#give it two weeks and the hormones will change

[fa3tality]

my favorite murder goddess !!!

[ceilidho]

fig. 3. heart in flames; baptism by fire | John Price x Reader

MASTERLIST · AO3

The universe hasn't seen fit to give Price a mate of his own. He'll have to take matters into his own hands.

or: the forced mating omegaverse au

tags: Size Difference, Size Kink, Omegaverse, Explicit Sexual Content, AFAB Reader, Stalking, Kidnapping, Heavy Noncon/Dubcon Elements

His appetite is an arsenal all on its own. 

It’s always been bigger than him, barrel-chested. All consuming. It’s the reason that John is where he is today, always chasing down something larger than himself. Greedy for what he can’t have. Ambitious to a fault. Promotions and titles and commendations and accolades; they’re all wrapped up in his psychology, into whatever it is about him that wants without end. Without satisfaction. 

It’s likely why he ends up being referred to an endocrinologist specializing in hormone disorders in alphas when an overproduction of androstenone turns his ruts violent. Over the years, they’ve been steadily getting worse, even with a partner to help see him through the worst of it, the overproduction of hormones making him a little too mindless, a little too frenzied. 

“It’s not especially common for men your age, if I can be frank,” the doctor tells him, flipping through his chart. “Not uncommon, but low enough that I want to send you for a couple tests just to be safe. You’re still unmated?”

John nods. “That’s right.”

It’s not that the option hasn’t ever presented itself, but the timing has never felt right. Even marriage hadn’t sweetened the deal, and maybe that’s why he’s just north of forty-five and already divorced. The fault lies with him alone; he’s man enough to admit that. Maybe if he’d been more attentive, less likely to disappear for months at a time; if he’d swallowed his reluctance and just bit his omega instead of dragging his feet through his marriage like a prisoner marching to his own doom—maybe things might be different. 

“Any plans to change that?”

“‘Fraid not.”

The truth of the matter is that, though he’s waited a lifetime for that special someone to cross his path, no one has ever come close to smelling right. Even his ex-wife had only come so close—good enough to turn his head, but not enough to keep him. Or maybe he hadn’t been enough to keep her. These days, it’s hard to say which feels more like the truth. 

Sometimes John thinks that it’s simply not in the cards for him. That for whatever reason, destiny or God or the universe or whatever force that decides the fate of all things, has deemed him unfit for the other half of his soul. 

It’s just that it’s been—

It’s been a long time without anyone to call his own.

The doctor scribbles something down in John’s chart. “Alright.”

With his rut coming up in just a few days, the timing couldn’t be better. It sizzles like a low grade fever under his skin. He works up a sweat more easily, even a couple flights of stairs leaving the pits of his shirt dark and damp. There’s a little extra padding around his midsection, a bit more bulk on his arms and thighs; his beard a little thicker than usual, forcing him to trim it twice a day to keep it from growing out of control. Even though it happens every year, it sneaks up on him, the added mass making him a bit lethargic in the weeks before his rut. 

“We won’t have the results in time for your next scheduled rut, but I’d recommend asking a trusted partner to help you out. And wear protection. We have extra mouth guards and other paraphernalia if you need anything.”

John holds up a hand when the doctor goes to open a drawer. “I’ve got plenty at home. Appreciate the advice though. Any medication I should be taking?”

“I don’t want to start you on anything this close to your rut, but maybe after. I’ll have the front desk set up a follow up appointment for you for two weeks from now.”

He nods, making a mental note. 

There are a couple girls he could call up on short notice, but the thought sits like a dull weight in his chest. The decades of casual heats and ruts have left him with little appetite for that sort of thing these days. What he wants—craves really, needs really—is something permanent, something meaningful. John’s been around the block enough to know that he’s looking for something more. 

He’s had good ruts and bad ruts. Ruts spent in the warm embrace of another, filling up a soft, wet hole again and again until his spend leaked down their thighs, lost in a daze of pheromones and heat-slick. Ruts spent entombed in his own frustrated lust, mindlessly rutting into a cum-filled fleshlight to slake a thirst that never ebbs, only flows and rushes over the guardrails, dragging him further under. 

This one might end up falling into the latter category.

“Right, well, thanks for stopping by, John. You have a good rest of your day, alright?”

“Same to you.”

His nostrils burn the second he walks back into the main corridor, which is teeming with activity, children climbing over their parents’ laps and people still waiting to see a doctor slumped over in their chairs. Two interns wheel a bed down the hall, forcing everyone to scoot to the side and cling to the wall to get out of the way. There’s always too many people in the hospital. Too many smells. 

This close to his rut, everything reeks. Congealed sweat and antiseptic; plastic chairs that smell simultaneously of sick and Lysol wipes, confusing his nose. Stale body odour from those in the waiting room on their sixth hour of waiting on loved ones or on an available doctor. It’s a bludgeon to the senses, particularly when they’re more sensitive than usual. 

An elevator takes him down to the first floor, which is even more chaotic than the one John was just on somehow. Patients and doctors spilling out of rooms, announcement after announcement blaring over the intercom, and always—always—the sharp scent of isopropyl, astringent against the inside of his nose. 

“I don’t understand—did she leave?” 

The voice catches him like a fish on a hook on his way towards the main entrance, beadhead soaring through the air and slipping under the surface of the water just as he’s angling to leave. 

When John turns around, you’re standing by the front desk with your chin tucked into your chest. You make a pitiful sight like that, with your lips pursed and your eyebrows pinched, and you hold yourself almost delicately, hands gripping the edge of the desk to stabilize yourself. 

He takes a deep inhale. Though admittedly he’s not close enough to get a good whiff, your scent is muted, likely dampened by the effects of several painkillers and the anesthetic still running through your system. The stench of pain is strong too, which accounts for the way you hold your body and move so gingerly, the brace on your arm a good indication. 

“I’m sorry, ma’am. If she’s not here, she must have left. You could try calling her?” the nurse at the front desk says, almost apologetic. “We can’t let you leave without an escort to take you home.”

“Okay, um…” you whisper, and now your scent is pungent with panic, acerbic. “Let me call her and ask her to come back.”

The sound of your voice is stronger now that it’s had time to travel. Again he feels it pinch him like coming out of a dream.

It’s so unremarkable that John nearly carries on down the hall towards the entrance, nothing about the interaction sticking out. 

Something keeps him rooted in place though. Intuition or a sixth sense or finely honed instincts. So instead of leaving, he turns around and walks right back to the front desk, stopping when he’s within arm’s length of you, eyes soaking up the sight of your tensed shoulders.

He doesn’t know the words are going to come out of his mouth until they do. “Lost your way home?” 

When you turn your eyes up to look at him, he feels the breath get knocked out of him. Prettier than anything he’s ever seen, the lure at the end of a fishing line drawing him in. 

And yet, for as pleasant as you smell, it’s nothing dissimilar to the countless omegas John has come across before. It evokes nothing primal—no deep-seated urge to sink his canines into a plump gland and bind you to him. 

You simply smell nice.

It’s difficult to articulate the devastation that courses through him. He’d hoped against hope that it would happen, that someday he would turn a corner and his fated mate would be there, looking at him like what took you so long? But how long can a man be expected to wait? How many years of disappointment can he be expected to weather by himself, his hopes dashed repeatedly? 

In less than a second, he makes a decision. 

One too many times, he’s hoped for fate to intervene and reward him for his patience. It never has. That responsibility must fall on him. 

There’s nothing new about trying to immanentize the eschaton, but John has faith in himself. If fate won’t do what must be done, then he will instead. 

“Excuse me?” you ask. So polite. 

“Heard you talking to the nurse about your ride home; sounds like you’re in a bit of a fix.”

“Yeah, I…um…” You seem torn on whether or not to keep up the conversation, likely finding his attention a bit intrusive, but gentility prevails in the end. Good. He was just starting to like you. “My friend was supposed to drive me home after surgery, but it looks like she might’ve bailed. She’s not answering my texts, but someone else said they saw her leave.”

“Sorry to hear that. Not fair, putting you in a spot like that.”

“I’m trying to give her the benefit of the doubt, but…uh…” You laugh, a touch derisively. “This is kind of screwing me over. I’m trying to get another friend to come pick me up, but it’s short notice and most people can’t just call out of work at the drop of a hat.”

There’s a vulnerable note in your voice almost masked by the touch of annoyance in your laugh but still plain for anyone attentive enough to hear. John is nothing but attentive.

“Don’t let her screw you over and get away with it,” he says, positioning himself on your side. “Short of someone dying, there’s no reason she should’ve left you on your own after an operation.”

“You’re probably right,” you murmur, too tired to put up a fight. “It just sucks. I wish she hadn’t told me yes in the first place—I could’ve asked someone else and given them more notice.”

“If you’re looking for a way home, I’d be happy to give you a lift.” John shrugs a shoulder when your lips open, the polite refusal already bubbling up your throat rebuffed by his next words. “I’m headed out now anyway. Just came to get some bloodwork done, nothing serious. Wouldn’t be an imposition at all.”

Your eyebrows pull together, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. 

“I’m not sure if I should be accepting rides from strangers.”

There’s a teasing lilt there, but also an undercurrent that he’s become familiar with over the years. A tempered kind of caution. One that says the words with a smile but prepares to sprint the other way. 

He smiles and holds out his hand. “I’m John.” When you take it, he knows he’s got you. “Not strangers anymore, are we?”

You answer that with a coy shake of your head, giving your name just as readily.

“So, how about it? Can I take you home?” John asks, repeating the invitation. His blood simmers when you take too long to answer.

“Ma’am,” the nurse suddenly interjects from the front desk, taking your attention away from him. It’s surprising how much that displeases him. “Have you gotten in touch with your friend yet or do we have to put you on the list for the drop-off service?”

John can see you warring with the options in your mind, eyes flitting between him and the nurse. 

“Actually, I found a ride home. Can I sign out?”

“Mind if I ask what you were in for?”

The drive to your house is mostly uneventful. He plugs your address into the GPS and hits save when something outside the window catches your attention. 

“It was just a little procedure.” His ensuing silence must make you nervous because you volunteer the reason for your stay after just a few short seconds. “Carpal tunnel release. My job involves a lot of typing, so I couldn’t keep putting it off; can’t wait to go back to living normally.”

He clocked the splint and the bandage around your hand and wrist when he approached you at the hospital, but it’s good to put a label on it. John makes a mental note to look up the post-op protocol for carpal tunnel surgery when the two of you get home. It’ll help him to better understand and address your needs in the coming days and weeks, and what he’ll need to watch out for when his rut finally sets in. 

He’ll clue you in on all of that later when he’s had a chance to explain himself. 

“Shame that your friend didn’t stick around to get you home. Probably still in a bit of pain, aren’t you?”

“Not yet. The painkillers they’ve got me on are really good.”

“Hm. I bet.”

You’re not that loopy despite being on painkillers though. More tired than anything. 

“I probably could’ve planned this better. I didn’t even get groceries before leaving for surgery.”

“You want me to stop and pick you up a couple things?”

He can see you turn to look at him from the corner of his eye. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve got time. Do you know what you need?”

You rattle off the couple items that you need and John merges into the left lane while listening, heading towards the nearest grocery store. 

He makes you stay in the car while he goes in to pick up a couple things, his number plugged into your phone in case you need him to rush back. The few items you rattle off aren’t sufficient enough for what you’ll need over the coming weeks, so John takes the liberty of purchasing a few extra things. Cured meats, fruit, a box of pastries for breakfast, and a couple frozen microwaveable meals. Baby wipes, lotion, and a multivitamin. All the essentials for a rut. 

There are things back at his place that he’ll need for his rut, but he’ll ask Simon to pick those up whenever he has a chance. It’s why John gave him a spare key after all. 

When he wheels the cart out of the store, he comes around by the back of the car, popping the trunk before you have a chance to see the sheer amount of bags in his cart. There will be a time later to talk you through what’s going to happen. 

“Sorry if my list was complicated,” you apologize when he gets back into the front seat, the cart in the corral. It doesn’t change where things were already heading, but it makes him look at you a bit differently. There’s a sweetness to you, one he hadn’t noticed before. 

He likes it though.

“Wasn’t complicated in the least,” John says, brushing off the apology. “Just took me a while to find everything. Didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

Your eyes crinkle when you smile. “I’m not in any hurry.”

John’s always liked docile things. Sweet, simpering things with nervous eyes and gentle demeanours. 

Moreover—

what isn’t already tamed is his to break. 

You’re a cagey thing as well though. At least, you get cagey when John gets out of the car and follows you up the front stairs on your porch instead of hovering a safe distance away. He keeps the subterfuge up by only carrying in the bags with the things you requested, leaving the rest in his car for now.

“I really appreciate all your help; I should be able to take it from here though,” you tell him at the door, the key still tucked in your hand. Your voice is infused with enough gratitude that a duller man might let it stroke their ego while you slipped inside and out of their grasp.

John smiles instead. “Wouldn’t be doing the right thing if I let you go without making sure you got to bed safe and sound. Open the door, sweetheart.”

He can see the hesitation on your face plain as day. Every instinct telling you not to let a man into your house, much less an alpha. 

But inevitably you let him in.

Good girl.

The house is saturated with your scent. He has to take a deep inhale right off the bat, committing your scent to memory. Without the overwhelming stench of antiseptic and sickness from the hospital, your scent is cleaner, richer. Preserved in amber. 

There’s something faint underlying your lived-in scent though. He can’t quite name it, but it sits on the tip of his tongue like a tune he’s heard before. 

“Mind if I put these away for you?” John asks, lifting the grocery bags in his hands. 

“Oh—yes, thank you. The kitchen’s that way.” You point towards the back of the house.

John carries the bags with just your groceries to the kitchen and unloads everything one by one into the fridge. The meager contents of your fridge speak to a frugal, solitary existence, and suddenly the faint smell permeating through your house has a name. Loneliness. 

A man hasn’t been in here in quite some time, if ever. Every single inch of the house has been scrubbed with your scent, not a trace of any former occupant remaining. No roommate or close friend or boyfriend. 

“Nice place you’ve got,” he comments when he walks back into the living room to find you fiddling around with the cushions on the couch, arranging them to make yourself a cozy spot to lie down.

You look up at the sound of his voice and smile, faintly flattered. “Thank you. I’ve only had it a year, but uh…I’ve been doing my best. Also—thanks again for driving me home. And stopping for groceries.” Your lips go round like you’ve remembered something. “I still have to pay you back by the way. Wait right here.”

“Let me go get the rest from the car first,” John says. 

“There’s more?” you ask, surprised. 

He nods. “I got you a couple extra things—on me. I hope that wasn’t too much of an overstep.”

You chew your lip but ultimately the uncertainty melts from your gaze the longer he stands there waiting for your approval. “…No, that’s…that’s fine. You didn’t have to, but thank you.”

His overstep is just a toe over the lip of the door, but it’s still a foot keeping the door from closing. 

On his way back out to the car, John happens to glance down while passing the table in the entryway and finds, much to his delight, your phone resting casually beside the vanity tray. It sits there like you purposefully left it for him to take. 

If not you, then fate. 

With deft fingers practiced at lifting, he pockets your phone, and then heads back to the car for the rest of the groceries, whistling the whole way there and back. 

