted over time. In the end though, maybe just that he would be the absolute ruin of you.

He only grunts in answer, spreading your juices around your aching pussy. When his fingers withdraw you whine in protest, but you hear him rifle with his clothing, the zzzip of his fly jerked downwards. When his thick tip kisses your entrance you could weep, offering your ass even higher in the air.

“You are a very bad girl,” he tells you as he slides home, making you writhe with a mixture of pleasure and pain.

“I’m your bad girl,” you correct him, and he growls behind you, thrusting again. He’s not treating you with the usual care he pays this position, but you take it anyway. Gladly, if this will mend the thing between you, you’ll take it all.

“I would have found you, you know,” he pants as he thrusts, his hand weaving in your hair. “Even if you made it down the mountain…there’s nowhere in the world you can hide from me.”

You absolutely believe him.

“I know,” you tell him, your face in the dirt, yet somehow still loving the feeling of him behind you, filling you absolutely and completely. “You don’t–have to–lock me up, John,” you pant, interrupted by the violence of his thrusts. “Because I know I can’t escape you.”

This makes him growl again, that primal, possessive sound that touches the darkest recesses of your cavewoman brain. It is as though there is no part of you, inside or out, that this man cannot touch. He drapes his long body over yours, engulfing you in the shelter of his warmth. Even now, you cannot stop yourself from leaning back into him, pressing your smooth cheek to his soft beard. His tone is pure gravel, but you know him well enough now to sense the vulnerability in his words too. “But do you want to escape now?” he asks.

“No,” you tell him, and you know in your heart this isn’t manipulation, or vying for a better chance to run somewhere down the line. It’s just the truth, and you even surprise yourself as you say, “No, I don’t want to leave you.”

He goes still behind you as he evaluates this heartfelt confession, his harsh breathing and the pulsing of his cock buried inside you his only movement.

“I want to believe you.” You only enjoy a moment of relief, before he rears again behind you, driving himself into you to the hilt. “But I can’t.”

Your heart plummets as you realize he still cannot bring himself to trust your word, to have the faith to walk out into thin air, the way normal people do when they dare to fall in love. He cannot leave anything to chance with you, and now you are not sure he ever will.

He really might keep you locked up forever.

You feel the earth beneath you, hyper aware of the pine needles in your clenched hands, the wonderful smell of the dirt and ancient rocks below. The cool breeze on your bared skin, and the dappled light filtering through the pines. What if this really is the last time you are ever allowed outside?

There was always a glimmer of hope on the distant horizon for you, that little light of optimism that never quite managed to extinguish, despite everything he put you through. But now you feel it leave you, stealing the integrity from your very bones. You go limp beneath him, only his iron-grip on your hips holding your ass in the air as he uses you. When he reaches down to find your slippery bud you are no longer in the mood, and perhaps foolishly, you try to shake him off.

“Just get it over with.”

You already know it’s the absolute worst thing you can say, but now you don’t care.

“But I thought my darling wanted to enjoy the great outdoors?” He doesn’t sound half as angry as you expected him to, but there is still something sharp in his tone that puts you on edge. Like glimpsing a dorsal fin parting still waters, you know something dangerous swims underneath.

He slows his thrusts behind you, so that his magnificent length stretches you just right without hurting you. He uses his now expert knowledge against you, weaponizing the hours you’ve spent in bed together making up for lost time. You can’t stop yourself from arching into him, canting your hips to intensify the sensation, and now you bow your head so you don’t have to see his smug smile. “Goddamn you.”

He huffs with laughter, though there’s no real humor in it. “You’re too late, I’m sure.”

This time when he touches you, you are desperate for it, your aching walls squeezing him in search of release. It tears a groan from deep in his throat, a sound you know so well by now, and you realize you can use your own knowledge of this man against him too. You squeeze him again, almost in challenge, and it becomes a contest between you, who can bring the other to pieces first. You have to admit that his blunt fingers on your clit are heaven, and your heart pounds too fast in your chest, your head light as you very nearly forget to breathe in your concentration. He tries to hold himself off as you move to take him deeper. He cannot control your body as well as he would like, like this, with his fingers buried in your slit, and you almost smile at his grunt of frustration at you.

In the end you both lose.

You cum so hard on his cock you see stars, a ringing in your ears as a merciless pleasure breaks and explodes through you. He fares no better, filling you with ropes of hot seed as he moans, loud enough to echo across the mountains.

Maybe you do feel a little better, panting in the soft leaf litter with his body draped over yours again, his heavy breathing and soft lips upon your neck. As usual, you feel bereft when he withdraws, wishing you could hold him inside you longer. You didn’t bring anything to clean up with, and you anticipate a soggy walk home back up the hill.

In fact, after sprinting, then fucking like animals on the ground, you’re not even sure you can walk.

It’s John who rises first, groaning with the effort. He glares down at you, as though daring you to make another old man jab. For the moment, however, you are out of quips, out of jokes, and out of clever repartee. Even though you know it shouldn’t be so easy for him to tame you, you snuggle under his chin anyway, kissing the swell of his Adam’s apple. For a moment he sags against you, savoring this sweetness, before brusquely leading you back up the trail.

He is not cruel, or strangely, even outwardly angry now, but somehow you just know you are in so much fucking trouble.

#john wick #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick fic #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves x reader #yandere john wick #bittersweet john wick imagine

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tiredmamaissy · 2 years

Text

At First Sight

Neteyam’s First Rut: Special Episode II

read chapters: one, two, three, four, five

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Characters: Neteyam Sully (18) x Human Reader (18)

Warnings: nsfw, lots of fluff, childhood friend/crush to lovers, masturbation, size difference, first time everything, foreplay, oral sex [f receiving], vibrator usage, consent king nete [you know how I like him]

Word Count: 8k 🧍‍♀️

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for 2000 followers, that’s crazy :’) I love you guys, honestly.

Synopsis: The story of how it all started. Neteyam comes to confess his feelings for you, but accidentally walks in on you using a vibrator.

Intro:

Too young to be put in a Cryo chamber and sent back to Earth, you were raised by the scientists who remain loyal to the na’vi after the war with Quaritch. Despite growing up in a lab, you spent most of your childhood with your friends – Neteyam, Lo’ak, Kiri, and Tuk. You formed all your best childhood memories and milestones alongside them. They taught you the na’vi language, and their way of life. You did your best to keep up with them, although it proved hard in your human body.

They were always faster and stronger, not to mention bigger. Despite being the same age as them they would always tower over you, almost double your height and width. Regardless, you were determined to live the life of a na’vi, even with your tiny, frail body.

Having this exopack was bothersome, constantly getting in your way and needing to be recharged and cleaned. But it allowed you to be closer to your people, to your secret love – Neteyam. His family always saw you as the ‘lab kid’, especially his mother. Neytiri always insisted that you go back to your people when you came around to visit.

Neteyam was always quick to defend you, standing up against his own parents – something that he rarely did. He never made you feel left out, pacing himself to ensure you’d never get left behind, being extra gentle during games and always making sure to carry a backup battery for your exopack. He knew how careless you were in keeping it charged. He would even steal extra of your favourite sweets from the lab when you had your monthly cycle. You’d always had a crush on him since you were kids, but when you both got into your late-teens things became... different.

He grew much, much taller than you, always towering over you. His muscles filled out, becoming more defined as he went through the rites of passages to become a man – to become a warrior. Whilst your chest became fuller, hips wider and waist curvier. At times, you’d catch him staring at you, lingering his gaze on your chest or pelvis, burning holes through your shorts. It’d make butterflies flutter in your stomach, giving you hope that maybe he saw you in the same way that you saw him.

You spent most nights with your hand shoved down your pyjama pants, humping your fingers to your lewd thoughts of Neteyam without his loincloth on. Oh, the things you’d do just to see what he really looked like underneath. You wanted nothing more than for him to be the one touching you, to make you feel good. At times you’d try to be bold, and make a move, holding a single finger or brushing your chest against his thigh. But he never caught on, or so it seemed.

Under the immense pressure of his parents, he couldn’t spend nearly as much time as he used to with you, but you understood and never complained. You filled your time with Kiri, becoming her best friend. She taught you everything about the flora and fauna of Pandora, and made you want to become a healer one day if you could ever get an avatar of your own.

You wanted nothing more. Well, that was a lie. You wanted Neteyam more than anything on Pandora, but you’d go to great lengths to have your own avatar – to be able to become a true na’vi. Norm and Max always teased you about you getting your own avatar when you were old enough, but you never believed them, you knew how expensive they were to create.

You had no other choice but to accept your fate as the human girl who longed for a na’vi boy, and his na’vi way of life.

Unbeknownst to you, Neteyam felt similarly from the moment he lay eyes on you. He always felt a strong need to protect his tiny, frail human. He hated nothing more than when others picked on you, and made you feel less than all because of how you looked. He never cared about any of that, you were the kindest and most adorable girl he knew. You were a treasure to be cherished – to be protected at all costs.

He knew never to act on his feelings, though. Given the whole different species thing, he quickly accepted his fate as the son of Olo’eyktan who longed for a sky person. He knew it would never be able to work, in any regard. He felt like he’d break you if he touched you. But now that he’s become a man, the desire to touch you has only grown stronger.

The moments between you and him have become tense, and awkward. He’d keep a good distance between the two of you, yet he’d never take his eyes off you, always ensuring your safety. And in those moments – those rare moments – that the two of you were alone, the tension was off the charts. To the point where Neteyam started distancing himself from you even more, picking up more training sessions with his father and going on longer hunting trips.

It hurt you. To see the man you cared for so deeply never make the time to be around you anymore. You often confided in Kiri about this, as she was the only person who knew about your true feelings for him. She always encouraged you to be honest and open with her brother, convincing you that he had similar feelings. Even though you wanted to believe her, you couldn’t bring yourself to because of how distant and cold Neteyam had been.

----

“Is Neteyam coming?” you ask Kiri, watching her hook the mask around her neck.

“No, he’s on a hunting trip with dad. Sorry, y/n.” Kiri purses her lips before taking a swig of air.

“That’s okay. I understand that he’s busy.” you shrug your shoulder, trying to act like it didn’t bother you that he was always caught up with something.

She rests a hand on your shoulder, reassuring you that it’s nothing personal, even though she knew it was. “Don’t worry about it. He’ll come around soon, y/n.”

You nod, keeping your gaze fixed on your feet as you both make your way deeper into the lab. Lo’ak and Tuk follow behind Kiri, gearing up with their masks too. Kiri came to see her mom, Grace, and Lo’ak usually just tagged along to bother Max and Norm. Tuk never wants to be left out, following closely behind her siblings everywhere they go.

You were excited, hoping to see Neteyam so you could finally talk to him about how you felt. But he flaked yet again, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

“Hey mom.” Kiri hums, climbing on top of her mother’s tank, admiring her floating body.

Lo’ak and Tuk make their way over to Norm and Max, trying to convince them to reveal some top-secret information about what they have in development. “C’mon Norm, don’t be a wuss. Show us!” Lo’ak grins, giving norm a playful shove, moving him a great distance, unaware of his own strength. “...sorry, Norm.”

You find yourself thinking about Neteyam again, watching Norm’s small frame next to Lo’ak, and how you look just like that next to him. Huffing out a sigh, you look around at your friends and realize that you’re alone. Everyone’s got someone, except you. You could walk away, and no one would even notice.

So, you do.

Unable to deny the way you feel, as tears well in your eyes and your chest burns hot, you shuffle away quickly to your room at the end of the hallway in the lab.

Really y/n? Crying again? You scold yourself for being so sensitive.

Neteyam will never want me if I’m this soft. You blink rapidly, clearing the tears from your eyes as you turn the knob on your door.

You were so deep in thought that you didn’t even realise you’ve walked into a completely different room. Looking around, you realise that you’re in Trudy’s room, not yours. It’s been untouched since the war; Norm couldn’t bring himself to step foot into her room, much less go through her belongings.

Being here gives you an eerie feeling, right in the pit of your stomach. Just as you were about to turn around and back out, you notice a black, open duffle bag on her bed. Inside it is some sort of object, bright and pink, in some sort of packing with a big red ‘XXX’ on it. It’s hard to miss. As much as you wanted to back out of the room, you find yourself closing the door behind you before making your way over to the bag.

Curiosity got the best of you, making you take it out of the bag to inspect it further. Still brand new in its plastic packaging, the object is slightly bent, with some weird looking rubbery bits that rib around it.

‘Thrusting Rabbit Vibrator – Adult Toy’.

You’ve never seen one in person, only hearing about it on shows you watched that aired in the early 2000’s. It’s... a sex toy – a vibrator to be exact. You flip it over, searching for the instructions.

‘Insert, turn on, and enjoy.’

Seems simple enough. The desire to open it, to know what it feels like grows stronger. You nibble at your bottom lip, trying to talk yourself out of your ludicrous urges. Your heart quickens, thumping violently against your ribcage. Deep down, you know what you’re doing is wrong, invading Trudy’s personal space like this, even worse that she wasn’t here to defend her space.

The sound of a doorknob rattling makes your whole body jolt. You gasp quietly, turning around and hiding the toy behind your back. Norm opens the door, jaw clenched, clearly uncomfortable to be looking in his late girlfriend’s quarters. He scans you up and down, a confused look washing over his face.

“y/n? Why are you in... Trudy’s room?” he asks, not wanting to say her name.

“Sorry. I – I didn’t even realise I came in here. I was going to my room...” you babble nervously, realising that you’ll have to reveal more to make it believable, “...I – uh, felt left out, and I was too caught up in my head. Sorry, Norm. I was about to leave.” you apologize again, knowing this room is off limits.

“It’s alright, kid. Sorry if I sounded upset.” He says, expression softening.

You laugh a little to lighten the mood. “Not a kid anymore, Norm.” you shoot him a smile before shuffling out beside him, walking backwards so he doesn’t see the toy behind your back.

“My bad, y/n.” He closes the door, locking it with his key. He turns around, to see you shuffling away.

“Hey. If you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here. Alright?” he projects his voice as you walk swiftly away, heart thumping in your chest.

You quickly shift the toy to your chest as you spin around and raise a hand in the air. “Alright, Norm! Thanks!”

----

You sit on your bed, staring at the bright pink object sitting on your table, already plotting how exactly you’re going to return this thing. It’s going to be difficult, seeing that he locked the door. It would have to involve some sort of conniving plan to steal his keys whilst he’s sleeping, or something. It honestly seemed like too much, for something so... useless to him.

It wouldn’t even matter right? He’s not going to use it... Would he even realize that it’s missing? You wonder, knowing he’ll probably never step foot in that room again.

You won’t lie, a part of you wanted to know what it feels like. Not only that, but this is probably the only time in your existence that you’d have your hands on such a thing. You’d never ever been able to make yourself climax before, even to your lewd thoughts of Neteyam.

Maybe this would do the trick?

It dawns on you that all you’re doing is trying to convince yourself to use the damn thing. You stand up let loose a loud huff, frustrated with yourself. You pace back and forth in your room, burning a line into the floor with your feet, looking back at the stupid little toy every so often.

You stop dead in your tracks.

“Fuck it.” you mumble, rushing over to the table to rip open the packaging.

Finally releasing the toy from its plastic-y restraints, you bring it close to your face to examine it.

“Whoa.” you mutter, looking at all of the little nubs and ridges on the tip of it, whilst the rest of it is like a smooth silicone.

Grabbing the packaging, you fumble with it a bit before flipping it over once again to read the instructions some more.

‘Clean before and after use. Charge before use. Waterproof. Use on clit or insert inside.’

You make your way over to the bathroom and wash it with soap and water before putting it to charge. Meanwhile, you take a quick shower, thinking about Neteyam the entire time to get you in the mood.

----

“Is she upset with me?” Neteyam asks Kiri, concerned that he’s ultimately ruined the friendship.

“No... I don’t know, Nete. Maybe? She can tell that you’re avoiding her at this point. Just. Go and talk to her, okay?” Kiri encourages her brother.

“Talk to her? And say what? I know we are a different species, but I have feelings for you?” he narrows his eyes, shaking his head slightly.

“Yeah. Actually. Exactly that.” Kiri says, scoffing and nodding her head.

“Really?” Neteyam looks at her with a blank stare.

“Yes, really. Just go.” Kiri pushes him out of the tent. “She didn’t even tell us she was leaving... Tell her that I’m sorry, too.”

“Agh. Alright.” Neteyam walks willingly out of the tent, making his way to the lab, eclipse in full throttle.

----

You brush and braid your hair, keeping it out of your face whilst you brush your teeth. Instead of getting into your pyjamas, you opt to stay wrapped in your towel, seeing that you were going to get naked anyways.

“Let’s do this.” you try psyching yourself up, making your way over to the charging object.

You unplug it and fidget with the button. Pressing the button, it immediately lights up and starts vibrating, making a loud buzzing noise. Startled, you quickly press the button once more, turning it off and throwing it on the bed.

Heart thumping viciously in your chest, you feel the flesh between your legs begin to pulse. All sorts of emotions were coursing through you all at once – anxiety, arousal, guilt. You decide that you need to get in the right head space to do this.

You unwrap your towel, resting it on the end of your bed. Crawling on the bed, you get comfortable, propping up your back against stacked pillows and spreading your legs. The cool, crisp air blows against your naked body, making your nipples hard and body shiver.

You reach for the vibrator, allowing it to brush against your inner thigh before placing it on the softness of your plump lips. Closing your eyes, you imagine Neteyam, standing in front of you with nothing but his loincloth on. His stripes are so prominent, much like his jawline and chiselled torso. His muscular chest stood strong, just like his thick biceps and brawny core.

Waist, lean yet robust, back, broad and sturdy – he was everything a girl could dream of. Nothing less than that of a mighty warrior. You feel your clit jump at the mere thought of his torso. As you make your way down his body you chew on your bottom lip, biting back a soft moan.

Breath becoming raggedy, you press the button with a shaky finger, jolting when the overpowering vibration touches your clit. You imagine his lower half – his thick, muscular, toned thighs, coated in a thin layer of sheen from sweat. Feeling yourself heat up from your lewd thoughts, you press the humming vibrator against your clit, trying to find a good spot.

Squeezing your eyes even tighter, you melt into the sheer power of this toy, relaxing your tensed leg muscles. You make your way in between his thighs and imagine his prominent v-lines, that have scant, dark hair – musky with his natural scent – peaking over the band of his loincloth.

Chest rising and falling from your heavy pants, your leg muscles tense again as that familiar hot feeling pools in your chest – you’re getting close. You wet your lips with a quick swipe of your tongue, before parting them to allow little, soft moans to evade your mouth. You find your hips chasing your orgasm, bucking slightly against the length of the toy as you coat it in a thin layer of your wetness.

Working your way to his most vulnerable area, you imagine him hooking his thumbs underneath the band of his loincloth, gently tugging it down his hips. The more he tugs at the thin cloth, the more the thick, blue base of his cock is revealed. Your brows pinch at the sight, you wanted to know what it felt like, if you could even hold it with one hand.

The image of him brings you closer and closer, the heat pooling in your chest overflowing into the rest of your body, forming knots in the pit of your stomach. You always had a hard time with this stage, never getting past it – never making yourself cum.

“Oh, Nete!” you moan, “Make me cum, please.” You quiet down to a whisper, gritting your teeth as you arch your back.