You start to look at him a bit differently when he brings in the second round of groceries. The number of bags hanging from his forearms must strike you as odd, too many for what you asked him to pick up. John doesn’t bother making any excuses though. 

He can see your trust wavering, pulled out from the water and left belly up in the air, gasping for breath. It wouldn’t be hard to fix it. It wouldn’t be hard to go about this the right way—leave you with your groceries and pain meds, tuck you into bed before seeing himself out, and then waiting a couple days to ask you out for coffee. To leave now would mend your trust entirely. 

He considers it even, never one for turning down a potential strategy without considering its merit. But his alpha digs its heels in when he contemplates leaving, pushing every inch of its weight into rooting him in place. 

It doesn’t want him to leave; and truth be told, John can’t bear the thought either. 

The little trust you extended evaporates more and more as the minutes tick by and he shows no sign of leaving. You dance around it for a while, cautiously hopeful that he might be inadvertently overstaying his welcome, and John watches your descent into hopelessness from the corner of his eyes. 

It’s only when he helps himself to a snack from the fridge and turns the television on that you break, sweat beading on your upper lip. 

“John, I think maybe you s-should leave.”

The confidence you muster up to even just say that impresses him. It takes a lot out of you though, your body sagging when the words come out of your mouth, so much tension building up in your muscles that it literally weighs you down.

The hand with the remote drifts down to his side. “What do you mean, sweetheart?” John asks. 

“Well, I’ve—I’ve got it from here.” You switch to a more diplomatic tone, likely wary of worsening the situation you’ve gotten yourself into. Aware that you’ve invited him into your house, that your safe space now has another resident. “I don’t need any more help.” 

Though not as close to his rut as he will be in the coming days, the sentiment still makes him bristle. You don’t need any more help. Rich considering you let a strange alpha take you home not half an hour ago. 

He places the remote down and advances on you briskly, all of a sudden, quick enough that you only notice when he’s right in front of you, surprise overriding your fight or flight response. 

John cups the back of your neck with a big hand and tilts your head up until he can see the puffy, virgin mating gland sitting in the crook of your neck. Thumbs it too, ignoring the way your eyes go wide and horrified, and the way you try to wriggle out of his grasp until he tightens his hand around the nape of your neck. 

“Of course you do, sweetheart. Can't have you wandering around like this—wrong person might try to take advantage.”

Fear makes your pupils dilate. It stinks too, the stench wafting off you. A bit of initial unpleasantness is expected though, and understandable. It’ll be a lot to help work you through the worst of it, but it’s nothing he hadn’t already internally committed to. 

“You’re—you’re not going to leave?”

John shakes his head and smiles. 

Smart girl that you are, you don’t jump to screaming and shouting. Not that the urge isn’t there building in your chest, but you know the odds are stacked against you. You’ve already let him in. 

Your breathing picks up though, and your lip trembles. An anxious swallow follows, then another, throat too dry for you to speak. 

“Why?”

“C’mere, sweetheart.” John takes you by the hand, careful to avoid the bandaged one, and pulls you to the couch, where he takes a seat. “We can only have a frank conversation about this if you promise to be polite and wait your turn to speak. Clear?”

Your lips twitch with displeasure but you nod. 

“My rut’s coming up in a week.” He catches you before you spring back up to your feet, yanking you back down by your arm. “No, don’t try to run; this is happening, love. My rut’s coming up and I’m staying here for it, okay?”

“I can stay someplace else,” you offer weakly, voice breaking. 

His smile verges on pitying. “No, sweetheart. You’re staying here with me for it.”

Your scent goes sour. Ammonium sulfide and allicin. His nose would wrinkle if he’d been expecting anything less than your reaction, but you conform, as always, beautifully to his expectations. 

“You can’t…make me go through a rut with you.” Your throat constricts around the word rut. 

“Yes, I can,” he says simply because that’s what it is. Simple.

In a world of people riddled with guilt complexes and victim mentalities, he stands alone. He has no qualms about taking what’s owed to him, or with shaping the world according to the version of it that lives in his head. That’s how history is made. 

He can’t judge others for their nature the same way he can’t fault himself for his. 

“I thought you said you were in the army.”

“I did.”

“Isn’t this…—this is against the law then, isn’t it?”

“You’re thinking of American law, sweetheart.” He doesn’t bring up any similar protection against forced billeting enshrined in English law. Best to not get lost in the weeds. 

There’s a tick in your eyes that betrays you. John readies himself for a chase when your eyes glance over his shoulders towards the door, but you discard that plan as quickly as it entered your brain. Weighing the odds and finding them not in your favour. 

“I have friends,” you blurt out. “Family. People check up on me.”

“That’s fine, love. When they do, you’re gonna tell them that you’re taking a week off to rest and you don’t want anyone coming by in the meantime.” When you don’t respond, clearly thinking something different, irritation flickers in his chest. “Wanna know why you’re going to do that?”

“…Why?”

“‘Cause you know this could go one of two ways. We could either have a nice time together and I’ll be on my way afterwards…or I could bite that little mating gland of yours now and we can take that option off the table.”

There’s no point in telling you that he’s already made up his mind about that part. The allure of hope is too tempting; he has to give you something to latch onto. 

“Do we understand each other?” he asks. 

Your initial hesitation tells him all he needs to know. This won’t be an easy conquest or a city handed over to spare its citizens pain—you won’t hesitate to put up a fight. 

“Okay.” 

John makes himself at home like a fox laying claim to a rabbit’s burrow. 

Siege warfare. A lifetime in the military has made him well versed in poliorcetics. He knows of how the Romans once conquered the city of Fidene by launching false attacks from four different directions at four different times before breaching the city through a long tunnel that passed under its walls, and how Alexander captured the city of Tyre by building a kilometer-long causeway and besieging it for seven months.

Your phone was the first thing to go, confiscated lest you got any funny ideas about calling someone to rescue you. Not that you need rescuing; in the end, you’ll see that this was in your best interests too. The next thing to do is your laptop, tucked away out of reach until you’ve proved yourself to be trustworthy. 

He cuts off all trade routes and replaces them with his own, Simon showing up at the door the following morning with supplies. When you spot a man at the door, you must think saviour before foe, because you pound on the window facing the porch. At least John had the foresight to lock you out of the foyer before he opened the front door.

Simon cocks an eyebrow. “Noisy mouse, ain’t she?”

He shrugs. “She’ll learn. You got everything I asked for?”

“Check ‘n tell me if I missed anything. I ‘aven’t got time to get anything else today, but I can come back tomorrow.”

“Good man, Simon. Give me a minute, alright, lad?”

John gives the bag a cursory check, but just as he thought, Simon didn’t miss anything. He never does. 

Simon helps him install an electronic lock on the front door from the inside before heading off to work and John spends the next ten minutes programming it while you stare through the foyer door helplessly. The back door gets the same treatment later on, effectively rendering you a prisoner in your own house.

Then he takes stock of the property. 

You’ve made yourself a perfectly respectable home. It has all the charm of a simple family home, nothing like his ancestral estate on the Welsh border; there’s something real here, something designed with comfort in mind. You’ll have to live with summering there and wintering here in the city, but he won’t ask you to abandon the life you’ve made for yourself here. The stove’s at least thirty years old—one of those old brands made to last, likely passed down from a family member or bought secondhand. 

But John takes stock of the layout of the house because the longer he’s there, the more his instincts tingle. 

As well-decorated and maintained as your house is, it doesn’t feel ready for a rut. Too many hard edges and wide open spaces. Before humans became accustomed to single domiciles, instinct would’ve made them search far and wide for a burrow or cave comfortable enough to ride out their cycle. 

Like nest building for omegas, den making is inherent to alphas. It’s programmed in his DNA. Even out in the wild, he’d know how to make one—know what materials to look for in the absence of soft pillows and sheets—and feel that same urge to make a space suitable for his mate. 

Everything in its right place.

He starts by pulling the mattress off the bed frame and dragging it to the corner of the room. It makes your room feel like more of a den, a place to hunker down in, and that’s only reinforced when John pulls out every blanket and pillow from your linen closet and drapes them over the mattress. You don’t have blackout curtains, but he solves that by pinning a few sheets up on your blinds until barely any light passes through. 

Preparing for a rut is a little like preparing for a storm. One has to batten down the hatches to ready themselves for the worst of it. He installs locks on the cutlery drawers and stows the knife block away in the highest cabinet, locking that as well. He thinks of the worst case scenarios and plans accordingly. 

You don’t seem to appreciate his efforts though.

“Why are you—” you start and then abruptly stop, swallowing. “Please stop rearranging the furniture.” 

John pauses, putting the couch down gently so as not to damage the floorboards or upset you with any sudden noise. 

“Well, love, I’m not about to let you do all the backbreaking work, now am I?”

That response doesn’t seem to satisfy you, expression still twisted into a scowl. “Neither of us has to do any work. Why are you moving things around in the first place?”

“You really don’t get how these things are done, do you?”

Embarrassment makes you snappy. “No, and I don’t have to because it’s my fucking house either way. Stop moving my furniture.”

His eyes go half-lidded. Anger courses through his veins like floating down a lazy river. John has never liked being told what to do—it’s a personality quirk that’s been both a hindrance and a help to his career, but in his love life, he’s never allowed that sort of thing to fly. The dissolution of his first marriage speaks for itself. 

He lumbers around the couch towards you and you flinch, walking backwards in the opposite direction. He’s quick despite his size though, hand reaching up and cupping the back of your neck before you hit the wall behind you, and all you can do is stare up at him towering over you nervously. 

“Careful, sweetheart,” John murmurs, holding you firmly enough by the back of your neck that you whimper, only one hand able to press against his chest in an effort to push him away. The other you cradle limply against your chest. “Keep running your mouth like that and I might need to find a better way to put it to use. Ever had your mouth knotted?”

Nothing headier than the idea of pushing to the back of his omega’s throat and letting his knot expand until it’s trapped behind your teeth, keeping you locked on his cock until it’s softened enough to pull out. 

He stores the idea away for later. It wouldn’t do to knot your mouth for the first time during his rut when he doesn’t have the wherewithal to take it slow and keep you centred, but it’s an idea he’ll have to return to at a later date. When he has time to sit you on his lap and comfort you after something so intense instead of thinking only of his own urges. 

Rut isn’t a completely mindless state of being. Even in the thrall of his rut, John will still have enough cognizance to make somewhat informed decisions. It would be dangerous if alphas were susceptible to any influence during such a vulnerable period. Anyone could take advantage of someone in that state. 

There are some things that he doesn’t have complete control over. The closer John gets to the onset of his rut, the stronger the urge to scent his territory gets. 

It starts off relatively innocuous. He touches things more. Grips the doorframe when he enters a room and brushes against the wall when he turns a corner. Anything to leave a trace of his scent behind. But as the days progress and the urge to mark what’s his grows to monstrous proportions, the manner in which he chooses to do so shifts in kind. 

“Did you piss in the shower?” you seethe, fists clenched when you storm into the living room where John is seated at the couch watching Casablanca in black and white. 

He grunts. Nods. 

“You could’ve turned the water on to rinse it out,” you hiss. “Or used the toilet.”

“Not the point,” John says. 

“There was a point to pissing in my shower?”

“Never spent a rut with anyone, have you?” That pleases the lazy beast inside of him, but he’s not in any mood to explain himself. That’s what books are for. He prefers to teach through example. 

“What does it matter? That still doesn’t mean you can piss in my shower.” 

He takes a swig from the bottle in his hand. “Then you won’t wanna go around the side of the house.”

The screech gets all tangled up at the back of your throat, only the memory from the last time you sassed him staying your tongue. John can only smile to himself as you storm out of the room.

For all your resistance, he knows you’re not entirely immune to his presence, same as how he can’t shake the gnawing need to bury himself in you as deep as he can get. He’s a prime specimen of alpha—all thick muscle and dark tufts of hair, belly spilling over the top of his jeans and new notch on his belt from the mass he’s tacked on the weeks leading up to his rut. He’s been around the block enough to know his appeal. 

It’s why John doesn’t worry when you hiss and spit. Views the fuss you put up akin to foreplay, a little rough-housing before the situation gets serious. 

There are tells after all. It’s the way you look at him when you think he’s not paying attention. Furtive glances from the corners of your eyes. Shifting your hips in your chair when he sits across from you at meal times and spreads his legs wide, knocking his knees against yours. Eyes going hazy and lingering on the bulging muscles of his arms when you watch him move the furniture around in your house. 

He thinks sometimes about dragging you into bed early. Getting it out of the way now and getting you used to his touch before his rut sets in. It would be a kindness, in a way. 

But he relishes getting to see you squirm, the pseudo-heat sinking in day by day and making you more persuasive, less likely to bolt when your hand finally heals. Your instincts will do half the work for him. All he has to do is wait. 

Besides, the greater the effort, the sweeter the reward. 

Midway through the week, when his rut is close enough to be a thorn in his side but not close enough to have earned him the right to refuse to come in, Laswell has him come in for some inane reason. 

John still doesn’t trust you enough to leave you alone though, so he calls Simon and asks him to babysit you for a couple hours. Not a half hour later, the man’s on his doorstep, hands by his sides and expression deadpan. Even out of the service, he’s still a good soldier. 

It’s what makes Simon his favourite sometimes, though he’d never tell a soul. John knows it’s not right to play favourites with his men, but in the privacy of his own mind, he can face reality. 

“I won’t be gone long, sweetheart, but Simon’s gonna watch you while I’m out. You gonna be on your best behaviour for him?”

Your eyes cut to Simon and they look dangerous. Calculating. His lips almost twitch in amusement under his mustache. 

“Sure,” you say instead of arguing. It’s more of a red flag than if you had. 

The five hours he spends away from you are excruciating, and his temper suffers for it. These days, at his own insistence he’s been relegated to something of a desk job, but that still comes with its fair share of responsibility. There are certain strategic meetings that he can’t simply decline to attend, and though the hours pass by fast enough, he can still feel your presence like an itch at the back of his head that he can’t seem to scratch.

When he gets home, the itch finally dissipates.

“How was she?” John asks.

“Biter.” Simon holds up a forearm where your bite mark sits livid red against his pale skin. The imprint is deep, nearly piercing right through flesh near the canines. 

John whistles. “She did a number on you.”

Simon shrugs, unbothered. “Left the door unlocked and she tried to run. Fast on her feet.” Never did have his head on straight, that one. John feels no pity for the omega that’ll be his one day, but he has some sympathy.

He won’t discipline you just yet. That’ll be a project for another day—after you’re mated and hitched—and he can take his time training you. For now it’s enough that you’re still tucked away inside the den, not quick enough to outrun his lieutenant. 

Simon leaves with a few crisp bills folded in his back pocket and John claps his shoulder on the way out. 

The time is coming though. Every day pulls the sun thick off the horizon, the water dragging back from the shore. Soon, there will be a wave.

John knows his rut has started when he wakes up one morning as grumpy as a bear fresh out of hibernation. 

The first thing he hears is the sound of his stomach growling. Food. His first conscious thought. His stomach aches something fierce, like he hasn’t eaten in quite some time, even though John vaguely recalls eating supper the night before (though for the life of him he can’t remember what). 