He tugs the material down to his upper thighs, exposing the little dark blue stripes on his thick, veiny member.

“F-fuck!” you squeak, your head sinking deeper into your pillow as your toes dig into the softness of the bed.

He slips the loincloth down to his knees, revealing his throbbing, veiny cock, letting it slap against his belly, leaving a little wet spot as evidence. It’s so heavy, that even though he’s rock-hard, it rests, sheathed and hung, against his thigh.

----

“Thanks, Norm. I apologize again, for coming so late. I just... really need to make it up to her.” Neteyam bows his head quickly, thankful that he let him in the lab after hours.

“Don’t sweat it. She told me earlier she was feeling a little down. Just let yourself out when you’re finished talking, cool?” Norm responds, having more trust in Neteyam than the rest of them.

“I will.” Neteyam says, crouching slightly to make his way down the hallway to your door.

He looks at your door, reading the weird figures above the peep hole, ‘34’.

Three – four, that is hers, yes?

“Oh, Nete!” he hears your faint, muffled cry.

His ears perk up, heartbeat raising.

Why is she calling for me? Is she okay?

“F-fuck!” he hears your soft groan, hushed by some sort of whirring noise.

Oh shit. She sounds like she’s in pain. Maybe cramps?

Neteyam wastes not another second and bursts the door open, ready to help you in any way that he could. Instead, he’s met with the sight of you on the bed – naked – touching yourself.

----

You can’t hear the doorknob rattle over the buzz of your toy, and even if you could, you were too focused on trying to experience your first orgasm. It feels so good, it really felt like you were about to explode. Your breaths become shallow, and quick as you climb and climb towards your peak. All you can focus on, is Neteyam coming closer and closer to you, cock swinging at each step.

“Holy shit.” Neteyam breathes, chest rising and falling quickly, heart thumping violently in his chest. Eyes wide, brows raised, and mouth open, he watches you for a second too long, unable to take his eyes off the carnal sight in front of him.

“Shit.” You gasp, body practically curling up into a ball as you and yank the towel over your body and the toy. “What are you doing here?!” you shout at him, wrapping the towel around you properly as you shuffle your back against the wall.

He immediately drops his gaze, blinking repeatedly as he turns away from you, resting both hands on his forehead. “I am so sorry, y/n. I – I should have knocked. I’m sorry, I was just... coming to talk to you about something.” He babbles, gulping down a wad of his spit.

“About what?! So late?!” you shout, cheeks stained red from embarrassment.

You caught a quick glimpse of the bulge in his loincloth before he turned around. Your heart is thumping even faster, even harder. You just moaned his name.

Shit. Shit. Did he hear me moan his name? Fuck. How long has he been here?

“I’m sorry I upset you. Really. I-it can wait. I will be going now. I am so sorry, y/n.” he apologizes through raggedy breaths, feeling his own arousal.

He quickly leaves the room, closing the door tightly behind him, feeling like he just invaded your privacy – big time. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady his heart before walking away. You do the same, taking deep breaths to calm down and figure out what the fuck just happened.

Your hand rests on your chest, feeling the thud of your vicious heartbeats. He does the same, hand on his chest, leaning back against the door as he tries to catch his breath. He wants nothing more than to just go back in the room and tell you how he feels, especially now that he knows you think about him when you touch yourself.

It’s the same for you, wanting so badly for him to just burst back in your room, and confess his undying love for you. But you knew that was too far-fetched, to have the eldest son of Olo’eyktan love a simple human girl like you.

Then, why was he... hard?

You stare at the door, waiting to see if it’d open once more. Neteyam’s on the other side, debating with himself whether he should go back in there and come clean. Shaking his head, he attempts to snap out of his deep thoughts – you were naked, and obviously in the middle of something intimate. If he went back in there that’s just him invading your privacy even more. Deciding against staying, he starts making his way down the hallway.

He makes it halfway down the hallway before he stops dead in his tracks, ears perking up and expression softening.

But she said my name, right? He thinks, turning his head to look back on the ‘34’ on your door.

“Agh.” He growls, snapping his head back down to look at his feet. “Fuck it.” he turns around, storming to the door once more.

Surely, if he came all this way, at this time of night to talk to you, then it must be important. Perhaps, important enough to involve his feelings about you? Either way, it’s gone too far now. You may as well come clean yourself.

Making your way over to your door, you reach out to grab the doorknob, only to see it turn on its own. The door swings open, a gust of air blowing the loose stands of hair out of your face. Where the knob once was, is now where Neteyam’s loincloth rests, almost bursting at its seams.

Directly in your line of sight is his cross shaped ribcage, brutally rising and falling from his heavy pants. Your eyes work their way up his torso, past his muscular chest and carved collarbones, to the stripes on his neck and the flush of his cheeks. Your eyes lock with his amber eyes, searching once another in the silence.

He came back.

She was coming to get me.

You smile in unison, coming to the same realization – there was something deeper going on here.

“Hi.” You breathe.

“Hey.” He whispers.

“You wanted to talk?” you ask, hand tightly grasping the overlap of your towel.

“Yes.” He glances quickly at you gripping onto your towel, before looking away from your chest all together. He wants to be a gentleman about this. “Do you want to talk?”

“Yes.” You say shyly, also noticing his shy demeanour.

He looks back down at you, scanning your facial expression to ensure you were being serious. He crouches under the doorframe and enters your room, walking over to the bed.

Your eyes follow his every move, his every step. “You can sit.” You say quietly, finally shifting your gaze to your feet. “What did you want to talk about?”

He seats himself at the end of your bed, elbows resting on his knees and head hanging low. “I wanted to tell you something, y/n. To tell you my true feelings.”

You heart quickens once more, hearing the words you’ve been dreaming to hear. Now that he’s sitting on your bed, you’re face to face. You take slow steps towards him, standing directly in front of him.

“And what might those be, Nete?” you ask, using two dainty fingers under his chin to have him look at you.

He stares deeply into your eyes, furrowing his brows slightly as a puzzled look grows on his face.

How do I even say this?

“I – I...” he stutters, relaxing his brows and swallowing his spit, “Oel ngati kameie” [I see you]. he confesses, cupping your hand on his chin with his.

You can’t fight the smile creeping on your face. Not only did he confess his romantic feelings for you, but he did it in na’vi. He sees you, not as a little human girl stuck on his planet, but as his equal – his mate.

“Oel ngati kameie, ‘teyam.” You repeat his words, letting him know you feel the same way.

A grin plasters his face, causing his ears to perk up. He pulls you in closer by the hand, situating your tiny frame in between his meaty thighs.

“I have felt this way for some time, y/n.” he continues, inches away from your face, “Since we were kids, playing hide and seek in the trees...” he looks down at your lips, “...since I first lay eyes on you.”

Staring at his lips too, you nod, unable to respond with words.

“I do not care, if we do not ‘work’ together... I cannot ignore my feelings for you anymore.” he places your hand against his warm chest, as he inches even closer to your face. “Feel it... My heart, it beats for you.”

Feeling his heartbeat against your palm, you wrap your dainty fingers around his thumb, gently tugging down your towel with your other hand to expose your cleavage. Inhaling sharply, you place his hand flat against your chest.

“Mine too, Nete.” You finally whisper under your breath. “I-I feel the same. At first sight.” You mumble, now feeling his hot, short breaths against your lips.

Inexperienced lips crash into yours, hungry and eager for your reciprocation. You kiss him fervently, waiting for this moment for practically your entire existence. Bodies pressing together, feeling the warmth radiating from one another’s skin, you fumble with the knot of your towel. A hand stops you, keeping you from untying the loosely wrapped material around your body, he shakes his head side to side.

“Are you sure?” he breathes into your mouth between wet kisses. “I did not...” he kisses you again, “...come back for that, my love”.

“Mhm” you mumble into his mouth, moving his hand away to fiddle with the woven part of your towel once more. You stop and pull away suddenly, coming to the realization that maybe he doesn’t want this. “Do you...want this?” you whisper, resting your forehead against his.

He chuckles breathily, smiling wide before pulling you back in to kiss you again. “How could I not?” he mumbles between sloppy kisses.

Smiling into his mouth, your teeth click together as you feel the pink tinge on your cheeks turn even brighter – even hotter. Breaths heavy and uneven, you feel the thud of your collective heartbeat as you allow your towel fall to the ground. Immediately, he pulls away, looking up and down at your human body.

“Yuey [beautiful]” he says out of breath, mesmerized by the curves and softness of your body.

Allowing his eyes to linger at your chest, he looks up at you briefly, silently asking for your consent to touch your breasts. You nod, pulling his hand up to the soft flesh on your chest before meeting your lips with his once more. His hand completely envelopes your breast, kneading it as gently as he can. His thumb brushes past your hard nipple, playing with it ever so slightly.

Having someone else touch you in this way makes your body shudder. It’s your first time, your first kiss, your first – everything.

A warm tongue presses against your lips, asking for permission to enter your mouth. You grant it, parting your lips and meeting your tongue with his, allowing them to dance with one another in your mouth.

His movements become eager – more impatient. He kneads your breast a little rougher, now gently rolling your small nipple between his calloused fingers. Your body jolts from the sudden pleasure, and a soft moan escapes your mouth into his.

“Feels good, yes?” he returns a moan, making sure you’re okay.

“Yes, teyam.” You nod, moving his hand to your other breast.

Repeating his movements, he gently rolls your nipple whilst kneading your breast. It feels so good, that you can’t help but pant into his mouth, allowing your hands to feel his chest, too.

It’s just as you imagined, his chest is hard yet soft, his skin smooth yet rough, like that of a warrior. Both your hands could fit comfortably on just one of his pecks – his size in comparison to you was no joke. You feel his hand snake around your waist and up your back, calloused fingers taking in the suppleness of your skin.

“So soft” he mumbles, moving his gentle kisses down your neck.

“You, too” you mumble back, moving your hands up to his broad shoulders.

“Not nearly as soft as you, my sevin [pretty].” he smiles into your neck, before planting kisses down to your chest. “May I?” he asks, brushing his lips against your breast.

“Yes. Always yes.” you reassure him, willing to let him do anything he wants to you.

He takes your nipple into his mouth, as well as most of your breast. He suckles as gently as he can, afraid he may nip you with his fangs. Your hands slide from his shoulders, up his neck to his head, where your fingers intertwine with his braids. Using it as leverage, you press him closer into your chest, letting him know he’s making you feel good.

To your surprise, he allows his hands to fall to your hips, pulling you on top of him. It causes him to unlatch from your breast, moving his wet lips up to your collarbones. Your bare pussy is pressed against his bulge, dampening the material that covers it.

“Neteyam” you call for him quietly, feeling so good from his soothing touches.

“Yes, my love?” he responds, pulling away from your shoulders to look in your eyes.

“Can I see... you, too?” you ask shyly, breaking eye contact to glance at his soddened loincloth.

His eyes follow yours, seeing that the thin cloth is soaked. Shooting his gaze back up yours.

“You’re so wet.” he whispers, so enthralled with you that he forgets what you asked of him. He looks at your reddened face, realizing that you’re waiting for his response. “Sorry. What did you say?”

“I want to see you, too.” you repeat, dropping your hands to tug at the band of his loincloth.

Smiling, he leans back, supporting his torso with his arms behind him on the bed. You trail your eyes down from his face to his pelvis, seeing the small knot at the side of his loincloth. Fumbling with the knot, your shaky hands try their best to untie the material. He notices, resting his hand over yours before untying it himself.

“No need to be nervous, y/n. We will not do anything you are not ready for, okay?” he reassures you, untying the knot easily.

“Okay.” you nod, scooting back on his lap to make space for his loincloth to come off.

You slowly move the band down, exposing his deep v-lines and scant hair. You swallow your spit before taking it off completely, revealing his huge, thick cock. Your eyes bulge at the sight, eyebrows raising slightly as your mouth opens wide enough for a sharp breath of air to pass through your lips.

“Oh shit.” You pant quietly, surprised because it’s much bigger than you imagined.

The tip of his cock touches the middle of his thigh, the length and thickness of your forearm. Panicked eyes meet his, scared that he’d rip you in two.

“What is it?” he asks, concerned that you’re uncomfortable.

“It’s – you’re, y-you are too big for me.” your lips tremble as the words slip out.

His brows draw together, eyes squinting slightly – a puzzled expression contorts his face. He cups your cheek, searching your eyes for some sort of clarification. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t think – uh. I-I don’t think that will fit inside of me, Nete.” you stutter, feeling too shy to say the words.

Neteyam can’t help but laugh a little. “Ma’ yawne [beloved]...” he uses his thumb to rub your cheek, “...you need not to worry about that. I do not want to do anything that will hurt you.”

The words bring serenity to your chest, making the uneven thud of your heartbeat rhythmic. As much as you want to share that level of intimacy with him, you’ve only been able to fit two of your own fingers inside of you. You lean into his touch, rubbing your face against his palm as a smile plasters your face.

Always so protective over you.

Turns out, he was only half-hard. You watch in awe as his member grows, lifting from his thigh to his belly, all on its own. Neteyam looks away to hide his flushed cheeks. You notice and take this as your sign to touch him for the first time. Wrapping your slim fingers around his girth, you find that your fingertips can’t touch each other. His pelvis shifts suddenly from the warmth of your touch.

“Am I making the mighty warrior blush?” you hum, wrapping your other hand around the base of his cock.

His eyes fall onto his crotch, watching as your hands stroke his shaft. He looks back up at you, directly into your eyes.

“Maybe.” his voice is low, and deep.

You never thought you’d even be in this position, stroking the cock of the man of your dreams. Even worse, him staring at you with sultry eyes and a husky voice, telling you that you’re making him nervous.

“Can I touch you, here?” he asks, sitting up fully and resting his hand on your inner thigh.

“Didn’t I say ‘yes, always yes’?” you smile at him, shifting your hips to allow for better access.

Wrapping one arm around his neck, you hold onto him tightly for support as his hand cups your pussy, making you gasp quickly. You feel his finger part your wet lips, searching for the bundle of nerves at the top of your slit. You bury your face into the crook of his neck just as he finds your clit, rubbing circles into it with his slick coated finger.

Hot, quick pants evade your parted lips, blowing directly onto his neck. His lips plant kisses on your shoulder, tongue playing in the dip of your collarbone. You stroke his cock one handed, trying your hardest to provide enough friction for him to feel good too.

“Is this, okay?” he asks breathlessly, moving his finger down to your entrance.

“Yes, my ‘teyam.” you mumble into his neck, bracing yourself for his thick finger to enter you.

“Let me know if it hurts, my love.” he whispers, slowly sliding his finger inside of you.

“Oh! Ugh.” A strained moan is muffled in his neck, as you feel this finger stretch you out.

You shift your hand from his cock and wrap it around his neck, holding on as tightly as you can. His singular finger easily feels like two of yours, not to mention the fact that they’re much lengthier.

“Does it hurt?” he whispers into your ear.

“No. I’m okay, teyam.” you mumble, closing your eyes to focus on the feeling.

“Good. I am going to move now.” he warns, curling his finger directly into your sweet spot.

You gasp loudly, feeling the pressure already build in your bladder. It feels amazing – better than you’ve ever felt with your own fingers. Your hips buck on their own, grinding into the finger that impales you.

Little, sweet mewls escape your open mouth, beads of saliva dripping onto his chest. You’re so focused on the way he’s making you feel you didn’t even realise the volume of your whines and whimpers until he makes a comment about it.

“I like your little noises, y/n.” he says, pumping his finger in and out of you. “Are you... close?”

“I – I don’t know, I’ve never, c-cum before.” Your breath hitches, feeling your chest and stomach tighten.

Your legs begin to tremble, like they’ll give out underneath you at any moment. “Oh, Nete!” you moan his name, catching a glimpse of his ears perking up from the sound of his name rolling off your tongue.

His hips buck, too, thrusting his cock against your stomach. He’s losing it, all from hearing the sweet sounds that come from your mouth. Pulling away from his neck, you look down at his glossy cockhead poking at your stomach, then back up to look into his amber eyes.

“This is where you’d be... inside me.” you breathe, shifting a hand off his neck to press a finger under your sternum, where his tip touches.

“Whoa. Y-you are so, so tiny, y/n. I’m so scared that I will hurt you.” Neteyam confesses, rutting his hips against you.

“You won’t. I trust you, teyam.” you pant, feeling your legs wobble.

Your heads bump together, as your now both grinding into one another. He feels your weak legs shake and snakes his free hand around your back, supporting it as he lays you down on the bed.

He catches sight of the bright pink toy near your head, eyes widening.

“What is that? Where did you get it from?” he asks, still fingering you.

“Ah... haah, I – I kind of found it.” you pant raggedly, “Ngh! It’s a – oh fuck!” you moan, feeling a new sensation in your pelvis grow.

“It’s a ‘oh fuck’?” Neteyam chuckles, picking up speed.

“Neteyam! That feels weird.” You moan, eyes pooling with water from how good it feels.

“Weird, bad? Or weird, good?” he asks, slowing down his pace.

“Good! Good!” you shout, not wanting him to stop.

“Ah. Good.” He smiles, picking back up the speed, “Now, what is that thing?”

“It’s – it’s a vibrator! Fuck. Don’t stop, Nete.” you whisper desperately, arching your back against the bed. “I think – I think I’m close!” you let loose a strained moan.

“I want to taste it. Can I taste you?” he asks, already making his way in between your legs.

“O-okay teyam” you whine quietly, spreading your legs as wide as they can go.

His hot mouth engulfs your throbbing clit, the flat of his tongue shifting from side to side. “Good?” he mumbles into your slit.

“Mmmn! Fuck, yes!” you moan loudly, bucking your hips into his face.

He grabs your hand and places it on his head, you weave your fingers through his braids.

“Another... another finger!” you beg, feeling the knots in your stomach quickly unravel.

He shakes his head side to side, “’til hurt” he mumbles once more, picking up the speed of both his tongue and finger.

“Please! ‘m gonna cum, Nete!” you plead, toes curling into the sheet beneath you.

He gently slides another digit inside you, feeling the tightness of your cunt clenching around it. You yelp out, feeling a hint of pain among the waves of pleasure that crash through you. He pulls his finger back out, lifting his head up, causing your hand to fall from his head.

“See? I told you. I hurt you, didn’t I?” he asks through knitted brows, looking down at your glistening cunt sucking in his finger.

“Only a little, I’m fine teyam.” you reassure him, wiggling your hips back down onto his finger.

He clicks his tongue, catching a glimpse of the vibrator.

“Let us try this... vee-bray-tor?” he says the word slowly, as he reaches for the pink object beside your head.

He presses the button causing the thing to vibrate in his hand, shock plastering his face from the sensation of it buzzing against his skin. Your hips jolt as he presses the toy against your clit, sending shockwaves up your spine.

“Ohh, Neteyam!” you moan loudly, the feeling overwhelms you. “’ts too much...” your hips shift away from the toy, as you try to reach for his head once more.

He chuckles, switching the toy off and throwing it on the floor. “Prefer me?” he asks huskily, pinning down your leg as he leans in to suck on your clit once more.

“Mmmn, mhm!” you mumble, pushing your cunt into his face.