His mind processes all of the information around him slowly and sluggishly, not in a hurry to make sense of anything. His vision still works perfectly fine, but his brain takes awhile to register what his eyes are seeing. Only base impulses make any sense. He sniffs the air to help guide him towards a food source. 

Something warm-smelling comes slinking out of the bathroom quietly. His head snaps in its direction and it freezes in its tracks. Prey. 

He sniffs again. No, not prey. Something different. 

Standing up feels strange, like he’s out of his body. It’s too big somehow. Heavier than he remembers it being. The thing trembling by the doorway doesn’t move as he lumbers over, smart enough to know not to run. He wouldn’t be able to stop himself from chasing it down if it tried to get away, prey or not. 

It flinches when he drops his head, the bridge of his nose brushing against its temple. His scent’s all over this one. He must have come or pissed on it at one point, marking it as his own. His scent clings to its skin, buried deeper than the epidermis. 

It shifts to one foot.

“Don’t…move…” he growls, tensing up. It tenses up too, breathing out short, shaky breaths. 

“J-John?” it says, voice like a bell in his head. It knows his name.

“Hungry,” he says instead of asking how it knows who he is. 

“I…I can make you breakfast.”

He herds it away from the bathroom door instead of answering, staring it down as it walks backwards down the hall and into the room that smells strongest of food. 

The house smells of him only vaguely. It smells mainly of the thing he herds into the kitchen, warm and spicy like cinnamon or cloves. There’s a faint trace of his scent though, as if he’s been here for enough time that it isn’t wholly foreign. His hackles raise at the thought of not being in his own territory though. 

But this must also be his. If you’re his, then your den must, in turn, belong to him. 

You scurry around the kitchen gathering all of the ingredients for breakfast while he stares from his chair, eyes tracking your every move. Part of him waits for you to try and bolt, on edge when you open the fridge and the sound makes his ears twitch. His muscles sit bunched under his skin, ready to pounce and chase. 

When you put the plate down in front of him, you make as if to take a step back, clearly meaning to give him some space. That won’t do. A firm hand on your forearm rectifies that; he pulls you down onto his lap before you’ve had a chance to register what’s happening. 

“Whoa,” you gasp, all turned around. 

The first piece of bacon he tries to pick up slips from his fingers. The next one he manages to pick up goes straight to your lips. “Eat.”

“I’m not—”

“Eat.”

Your cheeks bulge around the mouthful of bacon and eggs when he lifts another bite to your mouth. You chew quickly, swallowing before it’s fully chewed, nervous that his loose hold on his temper might slip. Only after you’ve had a couple filling bites does John allow himself to eat as well.

Some of his sense of self comes back with time. The pieces start coming back together. Your name, where he is, what you’re doing here. It comes back as his belly fills. 

His nature doesn’t allow him to feel pity, but you should at least know what’s ahead of you.

“It’s starting today,” he tells you, breaking the silence. You go stiff in his arms and then swallow the mouthful of food you’d been chewing.

“Today?” you repeat, your voice slightly hoarse. 

“Rut.” 

The word hangs in the air between him and you. John can almost hear your heart start to double in rhythm. 

You nod and whisper, “Okay.” 

The thing behind his eyes stares you down. It watches you chew and swallow your food until there’s nothing left on the plate, until your lips are tacky with grease and you have to suck your teeth to dislodge the trapped bits. 

With his belly full, other needs take precedence. 

It starts with him pressing his nose to the crown of your head, gliding it down to your temple and sucking in lungfuls of your scent the whole way, imbibing your scent. Spicy and musky; still pungent with sweat from the night before since you haven’t had a chance to shower yet, nothing to distract from your true scent. It makes his cock throb against his thigh. 

He drags his nose down your temple to your cheek, nuzzling against the side of your head. Rumbling when you go still, turning your head away from him when he tries to go for your lips, denying him again.

It agitates him. 

“Kiss me,” John growls. Demanding, not asking. 

He pinches your cheeks with his grip and twists your head towards him. The little resistance you offer flickers briefly before being snuffed out when he slots his lips against yours. 

What starts soft turns feverish in a matter of moments. Lips gliding and tongues twisting; the bridge of his nose pressed uncomfortably against yours, the whole kiss a mess of ache and teeth and hungry, greedy need. Spittle drips down your chin and you whine into his mouth when his beard scratches at the sensitive skin around your mouth. 

Need prickles at the base of his spine. For days now, he’s kept his hunger contained when all it wanted was to run rampant. He’s been so good to you—given you days to ready yourself for what was inevitably to come. He never tried to conceal the reason behind his presence in your house.  

And now it’s all coming to a head.

John slides you off his lap and down onto the floor under the table, planting his feet on the ground and lifting his hips to pull his sweats down, letting his cock flop out against his belly, heavy with blood. 

“John, do I have to…?” you whimper, trailing off like even saying it out loud might jinx you. 

“Want your mouth on my knot,” he says bluntly. 

Your eyes are sparkly with tears when he looks down, big and wide and helpless and it somehow just makes him even harder. When you sniffle, a bead of precum dribbles down his shaft. 

“Get it nice and wet,” John grunts, pushing your face into his dick. “It’s going inside you soon enough.”

“Please—” you whisper.

“It can go in dry too,” he warns. 

Your tongue pokes out of your mouth reluctantly, face all scrunched up and petulant, but eventually you do as you’re told. Shy, kittenish licks around the base of his cock, right over his knot. Lazy pleasure ripples up his spine, each drag of your tongue over his soft knot making his vision go blurry and his breath get heavier. Practically panting by the time you kiss a particularly sensitive spot on the underside of his knot.

“My hand’s getting tired, sweetheart—mind taking over?” 

He doesn’t wait for you to answer, letting go of his cock so that it droops, batting your nose on the way down. The affronted look on your face nearly makes him snort. 

Your fingers curl around his cock, lifting it up. It looks brutish in your hand, ruddy and thick, precum leaking from the flushed head and dripping onto your head. If he were a decent man, he’d peel your hand off his cock and replace it with his own, get himself off with a rough, dirty tug instead of leaving that responsibility to you. Spoil you instead with gentle love making, all sweet talk and slow thrusts, decadent, languid kisses pulling your attention away from where it hurts.

But John isn’t a decent man. Not even a good man. 

He lets you lick and kiss it all over until his knot is wet with spit. Every so often your teeth graze his knot, forcing a violent shudder up his spine, and he snarls down at you, teeth bared to get the message across. Don’t push too far. 

He’s indulgent to a point. 

“Suck it too,” he rasps. The hand on the back of your head tightens, angling your face until your lips are stretched around his rapidly filling knot and you have no choice but to gently suck the puffed skin of his knot, your nose pressed against the thatch of hair at the base of his cock. 

His cock aches the longer you kneel there mouthing at his knot. It’d be nice to paint your face with cum—your tongue to start and then your cheeks and chin. A little on your forehead too just to mark you as his. He’s close enough to the edge that it wouldn’t take more than a few well-placed sucks, but his knot is already big enough. Any more and he won’t be able to fit it in you at all, at least not for another hour or so.  

He clamps his hand around the back of your neck and pulls you off, a string of spit still connecting your lips to his knot. “That’s enough.”

You frown, bottom lip jutting out. “You didn’t like it?”

That soothes the tension in his shoulders a little, makes his lips twitch under his mustache. 

“‘Course I liked it, sweetheart.” The weeping tip of his cock is enough evidence of that. 

“Why—why’d you stop me then?”

“I’m gonna come soon, honey, and I’d like the first time to be inside you.”

Your eyes go wide. “Oh.”

It’s a challenge getting you onto your hands and knees after that, divesting you of your clothes too. He very nearly has to wrestle you down to the ground, but exerting even the slightest amount of force makes you instantly acquiesce, likely realizing that you won’t stand a chance fighting him. He shushes you when you choke back a sob, kissing the back of your neck soothingly. 

At least, he hopes it soothes you. 

John runs a hand over your rump and between your legs, finding your center damp and hot to the touch. 

“Well, that’s a bit more inviting,” he says approvingly. “Been wet this whole time, sweetheart?”

You shake your head desperately, shoulders hitching with your quiet sobs. When he dips two fingers into your hole though, it’s soaked. Squelches when he pulls his fingers out and thrusts them back in. 

If he didn’t have more pressing concerns, he’d be tempted to turn over onto his back and tug you down onto his face. That thought lingers for a moment and then takes root. 

“Hold on, love—gotta do this first.”

The mattress springs back when he drops down onto his back. Your back arches when John grabs you by the hips and drags you over his mouth, your knees planted on either side of his head, one higher up than the other from being dragged down the bed. 

“Wait, you never said—” 

The crack across your ass interrupts you. He flexes his hand and then palms that same ass cheek, rubbing over the hurt. If you swear at him, it doesn’t register because his eyes are locked on the slice of heaven between your thighs, transfixed by your dew-slicked lips parting for his gaze.  

“That’s better,” John murmurs, then digs his fingers into your hips and pulls you down onto his face. 

The smell of your sex is drugging, mind-numbing. Musky and warm and fragrant. The hood of your clit is drawn back to expose the swollen bud and it calls to his tongue, a call which he answers in kind, gliding the flat of his tongue over it and smiling to himself when it twitches. 

It satisfies every carnal urge breathing fire and brimstone in the back of his mind. His tongue saws up the seam of your cunt, parting the soft, delicate petals before drawing one into his mouth, humming around the mouthful. The vibrations must feel good because your whole body jolts in his arms. 

When he sucks your clit into his mouth, you nearly wrench yourself right off his face, hands clawing at the bedsheets. Firm hands dig into the flesh of your backside and pull you back down though. 

“Mm…you gonna cum, sweetheart?” he rumbles into your pussy, his words muffled. 

“I—I’m gonna—oh…oh…—” 

Music to his ears. He can tell it’s right around the corner when your breathing goes staccato and your thighs squeeze around his head, forcing him to move one of his hands to keep your legs spread. He can feel your hole clench around his tongue, hips jerking sharply. 

He loves watching a pretty girl come. Loves feeling it on his tongue even more. It doesn’t take much to work you up to it either, likely on a hair trigger since he bolted the doors to your house shut and made himself at home. 

Your upper body collapses onto the bed when you come, hips undulating over his tongue subconsciously, like you can’t help but chase your release. And who is he to deny you when you’ve been such a sweet girl? 

John scoots down the bed to slide out from under you and sits up, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing your juices from his mouth to his cheek, drops clinging to the bristles of his beard. Trapped there, he’ll smell it for days. 

Good. Better for him if he can. 

Taking his place behind you again, he reaches down between his legs and lines his cock up with one hand, the other holding your hip steady before pressing in one inch at a time, a smooth, slow glide to the halfway mark. You squeeze him like a vice, pussy all clenched up like a fist, too wound up and stressed to relax enough to take him to the root. Even coming has barely loosened you up. 

He topples over you until his chest is pressed to your back. The skin on your back is sticky with sweat, a tremor running through you and making you shake. 

“Easy, sweetheart,” John murmurs into the side of your head, planting a kiss there for good measure. The skin over your knuckles pulls tight when you fist the sheet beneath you. “Can you relax for me?”

“N-no?” It’s said like a question, like you’re looking to him for reassurance, like you need your alpha to help you relax, to loosen you up. 

It’s why he feels no guilt for the situation that you’re in. Trapped under your alpha, about to take his dick to the root. What would you have done if he hadn’t been around to take you home? Any matter of tragedy could have befallen you. 

“I’ve got you.” Talking both to you and himself. 

There’s nowhere for you to go but further up the bed when John forces the rest of his cock into you, gaining more ground with every thrust. That’s how soldiers make strides in new land, conquering new territory with every advance. Rigor and momentum. 

The flesh of your ass ripples with every thrust, hips clapping against your cheeks. He drives into you with a single minded intensity, grunting through each thrust. Reason falls to the wayside. All that matters is knotting and breeding the omega under him. 

Your cries echo through the bedroom in bright, clean bursts. 

He feels virile, potent; it’s his alpha running hot in his veins and his body thick with muscle and the way you all but disappear underneath him, just a sweet and soft omega for him to use and breed. Back arched just enough to let him sink in as deep as he can get. 

“John—” you wheeze. “T-too deep. It’s—unf, it’s, ah…it’s too deep.”

“Full, honey?” he grunts. 

“Y-yeah,” you respond, whimpering through the word. 

“I know, baby,” he says consolingly, contradicting his own sympathetic tone when his next stroke nudges against the seal of your womb. “Not very nice of me, is it?”

“Noooo,” you moan.

“Yeah, not very nice.” His laugh is breathless, mean. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

Coherency is a luxury that slips from his fingers as quickly as it came. Like a shroud falling over him, it cuts him off from everything but what he touches. Even your mating gland is forgotten in his fervour, its siren song going mute against the backdrop of the blood pounding in his ears. 

His knot pops quick. Half a dozen more thrusts in and he feels it thicken and swell until he suddenly can’t pull out. It punches the breath out of him, making him bear down on you, trapping you both on his knot and under his weight. 

“Oh—oh—oh—” you gasp, overwhelmed. 

He hooks his chin over your shoulder and plants his hands on top of yours, twining your fingers together, an intimacy so staggering that he can feel it thrum through your body, your frame trembling underneath him. 

Knot thoroughly plugged inside of you, he can only grind his hips forward, nudging that same tender spot over and over until your pussy draws up nice and tight around him, dragged unwillingly to another orgasm. He sees stars when your channel squeezes around his cock, milking him for all he’s worth. 

Overwhelmed, your heart rate spikes and your scent intensifies, permeating the room and lodging itself into the deepest recesses of his being. Your hands claw up the mattress, ripping the sheet off the left corner, and you yelp when you realize that you can’t pull off his knot, truly trapped.

John’s hindbrain interprets your squirming as trying to get away and he reacts instinctively, forcing you down to the mattress until your arms collapse under you and pinning you there with his body. 

“Where d’ya think you’re going?” he growls, mouth pressed to your ear. 

You shudder, walls tensing up around his knot and making him spurt another wad of cum into you. 

“Oh god,” you whisper, grunting softly when he forces more of his weight onto you, the mattress depressing under your combined weight. 

Sticky, tacky skin. Laboured breaths. Dark. Tunnel vision. Everything narrows to a single point. In the crook of your neck, your mating gland pulses. He presses his tongue to your neck and drags it through a trail of salty sweat. 

The vice grip around his knot has him swimming in and out of consciousness, vicious instincts clawing up his throat. It thins the barrier between him and his alpha, one no longer distinct from the other. 

“Are you—are you going to bite me?” you ask through panted breaths. 

His alpha considers it. That’s what he is now, at least. Its consciousness has usurped his, or moulded with his, or risen to the ranks of human. It tilts its head through him though, two beasts sharing a body and an appetite. 

It runs its tongue over its lips. He does the same.

“Not yet.”

Voracious. 

No matter how many times he cums or makes you cum, it’s never enough. 

He still has to rest though. Much to his consternation, the body demands it, so he falls asleep with you resting against his chest or under the crook of his arm with your fist curled over his belly, and wakes to the damp clutch of your centre pressed against his thigh from when you rolled over in the middle of the night. Then wakes you up by grinding your hips down against the hard line of his thigh, sweet talking you through an orgasm that leaves you thick-tongued and cross-eyed.  