He closes his eyes, tuning in to the filthy noises that evade your mouth, drawing circles into your clit with the tip of his tongue. Neteyam touches himself, finally hearing the sounds that he’s been imagining every time he pleasured himself.

“Neteyam. I’m so fucking close.” you pant quickly.

He picks up the speed, now knowing where exactly feels good for you, and targets those sensitive areas. He rubs his own cock, beads of precum oozing from his tip lubricating his hand, allowing for fast strokes. He’s huffing hot breaths through his nose onto your lower stomach, giving you goosebumps.

“Holy fuck... R-right there” You let loose breathy moans, feeling the swell of your sweet spot pushing against his finger, as he curls it even harder and faster into you.

“Mmmhm” he moans into your clit, looking directly at you, encouraging you with his eyes to cum for him.

Bucking his hips into his hand, he feels his own orgasm quickly approaching. His brows tighten, feel his own knots unravel quickly in his stomach. He grunts into your cunt, finally squeezing his eyes shut as his thrusts become shorter.

You look between your legs, watching his aroused expression, now realizing that he’s pleasuring himself. It makes you feel even hotter – even hornier, sending you over the edge.

“Oh – oh shit, Neteyam! I think I’m – I’m cumming!” you cry out, shoving his face into your pussy.

You feel your cunt go into a frenzy, throbbing and pulsating feverishly around his finger.

His grunts turn into guttural groans, as he tries to concentrate on making you finish while his warm cum slowly pools into his hand. You push away his head, now feeling overstimulated from his relentless licks, for him to sit up quickly, grabbing his mask in a hurry to suck in a deep, long breath.

“You taste sweet, y/n.” he moans breathlessly, gently pulling his finger out of you. He sucks his finger, savouring the flavour of your slick.

Your cheeks heat up, feeling shy to see him taste you on his finger like that.

“That was... the first time.” you mumble wide eyed, breath hitching from you coming down from your high.

He smiles.

“I know. I’m happy I could do that for you, my love.” he projects his voice as he crouches under your bathroom doorframe.

He quickly cleans himself up so he can tend to you, coming back with a dampened cloth.

“Feeling okay?” he asks quietly, wiping the slick off your thighs, working his way up to the soft flesh between your legs.

“Yes, I’m... more than okay.” You hum softly, chest rising and falling as you try to take a full breath, feeling his tender, gentle touches as he cleans you up.

“Want to shower?” He questions, hanging the cloth against the back of your chair.

You shake your head weakly from side to side, puffy eyes blinking lethargically.

“What about clothes?” he makes his way over to your dresser, resting his hand on the top drawer’s handle, “tis a cold night.”

“Mm... rather you keep me warm.” you blabber, resting your eyes for a minute.

“My pleasure, yawne [beloved].” He smiles.

Tucking one hand under your neck, and the other under the back of your knees he lifts you up, moving you further up in your bed.

“Tired?” he chuckles softly, crawling into bed next to you.

“Mhmm.” You purr lengthily, trying to open your eyes as you scoot back onto him. “Don’t leave, Nete.”

“Alright, my love. I won’t. I will be right here. Get some rest.” He hums, pressing his warm naked body against yours.

He covers you with the blanket first, and then himself with whatever was remaining. He’s too tall for the blanket anyway, as well as the bed, honestly – he’s too tall for this whole place. Legs jutting off the end of the bed, he wraps his arm around you, pulling you even closer to him.

Heavy eyes finally closing, you snuggle into your love, gripping a single finger on the hand are rests on your stomach. He unhooks the mask from around his neck, and straps it to his face, so that he, too, can close his eyes and drift into a deep sleep.

----

Everyone was accepting of your relationship with Neteyam. Surprisingly, his parents were both expecting it at some point, and had already taken the time to come to terms with it – well, mostly Neytiri. Jake was always welcoming of you. Kiri and Lo’ak were happy you two finally hit things off. Everyone, including the members of the clan, could tell that you both had feelings for one another. Even Norm and Max were elated for the two of you, both knowing that there was something more going on between you guys. Norm knew that night would be the night for the both of you to make things official, which is why he granted Neteyam access afterhours.

One day, Norm and Max approach you and Neteyam in your room, knocking quietly on your already open door.

“Y/n. Neteyam.” they say monotonously in unison.

You both look at them, concern growing in your chest after seeing their serious expressions.

“What is it?” you manage to get out, holding Neteyam’s hand tightly, thinking something horrible has happened.

Their expressions soften, a smile creeping on both their faces before they burst out in laughter.

“Just joking with ya.” Max laughs, looking at Norm.

“Yeah. We come bearing good news, actually.” Norm adds, quickly glancing at Max before looking at you once more.

“Good news? What is it?” Neteyam asks, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb, calming you down.

“Well, it’s not like you guys don’t already know. You can think of it as a ‘mating’ gift, ya know, seeing that na’vi don’t have weddings.” Max babbles, straying from the point.

“You’re getting your own avatar, y/n.” Norm announces happily, knowing that this is your biggest dream yet.

“What?! Are you serious?” you shriek, jumping to your feet, eyes flickering between the two of them.

Neteyam is still holding your hand tightly, now standing with you, wrapping his tail around your leg. Ever since you revealed your feelings to one another, Neteyam has rarely left your side, always making sure he’s near you – protecting you. You were his mate now, nothing less.

“Yep. She’ll be ready in about four months.” Max smiles, proud that he could pull the strings to get his favourite girl her own avatar.

“Oh, Max. Norm.” your voice cracks, tears welling up in your eyes. “Thank you, guys. I can’t even tell you how much I appreciate this.” You walk swiftly towards them to give them both a big hug.

Neteyam reluctantly lets go of your hand and leg, but follows closely behind you, towering over the two men. He wraps his tail around your leg once more, always needing to touch you in some way.

You hug them both, tippy toeing to squeeze their necks as hard as you can – to show how much you really appreciate what their doing for you.

“Thank you, Max, Norm.” Neteyam says, smiling and bowing his head at them both.

“Our pleasure, guys.” Max and Norm chant together. “C’mere Neteyam.” Norm smiles, pulling Neteyam into the hug.

Photo creds: ?? let me know!!

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bakugoushotwife · 8 months

Text

born sinner (part three; finale)

pairing: crime boss!suguru geto x fem!surgeon!reader series content: blood, gore, realistic descriptions of surgery but like as accurate as someone with access to google has, angst, slow-burn, smut, anxiety as a heavy theme, no curses!au, violence, guns, gang mentions and typical violence, religious imagery, etc. chapter content: smut!! oral and fingering (fem receiving), penetrative sex, doggy into some kinda reverse cowgirl almost you'll see ig, he spits on your pussy, he lightly slaps your thigh and ass once, rough sex, hair pulling, good aftercare. all other series warnings apply. wc: 9.5k a/n: here it is!! the last installment of crime boss! geto just in time for his birthday!! well, chapter length anyway. feel free to send in requests of slice of life for this series any time, and enjoy the conclusion :3 and just one last thank you to @antizenin for thinking up this concept, please go follow them and give em some love :)) part one // part two

bright lights never bothered you before–not like this. in the middle of those old nights when you got the call to come in, you welcomed the fluorescents to wake you up before you performed yet another life-saving surgery and went to sleep in an on-call room for a few hours before you had to do it all over again. once upon a time, you were addicted to these moments, living and breathing for the riveting rush that only surgery could give you. but now, in the void of sound that is your personal hospital, you know it won’t be ambulance sirens that starts your adrenaline. you know it will be victims, one of them likely suguru—and you feel like you might be sick in the middle of the floor and the lights will only serve to highlight how out of your league you are.

you hear the low rumble of voices, the hisses of pain and groans of confusion coming from the hallway linking your sector to suguru’s house. it sounds bad–multiple different voices complaining about their injuries. you take a steadying breath, perhaps it was just a street fight—just a few stitches and busted knuckles to ice. knowing suguru, he was trying to work you up for no reason.

the door busts open and your eyes widen, hopes crushed quickly. there’s blood puddling in the floor, red footprints tracking their way to the door. satoru is being dragged forward by suguru and choso, head rolling between his shoulders. he’s riddled with bullets, and he’s not the only one. the dark-haired driver seems to have a couple of bullet wounds himself and there’s a few more of suguru’s yakuza that have suffered the same fate. your heart pounds so loud that you can hear the blood rushing in your veins, and it’s not adrenaline that you feel in your veins: it’s white-hot dread. fear. panic. your body moves despite yourself.

only when satoru is positioned on a gurney are you able to analyze suguru—his shirt soaked with blood you can’t determine is his own or not. his shirt is ripped, face cut, blood dripping off his fingertips to contribute to the great vibrant red staining the floor. he’s injured, and you’re panicking–and these people could die, and who do you even start with?? you turn towards suguru, inclined to make sure he’s alright. your hands shake, you move towards him in slow, unsure steps, and he grabs one of your shaky palms—stopping you from tending to him.

you know he can see right through you, knows that you’re bound to lock up in fear, yet he looks at you with a gentle grin—despite it all, forgetting the fact that he’s in pain and his men are grievously hurt. his thumb rakes over the back of your hand, nevermind the blood that streaks across your skin as he does so—his blood, decidedly. you can’t stop staring. at the blood on his hands–your hand, at the mass of injured people waiting for you to fix them—on the crimson puddles leading straight for you.

“hey—look at me,” his voice is stern, with a sense of understanding softness to it. it’s commanding, and your eyes stop surveying the injured and snap back to his face, his lip busted and a cut that definitely needs stitches. “you’re the best money can buy, that’s why you’re mine. just…block it out. breathe, one at a time. it’s a tall task, i know what i’m asking of you. work on satoru first, and trust yourself. we all panic, so show me why you were on the cover of academic magazines, ebi. i’ll tell you everything that happened while you work.” he offers, and you know that it must be an attempt to busy your mind—so you jump at the reprieve. he watches you slip into a different part of yourself, your brow furrowing—mind steeling as he commanded. you nod, gesturing for him to talk as your turn for satoru, popping the buttons on his shirt and cussing at the damage.

“hey boss-man, we got him!” satoru beams, dropping a manilla file on suguru’s dark cherry desk. suguru cuts his eyes over to him, rather bored looking with his elbow propped on the table and his head leaned against his hand. he’s hesitant to perk up at satoru’s words, not wanting to get his hopes up for a lead on toji without good reason. the first trails had gone cold before he had really even had the chance to look into them; all second-hand accounts of a guy that knows a guy that had absolutely nothing to contribute other than wasting their time. “go on, open it!”

satoru sounds so perky suguru is inclined to follow his orders for once. gojo wouldn’t look so excited if this wasn’t something good. so he pops the tab and reaches in, sliding a bundle of papers out. some are print-outs of surveillance cameras—toji’s unmistakable presence captured with sukuna—his men had gotten a hold of something concrete finally. included with those were text messages, meeting arrangements for the one who stabbed him in the back—no, shot him in the chest. they were getting a delivery tonight. this is what nanami risked his life for, and suguru was intent on making it worth it.

“we’ll move tonight then. we have a delivery of our own to make.” he claps the file against satoru’s chest, a nonchalant smile closing his eyes as he gets to his feet. revenge. it was so near. he needed to make arrangements for this quickly, there was only a few hours to go before the meeting would go down and he needed to decide who would station where and how many weapons and cases of ammo they would need.

he thinks about you as he walks to his armory. he had practically tucked you in and promised to make up for his temperament later in the week. he sighed aloud, the heels of his boots clicking down his marble walkway. the walls were barren outside of the tapestry that hung along one of them. it’s a long hallway with a hidden door to the left side of it. it leads to his armory—walls decorated with guns, flash grenades, smoke bombs and more. he just needed to make sure that this went well, as minimal casualties as possible so you could sleep through the night undisturbed. he can seek his revenge and keep you out of it. so he can keep his promise to you.

so he starts pulling guns off their mounts and calling his best men to get the cars ready.

a few hours later, suguru and his top seven guys stood at the back entrance of ryomen sukuna’s estate, holding their delivery driver hostage as they wait on toji to surface for it. it was just a crate of weapons, but enough of a hassle for someone high on the food chain to come for it. apparently being a rat helps you climb the ranks. he doesn’t come out alone—several men flanking him as he takes a look around.

he’s smirking, like he knew that something was lurking in the shadows without even having to look too hard. he folds his arms and scratches his head with the barrel of his gun, whistling. “i can smell ya, mangy little kid. what, you wanna talk about my betrayal?” he rolls his eyes. suguru steps forward, but so do satoru, choso, kusakabe, hakari, yuuta, todo, and inumaki—all of his top performers, minus the injured nanami.

“no, no. you’ve taught me that there comes a time where the talking must cease. i just want your ashes in an urn for my office.” he hums, hands in his pockets. the tension runs high, suguru’s feline smirk making everyone on the opposing side antsy. he takes a step forward, and one of toji’s men preemptively shoots—triggering the chain of events.

that’s where things get fuzzy. he remembers ducking behind the car and peaking around to get a few shots off. suguru couldn’t care less about the extra men—sukuna’s men–that was a battle for another time. he just wants toji. he wants to show him the monster he’s created. suguru doesn’t thrive on negativity—feels like it’s a curse, even, but he will not tolerate disrespect and betrayal. he will not give toji the chance to plan another attack. not now, when he has so much to lose.

and when satoru’s body falls down beside him, all he can think about is the injuries he sustained, the ones that nanami endured—all of the wounds his other men would get tonight; the nearly lethal suffering he weathered–you, who would have to repair all that was broken tonight despite his oath to you. he rolls the opposite way than he had been peaking, coming around and letting his gun do any talking. he takes down two of the regular guards, opening up his shot on toji. suguru nearly laughs; it’s so easy. he expected to mourn a little, to hesitate. to feel his morality tug at him or even hear that angelic voice he’s long concluded to be yours telling him to stop.

but his brain is clear, heart at peace. he can feel the cool wind whispering against his cheek, advocating for justice. seeing the carnage makes things so clear, his best friend bleeding out at his feet. he wonders briefly if you felt this calm when you stumbled over him all those nights ago. he pulls the trigger, there’s a loud bang! and slight jump of the barrel, smoke wafting into the night air—then the loud crumpling sound of toji’s body hitting the ground.

and then there is silence.

you’re pulling bullets out of satoru’s arm and side while suguru recounts the events to you, mind operating on nothing but your knowledgeable instinct. you thought he may be distracting like he was when you operated earlier in the day, but his voice is surprisingly even and soft and drowns out any grunts of pain from the others you hadn’t yet seen. satoru was easily the worst of them—but you moved efficiently to patch him up, gleeful that none of the bullets had hit major arteries and that he would be fine in a few weeks.

you administer morphine to everyone, thankful beyond belief that all your x-rays and ct scans proved that everyone in this rival gang were horrible shooters; all your patients would make it without any real surgery required. just a lot of pain medicine and stitches—and you would consider that a good day. should any of them have needed to be opened up, you would have had to pick and prioritize them, or have suguru do it for you. no, you’re very thankful for a mess of gauze and blood on the floor, happy to hang bags of fluids and let them talk over their victory with each other.

once his men were patched up, suguru finally let you tend to him. he unfastens the buttons on his shirt for you, “this one’s expensive. i don’t want you ruining it.” he jokes, seemingly content despite the situation and how grave it really could have been. you wonder if taking care of his enemy is the sole reason why.

“ha, ha. i’m here to save lives, not designer shirts.” you raise a brow to chastise almost, but the grin playing on your lips betrays you. though it quickly drops when you see he’s been shot three times. he seemed to omit the part where those two men he shot, shot back.

you suck in a breath of air and look up at him, the wounds on his chest that were nearly healed looked red and angry—due to the fact his body was already weakened from them and had just acquired three more. two of them had clear exit wounds in his abdomen and just required your cleaning and dressing of them. the one closest to his heart was a shallow wound, the bullet lodged just beneath his skin. you can’t help but feel fear. what if one of these bullets caused your grafts to rupture? what if–even if he doesn’t think it’s fatal, it is? so you insist on an echo and a ct after you’ve pulled the last bullet fragment from his olive-tinted scarred skin.

“you need tests. i need to make sure your heart still looks good—you really need to take it easy, suguru. you’re not invincible.” you say as you place the electrodes on his skin. his deep laceration was perfectly stitched so it may not even leave a scar–and you know he can’t grin at you the way he wants due to how tight the threads pull at his cheek.

“i’m a yakuza boss, little isha. i can’t exactly take it easy.” he leans back on his arms to allow you closer to his chest–the broad expanse of toned muscle and rough terrain. your slender fingers press the stickers in the places only you would know to put them, watching the machine read his heart beat while you take his blood pressure. you take a breath of relief when the numbers look perfect.

“come on, one ct scan just to help me sleep tonight.” you raise your brow expectantly and pull the probes from his chest, feeling his ochre eyes stare into your face as you work.

“of course. anything for you.” he purrs, sliding off the gurney and following you to the adjacent room to do the scans for your anxious mind.

“anything, hm? you said toji shot you. is that what happened when i found you?” you ask, guiding him to lay down for the machine.

“you’re relentless, ebi. and you tell me i don’t know when to quit.” he chuckles, earning him a glare from you as you try to run the scan. you’re quiet while it’s running, eyeing the results as they populate on your desktop.

“you said you’d tell me everything and thennnnn you said you’d do anything for me. one simple request. i just want to know what you went through that night.” you hum so sweetly he knows he won’t be able to deny you any longer.

“yes, fine, brat.” he shakes his head, sitting up on the hospital bed to face you. despite his seeming annoyance, his lips are turned up in a grin. he looks over your face, adorned with the excitement that he has finally given in to you no doubt. you lean forward, hip bumping against the side of his metal gurney.

“that night, i was betrayed. my mentor–toji fushiguro. he was like a father to me, and satoru. he taught me the ropes of being a yakuza boss. most of everything i know came from him. i was meant to meet with the head of our rivals, toji organized the entire thing,” he reflects on this with so much pain in his eyes—you understand why he had brushed off the retelling for as long as he could. it’s clear he didn’t want to think about it. but maybe since the saga is over, he feels free enough to indulge you in it. “on our way there, sukuna’s men flipped my car. i crawled out of the wreckage and toji…shot me in the chest to finish the job.” he looks down at his marred flesh, littered in the scars from that day.

“how did you make it to that alley?” you ask, hanging on his every word. he was incredibly resourceful and resilient—and that can’t be entirely taught.

“dragged myself. there were patrons in that bar that owed me. if i could have made it inside, i knew someone would have gotten a hold of satoru, at least. i left him home because he’s a loud mouth and would ruin the meeting—but it was a mistake. satoru knew. he smelled toji’s betrayal, and i dismissed it. my bad judgment nearly cost me my life.” he focuses on a crack in the tile flooring next to your feet. you notice the brokenness that flickers in his eyes as he stares at that point on the ground–a proverbial crack in the foundation. you interrupt those drowning thoughts of his own self-criticism by putting your hand on his shoulder, you remember your own cracks and how they’ve been mended since.

“it seems like you have pretty good judgment. no one can be right one hundred percent of the time. i had to learn that early on, even with the science and miracles of surgery. everything seems under control, don’t underestimate yourself. you have it all put together.” you encourage, thumbing over the edge of his collarbone. his skin is so warm and tan despite how often you see him inside. he looks at you as if he’s surprised by your touch, but makes no move to evade it. after a moment of staring, he chuckles, and you look away—though you can feel his eyes trained on you like always.