Days pass that way. Blunt fingers; rake of tongue. Skimming his mouth over the valley of your tits and down the channel between your legs, gorging himself on the slick dripping from your pulsing hole. Scraped a bit raw from his beard, so he’s careful now; spreads your folds with his fingers before thrusting his tongue all the way in. 

He comes back to himself every now and then, some memories easier to recall than others:

Your cheek smushed against the shower wall, hands clawing at the tile while he drives into you from behind, rivulets of water running down your body. 

The feeling of your throat flexing around his shaft, your eyes watering when your nose nearly grazes his pubes. Pulling you off his cock to let you breathe and leaning down to press his forehead to yours. 

Pinching your cheeks to open your mouth after cumming in order to watch it melt on your tongue. 

Indulging in kisses messier than sex itself, lips going swollen and numb, eyes so masted that they’re barely even open. Each glide of your lips liquid and svelte. 

Always wanting more and more and more. 

Heavy footsteps following you into the kitchen as you scurry around looking for something to eat, wary glances thrown over your shoulder to keep track of him. Always keeping him in your line of sight. Smart girl; clever enough to know not to turn your back to a predator. 

Occasionally, he loses track of you as a person again, thinking of you like an extension of himself instead. Your name disappears into the recesses of his mind, replaced by concepts like omega, mine, pup—

You cover his mouth with your hands to muffle his words and he bites your fingers one by one until you pull them away. 

And it keeps—

going and going and going and going

—thoughts shaking loose from his head, one by one; hours disappearing into thin air, nothing real except the omega on the end of his knot. When it whimpers, his chest puffs out and his breathing goes laboured, his only concrete thought to fill it with more of his cum, make sure that it takes. 

It will, if John gets his way. 

And he always does.

Another season over, this one different from the rest. 

You’re still in bed when he surfaces from his rut, low back cracking and popping when he sits up. His muscles will ache for days after this, the aftermath of any good rut lingering in the body longer than the rut itself. 

John scrubs a hand down his face and cracks his jaw open for a good yawn, stretching everything out. When he looks down by his side, he finds you curled into yourself, cheek resting against the back of your hand, sleeping soundly.

You’re so tuckered out that your toes don’t twitch even when he drags his finger down the line of your back, stopping at your sacrum. The slope of your ass underneath the bed sheet is tempting, inviting him to part your legs and settle himself between them again, but he’s put you through enough over the past few days. 

Later, he’ll want to check between your legs and see how much of his cum is still painted between your thighs. Either way, he’ll have to run you a bath with Epsom salt for you to soak in. 

That’ll have to wait until after breakfast though.

Right on cue though, his stomach growls. No amount of preparation for a rut is ever enough—not once has he ever come out of one feeling refreshed. It’s always aching joints and empty stomachs and bruises where bruises usually shouldn’t be. His age only makes it all the more noticeable. 

His future ruts won’t always be this way. Not when his hormones are tempered by his omega’s corresponding heat. In the future, proximity and cohabitation will align your heat and his rut cycles, making the whole ordeal far more pleasant. One to stabilize the other. You’ll put in for leave at the same time and slip into it quietly, like slipping into a gentle, welcoming stream. 

That’s a thought for another time though. For now, John pulls himself out of bed and saunters towards the bathroom, intent on running a quick shower before fixing himself something to eat. 

He takes a brisk shower under cold water, scrubbing his chest and letting the soap run down his legs for no longer than ten minutes before shutting off the water. It’s a shame that it washes your scent off of him, but he’ll rectify that later when you’re up.  

The smell of bacon frying in the pan permeates the kitchen, the sound of it as emblematic of morning time as birds singing in the trees or the soft sound of the radio on in another room. A cool breeze spills in through the cracked open window. 

It’s nearly time, but not quite. 

He waited because he wanted this to be deliberate. Intentional, as everything he does always is. 

It wouldn’t have been as meaningful in the throes of his rut. Easily chalked up to instinct or error, rather than seen as intended from the very beginning. 

An hour or so later, you start to stir. Though his instincts aren’t as sharp as they were in the midst of his rut, he can still hear the bed creak in the other room. 

The bedroom is bathed in light when he returns. In the center of the bed, you’ve turned over onto your back, the light cascading over you making you look almost angelic. His heart throbs in his chest. 

One day, he might even love you. 

“You awake?” John asks, resting his knee against the edge of the bed and slowly climbing over you. When you blink a couple times and nod, he leans down to draw you into a slow, drugging kiss. 

The taste of your mouth is familiar now; he’s tasted it so many times over the past few days that it’s etched into his memory now. 

“Hm? Yeah,” you sigh, then meet his eyes. You must register something there because you pause, squinting up at him. “Are you… Is it over?”

John nods. It’s easier to just say yes than qualify that the rut hormones haven’t fully left his system yet, still present though in much smaller quantities. He’ll still be quick to anger for the next few days, in no shape to return to work just yet, but eventually his system will flush those lingering traces of rut and he’ll be back to his normal self. 

You smile, relieved. “Okay…that's uh, that’s good. Do you…do you mind if I rest a bit longer before I leave?”

“‘Course, sweetheart.”

He palms the side of your face, brushing the wispy baby hairs out of the way. All his life and he’s never seen something prettier than you. 

“In fact,” John murmurs, canines aching when he runs his tongue over them. “You can stay as long as you’d like.”

You must catch the double meaning in his words because your eyes go sharp. “Huh?”

His eyes flicker down to your neck and it hits you like a battering ram. 

It’s too late though. He gathers your wrists in his palm when you try to bat at his face, immediately going into struggle mode, and pins them down over your head with ease. With his other hand, he holds you by the neck and turns your head to one side, exposing the delicate skin of your neck. 

“John—wait, no, no—waitwaitwait, please—you said—”

Legs kicking out, back nearly arching off the bed, you put every last bit of your fight into trying to throw him off, only for him to force you back down, barely a grunt passing his lips. Then he ducks his head into the crook of your neck.

“John—John, please!”

John bites down. 

Under his teeth, your gland splits. 

The moment of connection is just as divine as he imagined. When your gland breaks under his teeth and your blood oxidizes in his mouth, his world reconfigures itself around this new reality, one where you flow through his veins like blood and swim through his mind like thought. 

He sees now what he missed before. All this time, he’s assumed that fate has railed against him, intent on him remaining alone. 

What he understands now is that—

(you whimper under him and arch up into his body, saliva gurgling in your throat)

—fate has always been on his side. 

After Ragnarok, the earth will once again bob out of the saltwater, dregs of ancestral seafoam lapping at the sides.

(he gnaws at the Yggdrasil’s roots)

In this life, nothing has ever been handed to him because he has needed to fight for it. Of course fate would have taken that into consideration when creating his mate. Baptism by fire. He never would’ve been satisfied with simply being handed his intended mate. He needed to leave the imprint of himself like chiselling into stone. Maker of his own fate.  

When he pulls back, teeth unlatching from your shoulder and blood leaking from the wound, you stare up at him through misty, filmy eyes, tears scorching hot lines down your cheeks. 

He can appreciate the shock this must come as. You thought you’d get off scot-free after all—just a few days of being fucked and knotted and then sent on your way—not kept like bounty from a sacked city. You are a prize though. His hard earned prize. 

His moral compass doesn’t allow him to see this as a pillaging. Not when his actions are led by his heart.

You raise a shaky hand to cover the wound on your shoulder, wincing when your fingers brush the raw skin there, coming back saturated in blood. “You—you bit me.” 

John hums. “It’s alright, sweetheart; it’s over now. Nothing to worry about anymore.”

“You said—you promised you wouldn’t,” you bleat. 

He shakes his head, voice still soft when he responds. “Never said I wouldn’t, sweetheart.”

“You said you’d leave. You promised you’d leave.”

“Aw, honey, you wouldn’t do that to an old man, would you?” He lies down beside you, pulling on your heartstrings like a marionette. Plenty have called him a decent soldier, but no one has ever called him a good person. “Why make me leave when you could have someone in your corner instead?”

Tears like diamonds on your cheeks. You’re the most beautiful creature that John has ever laid eyes on; there’s no wonder why he had to make you his. Had he turned around in that hospital and walked out that door after hearing your voice, life would have been less complicated but it would have been dull, colourless. He would have woken up today with his mind at ease, but his heart would have been empty. 

Now though—

“We’ll be good for each other,” John says, moving his hand over your throat, loose fingers simply resting there. Just enough to feel the thrum of your pulse under his palm. “I’ll prove it to you.”

He feels you swallow beneath his palm. It is easy to see why you might doubt his words.

But in the back of his mind, his alpha purrs, satisfied for once in its life, and when he tightens his fingers around your throat, you go still, all of your trust gathering there in the palm of his hand. He can live with that.

So long as he has you, he can live with anything.

[miss-vanta-likes-to-write]

*deep sigh* I was, as always, inspired by @ilostthewar , aka Baby Moth. This is that post right here.

This got pretty long and I sorta like it. And I will be writing this in multiple parts because I am a sucker for porn with plot.

Title: Soap found her

18+ poly omegaverse 141 x reader

You had known Soap, or Johnny, as he insisted you call him for all of three months. He is one of the few omegas on base, and it's nice to have the comraderie. You work in the civilian and contractor sector, doing intelligence and all of the alphas and betas annoy you. They normally do their best to either coddle you or assert their dominance. So when you meet Johnny, it's like a breath of fresh air.

It starts off slowly at first. Lunch together, you bring him things that you make to share. He's particularly fond of your cooking but is head over heels for the sugary treats you give him. You don't notice how there are two other alphas and a beta watching you two, as you whisper and laugh about things only omegas would get. Next comes deliberate plans to hang out away from base. You invite him to your flat, it's cozy, and you show him the rows of shelves and baskets and trunks full of nesting things. Blankets, pillows, stuffed animals, and fabric softeners and scent sprays. You explain that you change your nest and the theme of the nest monthly, just one life's little pleasures.

Johnny likes that your place is cute and kitschy and that you don't use the big lights in any room and opt for various soft fairy lights. Back on base in his pack's home, the guys notice that Johnny is redoing his own nest. He's added led strip lights, fairy lights, and softer more delicate blankets and pillows. He comes back home one day and gives each of his pack mates a squishmallow to cuddle and sleep with, really drench it in their scents before it goes into his nest. Price and Simon don't think much of the change, and they only notice when Kyle says, "Johnny doesn't normally feed into these types of behaviors."

This causes the three of them to watch their omega a bit closer. The only thing they notice is that Johnny has made a new omega friend, and any unease they had is quelled.

The fourth month comes of you and Johnny knowing each other, and now you're both very close. He has a key to your place and swings by often. So much so that your home carries his scent and the trace scent of the alphas and beta from his pack. You and him do everything that pack omegas would do, together! Things such as shopping for nesting materials, visiting omega only cafés (and you're shocked truly that he hasn't done something like that), he's even gone shopping with you for heat toys to prepare for your upcoming heat (the look he gives you during that trip was one you couldn't really decipher. But his cheeks were pink often).

So much time being spent together means that things...tend to sync up.

Johnny is the first to notice it when his heat is a week late. He confirms that he's not been accidentally pupped by his pack (they are all very careful with not getting him pregnant). The doctor laughs at him and says with a smile on his face, "Your body is probably trying to sync up with a new pack mate."

Johnny is shocked with news, and it's even more true when you start complaining about your own heat not showing up.

"Johnny, I went and saw my primary. She said my hormones are okay, but my body is preparing for a heat soon... Do you think we synced up?" You whisper on the phone with him. It's a bit later in the evening and you've been worried all day since your own appointment. Your heat was due two weeks ago. "I won't be able to make it back to my family in time to be looked after."

"Well, bonnie Bunny." He says quietly, he's laying in his own nest. Simon's shirt fits loosely on him, and the sweats he stole from Gaz fit for the most part. He's got his face in the stuffed animal that smells like cigar smoke and teakwood and notes of the expensive cologne that Price likes to sometimes wear. "My own doctor thinks we're synced up, haven't told my pack yet, but the doctor is suggesting that my team and I be benched until the new break through heat comes."

"Oh Johnny, I'm so sorry." You whimper. "I didn't think this would happen -"

"Nothing to say sorry for bonnie." His voice is low, "I think it's a good thing. I've finally got the push to ask you if you want to, uh...formally meet my pack. They know your scent, and they like it." He chuckles at the memory of Simon inhaling the lingering scent of you from a pillow case he took for his own nest. Another thing that close omegas did was share nesting items and comfort each other.

You're silent for a moment, and it worries him. There's a sigh, it's dreamy in a way, "I'll admit, seeing you with those three on base was nice. I may be respectful, but I'm not blind."

He's grinning like the Cheshire cat. Johnny has always wanted another omega in the pack, but most omegas were either afraid of Simon or put off by Price (he's a bit of a control freak). They also didn't want to be brought into a military ran pack with the chance of one of them randomly getting killed in action. It's fate really that both of your bodies decided to sync up like airpods.

The next morning at the breakfast table, before they all get pulled in different directions for the day, Johnny sets down his lab reports in front of Price. He's not daft. He knows that they know his heat is late. Kyle had made a mention of it in passing that he had stocked up on everyone's favorite snacks and whatnot and that they have not used them yet. At the time Johnny just shrugged, feeling sluggish but nowhere near ready or wanting to be knotted and fucked stupid.

Price raises an eyebrow as he sips his coffee, "You had an appointment and didn't tell us?" He seems a bit hurt. Like if something was wrong with any of his boys, his loves, he would have noticed it. Sure, Johnny's heat was late, but that's happened before when he was stressed over a mission or the outcome of a mission. He chalked it up to the last op they were on, nasty work, but they all made it back in one piece.

"Yeah." Johnny makes himself a plate of food and grabs the orange juice from the fridge. "Been feeling off lately, and it's a new break through heat cycle forming."

This time, it's Simon who snorts. He's not one for random changes. He remembers when his father would have random changes to his rut, and it always meant that he had been cheating on his mom. He really doesn't want to assume the worst right away. "What are you trying to say, Johnny?"

"I want you guys to meet my friend." He says with a small smile, "The friend that smells like toasted marshmallows and sugar cane."

The guys all perk up about that bit of information. The air in the room seemed to be charged with anticipation. Common knowledge that omegas tended to keep their omega friends separate from their packs to avoid issues. Their darling Johnny had found a friend, a new pack mate, and was trying to gauge if they would all accept her. Kyle is the first to break the silence.

"Well." The chair creaks as he leans back in it. In thought, "Is she the reason your cycle has been thrown off, and is that stack of papers from your doctor about to bench us until your break through heat is over?"

He feels a bit sheepish at being called out. "I really like her, and I've been to her house and seen her nest and I'd like to show her mine" he rattles off hastily, "nothing has happened besides us hanging out, and you guys like her scent and well..." Johnny thinks over his next words carefully. He doesn't want to offend his mates, and he doesn't want to put them on the spot. The deep sigh he lets out is long and he listens as John shifts through the doctor orders and suggestions about being benched while waiting for a new heat cycle to happen.

"Tell us Johnny." Kyle reaches over and grabs his hand lovingly. "We won't be mad."

"I get lonely sometimes and normally I can keep a good balance but sometimes you just need that extra bit to make it whole and I think she's that extra bit that could make, me- us whole." He quickly corrects, but everyone already heard.