“no, isha. i may look orchestrated, but i’m falling apart.” he sighs out, a hint of that pain darkening the golden brown autumn eyes he looks at you with. you can’t repress the intrusive instinct to trace the thick scar left by toji’s betrayal—by your skilled sutures. you shake your head at his words.

“when i found you, you were falling apart. now you’re putting it back together. it’s a process.” you say, voice falling to a whisper as you realize just how close you are to him. you’re standing between his legs, your knees buckling slightly as his rest against your thighs. you have to conjure every ounce of your courage to lift your gaze to his notorious bedroom stare, ochre pools sending a tingle down your spine. you bite your bottom lip and his vulturous gaze flickers down to watch the way your white teeth dug into the plush color of your lip, the flesh swelling a bit from the pressure. he puts his hand on your hip, so gentle by manner of touch but so rough by feeling. his fingers are long enough to rest atop the supple fat of your ass, and you can feel electricity thicken in the room like the moments before a loud thunderstorm. you don’t know who leaned in first, but your lips meet—and lightning strikes. you feel his fingers curling into your clothes, your very bones. his lips move fluidly against yours, his head turning to mesh with your slow movements. your brain is fuzzy, his other hand reaching for the dip of your waist to pull you into his lap—except he grunts in pain from the contact, and you pull away with the sudden clarity that he is hurt and you are his doctor—as well as everyone else’s in this hospital.

you can feel the heat in your cheeks as you look out of the machine room to see if anyone saw the two of you. he just admires you with amusement, that you’re concerned you overstepped despite how obviously he feels for you.

“we should get back out there, your friends probably want to see you…” you smile, but all he can see is your kiss-swollen lips. he smirks, nodding and rising to his full height before following you into the main wing.

the two of you don’t discuss the kiss, nor the obvious shift in your relationship. suguru calls you more often, invites you out to accompany him for walks around tokyo, takes you for fancy dinners. there’s been no official labels, no indication that this is his version of dating. you almost wonder if he’s toying with you since he knows you hold some sort of attraction to him after you basically threw yourself at him when he was injured.

on the surgical front, things have been quiet. since that night, there’s been no retaliation. even you know better than to think it will stay that way. suguru, of course, is expecting their attempt at revenge any moment now—hence why you haven’t been to his estate in weeks. he doesn’t want you caught in the crossfire, but he’s not prepared to give up his time with you. that explains all the long video calls and expensive dates, if you can go so far as to call them that. you enjoy his focused attention, but can’t deny that you miss all the time you used to spend together.

thankfully, today’s call is different. “hello, little isha. would you like to be my date for the upcoming annual charity gala?” he asks, the smirk clear in his tone. you like to give him a hard time, especially when you’re feeling neglected, he’s noticed–so your scoff doesn’t surprise him.

“do i really have a choice in this?” you grin, and he wishes he were there to see your features brighten.

“mm, no.” he chuckles, but you know he’s just placating you.

“i don’t have anything to wear, when is it?” you huff, trying to disguise your excitement to go to an event with him. it speaks to how highly he regards you–and a hard launch tells you that he’s ready to make this real.

“don’t worry ebi. satoru will be there in twenty minutes or so, i’ve taken care of it all. do your hair and makeup however you’d like, i’ll be ruining it all anyway.” he says so casually you don’t even catch it at first, only the fact the gala was today and you needed to get ready as soon as possible.

“wait—you’re asking me to this today?!” you exclaim, panic setting in. you need to take a full shower in twenty minutes and trust that he picked something decent for you to wear.

the phone line goes dead in response. you groan and slam it on your bed, sprinting for your shower. a charity gala? it must be a hot-shot event. maybe he didn’t tell you in advance because he didn’t want you to freak out over the people you’d be rubbing elbows with. you’ve learned to trust him wholeheartedly, but that doesn’t mean you’ve stopped wondering what he’s up to. did he say he was going to ruin your makeup?!

satoru is sitting next to a garment bag positioned on your bed when you get out of the shower. you didn’t leave your door unlocked—

“you broke into my house?” you gape at him, still wrapped in a towel. he’s unashamed, long legs stretched in front of him with one one ankle folded over the other. he just shrugs, keeping eye contact with you over his dark shades.

“hey, he told you i’d be here in twenty, not my fault you took fourty-five! don’t worry—i’m not looking.” he smiles wolfishly, seemingly enjoying getting a rise out of you despite all you’ve done for him. you know he’s harmless—to you anyways. he juts his chin toward the bag and shoe box next to him. “hurry up—you got a lot of work to do woman.” he snickers, eyeing your soaking wet hair. you narrow your eyes at him and step back into the bathroom to dry your hair and put on a robe. something tells you suguru would not love the idea of satoru watching you in your towel, harmless or not. you style your hair in your favorite formal style, waiting to do your makeup until you saw the dress suguru selected.

you step back out into your room, rolling your eyes as satoru fakes loud snores to convey his boredom. you ignore him to the best of your ability, unzipping the black plastic to reveal an even darker black dress. it’s a long formal gown with a slit up the side, the obsidian satin was adorned with shining glitter and a diving neckline. it’s gorgeous, and will look stunning on you. you nearly flush as you run your fingers along the smooth skirt, shaking your head at the lengths he would go to at times. you go for the shoe box next, pushing off the lid to reveal a matching black heel with red bottoms. you gasp—and satoru snickers. he knows how suguru is, and this was just the tip of the iceberg. you pick the shoe up, analyzing the sleek and expensive heel. you are going to tear suguru a new one when you see him.

the setting sun sends one of her last few rays of light through your high windows, catching on the things left in the shoe box. a gleam catches your eye—something shiny and bright. you move the other shoe aside to find a necklace and matching earrings—gold with diamonds. no doubt all real. this time you have to look at satoru.

“is he serious?” you hold up the jewels, satoru’s wide grin telling you yes, he is in fact serious. he wants you to look like his woman. because you are.

“yeah. hurry up and get ready, we’re gonna be late if you keep gawking at them instead of putting ‘em on.” he rolls his eyes, but truth be told he finds this little love story quite adorable. suguru deserves it, and he just hopes you can fulfill this role without letting them all down. “look. suguru likes you a lot. please. don’t…end up on our kill list.”

you meet his eyes, remembering that gojo raised the alarms on toji and stood by suguru’s side more loyal than anyone. you just smile at him, nodding. even saving his life wasn’t a good enough excuse to let his guard down, and you were happy that suguru had him around. “you’re a great friend, satoru. i won’t disappoint you.” you promise, gathering the dress and accessories up and slipping back into the bathroom to complete your look.

suguru is waiting for you when satoru pulls the car into the valet parking section outside of the event. he looks handsome—you’re convinced it’s effortless for him at this point. he wears a black tuxedo, complete with a matte black undershirt and a sleek black weapon tucked under his suit jacket. he tied all of his hair back for once, though his bangs and a few stubborn tendrils frame his sharp featured face. he runs a hand through what he can as you step out.

his eyes feast on you, starting at your slim ankles all prettily strapped into the shoes he picked out for you. then his eyes move up to your thick thighs and wide hips spreading under the dark silky fabric. the dips of your waist, the bulge of your breasts. he doesn’t know if this is a good idea anymore. taking you out looking like this was a sure way to cause trouble. your makeup was done subtle and stylish, your hair perfectly complimentary to all your best features. all he can do is shake his head and bite his lip like you had done the night you kissed.

satoru gives the keys off to the valet driver and snorts at a speechless suguru. but he goes ahead inside to case the situation for his boss anyway—and to give him some time alone with you. maybe he’ll get a few words in eventually.

“you’re breathtaking, my ebi girl.” he smiles, there’s no turning back from this now. “this event isn’t ready for you. there will be dangerous people inside, all of us camouflaging as successful and wealthy businessmen, not yakuza. don’t speak unless someone speaks to you. don’t leave my side, and don’t look anyone in the eye. i’ll keep you safe.” he promises, pulling you into his side.

everyone in here was likely knee deep in illegal shit. you know suguru isn’t trying to scare you, he’s just trying to be honest with you; to include you in his life. so you obey his every order, clutching your glass of wine and letting the popular geto-sama lead you around to intermingle with other small clan heads and arms dealers, families of his workers and even some of his rivals. the cloak of public showings make it easy enough to blend in and not worry so much about physical retaliations here.

suguru keeps his arm around your waist, getting handsier as the night goes on. you wonder if it’s just for show, to display you like his property just to keep other people away. his fingers toy with the slit on your dress, sliding his fingerprints over your thighs, calluses brushing smooth skin. whether this is just to parade around his successes or not, you’re melting into his touch anyway.

“would you like to dance with me, darling?” he asks, his voice a deep timbre in your ear. the breath of his whisper ruffles your hair and sends goosebumps down your neck. you nod hastily, earning a chuckle that only makes that pool of liquid fire in your gut ripple with desire. suguru’s always intrigued you, tripped you up—but the way he can’t keep his hands off of you has you squirming for a different kind of dance as he leads you towards the ballroom floor.

“ahhh there’s my little basket case. you remember me, don’t you doctor?” a deep voice booms ahead of you, catching your attention. suguru’s arm becomes a vise on your waist. you look away from him to see a familiar looking man. he was big and bulky like suguru, dark face tattoos with vermillion eyes. his hair was a pale pink—and you remember him.

“you know sukuna?” suguru looks at you, absolutely betrayed. you furrow your brows—it wasn’t like that. you had to make sure he knows that, that you never lied to him. you just simply didn’t know that man you met was sukuna, the man that’s causing a majority of these issues for the man you’ve fallen for.

“no—not like that—he bought me drinks that night at the bar.” you say quickly–pleadingly, and he matches that up to the story you told him. it makes enough sense that sukuna would celebrate his “victory” in a bar nearby as well—and the worry in your eyes claws at his heart. he knows you’re honest, knows you would have given yourself away at any mention of sukuna’s name if you truly were some half-spy of his. you are a lot of things, but an actress you were not.

“bought drinks, became your shoulder to cry on, and then you disappeared. how sad to see where you went. finders keepers i guess—though, i have found you now!” he chortles, eyes lingering over your frame. his smile grows even wider at the way suguru holds you, fingers digging into your sides, trying to pull you behind him.

“i don’t care where we are, sukuna. i will turn you into rat food if you come near her again.” he says, a vein popping out along his temple. his voice is threatening, terrifying even if you didn’t trust him like you do. he took your word at face value, even though he’s been burned before. his trust means more than anything.

sukuna scoffs. “that enamored with the little surgeon huh? maybe i’ll give her plenty of surgeries to show my affections.”

geto snarls, putting an arm across you to keep you from following. “try me. i’ll give her your head to show her mine.” he pushes the side of his jacket aside to show the cute little 9mm he had stuffed away. your back straightens at the prospect of violence, but you fight the urge to interrupt. these were already warring gangs, you couldn’t undermine geto’s authority.

sukuna just looks down, smirking at the threat and mockingly putting his hands up in surrender. the smirk doesn’t die down, only spreads wider until he’s the image of the cheshire cat. “we’ll tango later…dance with my little surgeon until i get her back.” he winks at you, causing even you to scowl his way. choso watches him go, looking ready to pounce as soon as suguru utters the command. but satoru’s the one to smile and encourage both choso and suguru to settle down lest everyone start asking questions. if satoru didn’t know how possessive suguru already was—if sukuna hadn’t already played into those insecurities, he’d offer to dance with you. instead, he just nudges suguru’s back once the music swings into a melodic jazzy swing.

he turns to you, his muscles still rigid with rage. you can tell by the stiff way he holds your other intertwined hands out, that same tight grip on your waist remaining. his jaw feathers, and your heart pangs with concern. you know you two aren’t anything official, but he had to know how you felt, right? after all these months spent learning about one another—he’s your sole friend. he’s given you a chance to feel your purpose, to practice your craft and save lives. lives of men that were funny like satoru, kind men like choso and nanami, young men with lives to live and families to go home to. you would never walk away from him. not for fear, not for money, not for anything. so you clench his hand back and push him into stepping with you to the music.

“suguru,” you breathe out, his darkened honey gaze bores into your soul anyway, making you breathless beyond that. you just meet his eyes with your soft adoration, pulling and pushing him into the dance moves as he tries to calm down, “he’s trying to get in your head. don’t let him.”

“he wants you,” he replies instead, shaking his head a little–the image of an angry bull. you swear if you look hard enough, you could see smoke circles forming from his exhales, “i won’t let that happen. you’re mine.” he rasps, finally stepping and moving into you on his own.

“i don’t remember you asking,” you smirk, knowing it may not exactly be the right time to provoke him–but it seems like your taunting doesn’t affect him. you’ve known it since you shared that kiss, and probably even before then. you’re his, and he is yours.

“good thing i picked the perfect dress to take off of you tonight to prove it, then.” he muses, eyes dancing over your body. it nearly fills him with rage again–that sukuna got to see you looking this fucking good. it’s meant only for him. his hands wander to your hips, pulling you into his. your hands brace on his chest, pretty little bedroom eyes just pleading for him to get you out of here.

“if i let you,” you chirp oh so cheekily he can’t wait until the party is over. he smirks at your words, eyeing your fidgety hands on his collared shirt. you know it’s inappropriate, you know there’s other people wondering why the two of you touch each other like you’ll never get the chance to again. but the usual shame or panic isn’t there to cloud your thoughts. you just burn with the sweltering need for him, and you know this is as clear as your mind has ever been.

geto motions for gojo to lean in. “have choso bring the car. we’re heading home early.” he orders, never once looking away from you. you feel naked already from the way he devours you, and you can’t bring yourself to pretend you don’t love it. satoru smirks, but nods and goes to pass along the message as commanded.

“i want you to remember your bold attitude here,” he says, only amusement lacing his tone. he’s bred a million plans for you in his head already, and waiting for the car is only making him more creative. “you’ll be too brainless to do it later, ebi.” he promises, threading his fingers in yours and pulling you towards the exit.

you feel pretty brainless already, if you’re honest with yourself. it’s like it floated right out of your head the moment he looked at you like a predator eyes his prey. but you comply easily as if obeying him was written in your very dna.

he prides himself on his restraint to not take you in the car—rationalizing that your first time together needs to be special. he needs to have the room to do what he needs to do to you. there will be time in the future for nasty sex in the car, if tonight goes right.

you think you should be rewarded for your patience as well, thighs clamped together to avoid rubbing them together the entire ride back to his estate. it’s even worse as he tries to look composed, thanking choso for driving the two of you back home—politely asking that his men entertain themselves elsewhere for the evening, suggesting the business house in the inner city. choso gives him an awkward nod, clearly pretending not to notice the obscene way suguru grabs your ass as you walk into his house. you only giggle as the door closes behind him, but your laughter is cut short when he knits his fingers in the hair above your neck, pulling your head back gently enough. you gasp meekly and it just makes the predator in him purr.

“you have any limits, ebi?” he raises a brow, his other hand coming to caress your face, thick thumb swiping over your bottom lip. you swallow, feeling every nerve in your body spark against his touch. you shake your head no–maybe foolishly, maybe you’ll regret it, but you don’t want him to hold back. you want to feel the full force of his desire too.

“good,” he approves, hungrily kissing you. his injuries have fully healed, range of motion fully intact. no grunts of pain or ache in his muscles could keep him from claiming you now. you feel him consume you, his hand curls in your hair to maintain full control. the tips of your fingers tingle as your grab onto his broad shoulders, fully trusting him with the weight of your body. his lips are slightly chapped, scraping your soft ones and making your stomach do backflips. he pulls away after nearly a minute, letting you heave a breath into your lungs as he nips down your jaw, laving his tongue over every hurt. each one sends a pulse of power through your body, making two heartbeats as your core aches for him. his thumb and forefinger grip your chin and turn your face away so his lips and teeth and tongue can find the sweet spot on your neck—and it doesn’t take him long. you’re squealing out his name as he sucks marks into your precious neck, not caring how badly it bruises. he hopes it does—wants everyone to be very clear on the fact you belong to him. your hands slip to his chest, shoving at his jacket. he pulls away long enough to let it fall off his arms, collecting in a heap on the floor. he also unstraps his weapon and discards it on the table, pulling you back into him as soon as he’s done.

“jump,” he orders, those wondrous hands scooping at your thighs once you do just that. you wrap your arms around his neck, admiring how beautiful he is this close. sharp and angular features that somehow maintained a subtle softness, full lips and eyes as warm as an early autumn afternoon despite how dark and cloudy they are when they look at you. he’s perfect, and you can’t keep yourself from kissing him again as he walks with you. he blindly follows the curves of his hallways, your heels falling off from all the movement. your lips move desperately, trying to tell him all the things you’ll eventually work up the nerve to say—and he can feel it. he can feel how much you want him, how long you’ve felt this way. he’s got you against the door of his bedroom, hiking your dress up to expose the pretty matching black thong you put on all on your own. he smirks devilishly. “cute little thing—planning to get fucked this whole time?” he raises a brow and you only answer with a smile and weak nod.

he just growls in return, diving back towards you to nip and lick over your collarbone, grinding his growing bulge against the thinly veiled layer over your cunt. you clench around nothing, letting out a needy whine at his teasing. “suguru—”

“i know, poor girl,” he chuckles against your skin, trailing his kisses to the swells of your breast that your dress so provocatively revealed for him. he slips the thin spaghetti straps down your shoulders, using the slack to yank the chest of the gown down entirely, exposing your tits to the warm summer air. “i’ve got just what you need, don’t worry,” he groans, thumbing over the pebbled buds with lust blown pupils. you wiggle against the door, desperate for every flick to your nipple, every swipe of his clothed cock over your soaked panties. he leans down to kiss your sensitive chest, kneading the other. just the angle of his hips kept you pinned against the door, lips suckling on your pert nipple. you knew from the look that formed next that he was only sympathetic to you for the way he’d be satisfying your needs–and his own. everything happens so quickly. your tits jiggle as you land on your back, plush bed swallowing you up as he uses your ankles to drag you to the edge–just to show how easy it is for a man his size to manhandle you.

he had a violent need to claim you—almost blinding now that sukuna had challenged him for you. he had to fuck all those thoughts away, couldn’t risk you even wondering what life with anyone other than him was like. your thong is tucked into the pocket of his dress pants, thighs spread and pinned by his warm and rough palms. your legs dangle over the edge of the bed and his shoulders, cunt glistening and on display for him. your inner thighs are coated with the same slick, and he smirks at how he was able to make you drool like this with hardly any work. his fingers swipe at your lips, dipping inside your little entrance to collect some of the sweet arousal. you gasp at the sensation of his fat fingers—two at once. he pumps them once, twice, before he leaves you empty again. you nearly whine, hearing him slurp the juice off of his fingers. it’s so lewd you can’t help but writhe for his touch, earning a groan in return. you’re like heaven to a man like him, the sweet honey in between your legs has him leaning in for a fresher taste, licking a thick stripe over your entire cunt with his flattened tongue. he groans again, shaking his head. you’re irresistible. he can’t believe how cute you sound as he plays with you, your little whines of disappointment make his cock throb. he leans up, the thumb of his other hand pulling back your hood so he could spit on your swollen clit, so needy for his attention. you gasp loud, legs trying to close as he sets into rubbing fast, torturous circles over your bundle. he slaps the inside of your thigh.

“none of that, little girl. daddy’s trying to make you feel good.” he chuckles, inserting his still-wet digits into your puckered hole yet again. you gasp at the light slap—your back arching completely as he finger fucks you, watching you open and close your mouth as you try to cope with the intense pleasure coursing through your blood. it’s unfathomable. you pull at your own hair, toy with your own chest, grinding your hips down for an even greater high. he knows it won’t take you long—and that’s even better. he’s one step closer to fitting you around his cock–shaping you into his perfect pussy. but he needed to watch you cum, needed you to coat his tongue, needed every piece of you to be his. your sounds, your faces, your body—your mind. he needed it more than air.

his fingers curl into the spongy spot inside of you, his thumb matching pace on your clit. you feel like you’re flying—like the sun above you warms your entire body as his fingers make quick work of you. in just a few minutes, you’re moaning loud and cumming on his thick digits.

he lets no time pass, leaning in face-first to smother himself in your taste. you jerk with sensitivity–but when you reflexively try to close your legs this time, he doesn’t stop you. he welcomes the warm crushing force of your thighs against his ears as he laps at your core. if he thought your wetness was sweet, your cum is pure nectar. he’ll never tire of this, kneeling before the bed he will share with you and feasting on your gorgeous cunt—everything that led him here, to this moment, it was worth it and he would do it a million times over if it ended this way every time, arms looped around your legs to hug them even closer.

his tongue is just as fat as his fingers, forcing you to moan out as he breaches your hole for a second time. he just wants to savor every drop, taking his precious time milking your pleasure. your chanting and whining only makes his tongue slower, dragging against your insides before he finally moves it to flick your sensitive clit. you nearly scream out, having begged for his attention until he sucked your bundle into his mouth and scraped his teeth against it, brown eyes tracking every scrunch of your nose and eye roll of pleasure.

it feels like someone is pulling you apart from the inside and cumming in his mouth is the only way to fix it. you finally reach for a fistful of his black locks, yanking on his hair tie until it snaps and hair falls around him like a halo. you snap too, body shivering into him as he sensually eats at you. he relishes your little squeals and whines of overstimulation, chuckling into your pussy when you try to shove his head away. your chest is heaving, your eyes glossy in a blissful daze, lips glossy and swollen from how you’ve been gnawing at them. oh he has to absolutely ruin you.

“so sweet, i got carried away…” he muses, pushing you to your side with a gentle pressure on your thigh. you catch his hint even in your brainless state, turning fully to your knees–balancing on wobbly arms as you throw your ass in the air for him, baring that sensitive cunt to the air and his animalistic stare. “you are mine, i hope you know that by now ebi.”

he spreads your ass cheeks, watching himself guide his fat mushroom tip to your hole, twinkling with amusement at the way you clench down before he’s even impaled you with his wide shaft and leaky tan tip. he wonders if he should be careful, inching into you slowly to draw out your anticipation—and maybe there will be time for that later, for now, plunging his cock balls deep wins out. he wants to hear that nasty high pitched moan you cry out with, needs to feel your pretty pink pussy choke down on him at the sudden impact, needs to see his nuts slap against your ass with the pace he sets. he’s only satisfied when he sees you reaching out for the sheets in front of you, desperately trying to ground yourself to reality and escape his brutal pounding.

the room gets hotter, heavy breaths and lewd moans are the language of love between the two of you—the rough smack of his pelvis and balls fit in the mix as a melody. he reaches forward, making handles of your hips to keep you from subconsciously crawling away. “tell me doctor, is that your cervix i feel stopping me?”

you couldn’t answer, the connections between your brain and mouth butchered and his cock was the cleaver. he’s so big, so wide that you can feel him in your throat, every added touch to your body was just kindling for the fire. he has no mercy, thrusting into you like he was trying to get inside your womb. your skin is nothing but goosebumps, the way he caresses your insides have your arms fully giving up. you flop onto your face, his large palm sliding up your back and into your hair like before. it holds you steady, his other hand gripping your hip for leverage. your moans turn broken, his grunts of pleasure like music to your ears.

“can’t answer?” he hums, eyes flickering over the mess that he’s made of you, the puddle you’re becoming in his sheets. he’s dreamed of this for months, since he’s met you perhaps if he’s entirely honest with himself. your sounds go from whines and moans to crying and screaming, legs starting to shake too. you’re already so sensitive, having experienced his mouth and fingers already. you don’t even have control of your body anymore, shaking your head as you hurdle to the finish line—especially as he slaps your ass just to see his handprint blister in your skin. “how precious. who’s my fucked out little girl?”

“oh daddy—” you shiver, clamping down on him hard enough to tell him what was about to happen. he beams at your acceptance and use of the nickname, pulling your face out of the covers to hear you wail properly. in fact he balls up that grip and tugs your back to him—your body jelly enough to be compliant, only whines and sniffling in confusion. he never stops fucking your sex as your back meets his chest, his large hand snaking around to clutch your throat gently—more of a comfort than a threat. his other hand was the real danger, sliding around your hip to pinch and roll your abused pearl and send you sprawling over the finish line. you see stars at the position change, his punishing pace unfaltering. he wanted to see your gorgeous face, your makeup ruined as promised. lipstick smudged and mascara running down your cheeks—you were the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. he presses a kiss to your shoulder, and you finally release. you make him twitch inside you as your head falls back on his own shoulder.

it was a white hot sensation you can’t say that you’ve ever experienced before despite your previous sexual partners and your own pleasures. this was different, this was all-consuming bliss, much more than just a simple orgasm. he broke you down, read you like a book, and destroyed you just for him to rebuild. you feel like you shatter around his length, his pretty cock collecting your high as you cry and jerk and moan with heavy breaths. you didn’t think it could get better—but the sudden rush of warmth flooding your pussy makes you convulse a little again—earning a chuckle from the man that did this to you.

he holds you up against him, the muscles of his body moving and flexing against your body. he fucks into a slower rut, still pushing his seed further so you had to keep it all. everyone would know who you belong to that way, that’s for sure.

you can’t bring yourself to care, floating in the middle of a pleasure ocean. there’s no brain in your head to think with, only preoccupied with his warmth and strength keeping you supported while you catch your breath. you don’t even know if you have control over your own body, feeling akin to a slinky toy. he presses another kiss to your shoulder, his broad hand splayed over your stomach. “you take me so well, ebi,” he purrs, rubbing over your lower stomach, where all of his children sat. “rest now, isha girl. let me take care of everything else.” he assures, another kiss to your cheekbone, every touch so contrary to the roughness he handled you with before. it makes your eyes droop, the exhaustion claiming your muscles without you putting up any fight to stop it.

suguru thinks you fell asleep before your head ever hit the pillow, but he wipes up any spillage and tucks you under the covers anyway. he gets a bottle of water just in case you wake up thirsty, the fleeting wonder of if he did too much crossing his mind. he just needed you to feel how desperately he feels for you. he has to make sure that this bed is the only one you’ll sleep in for the rest of your days.

you’re still conscious, though only in the most basic way. you can feel his arms wrap around you, and a smile tugs on your lips as he peppers your face and neck with affectionate kisses even without knowing you could feel them. “i hear your voice in my head. or, heard, perhaps. but before i met you—there was a haunting female voice that pushed me to keep going. i’d never heard anything like it. you, it was you. you told me to keep fighting,” he says, his voice a deep baritoned whisper. you know he’s not much for romantic speeches, but here he is, pouring out his heart to you. “you sirened me into finding you. i’m not sure how you did that—but you saved me, ebi. in more ways than one. i’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you know that. just stay here. don’t let anyone take you from me.”

“after that i won’ be able to walk anywhere anyway.” you slur, a little giggle spilling out of your parted lips. his cheeks dust a light pink once he realizes that you heard all of that, but it only encourages him to nibble your ear and kiss your cheek with as much sweetness as he can muster.

“go to sleep—or do you need more dick?”

“hm, tempting–” you snicker and he grabs a handful of your ass from where you lay as the little spoon. you yelp and fall into a fit of giggles, putting an even broader smile on his face. his eyes only sparkle with amusement as you turn to him. “but i don think i can take it right now,” you coo, clearly drifting in subspace. you lean up to kiss his lips, short, but sweet. “you go to sleep too, mister mob man.”

he does chuckle with that, shaking his head and running his fingers through your hair until light snores confirm that this time, you are asleep.

morning light spills through the curtains, casting her spotlight on the two of you tangled up in one another in bed. your hair is a wreck—his isn’t faring much better—but you’ve never slept better. with his warm frame dwarfing yours, the rhythm of his breathing lulling you into a peace that kept you unconscious until his phone started to ring.

he groans out his annoyance, arms tightening around you for a moment as if he was just as devastated at the thought of moving as you are. but he is an important man, and knows more than likely that this is an important phone call. so he detangles himself from you and answers the phone with a raspy morning voice that has your heart beating in your pussy.

‘woah—slow down, satoru. what happened?” his face turns into a hard slab of rage, eyes narrowing as he listens to what sounds like a frantic gojo. he runs a frustrated hand through his hair, heaving a deep breath. “i’ll be there in ten minutes.” his icy anger bites through enough that you don’t sit up to console him, but as he hangs up and turns to you, his eyes are soft and warm yet again.

“duty calls?” you pout, cuddling into the covers to replace his missing warmth. he nods, leaning in to cup both of your cheeks in his hands.

“yes, i’ve some business to take care of. i’ll be back in no time, trust me. the fact i have a beautiful woman naked in my bed will be a wonderful motivator.” he smiles softly, tilting your head back so he could place a loving kiss on your lips. “there’s water on the table if you get thirsty, darling.” he notes that look of concern in your eyes and pushes a stray lock of hair out of the way. the back of his knuckles brush over your cheekbone, and there’s a gentleness in his ochre gaze that puts you at ease. “don’t worry my isha. nothing can keep me from you now.”

you nod, leaning in to give him another kiss just in case. your heart pounds with a new kind of anxiety as he slips from the sheets to get dressed, one that clutches at your heart in places it never did before. you can’t lose him. you don’t even know if you can handle seeing him hurt anymore. life has surely changed drastically from months ago—and now you get to trade in your nervous and self-deprecating anxiety for the kind of torturing worry that only having a yakuza lover can give. you’re no longer an anxious doctor—no, you’re the concerned girlfriend, waiting on suguru to return.

“duty calls?” you pout, cuddling into the covers to replace his missing warmth. he nods, leaning in to cup both of your cheeks in his hands.

tags: @justboredtingz @monikosman1311 @khaleesihavilliard @lagataprrr @shinylightsalad @userbananababes @shoutascoffeepot @kxchokxcho @diorsbrando @thecityofspareparts @lees-chaotic-brain @woozzz @spam-love (sorry to those that are not getting properly tagged :( )

#jjk x reader #kyleewritesjjk #born sinner #geto x reader #geto smut #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto suguru x reader #fem reader #female reader #suguru geto #jjk geto

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pandora-writes-one-piece · 3 months

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The Meet-Cute, Chapter 3 - Zoro

Source for pic

Word Count: 3420

Warnings: Fem!Reader, This is going to be a series featuring Ace, Sanji, Law, Zoro and Kid.

Special Warning: English is not my first language!

Summary: You had your life in Grand Line City all figured out. A wonderful job, a fiancé and a shared apartment. Until you found out he was cheating. Your father, Shanks, had a horse riding accident and you decided that this was just the right time to return home. You were expecting a peaceful, uneventful life back in the Calm Belt, but, fate had other plans.

|Chapter 2 - Kid| / | Chapter 4 - Law |

Zoro:

You hear Kid’s truck leave in the middle of the morning, meaning he must've finished fixing the tractor and Shanks doesn't need him anymore. You text Nami and Robin in your girls’s group but both of them are busy today and you plan on meeting tomorrow at a new café they swear has the most amazing food ever and, somehow, they are dying for you to meet the owner.

You still need to find a job, even if it's just a part-time job, since you plan on helping your father with the chores around the property, but it would be nice to start thinking about a semblance of a future. To be truthful, you don't really know how long you plan on staying in the Calm Belt, but at least for some months. It's not like you have that much going on in the city anymore.

Anyway, you still have today's lunch to worry about, so you make some pasta with tomato sauce, some salad and take out a frozen garlic bread from the freezer to go with it. You're sure your dad is going to complain about the lack of meat on the plate, but if he's going to live with you, he better get used to eating less meat.

When all is ready, you go outside and ring the bell, like your mother used to do to you when you were a child and lost track of time while playing outside. Giggling, you let yourself get lost in the memories before your dad comes back.

Except ten minutes pass and still no dad. “What the hell…?”

Making sure the stove is off and the pots have lids - these flying bugs and pests can be annoying - you step outside and look around the property. Where did he say he was? He mentioned he still needed to properly fix a large part of the fence since the wood was rotting.

A weird coldness is settling about in your stomach as you take a deep breath and cup your hand over your eyes to shield them from the bright sun. “Where was the fence broken?” Your eyes follow the whole length of the fence, squinting and tearing up because of the brightness but, after a bit, you manage to locate your father's pickup truck. It's not that far. But there's no red-head in sight.

You swallow down a lump in your throat along the feeling of dread that's starting to take residence in your chest and do a little sprint to where the truck is parked. “Dad?” You can't see him anywhere and, at this point, you're not sure if the acceleration in your breath is due to your little run or to the fact that you're starting to panic. “Dad!” You scream, your voice louder, squeakier and shakier.

A muffled grunt grabs your attention and you look everywhere, trying to locate it. “Down here, bug.” Shanks’s voice is strained and tired and the dread in your chest keeps building up.

“Daddy!” You whine as you turn around the truck and find him lying on the floor with the driver's door open. “What happened?” You kneel beside him but don't touch him, afraid to make things worse.

“Ah, you see, bug,” he chuckles and groans at the same time, “it's just my back. Sometimes it gives out like this. But I'm fine!” The nonchalant tone of his voice has you fuming at the ears.

“What do you mean?” You growl between your teeth.

“It's just a jolt of sharp pain in my back. When it's this serious, I usually hop on to the clinic and the doc gives me a shot and all’s well that ends well.” He grins but your frown is undeterred. “I see you are not amused.”

“I'm calling an ambulance.”

“There's no need! Just drive me to the clinic. Help me up.”

“No! It might make it worse! Did you fall?” You take your phone out of your shorts’ back pocket and search for the number to the fire station because you know it's the fastest way to get an ambulance in this small town.

“I didn't fall. My back gave out as I was climbing the truck and I lied down because it helps with the pain. Don't call an ambulance, just help me up.” He says your name sternly but you still don't budge, your finger hovering the green call button while your brows scrunch together in deep thought.

“Bug, I'm fine, really. Let's not hog an ambulance. The town only got one and it might be needed.”

“Alright.” You put your phone back in your pocket. “I'm going to try and lift you up but if I can't, then I'll call for the ambulance and you can't whine like a baby!” Your finger is waving in the air and Shanks stifles a chuckle with another groan because, apparently, any movement hurts.

You force a verbal agreement out of him before you position his arm over your shoulder and use all your strength to lift him up. Somehow he finds some semblance of strength in his legs and hoists himself into the back seat of the truck, lying down in a position that doesn't strain his back.

“Okay, okay, you're fine. I'm fine. We're all fine.” You take deep breaths as you clean the dirt from your hands against your shorts. “I'm going to drive this baby up to the house to get our identification and my purse. Okay, dad?”

Shanks mumbles something against the seat since the best position for his back seems to be to lay on his stomach, and you sit in the driver's seat, having to adjust all the settings and the mirrors to suit your small height.

“Oh, perfect.” You chuckle nervously. “It’s a shift stick. I have to drive with a stick.” You take three deep breaths as your father moans in the backseat.

“Bug, I taught you how to drive a stick! It's not that hard. You just-...”

Your body whips immediately to your father's slumped form and you manage to mutter between clenched teeth. “Dad, if you so much as mention a word about the way I'm driving from here to the clinic, I will either call an ambulance or drop you on the side of the road!”

Shanks chooses wisely and remains silent as you manage to, somehow, turn the pickup around to go back to the house for your stuff, screeching, halting and jerking all along the way, turning your father's moans into grunts of despair.

“I can still call the ambulance!” You admonish him when you return from inside the house.

“Let's just go, bug. Daddy needs some drugs for the pain.”

This time, you manage to get out of your driveway without much jerking and things seem to be going well as the road is clear of both obstacles and cars and the only thing weighing on your mind is how the hell you’re going to park the truck once you get into the clinic.

Until you hit a giant pothole that came out of nowhere and blow a tire.

“Aw, crap!” You curse as you stop the truck and pull over to the side. “Dad, are you hurt?”

“No more than before.” Comes his muffled reply though it does seem more strained.

“Just stay there, I'll take care of this.” You assure him as you climb out of the car and ignore whatever he mumbles between his teeth.

You know how to change tires. It was another thing your father taught you when you were a teenager but, like many things from your teenage years, it was something that was quickly stored away and disappeared alongside all the useless memories of your earlier years.

So now you're screwed.

You decide to start with small steps as you remove the spare tire from beneath the bed at the rear - just getting the thing out has you sweating bullets, but that's one part covered. You grab the jack from the back as well, and spend the better part of the next ten minutes finding the right place to slot the thing.

“Dad, are you alright? I can still call the ambulance? Or do you want to call Ace or- …?” As you peek inside you discover Shanks is sound asleep in the backseat and you relax a bit. At least he's not in pain now so you can take your time.

You rummage through the tools your dad has on the back of the truck at the same time as you find a tutorial online to help you through the process. You make quick work of taking the hubcap off and then the lug nuts, placing them on the driver's seat for safety.

“Okay, okay, I got this!” You give yourself a pep talk but you should know that once you start to think you have everything under control, the universe throws you for a loop. So, as soon as you use the jack to lift the car up - with extreme difficulty, and, at this moment you have dirt, sweat and tears all over you - the tire escapes from under the truck because - you realise, much too late - you weren't supposed to remove the lugnuts before lifting the car.

“No, no, no, no, no!” You scream as you start running after the tire. The thing just picks up speed and you are already panicking because you've seen one too many videos of rogue tires and the destruction and mayhem they can cause and you do not have the money to pay for a veranda window, right now.

Luckily, and you really don't know how, the tire hits an elevation and slows down to a full stop by the other side of the road. Lungs aching, head throbbing and chest heaving, you lunge forward and grasp your knees with both hands, trying to force some air back into your chest. But you don't even realise you're in the middle of the road until you hear tires screeching and a police car abruptly stopping in front of you.

A squeal is all that escapes your lips as you fall to your knees and cover your head with your hands, face contorted into a pained grimace as realisation hits: you were almost run over by a police car.

“Lady, what in the world are you doing in the middle of the road?”

The policeman gets out of the car and he is intimidating. Muscles all over, tall and an eye missing. You'd think you were in trouble if that mane of green-hair wasn't so familiar.

“Zo-zo…” You take a deep breath to calm your nerves, your hands grasping at the dirt below you for some grounding. “Zoro! It's me.” You tell him your name between shaky breaths and notice how his frown is quickly replaced with a shocked expression.

“No way!” He exhales your name with a light chuckle as you smile back at him and get up on shaky legs. “You're really back? Nami said you were returning but I didn't believe her. You haven't even come to visit once since you left so I really doubted you'd come back.”