The reality that Johnny wanted another omega in the pack settled on everyone. It was sudden but understandable. Two alphas and a beta (who leaned more towards being an alpha sometimes) could be a bit much on one omega. They didn't need to think it over, just feeling the dull scent of honey apples coming from him says it all.

John looks up from the papers and smiles gently, "Sure, we'll meet her and go from there." Getting up, he downs the rest of his coffee and moves to put his dishes away. "I'll get the paperwork put in for stand-by medical leave for us. Pick someplace comfortable for you and her, you little muppet."

Johnny can only grin about this change of events.

He's also very excited to experience a synced heat with another omega in his pack. But he's not the only one if the dreamy look on Kyle's face and how Simon looks to be excited is anything to go by.

[spideyjimin]

Bloodlines entwined: I | jjk

⤷ having a baby alone was supposed to be easy. but an accidental twist of fate pulled you into a hidden world of werewolves, and ancient bloodlines. navigating your already complicated life becomes even harder as you uncover your past; one tied to a legacy you never knew existed. and in the middle of this chaos stands jungkook, the werewolf king… and the father of your child. 

—  pairing: werewolf!jungkook x female reader 

—  genre: strangers to lovers, parents-to-be au, royalty au, werewolves au, soulmates au, angst, fluff, and smut 

— rating: 18+ 

—  words: 7,213

—  warnings: strong language, mention of death, mention of murder, mention of loneliness, mention of blood, several mentions of abortion, and crying

—  author’s note: here it is the first chapter of this series! <3 i’m actually very excited about this entire universe, i’ve been working on it for a little while already & i’ve been taking my time to write each part 🤗 the beginning is inspired by Jane the Virgin and the Flash as they are both my favorite shows ✨ i hope you’ll enjoy this part & don’t hesitate to let me know what you think 😊  

taglist is closed!

Chapter I: when worlds collide

SERIES MASTERLIST | next

Sitting in your car, you’ve been looking blinkingly at the windshield, hands trembling against the steering wheel. For ten whole minutes, you’ve been frozen like this as if moving would shatter the fragile sense of calm you’ve barely managed to hold together.

Your life is about to drastically change; you know it deep down.  

“The deed is done,” you whisper to yourself.

You let out a shaky breath, and your reflection in the rearview mirror catches your eye. You look exhausted, your eyes wide and glistening.

For two years, this moment has been building. You have thoughtfully considered having a child on your own. At first, it was just a random thought that crossed your mind, a curiosity born on one of those quiet, lonely moments where life felt both too much and not enough. Then, you deeply thought about it. The idea rooted itself deep within you, anchoring into something raw and tender: a longing to create a family on your own terms. 

After much research and consideration, you decided to go for it.

Many people couldn’t understand your choice, but honestly, you don’t give two shits about others’ opinions. What did matter to you was the support of close family and friends.

Felix, the man who raised you after your parents were stolen from you, proposed to accompany you to the fertility clinic, but you gently declined his offer. This was something you wanted to do by yourself. Well, you just came alone to be inseminated. Other than that, he has been by your side every step of the way.

He helped you to go through the countless donor profiles, and every document needed for this adventure of yours.

The process was a bit long and emotionally draining. The first steps were more like an evaluation, mostly for the clinic to understand your reasons and ensure you’ve deeply thought about all the aspects. Having a kid alone isn’t just about fulfilling your dreams but also about building a life for a child.

Once you’ve successfully completed those steps, you had to choose the donor. There were a lot of choices; it was like going grocery shopping. You were handed a catalog of potential donors with their medical histories and first names. It felt odd to be choosing the progenitor like this. After going through every profile, one of them stood out.

Following the donor selection, your cycles and hormone levels were tracked. When all was good, you’d get inseminated on your ovulation period, which technically is happening this week.  

So, ten minutes ago, you walked out of the clinic after being artificially knocked up.

If your egg is fertilized, in nine months, you’ll welcome your very much desired baby. A tiny human who will call you mom. You already picked the names, one for a girl, one for a boy. You simply can’t wait to welcome a tiny human in your life. Hopefully, the life of your baby will be better than yours.

You lean your head against the steering wheel, closing your eyes as the ghosts of your past surface.

Twenty years ago, your life was turned upside down when a terrible murderer put an end to your parents’ lives. Nobody ever found him or her; it’s like the person completely vanished into the night. That person left behind a little girl with questions nobody could ever answer and scars nobody could understand.  

Since you didn’t have any family left, you were raised by your father’s best friend, Felix. Over time, he became like a second father to you. Even though you were full of anger when he took you over, he stayed by your side and helped you navigate this sad reality; one where your parents weren’t part of anymore.

His daughter, Lexi is your age. You were already so close, and living under the same roof brought you even closer. She’s your super best friend, almost like a sister today. A smile grows on your face as you think of her. Your life would have been a nightmare without her.

Lexi was the first person to be aware of this desire to become a single mother. She even pushed you to do it as soon as you could, and she has encouraged you like nobody else. She also helped you select a donor; she even made fun of the names of some of them.

Your phone buzzes; the name and picture of Lexi appearing on the screen.

“Hi,” you say when you pick up.

“Soo,” she says. “How did it go?”

“Good, I guess?” you say with clear hesitation. “The doctor just inserted a thin catheter, looked at the screen, and said it was done,” you explain. “Now we just have to wait.”

Waiting is now the worst part, especially since you decided not to take any pregnancy test until the next appointment. Meaning, you have to wait two full weeks.

“Let’s hope the donor’s little swimmers are good ones,” she says.

While you always wanted to have a kid, Lexi never wanted one. You and her are total opposites but that’s what helped create such a strong bond between you. “Yeah, let’s hope for that,” you smile.  

Two weeks later

A couple of days ago, you took a blood test, and now, you’re in the waiting room, patiently waiting for the doctor to call you up.

These past two weeks, you’ve been internally battling to take a pregnancy test. It’s been hard to fight the urge to discover beforehand if you’re expecting or not. On your way to the clinic, your heart was beating extremely fast with nervousness. Even the music playing in the car didn’t seem to calm you down.

Even though you’re extremely nervous, a part of you knows. You can’t explain it, but you feel it deep down. Two nights ago, you were lying in bed completely exhausted after an intense day at work. The rhythm of your heartbeat was rocking you to sleep. Amidst the thrum of your own heart, you swear you could hear a faint, smaller, and quicker rhythm.

You instantly opened your eyes, scanning the room. The sound wasn’t coming from outside. It felt like it was inside you. You stayed perfectly still, listening to that tiny sound. That night, you were rocked to sleep by that new rhythm.

The morning after, as you caught your reflection in the bathroom’s mirror, something felt off. Your brows furrowed as you noticed your own scent was different. It felt like it was mixed with somebody else’s scent, but it wasn’t as strong as yours or any other living human. It was extremely odd.

After a little while, the doctor says your name, and with shaky legs, you walk to her office. Your heart is beating at a very crazy pace, ready to burst at any moment. This is so stressful; it feels like time is moving so slowly.

“Hello yn,” the doctor smiles at you while you’re entering the room. “How have you been feeling?” you now take a seat.

“I’m good, thanks,” you smile back at her.

She sits down at her desk and takes a look at her computer.

“So, did you take any pregnancy test?” she asks.

“No, no,” you answer. “I wanted to keep the surprise for today.”

“I see,” she looks again at her screen before taping on her keyboard.

She seems to quickly read something before her smile widens. Your heart is going completely crazy. It really makes you nervous, and you try to mentally prepare yourself to receive the bad news as well. It’ll definitely break your heart but you’ll try again.  

This entire process is quite expensive, but the payment can be spread out over time rather than made in one shot. With this first payment, you have the right to three attempts. If pregnancy isn’t achieved after those attempts, you’ll have to go through another round and pay for additional attempts.

The doctor mentioned that usually, it takes about three to six attempts to achieve a successful pregnancy. Hopefully, you’ll get pregnant within those first three tries. You’re not entirely sure you’ll be able to afford another round of insemination.   

“Well, it looks like it only took you one try to conceive,” she informs you.

And right there, your heart bursts with joy. There’s indeed a little human being growing inside you. You’ll become a mother in nine months. You can’t believe it.

A little tear runs down your face as you hear the good news. It’s such a relief. You won't have to worry about coming back for another round.

“That’s good news,” you clean the tear on your cheek.

“It is indeed,” she says. “In four weeks more or less, we’ll plan an ultrasound to confirm the embryo’s implantation and check for a heartbeat,” she adds.

Well, you’ll still get worried about that because maybe until there, your baby will not survive. But you need to remain positive. No need to start stressing about it; you promised yourself that you’ll try to remain calm the entirety of the process and pregnancy so you’ll offer a great beginning of life to your baby.

“I’m very hopeful everything will go well because both you and the donor are in good health,” she says.

“Let’s hope for that,” you answer.

You then proceed to schedule the next appointment in four weeks. You can’t hide the immense smile on your face. This is the best news you got today. Nothing else will ever be possible to ruin this day.

When you leave the clinic, you instantly call Lexi.

“I AM PREGNANT!” you scream with excitement.

“Yeeeah,” she screams as well. “I’m going to be an aunty!” she adds.

“I’m so relieved that this first attempt was successful,” you admit.

Once you get inside your car, you touch your belly to caress it.

“That baby is so lucky to have you as a mother,” she says after. “And even more lucky to join our family.”

For sure, your family will extremely love this baby. It’s such a desired baby, and everybody has been so excited.

“They’ll be so loved,” you reply.

“There’s absolutely no doubt,” she says. “Dad will be so happy about this news; he’s been so excited to become a grandpa.”

Felix has expressed lately that he couldn’t wait to welcome a baby and become a granddad. This man has raised you for twenty years, and you consider him as a second father. There’s no doubt that your baby will see him as their grandfather even if, biologically speaking, he isn’t.

When you hang up, you stare into the void for a couple of minutes. In this moment, you wish your parents would be here. They would have been so happy to become grandparents, but they won’t be by your side for this new chapter of your life.

They are also the reason why you’re doing all of this. Since they passed, there’s been a tremendous emptiness inside you that even the love of Felix couldn’t fill in. This void stems mostly from the fact that you were left alone when they were killed. You’ve been feeling so lonely since then.

Throughout your life, you tried to fill it with relationships but they all failed. As far as you can remember, you wanted to follow the traditional path to build a family. However, it never worked out. Then, one day, you saw a brochure about single mothers, and you’ve been thinking about it since then.

You’ve seen motherhood as a role that will fill this emotional void you’ve been carrying for years. Plus, you’ve also seen it as a way to finally control your life. Twenty years ago, someone decided for you what your life would become. This wasn’t fair.

And you also want to give your baby the life you never got. You want to give them a loving family that won’t disappear the second the parents die. Outside of your parents, you didn’t have a family. Based on what Felix told you, your grandparents were against your parents' relationship so they moved into another city to live freely and build a family.

Life hasn’t been fair for you, but you want to make it fair for your baby.

Two weeks later

The clinic called you this morning to urgently come in the afternoon, only making you grow concerned during the day. You kept wondering what the reason for such urgency would be. Did they notice something when they did the blood test? Did they get the wrong blood test? Are you even really pregnant? 

However, you’re a hundred percent sure you’re carrying a life inside you. You haven’t had the ‘normal’ early symptoms yet, but you can feel your baby inside you. The faint heartbeat can still be heard, and there’s still that subtle scent interwoven with yours.

For the past two weeks, you’ve repeatedly inhaled this new scent, almost to make sure you weren’t hallucinating. Most of the time, you wondered if it wasn’t something like blood, sweat, or the smell of your new shampoo. It was definitely an earthly one. One that only a human can possess.

Once inside the clinic, you’re instantly installed in the doctor’s room. Your heart is crazily beating inside your chest; you’re so nervous right now. Seconds later, a man joins you in the room.

At first glance, you’d think he is the CEO of a huge company. He’s fully dressed in a black suit with a white shirt underneath, his hands casually placed in his pants pockets. This man is extremely charismatic; something about him draws you in.  

The man looks at you while frowning, his eyes moving from your eyes to your belly. By reflex, you cover your stomach with your hands. He’s making you uncomfortable with his intense stare.

He has a very strong bestial scent, it predominates his cologne. Everything about him is imposing, even the way his heart beats; it’s so calm while yours is completely erratic. The man’s eyes are clued on you.

The doctor arrives right after and closes the door behind her. Her face is quite serious; she even seems concerned.

“Miss y/l/n,” she takes a seat at her desk. “Mister Jeon,” she looks at the man behind you. “Please take a seat.”

The two of you sit down next to each other with apprehension. You can hear his heart beating a little faster, but he remains extremely calm on the outside.  

“There’s been a mistake,” she starts saying.

The words hang in the air, heavy with unspoken implications. The doctor pauses, giving you time to absorb the gravity of the statement. Her tone is gentle, but at the same time professional.  

The sterile, cold walls of the room seem to close in around you as the doctor’s words pierce through your thoughts.

“There was a mix-up with the sample…” your breath is caught in your throat, your hands trembling. “We were supposed to inseminate you with the donor sample you selected. We still don’t know how but you got inseminated with Mister Jeon’s sample.”

Your eyes look at the man sitting next to you. All you can see in his eyes is the same disbelief that reflects your own. So, this is your child’s father.  

Many questions cross your mind, but they remain unspoken, lodged in your throat.

“We truly apologize for our mistake,” she says. “We were totally aware you both wanted to have a child alone.”

You desired nothing more than being alone in this adventure; you didn’t want a present father. That was the whole point of a donor. Now, you know the father of your child, and he’d probably like to be present.

For the past months, you went through a series of questions regarding the fact that you’ll raise your child alone. They asked you many times how you’d explain to your child that they don’t have a father. This now feels like a complete waste of time.

“We understand the nature of this situation. We will refund the totality of the treatment’s costs. We can also terminate the pregnancy if you both wish.”

Those words seem so heavy and yet, they represent the reality of the choice you now have to face. A knot tightens in your stomach at the thought of undoing something you wished for so long. The baby is now growing inside of you, you’ve got used to falling asleep with their tiny heartbeat. The only thought of not having it anymore breaks your heart beyond comprehension.

Right now, everything—your carefully constructed plans, your hopes, the small life growing inside you—seems to be slipping through your fingers.

Mister Jeon is silent beside you, his hands clenched into fists on his knees. He seems as stunned as you, but you can’t help but think that there’s something else there too. Something deeper and darker.

You ignore if he’s thinking the same thing as you, but you can feel it: the strange twist of fate pulling you both into an unknown world, one you both hadn’t planned for.

“You still have some time to decide, of course,” the doctor’s voice is still very soft.

Time seems irrelevant now. There’s a choice you need to make; a choice you didn’t expect to face. You swallow hard, your heart racing inside your chest. Your hands caress your belly through your shirt while you only hear the baby’s fragile heartbeat.

This isn’t supposed to happen. This can’t be real.

Jungkook’s face went pale as the doctor’s words sank in.

“There’s been a mistake,” she starts saying.

Just like you, the room’s white walls feel suffocating, the air thick with a tension he can’t shake. A mistake. His mistake. He tried to avoid this situation. He was supposed to go through surrogacy to guarantee a child that would uphold his lineage. His werewolf lineage, pure and untouched by human blood.