A tiny blush spreads to your cheeks. He's right. You didn't even come visit your father nor your friends once. Shanks was always the one who went to Grand Line City. That's how fed up with country life you were. Once the nostalgia kicked in, however, you were far into your studies, and then into your career, and then into the asshole and the timing was never right.

“Yup, I'm back.” You get up on shaky legs and brush the dust off of your shorts before flashing him a grin. “The uniform suits you!” Damn right it does. It fits in all the right places. He wasn't so fine when you went to school together and all he wanted to do was start a Kendo club at school.

“Why are you in the middle of the road? I could've hit you with my car, woman.” He frowns.

“My dad's car. We had a flat and I decided that I was smart and independent enough to change it on my own. I did things in the wrong order and the tire ran away from me.” You chuckle nervously as you point at the tire on the side of the road.

“You must be joking.”

“I wish I was.” You reply deadpan. But this story is too wild to be an invention.

“I'll help you with the tire before you start any more trouble.” A dry chuckle emerges from his lips. “Incredible how some things never change..”

He’s right. You’re the biggest klutz to exist and you seem to attract trouble no matter where you go. So you just laugh along with him.

As soon as he parks his car and retrieves the tire from the other side of the road, you both get to work, Zoro effortlessly taking charge of the situation with you awkwardly passing him some tools and him pretending you’re actually helping.

“So, Troublemaker, what brings you back to town?” He asks casually as he tightens the last lug nut.

You shrug and sigh. “I-... well… life brought me back.”

He sets down the tool, wipes his hands on a rag and stares at you, deadpan. “Life brought you back? What’s that even supposed to mean?”

“Stuff happened, alright?”

“Stuff?”

Exhaling deeply you just decide to rip off the bandaid. “My fiancé cheated on me and I needed a change of pace!”

“I’m sorry about that.” He says as he sets the truck back down and stores the tools in the toolbox again.

“It’s okay. I’m over it.” Liar. “Thanks for the help.” You gesture towards the truck and shake your head. “I can’t believe dad is still asleep.”

Zoro laughs as he helps you put away the flat tire and all the tools.

“So you plan on staying long?” He’s wiping the rest of the grime from his hands and watching you as you sigh and give him a lopsided grin.

“For a while, yes. We'll see how long!”

Shrugging, you close the rear door and flash him another grin, ready to thank him again, but, somehow, you trip on your feet and stumble forward.

Zoro quickly steps up and catches you by the shoulders to steady you. “Easy there, Troublemaker. How uncoordinated are you?”

You can’t help but notice how warm and big his hands are as he steadies you. Letting out a nervous chuckle, you realise you are blushing. “Ah, well, you know me! I did not get better with the years.”

The way his eyes wander over you makes you feel hot and self-conscious at the same time. Zoro removes his hands from your shoulders as his smile widens into a grin. “I wouldn’t exactly say that.”

Is he flirting? You’re about to reply but as you try to walk, you trip again! Except this time you realise it’s because of the untied shoelace of your sneakers. Alas, the realisation doesn’t stop your tumble and it’s great that you’re still so close to Zoro because he catches you again, this time with his hands on your waist as you reach forward and claw at his chest.

At his muscular chest.

“My God, again!? I swear I’m not usually this clumsy!” Your cheeks feel like they’re on fire. What is it with this man that makes you trip all over the place?

You try to steady yourself but you’re still a bit wobbly on your feet because you might have sprained your ankle - though you’re not about to admit that - and his hands grip you tighter to steady you better.

“Careful there. Wouldn’t want you falling for me.”

Your breath catches in your throat as your heart somersaults in your chest. Yeah, he’s definitely flirting. Your face whips up as your nails grip the fabric of his uniform, eyes locking onto his and a playful smile on your lips.

“Would that be so terrible?”

His thumb moves slowly against the bone of your hip and the air is suddenly charged with tension.

“On the contrary…” You can't help but notice the way his voice deepens.

“Bug?” Your dad moans, breaking the spell and forcing you two apart. Clearing your throat you bend down to tie your shoelace.

“Coming, dad!”

“Hey, Mr. S!” Zoro approaches the window of the truck and greets him. “I see you’re about to hop onto the clinic again! It’s the second time this week already, right?”

Shanks started to tut, tut, tut, Zoro as soon as he started to speak but it was too late. You raise your head and open the truck door suddenly, almost hitting Zoro’s nose in the process.

“Again? Second time?” You squeal, burning holes into your father. “Explain, Shanks!” You know your father understands that you’re mad at him once you call him by his name.

“I, uh, well, it’s, uh… hmm…”

You raise your hand to stop his blabbering, noticing him flinch and sweat, meaning he’s in real pain and you should just get him to the clinic ASAP. “We’ll discuss this later. Lie back down!”

“Yes, ma’am.” He whimpers and does as you told him. Slamming the door you try to turn to say goodbye to Zoro but notice your top got stuck in the door and you can’t move an inch.

“Oh, my God!” You whine burying your face in your hands as you hear Zoro’s guffaws in the background.

You don’t move for a second, trying to gather your breath and shake away the shame, so Zoro steps up and opens the door, freeing you in the process, wearing an unbearable smirk.

His arm brushes against your side as he unlocks the door and you can feel his breath against your ear, making you shiver but, either he didn't notice the close proximity, or, at least, he does nothing to acknowledge it and the moment passes.

“What will happen to you when I’m not here to rescue you at every step of the way?” He crosses his arms and cocks his head to the side. “I’m genuinely surprised you managed to stay alive to see the age of 25. Statistically, and from what I’ve seen, you should be dead. Or terribly impaired.”

You snort before you realise that wasn’t sexy at all but you decide to just go with it as you close the door again.

“I have no idea. Maybe you should just stick around me, in case I get into more trouble.”

“I might just do that.” He finishes with a shit-eating grin.

“Bye, Zoro, thank you for everything.” You wave and open the driver’s door to get to your seat.

“Oh, wait.” He exclaims as you turn around to meet his gaze. He takes a step closer and, before you can react, he reaches out and brushes a lock of hair away from your face. His feather-light touch sends a jolt of warmth through you, settling in your chest.

“You had something…” He murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper as you look into the corner of your eyes to see a dried leaf on his fingers.

The fingers that linger on your cheek for a moment while you’re both lost in each other’s gaze, but before you can say anything, a crackling sound emerges from Zoro’s police radio.

“Zoro, come in. We have a situation at the park. Need you to respond immediately.”

It’s amazing how Zoro’s soft expression suddenly turns hard and serious as he reaches for his walkie-talkie. “Copy that. I’ll be there ASAP.”

You take a deep breath and give him a smile. “Duty calls?”

“Yeah.” He grunts, his voice laced with regret. “Sorry. You’ll be okay for now?”

Chuckling and tucking the lock of stray hair behind your ear, you nod. “Just go and save the day, Officer Zoro.”

He laughs back at you and turns to return to his car. “Catch up later?”

“Definitely.” You answer him back as you climb into the driver’s seat. As his car whizzes past you you can’t help but smile again. Zoro changed. But then again, so have you.

Maybe coming back home means more than healing wounds: yours and your father’s. Maybe it's about rediscovering lost connections.

You shake your head and turn the engine on.

You had absolutely zero intentions of getting mixed-up with another man, but it’s kind of hard to do that when one just caught you. Literally and figuratively.

#one piece x reader #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro #x reader #op #one piece #zoro x you #Spotify

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sunlightmurdock · 10 months

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Like This Forever | 0.2 | J. Seresin x Reader (18+)

0.1 | Next Chapter | Masterlist

Chapter Two. Drunken decisions in the back room of your favourite hometown bar are a little more permanent than you had intended them to be. Jake leaves home.

Warnings: drunk sex, both parties are drunk during sex. If you’d like to skip this then there is a divider just past that scene. smut. pinv. creampie. this is an accidental pregnancy fic. concerns about passing out. puking. minors dni. wc: 6.2k

Jake’s watching you. The sun’s starting to breach the horizon out there, but not in here. In here, in this dingy excuse for a dressing room it’s still dark and smoky. It smells like Miller Light and cigarettes. It’s funny, or something is, because you can feel yourself smiling back at him as his fingers curl against the inseam of your jeans.

Faintly, you can hear Jimmy Eat World’s debut playing over the speakers. It sounds miles away. Wayne Mayhew’s cleaning playlist is full of dirt rock, it matches the way he has shaped his bar.

Each one of your blinks feels slow, and heavy. Even as Jake shifts forwards and leans in, it feels like everything is in slow motion. His lips press into yours messily, without rhythm. His hand hugs the inside of your thigh. The smell of his body and his cologne as he leans into you.

Your eyes are closed, your lips catch up to Jake’s and the kiss becomes a little less sloppy. For a moment, it’s almost tender. Your mouth moving wet and eager against his, your hands reaching out and pulling him by the back of his neck. It seems to cross both of your minds at once. You’re both wearing far too many clothes for this.

He reaches for your top as you grab at his t-shirt. Moving quickly is when things start to spin, and the alcohol pumping through your system starts to make your heart sound like a snare drum. Those slow, heavy blinks have your vision skewed, but your shirts are both gone before you know it and Jake’s bare chest is pressing into yours, you’re laying back against the red velvet of the couch and swapping spit with your best friend.

Jake isn’t an amateur when it comes to ladies. His hands explore freely over the push-up bra you had worn specifically for your meeting with Stu Adler for a few deep, heavy kisses before he’s snapping open the front clasp with a prowess he’s been developing since the eleventh grade.

Music thumps through the walls as Jake sets one of his denim clad thighs between yours and turns his head, attaching his hungry mouth to the vulnerable spot just below your earlobe. Your hands explore the length of his back, feeling those raw, country boy muscles he’s so proud of.

He spends every Saturday morning complaining about the ranch work he has been delegated, but he hasn’t ever shied away from gloating over the muscles he has as a result. You, however, have teased him about his verging on Olympian physique plenty. That doesn’t mean you enjoy it any less.

His tongue flicks over your pulse point, sucking firmly at your skin, his hands flowing down your naked torso and onto the stiff denim of your jeans, grabbing firmly at your ass. A pleased purr slips from your lips, your breath fanning out across his ear.

In the shadows of the smoky room, Jake’s face is so close to yours that you can smell the post-show joint he had shared with Mickey Garcia — lighting extraordinaire and fun-loving pothead, and the peppermint gum he had been chewing to mask that scent. And then, his tongue is in your mouth. Peppermint and beer, the taste of his tongue. You’d barely even had time to clock the way he was smiling at you.

It’s all so urgent, his tongue licking into your open mouth, massaging against your own. It has the power to press you back, flattening you onto your spine against the worn cushion of the velvety couch. Even so, in the midst of this wet and sloppy mess, you find yourself turning your face into the warmth of his neck. Inhaling deeply.

Warmth and vanilla, the tinge of sweat from the show, the lingering aftermath of the Darkstar’s air. Familiarity to the point that it makes you sleepy, smiling, breathless, against Jake’s skin as he grinds his hips forwards.

“Fuck me.” You pant into the warmth of his throat, trailing your painted nails along the firm planes of his back, hiking one leg up around his hip. One of you moans, you’re too drunk to really know who, but it spurs you on anyway. You lick the vein adorning the right side of his throat, following it from his shoulder to his jaw, nosing at his earlobe. “Jake, fuck me.”

“Yeah?” He breathes back, brows drawn together in focus as he feels your teeth tug softly at his earlobe. “You want me inside you?”

“I want it,” You lean your head back and close your eyes, feeling the room sway like hitting a rough patch of water on an otherwise open ocean. Jake’s mouth is grounding, working steadily down your neck and onto your chest. You push against him, feeling his hard cock straining against his blue jeans. “Mmm… Please, Jake.”

For the first time in a while, you’re not sure how long, or even if time is following the regular rules of operation right now, you open your eyes and watch him pop open the embellished button of your jeans. He must notice, because his focus flickers up to you, and he blinks slowly.

“What are you laughing about?” His mouth twists into a grin as he sits up and leans over you, brows drawing together in playful challenge. You grin up at him dumbly and shake your head. Something makes you lower your voice, but he’s close enough to hear what you whisper anyway.

“You look hammered.” You tell him.

He snorts, then leans closer again, “I look hammered? — I’m not the one who was still slamming back tequila shots an hour ago.”

Grinning, maybe still laughing, you lift your head and kiss him hard. Amusement still thrums in the air, you can feel it buzzing between the two of you, but the laughter is a moment already passed. Your hands are busy again, fumbling open his belt buckle and jeans.

Stumblingly, your cowgirl boots hit the floor and you writhe out of your jeans as Jake clumsily does the same. His knee misses the couch and he just about catches himself before he drops his full weight on top of you, which leads to another bout of breathless laughter.

If Wayne wasn’t busy blasting Green Day, he would surely hear the two of you getting busy in the back room of his bar, and he would march you back to your parents like the stupid kids he remembers you being.

You’re kissing before either one of you are done laughing again. Fighting to catch your breaths, still giggling between every deep pull of a kiss. Your hand dips into the front of Jake’s boxers. You look up at him and find him watching you, not smiling anymore. Instead, his lips are parted and he’s watching your hand stroke his cock.

His eyelids hood the vibrant green of his eyes, he’s bathed in the red light from the exit sign above your heads and the lamp on the vanity. Sweat beads along his forehead and glistens in the ridges of his shoulders. His lips are dark red, swollen from kissing.

Jake pushes his hips forwards, your hand still wrapped around him, letting the tip of his cock rock softly against your soaked core. Mouth dry, he swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, a shiver tickling down his back.

“You’re… God, you’re so wet.” Jake groans out, pushing forwards just a little, watching the swollen tip of his cock disappear into you. Even as drunk as he is, he knows better than to just shove the whole thing in. Besides, it’s hot, watching you take him inch by inch. He rocks back and forth in short thrusts, watching intently.

Matching the rush of the dirt-rock drums blaring over the speaker, your breaths are fast and heavy already. Your chest rises and falls with every shallow thrust of Jake’s hips, your tits heaving under the crimson glow of the lights.

Jake sits forwards and covers your body with his, turning his stubbled jaw into the crook of your neck. “Fuck, Sunny, you— agh, you feel so good.”

Your mouth twists at the nickname, almost smiling. You dig your teeth into your swollen bottom lip, ankles crossing behind his back as you clench around him. He grunts against your skin, growing desperate as the silky hold of your walls draws him even closer.

Jake pushes one of his arms under you, enveloping your torso, pulling your chest flush against his as the other finds purchase on the dated arm of the couch behind your head. This couch is just over five foot in length, and Jake is more than a foot longer. It’s awkward and his knees are bent, you’re huddled against him, but the tequila and the beer are doing their jobs and the only thing you can focus on is how damn good he feels.

With the two of you pressed so close, tangled together and pushing impossibly closer at every opportunity, it’s hard to keep track of who is where. It doesn’t matter. You rock your hips, meeting his thrusts as best as you can, panting out into the air with little care for how loud you’re being.

“Oh, oh, oh, oh—“ Each time he fills you, your fingers draw tighter against his back, nails pressing into his skin, your breathing growing heavier and heavier.

Jake pushes your thigh back, angling himself impossibly deeper, growling softly as you squirm against the mind-fuckingly full feeling of Jake inside of you. You wriggle closer, shifting the angle of your hips as Jake bucks desperately into you, seemingly both of you on the same mission to find that one spot that feels as close to God as either one of you has been in a long time.

You’ve found it before, with your legs over Jake’s shoulder in the bed of his truck. Screaming his name into the open sky of the Seresin Ranch’s west pasture. Again, with your face smushed into the pillow of his childhood bed and Jake pressed against your back that one Thanksgiving.

You freeze as you find it again, a soft squeak slipping your lips before your mouth stills, stuck open in a silent oh shape. Your walls pulse around his cock, his knuckles whitening against the arm of the couch.

“Right there?” He pants, his voice growing hoarse.

“Yeah. Right there.” You tell him, grabbing the back of his neck like it’s the only thing that will keep you afloat.

The room fills with the sounds of his skin hitting yours, drowning out the blaring rock on the other side of the door. Jake squeezes his eyes tightly shut, resting his forehead against yours, thanking whatever fucking higher power led the two of you here, feeling this euphoric.

The sounds of your moans only grow, practically being fucked out of you each time Jake thrusts forwards. The harder he drives forward, the tighter that feeling in your belly grows, the angle of your bodies making your head spin. Jake watches, his mouth hanging open, as your hand slips between your bodies and starts to work at your sensitive clit. He slows down, fucking you in long, languid thrusts, watching you bring yourself closer.

He pulls his hand from behind your back and grabs at your jaw, turning your head towards him, kissing you slowly. Dizzyingly. You moan into his mouth, circling your fingers as he slowly pushes into you again.

All you can do is grunt and groan, and moan his name, as you feel him fucking into you. Slowly, with his tongue in your mouth, he starts to pick up the pace once again. Your head falls forwards to rest onto his shoulder and he secures his arm back around your waist so that he can hold you steady but also grab at your breast with the hand that had been on the arm of the couch.

Without him steadying the two of you, you crumble back against the couch, bumping your head into the arm each time he pushes himself deeper. Tequila and beer and the smell of Jake’s body on top of yours, the heat of his skin and the feeling of his mouth on your nipple — it’s a cocktail stronger than anything the Darkstar is legally allowed to serve. You couldn’t care less about bumping your head. You claw at his back with your free hand, desperate for more.

Jake’s breathing is growing harder, more strained. You can feel it in the rough way he kneads at your breast that he’s getting closer and closer, but that’s at the back of your mind. Your own climax is right in front of you, and you’re chasing it like a woman possessed.

You feel yourself tensing in pleasure, mouth hanging open in silent pleasure as Jake fucks into you. You grab at the back of his neck, marking your shoulders with a trail of your nails before you finally let go, cumming hard. Squirming under him, you push your hips into his as your legs go rigid, clenching your walls around him and making him gasp sharply as your orgasm crashes through the both of you.

Jake grunts, grabbing at your hip so hard that his fingerprints might still be there tomorrow, jolting as sensitivity surges through his body. But you feel so good. With a shuddering cry of your name, his fingertips go white against your skin as he fills you with his own release.

Music pulses on outside. The red lights in the room buzz softly. Jake’s breathing fills your ears as he tucks both his arms under you and pulls you as close as he possibly can. Neither one of you has any real urgency to move.

Sweaty, and drunk, and exhausted, you just wrap your arms around him and close your eyes tiredly. Jake kisses the side of your neck softly.

“You’re the best…” He stops, catching his breath, trying to pull together enough coherent thoughts to actually finish his sentence. “This tour, and everything. I appreciate it. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Sunny girl.”

Eyes closed, you just smile and chuckle tiredly at the sappy sentiment. He stays inside you for a moment, still catching his breath; when he finally pulls out, you can feel his cum dripping down your bare thigh. Neither one of you really thinks to care that night.

The two of you take your time getting dressed, and pick up the pace a little when it’s time to sneak past Wayne — who can absolutely never find out that you fucked in his bar. There’s only one taxi company in the town of Driftwood, and it costs sixty bucks to get out to the Seresin ranch — but if Mary-Lynn found out that Jake so much looked at his keys after drinking, she would skin the both of you.

So, he pays the sixty and takes you home with him. Even at your age, your folks hit the roof when you come home this late. Well, early. Early enough that as you’re stumbling into the kitchen, Jake’s father is standing there with a coffee cup in his hand and an unimpressed look on his face.

“Mornin’, pops.” Jake waves, one hand on the small of your back as he pushes you towards the stairs.

“How’d that meeting go with the music guy?” Bill Seresin calls without moving from where he’s leaning against the kitchen counter. He’s got three sons who are married by now, with three grandchildren and another on the way. And one son, who he just still can’t seem to figure out.

“I’ll tell you all about it tonight. I promise.”

The ranch is important to Bill. More important than his wife, more important than his sons. On several occasions, he has made that clear. He’s not a bad man, or a bad father, but he knows that without this land, he’s useless to all of the people he loves. Sometimes, that can make him a little rough around the edges.

Even so, he’s still the same guy who kissed your grazed knee and set a band-aid on it with the softest look in his green eyes when you were little. You learn to love him.

You know that Jake leaving is going to crush him. You also know, as you settle into Jake’s bed beside him that morning, still wet from the shower, that it’s all Jake has ever wanted in life. As you close your eyes, you hope that the two of them can find it in themselves to understand that one day.

Under the covers, Jake’s hand splays across your naked thigh. He squeezes softly, his own eyes shut as sleep starts to cloud his already foggy mind.

“Night, Sunny.”

The first show is in Albuquerque, New Mexico, on Saturday the eleventh of March. Jake’s in a pretty good mood, smiling as he carries a box larger than the width of his own shoulders, containing sound equipment, across a parking lot in sunny 68° heat.

Looking at him, you would never guess that he hasn’t spoken to his father in two weeks — and had sworn to never speak to him again shortly before that. Well, you wouldn’t guess that if you hadn’t been present for the argument.

There’s a lot riding on this tour, making sure it’s a success. You’ve spent almost every day for the last five weeks on the phone with venues, and the record label, and fucking Stu Adler to make sure that tonight is the performance everyone wants it to be.

You huff softly as you lift with your knees, hoisting the box into your arms and turning to head for the venue. With lower budget tours like this one, it’s important that the entire crew chips in, which is exactly what everyone is doing. Soundcheck is in thirty minutes, you’re late getting here because of a flat tire twenty miles back, and this is your fifth journey into the building with equipment that rivals the weight of a small baby cow.

After turning away from the bus, you take three confident, long, strides and come to a halting stop. Briefly, your eyes cloud with spots of black and your head spins, your grip on the case in your hands going completely numb.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa—“ Bradley, Jake’s lead guitarist and also the tight end on your hometown football team, is the first person to notice that you’re practically out cold on your feet. He sets his guitar case down and you feel his meaty paws press into your back. “You feelin’ okay, Sunny?”

Jake turns his head, still laughing from his playful exchange with Natasha, his sound technician and also the girl whose father ran Driftwood’s one and only movie theater up until two years ago. He takes one look at the faded colour of your skin, and the confused look on your face, and the way Bradley’s practically propping you up, and dumps his equipment on the floor.

He’s in front of you suddenly, shielding your eyes from the sun and trying to meet your gaze.

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” You brush Bradley off first, Jake’s a little harder to shake. The guitarist picks up his case again and pats your shoulder softly as he steps around you to move on. Jake curls his fingers around your bicep, studying your face. “I’m fine. I’m fine. I just got a little lightheaded for a second.”

“You’re sure?” Jake frowns at you. You pull the box against your middle, securing it in your grasp and brushing your shoulder past Jake’s.

“I’m sure. It’s just hot. I need to take this sweater off.” That’s not the truth. It’s not hot, it’s actually a nice temperature, you would be cold if you took your sweater off. You’ve just been working yourself crazy this past week. You haven’t slept much and your eating has been all over the place because of that.

You just need to rest. That’s all.

“I want to see you drink some water. I won’t quit bugging you about it. You cannot get sick right before—“

“Aren’t you supposed to be saving your voice?” You call back to Jake, bumping the door open with your hip and continuing inside. Picking his box back up from the tarmac, he smiles at the sight of you disappearing around a corner and then shakes his head, following after you.

“Don’t blow me off, can’t a guy be worried about his tour manager?” Jake calls back, craning his neck to see which one of the doors along this hallway you disappeared down. He’s still getting to know the place, but follows the sound of you delegating jobs in your boss voice. “It’s your job to manage me. Without you, I’m kinda fucked— oh.”

You turn your head, pursing your lips as Jake rounds the corner. He stops walking and examines the scene in front of him. You, shaking hands with a sweet looking old lady with her hair in braids and a concerned frown on her face.

“Jake, this is Maggie. As in Maggie’s Bar and Saloon,” You tell him, narrowing your eyes at the idiot you had promised Maggie was a good Christian boy with good morals. Swearing like a sailor right in front of her. “She just wanted to talk to us about some ground rules before your show tonight.”

“Right. Nice to meet you, ma’am,” Jake sets the box down by his feet, flips the toothpick in his mouth and extends his palm towards her with that million-dollar smile of his. “Apologies about my language.”

“That’s no way to talk to a lady.” Maggie scolds, frowning disapprovingly but extending her frail hand out towards him anyway. Jake looks at you as he shakes her hand, wondering if maybe he should mention that you aren’t too much of a lady to start with. He’s seen you bite the cap off of a beer bottle and he knows you could still wrestle him into the mud if you tried.

Still, he nods his head solemnly at the woman in front of him.

“Of course. I’m sorry, to both of you ladies.”

You smirk at him, quirking a brow and pressing your tongue into your cheek, standing just behind the sweet old lady defending your honour. If Jake hasn’t yet figured out how to telepathically say ‘bite me’, he gives it a pretty good try as you watch on amusedly.

“Alright, let’s get to talkin’. They’re gonna want to check how you sound in a little while.” Maggie jerks her head for the two of you to follow and turns around, her yellow dress swaying around her ankles as she moves stiffly. The denim vest she’s wearing overtop is cute. You’ve been looking for something like that.

Glancing down at your watch, you press your lips together. Soundcheck is supposed to start in sixteen minutes, and you’ve got a feeling that Miss Maggie isn’t going to get through this quickly. Jake knows how serious you get about your schedules. He picks up his equipment and starts to follow the old lady, poking his elbow playfully against your ribs as he passes you.

It’s not something out of the ordinary, you’ve pushed him so hard before that he fell head first down a hill — that was an accident — but he doesn’t even jab you hard. And yet, your stomach churns. You swallow, pushing past the hot feeling in your throat and on your forehead as you walk behind him.

Maggie’s rules are pretty standard. It’s all about respecting her property, and her patrons, and the people that live in the surrounding neighbourhood. If Jake plays later than midnight, the venue can fine him. If Jake gets fined on the first night, Stu Alder will pull the plug on this entire thing. The death-stare you give him when you’re explaining this in Jake-friendly terms confirms exactly how serious that threat is.

Jake’s impressed. After your polite way of saying ‘is-that-everything?’ to that sweet, but serious, old lady, you deliver him to soundcheck with two minutes to spare.

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” Jake frowns, scrunching his nose as he reaches out to put the back of his palm to your forehead. “You look kind of… sick.”

“I’m fine. Go.” You huff back, grabbing him by his broad shoulders, turning him, and shoving him unceremoniously towards the stage. He grabs his guitar and cranes his neck to peer at you over his shoulder as he walks on, frowning dubiously.

You don’t feel great, and you’re only starting to feel worse. It’s a hot, dizzy kind of feeling. Then, Mickey walks right by you towards the lights system with a spiced pickle in his hand — and it’s game over. Your stomach churns violently and your body jerks forwards. You slam into Natasha as you turn around, throwing her off of you and breaking into a sprint.

She gasps, staring back at Mickey in shock. Then, she wrinkles her nose and turns after you.

Jake turns his head towards side stage and frowns slightly as he strums a few strings to warm up. One second you were there, now you’re gone. He purses his lips, sighing softly as he steps up to the microphone.

Natasha can hear Bradley starting to play the opening track as she pushes open the door to the backstage bathroom and finds you on your knees on the tile, retching into the toilet.

“Oh — Sunny…” She winces, stepping inside and checking for a bolt on the door. She tries to ignore the sounds of your vomit hitting the bowl as she locks it, then turns around to attend to you, scooping your hair back off of your shoulders. “Are you getting sick?”

“No — I…” You shake your head, trying to breathe deeply, also trying to determine whether or not you’re about to puke again. “I just smelled that pickle and— god, I literally threw up in my mouth. I barely made it here.”

Natasha settles onto her knees as she reaches past you to flush the remainders of your lunch from the bowl, fisting your hair loosely in her hand. She chews at her bottom lip, studying the greyish tint to your complexion. Awkwardly, she tries to laugh. “You’re not like… pregnant, are you?”

In truth, you haven’t given the drunken incident on the couch much thought since it happened. It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last. Jake’s a good lay, and you trust him. That’s all there is to it. And, with how busy you’ve been organising this whole thing, there hasn’t been time for you to really have gotten any since. Sure, you let an ex go down on you one night a couple of weeks ago, but you’d needed a stress reliever.

“No. I can’t be. We’re on tour for another—“ You sigh, squeezing your eyes shut as a headache ebbs its way to the forefront of your brain. This is the last thing you need. Maggie wanted to introduce you to the security team before tonight.

“Forget the tour,” Nat tells you, raising her brows as she rubs a firm circle between your shoulder blades. You’ve been friends for a long time, she always calls you on your shit, and more importantly, she calls Jake on his. “Could you be pregnant?”

There’s a quiet between the two of you, broken up by the sound of Bob Floyd drumming the intro to South Dakota. Natasha studies the fear in your eyes and lifts her hand to cover her mouth.

“There’s a gas station down the road. We’ll go, we’ll get you some cheap tests and we’ll just rule out the possibility.” She’s trying to soothe you, but the fear in her own voice is just too much of a giveaway. You swallow thickly and sit back against the wall, dropping your head into your hands.

“We can’t both go. You’re supposed to be at soundcheck right now. I have a million things to do.” Trust you to be sitting here on the dirty tile of this bathroom in the biggest bar in Albuquerque, acting rational now. If only you’d been this sensible when Jake had his tongue in your mouth in that dressing room.

Natasha sighs, lifting a hand to card through her silky brown hair. “Well, we’re both going to be freaking out until we have our answers, right?”

An hour later, she’s sitting on the floor outside the bathroom with her head on Mickey Garcia’s shoulder. He bites at his nails, glaring at a stain on the wall in front of him that may, or may not be, piss. One day they’ll be on a tour ten times the size of this one, thinking back to the times they played in dingy dive bars.

“I don’t know why you brought me in on this.” He grumbles, shaking out his heavy black curls and pressing his lips tightly together. It’s bad enough he had to walk all the way to the gas station and back. “You know I suck at keeping secrets.”

“This isn’t a secret.” Natasha tells him, biting off a chunk of a twizzler and offering it across to him. She sits with her legs stretched out in front of her, ankles crossed, both of them blocking the narrow hallway outside the bathroom. “There’s just no point freaking everyone out over a false alarm.”

There’s a brief pause between the two of them as they sit, chewing on the strawberry flavoured candy. Then, they hear something slam into the bathroom door and start to turn, each of their eyes going wide as they hear you scream inside.

“What the fuck?”

“…Sunny…?” Natasha calls out quietly, reaching behind her to knock on the door.

“Alright, man, you ready? — Two minutes to go.” Natasha asks, her face pale as she checks Jake’s soundpack, her features screwed up in something deeper than just concentration.

This should feel electric, a hundred and twenty seconds to go before opening night of his first headline tour. They’ve been crazy busy on the door, the place is packed. Jake can hear the crowd buzzing to his right. He should be ecstatic. He takes a long drink from his beer and passes it away from him.

There are people for that kind of thing now.

This should be awesome. Way better than any of his hometown gigs. These people aren't his parents, or his cousins, or his high-school friends. They aren’t here to wait for his set to be over so they can see the main band. They’re all here for him.

But Jake’s distracted. He lifts his head and scans around the crowd of people backstage, his lips pursing into a disappointed frown. “Yeah, all good. Has anyone seen Sunny yet?”

Mickey glances across at him, then looks quickly back down to the lighting switchboard, chewing at the inside of his cheek. Natasha looks up at Jake, then quickly back down to the expensive equipment she’s securing behind his back.

“She wasn’t feeling too good. I told her to go lay down.” Natasha lies, finishing up and offering Jake a tight-lipped smile.

Bradley frowns at her, plucking absently at his guitar, looking towards Jake and wondering why everyone’s lying. He saw you three minutes ago, sitting outside with your head in your hands. Bob looks between the three people in front of him and then across at Mickey, who’s avoiding his gaze like the plague.

Mickey knows something — he’s terrible at keeping secrets.

“Do you think I have time to—“

“Sixty seconds.” Javy interrupts with a shake of his head, leaning against the soundboard and promptly getting pushed off by Mickey. Up until exactly this point in time, Jake had thought it was a great idea to have a team of hometown heroes. If these people weren’t his closest friends, it would be a lot easier for him to throw a rockstar tantrum and postpone the show for a couple of minutes.

He can’t do that. He can’t fuck up this early on.

“Well… can someone go make sure she’s alright?” He sighs, stretching out his shoulders, then his neck, adjusting the way his guitar strap is sitting and then twisting his in-ear slightly to make it more comfortable.

“Yes, now stop fucking with that or I swear to god, Seresin, I’ll hit you.” Natasha scowls, swatting Jake’s hand away from his in-ear. That’s the last thing he hears before he has been announced, and it’s time for him to get on stage. Bradley takes the right of stage, Javy takes the left, and Bob sits at the drums at the back.

You sniffle back tears, closing your eyes to the sound of tears as Jake takes centre stage. Fuck, you missed his first entrance. You need to pull yourself together, you just have to stop hyperventilating. Sitting on the gravel, you lean your head back and look at the sky.

There aren’t half as many stars as there are at home, which feels a million miles away already. Inhaling through your nose and exhaling through your mouth starts to feel more and more like an old-wives tale. Tears just keep streaming down your cheeks.

The one thing on your mind is Jake’s argument with his dad. Bill has always wanted his boys to take over the ranch. Jake’s argument is that he’s already got three kids doing that. They’ll never see eye to eye on it. But you sat in Jake’s truck with him that night, listening to Jake explain himself through gritted teeth, biting back tears.

He was born in Driftwood, his dad was born in Driftwood, and his Dad was too. There’s got to be something fucking more. He’s so — he’s so fucking mad that I want more. What’s so wrong with me wanting more, huh? — Wanting more than a fucking wife, in this little town, couple of kids. I don’t — he wants that for me. I don’t want that.

It was supposed to be a farewell celebration, they had both had a little too much to drink. Maybe Jake didn’t mean that, maybe he did. You know that if you told him he got you pregnant, he would settle for it in an instant.

What kind of friend would do that?

He’s been reaching for the stars since he could talk, and you’re not going to be the one to stand in his way, right when they’re at his fingertips. Natasha knows, Mickey knows — but they don’t know it’s him. No one ever has to know. You wipe your cheeks and breathe in deep, gravel digging into your palms as you push yourself up from the floor.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen,” Jake speaks clearly into the mic, smiling out at the bustling crowd. Sweat beads along the back of his neck, and something is wrong with his in-ear. It has been for the first two songs. When he glances to his left, he can see Natasha scrambling to fix it, and arguing with Mickey as she does. “This next one is a little song I wrote about slowing down, enjoying the simple things in life.”

He steps back one pace and starts to strum his way through the chord progression, taking a deep breath in and looking up as the sound finally kicks into his ears. Natasha shoots him a thumbs up, and he sends her back a wide smile as he goes right into the first verse.

After splashing cold water on your cheeks, it’s a little less obvious that you’ve spent the last couple of hours crying. You round the corner and watch Jake from the side of stage. He’s got a huge, dumb grin on his face and his nose is wrinkled as he watches a couple of girls jump and sing in eachother’s faces at the front.

“Got seven women on my mind, four that wanna own me, two that wanna stone me,” He sings out, strumming to the beat of Bob’s soft drumming behind him while Bradley and Javy provide backing vocals to his sides. Caught in his peripheral, Jake turns his head and grins when he finds you there. His cheeks dimple as he shoots you a quick wink. “One says she’s a friend of mine.”

Your breathing hitches as he looks back out towards the crowd. Under the stage lights, flashing that mega-watt smile, he’s glowing. He’s exactly where he’s meant to be. Blinking as hard as you can might not be enough. Your eyes burn with tears threatening to spill through.

Natasha rests her hand on the small of your back and leans her chin against your shoulder. “You okay?”

“Come on, baby, don’t say maybe. I’ve gotta know if your sweet love is gonna save me,” Jake sings on in front of you. He looks so young, and so electric under those lights. It looks so natural. “We may lose, and we may win, though we’ll never be here again.”

“Yeah,” You whisper, barely audible over the noise from the stage and the crowd. Natasha closes her eyes as she hugs closer to you. The ache in your chest feels damn near fatal. “I’m fine.”

…

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#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x y/n #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman Seresin x reader #jake hangman Seresin x y/n #jake Seresin fic #jake Seresin smut #jake hangman Seresin smut #like this forever #countrysinger!jake

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nanaminokanojo · 4 months

Text

ACCIDENTALLY IN LOVE | part 43

-meet cute? a cheesy musical number? forget it! love makes itself known to you through a minor car accident, a broken arm, and a treacherously charming temporary chauffeur

CHARACTERS: sukuna x you/reader | jjk characters

MASTERLIST | CHAPTER INDEX

<<prev part 43 next>>

A/N: First panel is a video at the end of narration along with the rest. Enjoy!

You took the ping-pong ball when Nobara handed it to you after Satoru failed to shoot his shot, successfully managing to aim it at the latter’s team’s second to the last cups. The blue-eyed male complained but drank anyway, being a good sport even if he was evidently inebriated. Shortly after, Sukuna managed to wipe out all of the cups, putting an end to the game.

You cheered at that, raising your good arm as you exchanged high-fives with the girls, but then Sukuna’s protective side surfaced again when your other friends and some other partygoers also huddled too closely to you, carelessly moving around you and pretty much forgetting that you were still injured. He reached out a hand, about to shield you, but before he could do anything, you stepped back a little too quickly, and the next thing he knew, you were falling backwards, landing on your butt on the floor.

“Y/N!” Maki gasped, also reaching for you, but was too late.

Everyone immediately tried to check on you, but Sukuna beat them to it, eyes wide as he kneeled before you to check on whether you were hurting anywhere. However, to everyone’s surprise, mostly to his, you started laughing, throwing your head back as the sound disintegrated into bubbles of giggles.

“Oops.”

Sukuna sighed in relief, unable to help it but grin at you, too. “Okay, that’s enough beer pong for now,” he told you, gently helping you up. “Having fun, aren’t you?”

“Yeah!” you answered a little too loudly, giddy and almost losing your balance again, but he pulled you towards him just in time which made you end up against his chest, still in your laughing fit as you looked up at him with hazy eyes.