“There was a mix-up with the sample…” the doctor’s words hang up in the air like a death sentence. “We were supposed to inseminate you with the donor sample you selected. We still don’t know how but you got inseminated with Mister Jeon’s sample.”

His eyes quickly look at you, and he notices how much you’re shaking. It seems like you’re in a more devasted state than he is.  

“We truly apologize for our mistake,” she says. “We were totally aware you both wanted to have a child alone.”

Jungkook blinks, trying to absorb what is happening. A human child. Nonetheless, his child. Having children with humans isn’t just a personal choice; it’s a fundamental rule of the werewolf society. The very foundation of his power as the king depends on the purity of his bloodline. To break the rule is to risk everything.

He knows better than anyone what happens to the werewolf-human hybrid kids together with the parents. They are killed by the pack. Being a king doesn’t make him the exception to the rule. If this pregnancy goes to full term, not only will he be killed, but the baby and the lady sitting next to him will too.  

You didn’t ask for any of this. You don’t deserve to die because of a mistake. 

His gaze filled with frustration and panic moves toward you once more as his pulse quickens. He wanted control over the situation. He never intended to father a hybrid child. And now, not only is he involved in this pregnancy, but the child is going to carry his blood mixed with human genetics. God only knows what can happen to this kid, genetically speaking.

“We understand the nature of this situation. We will refund the totality of the treatment costs. We can also terminate the pregnancy if you both wish.”

‘This can’t be happening’, he thinks.

His eyes move back to the doctors, his hands clenched into fists. The thought of the entire werewolf community learning of this is unbearable. And what is his mother going to think of this?

She was the first person to support him in this surrogacy journey. She knew how important it was for him to have a child as soon as possible because he’d been struggling to find someone with whom he’d mate. Having an heir is the first thing a king should do to ensure the legacy.

Now, he’s about to have a child with a human. That’s not possible. This child won’t have a pure bloodline, this child can’t ever be an heir.     

“You still have some time to decide, of course,” the doctor’s voice is still very soft.

The idea of termination seems dreadful, but the possibility of a hybrid child heir seems even worse. His responsibility as king, and the traditions that have been in place for centuries don’t allow for such breach. To raise a kid with human blood would mean instant disgrace, not only for him but for his entire family. How could he even be respected after this?

His entire world is slipping through his fingers. His position as king is now in jeopardy. This baby will destabilize the entire werewolf community. Nobody will respect him and will only see him as weak. Weak for having a human child.

There’s no going back. His mind tries to find a solution to fix this, or how to undo this. The idea of raising a child with a human—no matter how much it is his responsibility—is unthinkable. He never desired this and hasn’t even considered it. He has been so focused on maintaining his bloodline that the idea of a mistake happening never crossed his mind.

Your presence beside him destabilizes him beyond comprehension. He can see the confusion in your eyes mixed with disbelief. You can’t comprehend the extension of this entire problem. You can’t even comprehend the danger of mixing bloodlines, because you aren’t a werewolf.

Jungkook stands in silence for a moment, his mind racing with thoughts. Terminating this pregnancy isn’t something he desires, but having a child with a human is simply impossible. His heart beats too crazily, and he can hear yours beating just as fast. His heart and duty are pulling him in two different directions.

Finally, his eyes meet yours. His voice is soft but it carries a heavy weight. “We need to decide. This affects both of us.”

After what felt like an eternity, you both leave the room completely shaken up by the news you just got. How could this be happening?

As you’re both walking in the clinic in the parking lot’s direction, none of you dares to speak. You’re a complete stranger to Jungkook. All he knows is that you’re a human carrying his child. 

“I can’t have that child,” he finally breaks the silence.

His words cause you to stop.

“It’s too early for me to consider terminating this pregnancy,” you admit. “I need time.”

Jungkook understands your perspective. It’s not a decision you lightly take, especially if you’ve come to this clinic to have a child. It’d be completely absurd to abort after going through this entire process.

“Of course,” he says. “But I want you to know my point of view.”

You nod, understanding his perspective as well. This is such a horrible situation. Jungkook wanted to have an heir while you simply wanted to have a child on your own. On top of that, he doesn’t look like the donor you selected.

“So if I decide to keep it, would you be out?” you ask.

Jungkook considers your words. There’s a possibility that the baby could still exist, but he wouldn’t be part of their life. He’d still be losing because he wants a child, but at least this way, his position wouldn’t be jeopardized, and no one would get hurt or killed.  

“It’s possible,” he honestly answers.

You nod once more. Even though he decides not to be part of his child’s life, he’d still know that he has a kid somewhere. He wouldn’t have any trouble finding you; he already knows your smell, and he has the means to find you.

“Okay,” you say.

Jungkook watches you take a pen and paper from your purse before writing something.

“This is my phone number,” you hand him the piece of paper. “In case you change your mind or take a decision.”

The man takes the piece of paper while you give him a small smile. You start walking away, his eyes following you until you disappear inside a car.

In this situation, he definitely would like to ask his mother for advice, but he can’t. He already knows the answer she’ll give him. ‘This baby can’t exist.’ And she’s right, but he can’t force you to terminate the pregnancy. It’s your body after all.

In the eventuality that you decide to proceed with the pregnancy, he guesses he’ll let you be a mother alone and pretend like this kid doesn’t exist.

You’ve spent the last two days crying in bed. The conversation with the doctor and this mysterious Mister Jeon has been playing over and over in your head. You can still picture everything so clearly; the white walls of the doctor’s room, the apologies from the doctor, and Mister Jeon’s piercing gaze.

‘There’s been a mistake,’ ‘There was a mix-up with the sample,’ the words still echo in your mind.

You’ve been trying to make sense of how such a monumental mistake has happened. But nothing seems to make sense. The clinic did this; the clinic took control over your decision. This chapter of your life was about you gaining control, but once more, someone decided for you. It’s been making you angry.

You’re furious at the clinic and their negligence. You trusted them with your project of building your own family. However, they decided otherwise.  

But underneath that anger, there’s another fury; one directed to yourself. You were so focused on having a child on your own terms that you didn’t stop to consider the what-ifs. You didn’t stop to consider that something might go wrong. And now, you are here.    

You’ve been staring at the ceiling for hours now, your mind trying to find a solution. Do you keep this baby? Do you terminate the pregnancy?

This choice feels impossible. It feels like no matter what your life will completely change.  

But deep down, you somehow feel some kind of relief. Because when Mister Jeon—this intense and charismatic man—said there was a possibility he’d walk away, that he’d leave you to raise this child alone, you felt lighter.

His potential absence is appealing. It aligns with your original choice, to be a single mother. A choice where your child is yours, and yours alone. But then, there’s also a possibility where he stays, or that he comes back later. What would happen then?

You press your hands against your face while a guttural growl leaves your lips. This is so damn frustrating. This should be simple. Because now, you’re left wondering what you want. Do you want to walk away from this and stick to the original plan? Or do you want to embrace this chaos, and see where this might lead?

Your hands slide down to your stomach, caressing it while you hear again the tiny heartbeat. This sound comforts you which makes you close your eyes.

For now, you don’t have any answers to all your questions. You’re not even sure you’ll have them tomorrow. For now, you’ll let yourself breathe. You’ll let yourself feel. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll find the answers.  

The sound of your phone ringing pushes you out of your own thoughts, informing you that you received a message. You sit on your bed before grabbing the phone on the nightstand. You received a message from an unknown number. By curiosity, you unlock your phone to read it. To your surprise, it’s the famous and mysterious Mister Jeon.  

From unknown: hi miss y/l/n, this is jeon jungkook, the father of your child. i’d like to meet you to discuss the matter. would you be free tonight?

Your heart hammers inside your chest, ready to burst at any second. He contacted you sooner than expected. You were thinking that you wouldn’t hear anything from him for at least a week. You thought you’d have more time to make a decision before meeting him. Now, it seems you don’t, and that you’ll have a very interesting conversation with him tonight.

With shaky hands, you start typing your answer.

To unknown: hello mister jeon, we could meet tonight

When you press ‘send’, you stare at the conversation, waiting for an answer. Mister Jeon responds instantly to your message, proposing to meet in a town square. You accept the suggestion and quickly go to your clothes cupboard to pick up an outfit.

The man seems very impressive, and you want to be presentable. He’s after all the progenitor of the life growing inside you.

A couple of hours later, you take the road to the meeting point. Surprisingly, you’ve remained calm for the entire drive. Driving is actually the only thing able to calm your tormented soul. Whenever you go through something very intense, you just drive to clear your mind.

However, since this pregnancy thing, even driving hasn’t been able to help you out. You tried to drive yesterday, but it only made things worse. So it definitely surprises you that you’ve been able to clear your mind before meeting Mister Jeon.

When you arrive, he’s already there waiting for you. He’s not wearing a suit, quite the contrary. His outfit is only made of a grey sweater with a blue pair of jeans. His hair isn’t perfectly pushed back as it was two days ago. It feels like you’re meeting a completely different person.

When he sees you, he stands up. As he does so, you notice he holds a box in his right hand. It’s a small one, but it still intrigues you.

“Good evening, miss y/l/n,” he says.

“Good evening, mister Jeon,” you say back.

His presence is still very imposing, but the fact that he isn’t wearing a suit anymore changes it a bit. He seems more approachable than he was in the clinic.

“Please call me Jungkook,” he offers you a small smile.

It’s the first time you see him smiling, and it feels like a very warm one. Beneath it all and in the midst of the city noise, you can perceive his heartbeat. It’s quite rapid which makes you tilt your head. Is he nervous?

“You can call me yn as well,” you smile back at him.  

“I’ve brought you a box with some pastries,” he hands you the box. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like.”

Your smile grows wider at his simple but heartwarming gesture. This wasn’t expected, but it lightens the mood. Jungkook seems to be a nice person which contrasts with the cold and unreadable person he seemed two days ago.

“Thanks,” you say while grabbing the little box. “You didn’t need to,” your eyes look up at him.

After that, you both sit down on the bench he was on before you arrived. By the way he rubs his hands on his tights, you can tell that he’s a bit nervous. You try not to overanalyze him, because you know your mind will go crazy, full of questions.

“What is happening is really crazy,” he admits with obvious nervousness. “I never imagined things would go this way,” you nod.

Jungkook looks everywhere, except at you. It seems like he isn’t brave enough to face you, almost like a teenager confessing his love.

“As I told you two days ago, I can’t have this child,” he finally speaks. “I really would love to, but I’d put the three of us in danger.”

Your heart starts beating rapidly. What does he mean by ‘putting you in danger’? Does he come from a crazy family? Is he part of the mafia? This is scaring the hell out of you.

“We didn’t know each other up until two days ago, and you don’t deserve to be put in danger because of a stupid mistake the clinic did,” he seems angry when he mentions the mistake. “But I can’t force you to terminate the pregnancy, it’s your body, and it was also your wish to have a child. I can’t take that away from you.”

It kind of surprises you how respectful he is. Any other man in his position could have forced or paid you to put an end to this pregnancy. It’s really admirable.

“In case you want to keep going with it, I just want you to know that I’ll step away, and I will never come back to reclaim a role I refused from the beginning.”

You wonder what the reasons behind his decision could be. This man desired to have a child but is now refusing to have one with you because of a mistake.

“To be honest with you, I don’t know what to do,” you admit.

His piercing eyes finally look at you. For a split second, you can swear that they were red. Red like blood. This destabilizes you, and you furrow your eyebrows. You’re not sure if you’re being delirious or if this is real.

“I wanted to become a mother, but not like this,” you continue, still destabilized by what you just saw. “So it leaves me wondering what I should do. But if you walk away, I’ll be more tempted to keep the baby because, in the end, it’ll go as I planned.”

In an unexplainable way, this man puts you at ease. It feels like you can confess how you truly feel about this situation without being judged by him. This man exudes serenity which draws you even more to him.

“I get that,” he says.

For a brief moment, you only look at him while your heart peacefully beats in your chest. His dark eyes stare right into your soul, and it feels like the world completely stopped. There’s just the two of you. But Jungkook breaks the contact, looking in another direction.

“If you decide to keep the child and need any financial help, I can give it to you,” he speaks.

This man definitely seems like a good guy, and you wonder even more why he’s walking away from this.

“I won’t,” you answer. “I wouldn’t have done this if I didn’t have any means to take care of the baby.”

For sure you need financial stability to be a single mother, and you would have never embarked on this adventure without having it.

Jungkook runs his fingers through his fluffy hair, avoiding still your gaze. “Can I ask why you want to become a single mom?”

The question catches you off guard. You weren’t expecting this man—this stranger—to be interested in you.

“I didn’t have an easy life and I grew up without my parents,” you confess. “Motherhood was something I aspired to have in my life since I’m very young, and I’ve desired to give to my child everything I didn’t have. No matter if it was with someone or alone.”

Your eyes shift from Jungkook to the square full of people. It’s never easy to express out loud and to a complete stranger why you embarked on this adventure. Mentioning your parents is actually never easy; even after all this time.

Suddenly, you feel Jungkook’s gaze on you, but he doesn’t say anything. He just stares at you in complete silence. For once in your life, people’s heartbeats and scents don’t suffocate you. You can hear and smell them, but it’s like it doesn’t matter.

For as long as you can remember, you’ve had those developed skills. You can hear stuff from afar, and you can strongly smell people’s natural body’s scent. Since it’s kind of ‘normal’ to you, you got used to it; but sometimes, and especially when you’re in the middle of heavy crowds, it suffocates you. It becomes simply too much.

This is something you never told anyone, too scared to be judged. Undoubtedly, people would say you’ve gone crazy due to the trauma of losing your parents. Not even Felix or Lexi knows about it. They just think you’re agoraphobic.

However, lately, you’ve been trying to go to some crowded place to overcome this suffocating feeling. You ignore why you’ve been doing it, but you’ve been doing it. It’s still too much, but today, next to this complete stranger, it doesn’t feel like it.

“I’m sorry you lost your parents,” he whispers.

You turn to look at him to offer him a little smile.

“Thanks,” you mumble. “Can I also ask you why you’re doing this?” you dare to ask.

Jungkook nods before looking away once more. It definitely looks like it’s hard for him to hold your gaze.

“In my world,” he starts saying. “I have heavy responsibilities, and having a child is one of them. But I can’t have one with anybody. I’m very limited in who is the biological mother so that’s why I can’t have one with you.”

You almost feel offended by his words. In which kind of world can’t you be the mother of his child? It’s completely crazy!

“Oh,” you simply say.

“You could have been the surrogate…” you can hear some kind of chuckle. “But never the progenitor.”

“It’s seems like a tough world.”

His eyes look again at you; you can see that he seems to hesitate with the answer.

“It isn’t,” he finally says. “But it is with me.”

Obviously, he carefully chose his words.

“Well, I hope you’ll find the right mother for your child,” you offer him once more a little smile.

“Thanks,” he smiles back at you.

The two of you look back again at the people walking in the town square. They are walking around you, ignoring totally what you’re going through, what tough decision you have to make. They ignore everything about you, just as you ignore everything about them…  

“I’m sorry about all of this,” he adds.

“It’s not your fault,” you answer. “It’s the clinic’s.”

Jungkook shifts uncomfortably, his gaze fixed on the people walking in front of you. His heart is racing and piercing through your ears. He’s even more nervous than he was before, and it concerns you a bit. But you don’t say anything, too afraid to scare him off if you reveal you can hear his heartbeat.  

“Yn…” he starts. “There’s something you need to know,” his voice is deep and low at the same time. It’s so low that it almost drowns out by the distant chatter of people passing by.

You turn to look at him, your brow furrowing. “Okay,” you whisper.  

Jungkook takes a deep breath, his jaw tightening before he exhales. His eyes don’t meet yours immediately, but when he does, there’s an intensity that makes your stomach twist.

“When I said my world is different,” he swallows with difficulty. “I don’t mean it in a metaphorical sense. My world, my reality is not the same as yours.”

You frown even more, confusion plastered all over your face. You’re definitely incredibly confused. How could his world be different than yours? You live on the same planet, and breathe the same air. How could it be not the same?  

“What do you mean?”

Jungkook gets closer, his voice dropping even lower, barely audible. However, you still hear it perfectly.

“I am not entirely human, yn.”

Your breath catches in your throat, your heart skipping a beat. You stare at him while waiting for him to elaborate. However, Jungkook just stares at you, waiting for your reaction.

“What do you mean by ‘not entirely human’?” you tilt your head.

For a couple of seconds, he doesn’t speak, almost as if he’s scared to reveal his true nature to you.

“I’m a werewolf.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and impossible to ignore. It leaves you wondering if this man is of sound mind. Right now, you’re slightly concerned about his mental health, and the future of your child, if you keep them.

Your first reaction is to laugh, dismissing his words as if it is some kind of twisted joke. But the look on his face tells you that he’s deadly serious. This isn’t a joke.

“A werewolf?” you repeat to make sure you hear it well.

Jungkook nods. He looks tense and he maintains his deep glance on you.

“It’s why I can’t have this child,” he starts to explain. “In my world, bloodlines matter. Werewolf bloodlines are sacred, and the continuation of my lineage isn’t just about having a child. It’s about having the right child with the right kind of mother.”

The weight of his words crashes over you like a tidal wave. You stand up, your hands running through your hair. Your mind is spinning, and your pulse thunders in your ears. This is something you definitely weren’t expecting to hear today.

Werewolves? You’re carrying the child of a werewolf?

This sounds like it comes straight from a fantasy movie.

“This doesn’t feel real,” you whisper to yourself but Jungkook hears it.  

“I didn’t want you to be dragged into this world, but you deserve the truth.”

You keep your back turned to him while you cross your arms against your chest.

“This is something you need to consider if you decide to keep the baby.”

At his words, you freeze. Instinctively, your hands down move to your stomach. Jungkook’s eyes follow your hands.

“Is this…” your voice trembles. “Is this a viable child?”

If you want to keep going with this pregnancy, you need to know if this baby can survive.

“There wouldn’t be any reason why this child wouldn’t survive because of mixed blood,” he stands up and gets close to you. “But as they grow up, they’ll develop werewolf abilities. And, one day, they’ll probably turn into one. It’s pretty unpredictable, though. There’s never been a human-werewolf hybrid before.”

Damn, this is leaving you speechless. How can this be real? Werewolves are supposed to exist in movies, not in real life.   

“This is insane,” you rub your hands on your face. “This can’t be real.”

Jungkook steps closer. His presence is grounding but nonetheless overwhelming.  

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” you demand, your voice filled with panic.  

Before you can blink, he gets even closer to you. He’s in front of you in an instant, his hand gently grabbing yours. Your eyes look down at his hand as you notice it changing. His fingers elongate, his nails sharpen into claws, and the texture of his skin turns into something more beastly. Slowly, your eyes look up, and what you see completely freezes your body.  His eyes glow a deep, predatory red, and there’s something undeniably wolfish about them.

You take a step back while setting your hand free. As you do so, Jungkook shifts back, his hand returns to its normal form, and his eyes fade back to a human form. The transformation is so quick that it almost feels like you imagined it.

“So what happens now?” you ask.

Jungkook’s gaze softens at your words.

“That depends on you, yn.”

Please note that the taglist is closed

[wynnevee]

baby on board

bob floyd x reader

synopsis: just when you were about to announce your unplanned pregnancy, your boyfriend gets called away on a dangerous mission—and although he comes back safe, things still don’t unfold as planned

warnings: pregnancy, a little crying, mentions of death, fear, unedited lol are we surprised?, mentions of sex and bob’s dick, mentions of parental abandonment, mentions of plan b, mentions of divorce

notes: i changed the plot for this like three times but i finally like it enough to post!! enjoy :)

stupid fucking bob floyd and his stupid dick.

and stupid you for not being able to keep your hands off of him.

you’d just moved in together, and in your defense, he just looked so good in that tight white shirt, arm and back muscles flexing as he hauled your boxes into his apartment.

when he dropped the last box, you pounced on him immediately, and in your haste and horniness, you may have forgone a condom.

you were planning on getting a pill the next morning but… you may have been distracted once again… and again… and then one more time before bed that night.

but all those times, he’d worn a condom!

so before long, your unprotected sexcapade was lost in your memory. well, it was until you missed your period a few weeks later. it was until those two little pink lines appeared on the test.

your first thought, of course, was to think of every way this could possibly turn out (or more precisely, go horribly wrong).

1. bob is happy, you keep the baby and the three of you live happily ever after.

2. bob is not happy, he leaves, but you keep the baby and live happily ever after.

3. bob is not happy but pretends and so you have the baby and live in a strained relationship bound to end in a divorce 10 years down the road

and the most recent and terrifying one:

4. bob dies on this mission without ever knowing he was about to become a father.

shortly after bob had called with the news of the high risk, short notice, and just all around terrifying mission, you decided #4 was just not an option, and so you started planning.

first, you wrapped all three tests in a cute little pink bow, which took about twenty minutes with your shaking hands. then, you scoured the internet for the perfect little onesie, paying a ridiculous fee for overnight shipping. and then, finally, you hid the evidence.

you cleared your browser history, hid the tests in your underwear drawer, and waited patiently for bob to come home. he left for the mission the day after tomorrow, meaning that in just about 24 hours, his world would flip sideways.

well, that was the plan, at least. but when your bobby came home, hands shaking and cheeks pink from stress sweat, your heart sank.

“i’m so scared,” he’d whispered, hugging you tightly. “this is the most dangerous mission phoenix and i have ever flown and i have barely 48 hours to prepare.”

you tightened your arms around his neck, elaborate plans going out the window. that night, all he wanted was to hold you, watch silly movies, and fall into a slightly-less restless sleep.

but long after bob’s breathing had evened out, you laid awake; #4 was back on the list.

the next night was similar, only worse, considering you and your hormones had had all day to worry about it.

you made a nice dinner—nothing too nice, though, because that felt like a goodbye—and turned in early for extra rest. however, any peace of mind was still out of reach for you.

bob would leave at 5:00 AM the next morning and if all went well, he should waltz back in at 5:00 PM and you would tell him that you were having a baby. #4 would just have to crawl back into the dark crevice of your brain it was born in.

in the morning, you woke up, giving bob a hug and a kiss goodbye, tuning out the screaming of the pregnancy tests and onesie in your underwear drawer. he was way too nervous, you just couldn’t tell him now.

“good luck,” you whisper instead. “i love you.”

you don’t even bother trying to fall back asleep.

you keep your phone on, the ringer at the highest possible tone, and you don’t set it down for a second. you try to distract yourself with cleaning and setting up the surprise, but it only takes a few hours and the clock won’t tick any faster. eventually, you knew you had to get out, less you develop zoochosis from pacing in your confinements for one more second.

you decide to take a nice walk around the forest preserve, one you and bob had been to a million times before. it was a beautiful day and the sun shown down on the path you walked, and finally, you had a moment to breathe. you still felt the weight of your phone in your pocket, waiting for a call from maverick telling you that your worst nightmares had come true. and you did get a call from maverick—only of a very different nature.

“it was a close call, but the mission went well, they even came back early,” he’d said, and you could hear the relief in the way he breathed. “bob’s phone overheated in the locker though and won’t turn on, so he asked me to call and tell you he’s on his way home.”

your relief turned to panic once more.

home. he was on his way home, where a onesie reading “daddy’s co-pilot” and three positive pregnancy tests were laying on your dresser, without you there to explain it all. luckily, you weren’t too far from the car when maverick called, so you rushed back and probably broke a few traffic laws on your way to the house.

but when you pulled into the driveway, you saw you were still too late. bob’s truck was sitting in your driveway.

you slowed your walk into the house now, creeping inside and up the stairs, into the bedroom—and there he was.

bob sat at the foot of the bed, onesie in one hand and tests in the other. he didn’t notice you at first, so you had the chance to watch his expression: shock, with tears dripping down rosy cheeks.

“you’re home,” you finally manage to spit out.

he looks up, eyes softening at the sight of you. “how long have you known?”

he doesn’t sound hurt, which is good, just… absolutely dumbstruck. you sat down next to him.

“the day you found out about the mission. i was gonna tell you the next day, had this whole thing planned for after work, but… you were just so nervous, bobby, and i didn’t want to scare you even more with this huge thing, and i didn’t even know if you’d want it—”

“want it?” he interrupts, voice rising not in anger, but in incredulousness. “want it? baby, this is all i’ve ever wanted.”

you looked down, suddenly very interested in playing with the frayed ends of your (his) hoodie strings. “i didn’t know if you’d want it with me.”

he goes silent and you immediately expect the worst, that pit in your stomach returning. but in just a few seconds, you find yourself gathered in his arms and tucked against his chest.

“of course i want it with you,” he whispers. “i want everything with you. i especially want a little version of you waddling around our house.”

“a little version of me?” you laugh, voice watery. “you’re already guessing it’s a girl?”

he shrugs. “we’ll have a girl eventually.”

you almost sob, the relief overwhelming. suddenly, the twisting in your gut was replaced with an unfamiliar but welcomed warmth. in just nine months, there’d be a full formed baby snuggled in there, just waiting to come out. honestly, it made your skin crawl a little at first, but the thought was growing on you.

“you think i could hide you from jake until you give birth?” bob asks abruptly.

you look up, the confusion cutting through your emotional brain fog. “what?”

“the ‘baby on board’ jokes are just gonna get so much worse.”

[lieslab]

Do not go gentle into that good night

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Minho X afab reader

Summary: You've been waiting months to meet your baby, but giving birth doesn't go the way you and your husband expected it to.

Genre: Angst with a happy ending

Word Count: 6.8k

Trigger warning: Mentions of blood, nausea, giving birth, bodily fluids, and near death experiences.

A/N: I combined two pregnancy requests for this and all I have to say is good luck. This took me three hours to write. This is one of my favorite things I've ever written. Yes, it does have references to Interstellar. It felt right and I feel like I'm going to think about this for the rest of my life. Enjoy <3

_ _ _

Having a baby is one of the most difficult things a person can do in their life. Expected or not, no matter the conscious decision, it’s bound to be life-changing. When you go from you to we. From me to us. One to two, possibly three or more. 

For you and Minho, it’d been a conversation held in passing before. Jokes about someone created with each of your DNA and quirks. Maybe your eyes and his lips. His eyebrows and the length of your lashes. You always laughed and joked, never knowing when the time was right, and then it was there. 

A heavy decision between the two of you, but you both agreed to it. Nine months and a few weeks ago, you didn’t know what caused it. Perhaps, it was the conversations from his parents when they jokingly asked when their grandchildren would no longer be cats. 

Maybe it happened because Minho caught you staring at a baby while the two of you were grocery shopping one day. The way your eyes lit up and a smile naturally came to your face. When the child’s mother stepped around the cart to grab something and for a brief moment, the stranger’s child held eye contact with you. The way it didn’t feel like a coincidence, but rather a silent promise from the universe. When the time was right, you’d have your baby, too. 

Two months and six days into your pregnancy, you bombarded Minho with baby name books from the library. You forced him into a chair in the kitchen and pointed out all the names you liked. He couldn’t be mad at you. Exhausted from dance practice? Absolutely, but the way you were so happy, there’s no way he could ruin that for you. 

The taunting and teasing never stopped throughout your pregnancy and for that, you were grateful for. You didn’t know what you’d do without it. After the shock melted away and you realized you were pregnant, you grew fearful that things would change. 

Perhaps, he’d have second thoughts and regret it. Maybe he’d decide to leave, despite the vows you took and the way the golden bands wrapped around each of your fingers day-after-day. Your own self-doubt wrapped around you like an oversized sweater, but when Minho took that oath at the altar, he vowed to keep it forever. 

In sickness and in health. Every time he could be, he was there. He took extra days off work when your morning sickness appeared. When your feet swelled up and tears flooded your eyes, he was right there to soothe you and gently work his fingers into the bottom of your foot. 

When your body changed against your will and to your disappointment, he was right there consoling you. You laid in his lap, feelings scattered from the hormonal changes, but he didn’t taunt you for what you couldn’t control. You hated the new puffiness in your face. The way your stomach poked out with a baby bump. 

Other days, you were glowing. He’d wake up to you in the kitchen with multiple ingredients spread out. Humming beneath your breath, you manned the stove like a seasoned fry cook. He constantly worried, he always did. When he tried to gently work the spatula from your hand, you swatted him and told him to leave you alone. Despite your growing belly, you could manage this, for now. 

Tying your shoes was another issue. At first, you tried to slip into them while they were still tied. The first time you realized that you could no longer reach your feet, you chucked your shoe in a random direction. Minho appeared, just barely dodging it in time. 

It slammed into the wall with a heavy thud, but he didn’t lecture you. Instead, he grabbed it and slid onto the ground beside you. When he grabbed your ankles and gently slipped your shoes around them, you burst into sobs. It was only then that he teased you about crying because he had to touch your reeking shoes. That only caused you to send the other in his direction. 

The days and weeks ticked by. Month-after-month marched on. One week until your due date. Two days until your due date. You circled it bright red on the calendar. The day came and then it went. You waited for a sign of your water breaking, but it never came. 

On day three, you grew antsy. Your doctor promised she’d induce your pregnancy if you hadn’t popped by the end of the week. Minho offered hot sauce, but you declined. Myths didn’t work on you. You weren’t convinced that it’d break your water. If it did, you’d be trapped in the hospital with heartburn. 

Day four, Minho hesitated to go into work, but you insisted. Vowing promises that you’d call if anything changed or happened, he spent the entire day with his phone on. Not once did it ring or ping with a text message. 

On that fateful day, the stars aligned. Deep down, you could feel it in your gut. It wasn’t just the baby pressing up against your bladder again, but rather a maternal instinct. The baby was coming, regardless if you were ready or not. You had to be. In a matter of hours or a few days, your family of two would turn into a trio. 

The nursery was a conversation that you and Minho spent a lot of time on. Back and forth, your opinions swayed and changed. You didn’t know the gender of the baby, you opted to be surprised. You weren’t really worried, not really. In your head, colors are colors and no matter boy or girl, you’d love them all the same. 

The nursery didn’t have to be blue or pink. For nearly two hours one night, you and Minho went back and forth discussing different ideas. At first, it was animals. Painted giraffes that’d stare over your baby with inanimate protection and admiration in their dark eyes. 