Sukuna could just laugh and shake his head, pressing you close to his side as he led you away from the ping-pong table and towards the back pool area which was empty. At least, you were walking straight and even had the mind to grab another shot glass of gummies from a guy passing by with a tray of it.

So this is what your friend, Kento, was talking about, he thought, knowing he hasn’t seen the end of it.

You paused in front of him the moment the two of you stepped out of the sliding glass doors to Ino’s pool area, inhaling the cool air deeply as you looked up with a grin on your face. Sukuna couldn’t help but to just look at you looking all high yet still so put-together. And then you took a step forward, staggering slightly, making him snicker as he took you by the arm and led you to the one of the lounge chairs by the water.

He gently sat you down, briefly kneeling in front of you. “You need to cool your jets a bit,” he told you to which you responded with a noise that conveyed your agreement. “Looks like I didn’t need to worry. You’re a natural at this.”

“Mhmm.”

“You sure you’re okay? Can’t even form words anymore, huh?” Sukuna’s brows furrowed as he moved to sit beside you, still keeping an arm in front of you, his sharp eyes never leaving your figure as you threatened to slump forward. The moonlight glinted off the water, casting soft reflections on your face as you giggled incoherently at the jiggling gummy bears in the glass you were holding, clearly inebriated.

“Hey, you’ve been eating those nonstop. Give me that.”

Your eyes flashed at him as you moved to hold the glass away from him. “No,” you told him, dragging out the syllable. “Want to…eat bears.”

“I’ll get you some water, okay?”

“Gummies!”

“No more gummies,” he said, letting out a bark of laughter when you openly pouted at him. “Don’t waaaaant! Gummies! Mine!”

He couldn’t help laughing even more when you stuck your tongue out at him. “Bunny, you’re drunk.”

“WHO’S DRUNK?!” You looked around you, the action turning out to be comical. And then you focused your eyes on him, not without difficulty, he noted. “You drunk, S’kuna?”

Under normal circumstances, he found loud drunks annoying and wouldn’t give a damn carrying out a conversation, even leaving women he had been with alone when they started babbling nonsense like you were. He could use a little less of the stress that comes with that, but you were just so entertaining and adorable acting outside of your usually well-maintained discipline and character.

“You’re enjoying this too much, sweetheart.”

“You…you said to enjoy, right?” Your leaned forward, your good hand still clutching at the gummies falling onto his lap which he took in his. He slowly nodded for your benefit. “That’s good, but no more gummies for you.” He held it away from you with ease, making you gasp and then whine.

“Give it back!”

“No, Y/N. Let’s get you hydrated.”

“No, ‘Kuna.”

You both sat there silently, Sukuna in surprise while you frowned at him. And then you proved to even be more than just a handful when you tried grabbing the glass with your good hand. It was too no avail, of course, making him dissolve into laughter at your antics.

Jabbing a finger at him, you said, “Not giving it back, eh?” trying to be threatening than you really were.

“Nope, bunny.”

Instead of the disappointment or whining Sukuna expected, you suddenly stood up unsteadily. Still, you smirked at him, reaching for the glass, hovering over him before ending up seated on his lap.

“Y/N -”

Before Sukuna could do anything, be that geared towards making you stop or not letting you fall, you quickly learned towards the crook of his neck. He felt your breath before you playfully sank your teeth into his skin, biting him and laughing when he let out a yelp.

“Bunny, what the hell? Ow!” he managed to say between winces and laughter.

“My gummies, Sukuna.” You raised your good hand and started pinching him on the cheek, grinning toothily at him and making biting noises with your teeth. “Bite you…I will bite you.”

“You didn’t just do that!”

You chuckled, eyes hazy yet shining with the same kindness Sukuna knew well. You sighed, closing your eyes as you rested your forehead against his. Despite the heavy thudding of his heart in his chest at your proximity, he couldn’t help but watch as a smile etched across your lips, your good hand playing with the hair at the back of his head.

“Not planning to bite my nose off, are you, bunny?”

You shook your head slowly. “You won’t…if I b-bite your nose off…” You opened your eyes, looking at him as if you were seeing something mesmerizing. “You won’t be hot anymore.”

Sukuna smirked, thinking maybe he should bring you to parties more often if you were going to be this funny. “So, you think I’m hot, huh?”

“Super!” Your fingers played with the piercing on his ears. “You’re soooo cool. Sometimes I just…” You snickered and shook your head. “No…no…”

“You just what?”

“Bite you.”

Sukuna just laughed, ruffling your hair. “Glad the prospect of biting me makes you happy.”

“Very happy!”

“Okay, bunny.”

“Thank you…”

Sukuna clicked his tongue. “There you go again. You keep thanking me for the smallest things.”

Your brows furrowed slightly. “M-maybe to you they’re small…”You shook your head. “Not for me.” You sighed, seemingly sobering up a little. “I only ever had Kento and Iori, and when I tried to connect with others on a personal level, it goes downhill. Takuma knows that…” You appeared to have been reliving something painful, but still, you smiled. “So, thank you. Even for the smallest things.”

Sukuna smirked, leaning closer to you. “Didn’t I tell you that if you thanked me again, I’ll kiss you?”

Your eyes seemed to shine with the same intensity as his dark eyes, also moving towards him. And then you broke into a smug grin, the challenge in your expressions palpable. “Walk the talk, Ryomen.”

Sukuna arched a brow at you. “Is that a challenge, bunny?”

TAG LIST: @catobsessedlady @kyo-kyo1 @junehasnotbeenfound @lavender-hvze @guacam011y @eyered @hellomeow12 @its-princessmara @light-yagami-l @domainofmarie @mythoscalliope @noble-17 @pheonix-eclipses @weebbuscuit @sukunasbudussy @lu-c1na @vinnieswife @the-haitani-baton @iaminyourfloors @needtoloveoutloud @r-ryuko09 @somestardeww @swirlingcurses @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @bronze-metal @iluv-ace @kidd3ath @multifandomloner

PHOTOS/IMAGES/GIF/FANART/ANY MEDIA CREDITS GO TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

#sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna smau #sukuna smut #sukuna fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smau #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk smau #jjk smut #jjk fluff

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bonny-kookoo · 1 year

Text

OT7: Tongue Tied (Intro)

In which you're not supposed to be the solution for all of the problems- but maybe you're just that; the missing piece.

Tags/Warnings: SFW, Hybrid!BTS x Hybrid!Reader, Wolf!BTS, Dog!Reader, strangers to ???, fluff, some angst, insecurities & very openly emotional reader

Length: long

A/N: the next chapters will, one by one, focus more on each member getting closer to the mc.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"She will stay in a separate space we've been renovating for her at the company building." The manager says, well aware that the seven boys are very much not on board with the whole plan. "So you'll basically just have to interact with her for the camera and on certain schedules. Listen, I know you don't like the idea but it's the best way of making you guys seem.. less.. dangerous, after all that happened." He carefully phrases.

Jungkook scoffs. Namjoon clenches his jaw at that reaction, ready to scold. Taehyung sighs, tired of the constant fighting.

It was something the company had been fearing for quite some time now. And now, it's come to a point where even the public has noticed the growing tensions within the hybrid band- everyone on edge, easily irritated by each other. Originally, everyone had always thought it would be fine if they 'grew up' alongside each other, especially with Jungkook having been so young when he joined the company and group. But it didn't really matter down the line, it seems like, because by now, the air is constantly thick with frustration.

For the fans all over the world, the group full of hybrids, a somewhat traditional 'packing wolves, has been nothing but perfect and a shining representation of how far hybrids can come nowadays in terms of reaching success and wealth. But behind closed doors, it's headaches, fights, arguments and stress for everyone involved.

From trying to somehow keep track of their heats to re-scheduling things over and over again because the person interviewing or hosting at the event might be an unmated hybrid that could set off any of the guys at just a glance. They're all of a category two, technically independent and mostly human- but sometimes, staff would like to argue against that. Jungkook and Jimin can be harder to control than a horde of toddlers sometimes, while Yoongi and Namjoon are sometimes just plain scary. Taehyung literally does what he wants together with Seokjin, and Hoseok usually keeps to himself. Its all a mess, really.

Especially now that the cracks had begun to show to the public as well.

"Why a category five though?" Jin argues from the side. "You've been complaining about us for years now. And we're the most 'normal' one might say." He air quotes as he speaks.

"If they see you being kind to a category five like her-" the manager explains himself, "-they highly likely will calm down."

"Or start letting their frustrations out on her." Namjoon disagrees. "If they smell just a hint of any of us liking her in any way they'll go rabid."

"So what? It's not like she'll properly understand the situation, or talk about it to anybody." The manager shakes his head. "She will live at the company building, like I said. That's top security around her twenty-four-seven, and she will also have regular caretakers- staff will look after her for you, you don't have to interact with her at all apart from scheduled activities. It'll be fine." He tries, and everyone sighs.

Well- it's not like they've got the last word either way.

---

Jungkook is a sensitive person.

Not as in weak, but as in, his senses are very much sharp enough to notice even the slightest changes in something. And so when the first furniture is delivered, first boxes with what he assumes to be the new hybrid's personal items, there's something in the air he can't quite put a finger on.

"Oh, Jungkook-ssi!" One of the staff almost runs into him, as he stands alone in the dark and rather small space you'll be living in soon. "I almost locked you in. Is there something you need?" She asks, and he shakes his head.

Something about the faint scent of yours clinging to some of the items placed, like the blankets and pillows and stuffed animals, makes him wonder what will happen from now on. You're being used for higher gain- and in a way, he wonders if you'll know that, or if you're not able to understand the complexity of the situation like his managers had claimed. A category five doesn't mean you're mentally challenged, after all. You're just a bit more hybrid than he, or the rest of the guys are.

And somehow, it all just suddenly feels so fucked up to him.

"No, sorry, I just wanted to.. look around I guess." He offers the staff member who nods kindly, before he leaves to go home.

Somehow feeling a little heavy inside.

---

"Am I the only one who thinks this is fucked up?" Yoongi sighs as they all laze around in the living room area of the dorm they share. "We don't even know where the fuck they get that hybrid from."

"With the way they're talking about her it feels as if she must be from a carecenter or something alike." Seokjin offers from the side. "After all, they did mention that she needs help in looking after herself." He notes, and Taehyung chimes in at that.

"I mean I get the idea but.. it's still odd to 'use' her for that. And what if she doesn't even like us?" He shakes his head. "Category five's are pretty obvious in what they're thinking. It's not like they can just tell her to act the part."

Everyone falls silent at that. The wolf hybrid has a point here- if she doesn't play the part well, what will happen then?

"Well- not that I care." Hoseok announces, getting up. "And neither should you guys. We're getting paid to entertain people, nothing more." He simply mumbles to himself, leaving to go to bed. And he's probably right too- the less the guys think about what the situation means to you, the better. And done the line, the space given to you at the company building is definitely better than any shelter or carecenter you're probably currently residing at.

Jungkook however isn't convinced. He's still remembering that odd feeling he had earlier standing in between all those things that smelled like you.

And he's got a feeling that this whole 'plan' will probably not go the way they all planned it to.

---

Despite everyone's varying levels of interest in you at first, it's pretty clear that today, the date you'll be officially moving in, the entire pack is equally as eager to get a glimpse of you.

"Remind me why you're all in my studio?" Namjoon sighs, watching everyone camp out in his small space, both Jimin and Taehyung peeking out the door.

"They're here! There right there, they just brought them in-!" Jimin whispers sharply, and suddenly even Namjoon gets up to maybe catch a glance.

"She must be young." Taehyung mumbles, watching how an elderly woman in a 'Seoul Hybrid Care Project'-jacket holds your hand as you walk next to her. Your tail is a little curled and clearly one of a canine hybrid- your ears somewhat folded downwards.

"Maybe she's just short." Namjoon argues quietly, Jungkook pushing a bit to get a glimpse too. "I mean- if she was too young to attend late shows and schedule that would be pretty dumb wouldn't it?" He wonders, and the others hum in agreement, watching as your tail lowers, your mood visibly changing as soon as it's evident you'll be staying.

They all start to feel a little bad once they have to watch you cling to the caretaker- probably your only familiar person, who attempts to make you understand that you'll stay here now. It's the first taste of what you as a category five are like- there's no covering up your emotions whatsoever, you visibly and clearly make it known that you're not happy about this situation.

The only thing that soothes the pack a little it the sight of the staff gently wiping your tear stained cheeks before leading you into your new living space, door closing behind you. Though it's odd- because somehow, the entire pack feels closer than they've been in a few years by now, everyone equally both interested and mildly worried for you.

"Okay I can't be the only one who feels this though." Taehyung suddenly perks up, the ball of squeezed together wolf hybrids breaking up as they all get back into the studio, door closing. "Right?"

"She's a category five Taehyung!" Namjoon scolds.

At that, everyone falls silent for a moment.

Because while they can't deny what Taehyung mentioned was true-

Namjoon also had a point.

---

You are, in fact, not actually that young, merely months behind Jungkook.

And Seokjin's very sharp sense of observation tells him that you're not at all unaware of your surroundings whatsoever. It seems like you want to talk often but then remember something that makes you shut up before you can even open your mouth. You're however otherwise clearly aware of what's going on, interested and curious about things you don't know. It must be frustrating to not be able to voice out your thoughts, he thinks to himself, already wondering if there could be a different way of communicating with you.

Turns out you are indeed a domestic dog hybrid, chosen for your rather reserved but friendly nature. You've been born to a mother than wanted to stay anonymous, having given you up as a newborn pup at a shelter, presumably because you're the result of infidelity.

Taehyung is, to no one's surprise, the first one to try and interact with you in the practice room. You seem a bit hesitant at first but it's very clear that you're easily warming up to him, your tail wagging every time Jimin says something that makes Taehyung laugh. The two wolves are sitting close to you, and you seem alright with that, albeit a little shy.

Which is to be expected, considering its been barely a week since you moved into the company building, and you've also never really met them.

"What're you looking for, hm?" Taehyung wonders as he watches you search around for something. You look at him at that, unsure, like you're fighting internally with yourself.

"Maybe she's too shy to say it out loud?" Jungkook wonders, sitting down close to you as well now. "You wanna whisper it maybe?" He tries, leaning in and pointing to his hybrid ear-

And to everyone's surprise you do actually sit up on your knees, cupping your hands over his ears before you whisper something.

And of course, everyone is eager to know what it was, since it makes the youngest look so caught off guard, cheeks red as he gets up to fetch a bottle of water from a table nearby.

They distract themselves for the time being by starting to actually practice, occasionally watching your reaction to their choreography. Being watched by you is actually not that weird at all- if anything, it makes them all work a bit harder as if to impress you, underline their deaths as the perfect idols they are.

Though, at the end of the day, they're also just a pack of young wolves, and it's clear.

Jungkook let's himself fall onto his back close to you, huffing in exhaustion making everyone laugh. The air feels oddly light today, as if the stress isn't actually that bad this time around. And it's especially evident in the way everyone laughs when you reach out to pet Jungkooks head as if to tell him that he worked hard, making the idol shy again.

Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea after all.

---

It's your first public appearance.

Described to the public as a 'charity case', you've been somewhat officially shown in behind the scenes footage every now and then, many fans having already found some info on you from the internet. The reactions are mixed, but mostly positive- many claiming that the band and company are showing how kind the world can be by taking you in. It's probably because the company itself had made it clear that you do not actually live with the boys, but in a separate place with personal caretakers, eliminating the possibility of causing a dating rumor for now, though that might happen naturally at some point.

However, all is better than having to defend the guys fighting amongst each other like dogs over food.

The level of comfort around you varies amongst the members, which is to be expected- but it's already clear that you're very good at wrapping people around your little finger. Seokjin is holding your hand as they all walk through the airport together, and you never let go of it once, staying close to the oldest. He's become somewhat of a guardian figure for you- his calm and carefree attitude drawing you in.

He helps you buckle your seatbelt on the plane, and helps you out of your jacket like it's second nature, though he does roll his eyes at Hoseok commenting how he looks like a father. "Well at least I'm helping her, you all just ignore her or play around!" He scolds, tension rising when Taehyung starts to argue from the corner.

"Hey, no one asked you to play the part!" He barks. "We got staff for that.." he scoffs to himself, while Namjoon shakes his head.

"Guys please.." he begs quietly, though the barking doesn't die down.

"So we're just supposed to act like we care but toss her aside? How cruel is that?" Jin argues back, making Jungkook whine from close by.

"Hyung, don't shout like that-" He worries, and Seokjin is ready to really shout now, when Yoongi gets up and walks over to unbuckle your seatbelt. Only now does everyone take a moment to notice you quietly crying to yourself.

"Come on, I'll get you some tissues.." the wolf mumbles quietly to you, effectively removing you from the crossfire to have you sit next to himself instead.

It's quiet at that, except for the soft sound of you blowing your nose and whimpering a bit as Yoongi offers his silent support to you. Jin sighs as he sits back down, sound signaling the start of the flight.

It stays quiet like this until the seatbelts are allowed to be removed, an apologetic looking Jungkook walking up next to where Yoongi sits next to you. You're asleep already, having taken the rapper up on the silent offer to sleep on his lap, a pillow on his thighs offering comfort for your head. "M' sorry." The youngest mumbles quietly, running a hand over your head.

"We've got to stop, at least around her." Namjoon says, calmly. "Our pack issues are one thing, but unloading all that on her is just unfair."

"I didn't mean to shout like that.." seokjin sighs from his seat.

"And I didn't mean to get so angry either.." Taehyung apologizes.

"What's even wrong with us in the first place?" Hoseok asks, shaking his head to himself. "Its like we're just fighting these days, nothing else."

"Cause we do." Jungkook says, still petting your head. It's clear that the youngest is pretty attached to you already. "We're just complaining and arguing.." he mumbles softly, watching you sleep.

"Why.?" Jin asks himself mostly.

"Doesn't matter." Yoongi quietly offers. "But we gotta figure this shit out without getting her caught in the middle like that." He reminds everyone. "She can't talk and tell us to stop-"

"She can, though." Jungkook perks up, ears standing tall.

"What?" Namjoon is interested now. Category five hybrids typically don't talk.

"The water bottle on Tuesday. She told me what she wanted when I asked her to, you know, tell me quietly." Jungkook explains. "I think she's just- embarrassed, maybe?"

"Of what?" Hoseok wonders. "Talking in that category is impressive."

"Yeah but she- I guess she's got some trouble pronouncing words. She didn't say 'water' for example, but something like 'wadu'." He tells his packmates.

"Thats cute though." Taehyung laughs from his seat, the others chuckling as well. "Maybe at the center she got made fun of." He tries to justify.

"Could be." Namjoon nods. "But with some practice she could surely work on that issue. It would help tremendously if she at least communicates in single words." He says, and everyone agrees.

"You know.." yoongi smiles to himself, looking down on you still sleeping. "...I think she's doing something entirely different than just polishing our image already."

"Huh?" Hoseok asks.

"Dont you notice?" The rapper asks the pack. "Everytime it's about her, we agree. No fighting. We suddenly problem-solve and actually talk." He explains.

"...I-" Namjoon stares at you at that revelation, realizing it as well. "You're right."

Maybe you're not just a publicity stunt after all-

But an actual solution for the root of the problem.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #ot7 hybrid fanfic #ot7 hybrid imagine #ot7 fic #ot7 x reader #ot7 imagine #hybrid imagine

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