A small bookshelf full of baby books about a variety of different creatures. Some with creepy crawly bugs and others with the larger than life creatures hanging beneath the ocean currents. The woodland creatures hiding behind trees and tangled in the forest’s underbelly. 

Maybe a few of those larger plush animals to settle around the room. When they grew older, your baby could pretend they were real. Everything feels larger when you’re that young. A knee high stuffed elephant to you, but a real life sized one to them. 

The wheels shifted and turned in another direction. Minho mentioned a brief obsession he had as a young boy. Space and the aligning planets. The silent vacuum and unraveling darkness. 

Maybe you could plant a spaceship inspired bookcase. Painted bright colors and lined with knowledge, you’d coo your kid into becoming the best explorer. Even if the world is scary and dangerous, you’d send them out there into the great beyond. No matter where life took them, you’d try to be the best parents that you could possibly be. 

And then it all changed again. Something simple and easily changeable. After all, this would be the room where your baby would grow up. They’d age and flicker through the phases of life, just as you and Minho had. It had to be rational, expandable, able to be switched around to house whatever beauty that growing mind dreamt up. 

And so you decided on a gentle night. Originally, you wanted to decorate with Minho and Minho alone, but when he announced the guys wanted to help, your heart swelled. A heart-stopping and warm reminder that you weren’t just raising this baby alone, you had a village. 

You remembered the day like it was yesterday. Felix with denim overalls and Chan and Changbin waltzing in behind him with two gallons of paint in each hand. Jeongin handed everyone brushes and everyone got busy. Too much paint, but the guys didn’t care. 

Minho’s arm wrapped around you. He kissed your cheek and all you could do was stare. The laughter and imagination ran wild. Hyunjin’s large bright strokes of color across the white room. On the opposite side, paint from Han’s paintbrush leaked onto Seungmin. He quickly apologized, but Seungmin retaliated by painting his elbow. 

What should have taken hours, it only took two. When they finished, Minho led the guys downstairs to help build the crib. You walked around to take photos. You’d never remember this day perfectly as it unwound, but you wanted to try. 

The guys often stopped by unexpectedly. It took time before the two of you began to expect it. Chan coming over to make you a hearty and fulfilling meal. Felix randomly appearing with Jeongin and a plateful of his brownies. 

When Changbin, Hyunjin, Han, and Seungmin appeared all together one day and offered to take you out to get your mind off your worries about the baby, you collapsed in Seungmin’s arms sobbing. Gripping onto him tightly, you thanked him over and over again. All he could do was weakly console you and look to the guys for help, but he was on his own. He wasn’t used to your high-strung emotions, nobody was. 

The days all kept going and going and going. You waited and waited and waited. In the nursery, you and Minho finished it alone. Using puffy brushes, you dabbed white amongst the blue to replicate puffy white clouds. You tried to help Minho put glow in the dark stars on the ceiling, but he refused. Having you stand on a ladder and reach up, it was far too much stress and a disaster waiting to happen. 

In the end, sitting in your rocking chair and gently rocking, it felt like being in the clouds. A white soft rug sat in the middle of the floor. You planned to use it for tummy time when the timing was right. 

Shades of lighter blue and white filtered around the room. From plushies, curtains, and to a variety of other things, the only thing missing was your kid. You knew they’d be here soon, you just didn’t know when the time would be right. 

You rocked in your rocking chair and waited. Minho’s vocals bounced off the recording studio’s walls. Anxiety pulsed in his stomach and he rocked on his feet, waiting for Chan’s approval to continue singing or not. 

Your hands wrapped around your stomach. “You’ve been in there such a long time, but I can’t wait to hold you in my arms. I think you’re really going to love it here. Your father and I have spent so long waiting for you. He’s just as excited as I am.” 

A faint kick hit the palm of your hand, causing you to smile. “I bet you’re tired of being in there, aren’t you? Whenever you’re ready, we’ll be waiting for you.” You laughed to yourself, amused with the idea of your baby rationalizing your words and understanding your thoughts. 

You pushed against the arms to get up, but that’s when you felt it. Something shifted internally. Your eyebrows pinched together in pain and your hand went back to your stomach. “Easy there, you’re hurting me. Try not to get too squirmy or I’ll have to call the doctor.” 

You couldn’t understand it, not fully. Something was happening, but you weren’t sure what. The sun continued to wind down from afternoon into evening. Minho reappeared at the end of the day and kicked off his shoes. 

You sat with your cheek slung over the edge of the couch. Anxiety brewed, but you didn’t know what to say to Minho, or your doctor. Your water didn’t burst. You weren’t bleeding vaginally. Besides an occasional pain in your stomach, nothing happened. 

“How’s my baby?” 

“I’m good,” you mumbled from the couch.

“I meant our child.” 

You glanced over with an unamused scowl. Minho grinned and slowly approached you. “I’m just kidding. Did anything change while I was away?” 

Your mouth opened and you considered telling him, but you decided against it. Worrying him was pointless, he was already anxious enough. After your due date, you knew he worried as much as you. You could tell by the way that he kept glancing over and looking at you when he thought you were distracted. 

“Not really. A lot of bumps to my bladder, unfortunately, but I’ve made it to the bathroom every time. It’s probably a good thing I took time off work for maternity leave, right?” You forced yourself to smile. 

He eyed you and nodded. You didn’t pull away, allowing him to lean down and press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Only a few more days until we officially become parents. I can’t wait to be a parent beside you.” 

“Do you think we’ll be good parents?” 

“I know we’ll be good parents. If we don’t know the answers, we have your parents and my parents. I’m sure if we needed to, the guys’ parents would help out, too. Some of my staff members are also parents. They’re all taking bets on the gender of the baby.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah.” He reached down and pressed a gentle hand to your stomach. “I hope you’re a boy. If you’re a girl, I owe my manager fifty bucks.” 

“Lee Minho!” 

“Hey, let’s be serious, do you think I’d really pay up if our baby is a girl? I’m going to use the excuse that I’m a first time father. You know how my manager feels about me, right?” 

“You’re being manipulative and cruel.” 

“I’m winning fifty bucks for this family and when I win it, we’re going out for a nice dinner.” 

“With the baby?” Your eyebrow raised. 

“Oh, no. At some point, we’re going to use a break. I think my mom misses me being a baby sometimes. She’ll get to experience it all over again with our little one.” He patted your stomach a few times and pulled away. “I’ve gotta go shower, but if you need something, call me. I’ll make us dinner when I’m finished.” 

You watched him disappear back into the bathroom. The pain in your stomach grew and you waited for your water to burst. You expected warmth between your legs. A gush that felt like you urinated everywhere, but it never came. Instead, nothing happened and the evening continued to unravel like usual.

 ~ ~ ~ 

The neon red letters of your clock read 2:11 AM. You blinked, groggily coming around. Behind you, Minho slept facing the opposite wall. Every night, he tossed and turned between the blankets and the mattress. Tonight, it wasn’t any different. 

However, something caused you to jerk upright. You blinked blearily, trying to get a good grasp on your surroundings. Your hand blindly fumbled over towards your husband. “Minho?” You whispered softly. 

He shifted and his nose scrunched. In the darkness of the bedroom, night swallowed both of you whole. You forced your arm to shake his shoulder harder. Your voice came out a little louder this time. “Minho?” 

He groaned and spun around. “No, I don’t wanna get up. I have the day off. Leave me alone and let me sleep.” 

“Minho, there’s something wrong with the baby.” 

His eyes cracked open and the words echoed in his head. One time. Twice. Three times and then he jerked himself up so fast, you feared you gave him whiplash. “What? What’s wrong? Did your water break? Are you bleeding?” 

His hands pawed around as he pushed himself up from the bed. He fumbled, attempting to find the switch to click on the lamp. “What’s going on? Do I need to call an ambulance?” 

“I’ve been having what I think are contractions since yesterday afternoon and I-” 

The faint click caused both of your eyes to shut. Bright yellow light blinded both of you immediately. You groaned and tucked your hands around your stomach. It took a few seconds before he opened his eyes. “What are you talking about?” 

“I felt weird yesterday.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Panic laced his voice. A hand ran through his hair and he looked for the bags the two of you previously packed. Two bags, one for each of you. Both were filled with items to last you throughout your hospital stay. 

“I didn’t want to worry you. My water didn’t break and for so long, I thought it might be in my head.” 

“We have to get you to the hospital right now.” 

“Something’s wrong. I don’t know what it is, but it’s wrong. I don’t understand it. My water hasn’t broken. I’m not bleeding. I can feel the baby moving, but I-” 

“Let’s go!” 

He wasted no time slinging the bags over his shoulders and gently helping you to your feet. In your pajama shorts and oversized t-shirt, sleep still clung to you. Instead of walking, you waddled down the hall. Not something you liked doing, but something you learned how to do as your stomach kept expanding in front of you. 

You tried to remember the way your house looked. Two lovers with vows gifted to the gods. Golden rings around your fingers and a baby kept comfortable in your stomach. You remembered the excitement in your eyes when the two of you agreed to have a baby. The giddiness in your skips to the bedroom. Minho’s laughter filled the crevice of every fault in your heart. 

When you came back home, you’d be a new family of three. 

~ ~ ~ 

“You did the right thing by coming in. How long did you say you’ve been having these pains?” The doctor glanced up from between your legs. 

“Since yesterday afternoon.” 

“Well, I have good news and bad news.” 

Beside you, Minho’s hand slipped into yours and he gently squeezed your hand. The doctor smiled at the two of you, a silent reassurance that despite the bad, you’d be in good hands. “The good news is this is completely fixable.” 

“And the bad?” 

“Well, childbirth is never easy, is it?” 

“So you’re saying that things are okay?” You squeezed Minho’s hand tighter, hoping for reassurance. He grimaced, but didn’t tell you to let go. 

“What you’re experiencing right now is labor arrest. Technically, you’re in labor, but your contractions aren’t strong enough to help open your cervix. We want your cervix open, so we can get the baby out vaginally.” The doctor pushed back on her stool and began to remove her gloves. 

“So this is fixable?” 

“I’m going to have a nurse administer a certain medicine via IV drip. It’ll help push you further into labor. Your contractions will increase and although it might not feel great, it’ll help you dilate more. The cervix expands ten centimeters.” 

“How big is that exactly?” 

“Roughly? About the size of the lid of a Ben and Jerry’s ice cream pint.” 

Minho’s face began to grow pale. “Not to sound insensitive here, but I’m so glad I’m not pregnant. You’re so strong and you can definitely do this.” 

You glanced up, not thrilled at his words. He gave you a faint smile and gently patted the top of your hand. “Don’t worry, there’s ways to help with pain, right?” He glanced up at the doctor for reassurance. 

“Of course. If the contractions become too bad and too painful, we can always administer an epidural to numb you from the waist down. I know it’s scary, but don’t worry, you’re in good hands” The doctor patted your shoulder and disappeared from the room. 

Beside you, Minho let out a soft sigh. “I guess for now, it’s just another waiting game, huh?” 

“At least our baby is okay.” Your hands kept steady around your stomach. Ever since you arrived, you didn’t let go. It was the closest thing you could get to holding your baby for now. “Let’s just hope and pray it goes smoothly from this point on.” 

~ ~ ~ 

Sometime in the early morning, you weren’t sure what went wrong. You tried to do everything right for this pregnancy. No alcohol or caffeine. You limited yourself to the exposure of germs. Hand washing became more and more frequent. 

It all went so smoothly after the nurse administered an IV and ran medication into it. Your contractions picked up and when the option for an epidural came around, you took it. You waited and waited and waited some more. 

Minho tried to keep you entertained. He texted everyone to let them know you were in labor. You texted your own family to give them the exciting news. You were bound to the bed after your epidural, it’s not like you could go anywhere with the lower half of your body numbed, but you were still excited.

Your hands patted your numbed thighs. Every so often, the doctor came back to check your dilation. You were progressing so well throughout the morning and she was sure you could begin pushing by noon. 

Your kid was almost here. Nine months and a handful of days of waiting. You waited for this moment for so long. You thought about the satisfaction of giving birth in your worst moments. 

Leaning over the toilet and projectile vomiting as your stomach twisted and turned, you held onto the thought of staring into your child’s eyes one day. When you cried over not being able to tie your shoes without help, you reminded yourself that your own kid would take their very first steps. You’d be right there with Minho to experience it all. 

You pouted when Minho ate something you couldn’t have. He tried not to eat what you couldn’t have, but he was only human. Sometimes he caved and had sushi or the occasional alcoholic drink. You couldn’t blame him. If the roles were reversed, you’d indulge, too. It still hurt your heart and your sensitive hormones when it happened. 

“Push!” The doctor instructed you. “Come on, I know it hurts, but you’ve gotta keep going. I can see the head. Just a little more.” 

Minho couldn’t feel his hand. He couldn’t feel his hand ten minutes ago. If he would have known you would have destroyed it while giving birth, he would have worked out his hands with those hand cranks. 

“I can’t!” You cried out with tears in your eyes. “I can’t push anymore.” 

“You don’t have a choice, you have to. Come on, you can do this!” 

Tears dripped down your cheeks. Your body had been through absolute hell for hours. The epidural began to wear off and they refused to give you another. Sweat dripped down the side of your flushed face. 

“Come on,” Minho whispered gently. “A few more pushes and you never have to do this again.” 

“This is all your fault!” You snapped angrily. “You got me pregnant!” 

“I know, I know.” 

“Push!” The doctor instructed again.

Behind her, a handful of nurses awaited the arrival of your little one. They were already prepped with the towels and the warmer. Brightly colored scrubs and the white nasal aspirator to clear out their nose and mouth from amniotic fluid. 

You gritted your teeth and with a cry of frustration, you began to push again. The head and shoulders were always the worst part. Your cervix sat wide open and you still thought it’d stretch and tear. If you were lucky, you’d manage to escape this without ripping down to your ass. 

“How fucking big is this goddamn baby?” Your eyes squeezed shut and you pushed again. 

“I think that’s a little offensive.” 

“Shut the fuck up, Minho!” 

Between your legs, the doctor tried to stop her laughter. Kind green eyes, hair pulled back, and gloves soaked with amniotic fluid, she coached you to push again. Minho’s hand turned white from the force of your fingers clenching around it. 

He forced himself to take his own deep breaths. He breathed how the doctor instructed you to breathe. It was the only thing stopping him from jerking his hand away and screaming at the top of his lungs.

“I can see the head! Keep pushing! You’re almost there! A few more and you’ve got it! Come on!” 

“Minho?” You croaked, wrenching his hand a final time. “I don’t think I can do this.” 

“No, no, no. You can. You can do this. I didn’t stand here and get the bones broken in my hand for nothing. Push!” 

Your scream bounced off the walls. It hit everyone’s ears. The pain, the determination, and the grit that only a mother can carry. The doctor’s hands swooped in and for a brief second, the pain stopped. Your cries weren’t the only one. 

“You did it,” Minho whispered. He leaned down, wrapped a hand around your head, and gently tucked you to his stomach. “Did you hear me? You did it.” 

Tears steadily streamed down your cheeks. You didn’t take your eyes off your baby. Passed from doctor to nurse, the nurse rushed in to take care of the wailing and choking baby. The doctor beamed and turned back to you. 

“It’s a boy! You’re having a boy! Congratulations, you did an amazing job.” 

Minho blinked rapidly, trying not to cry. Nurses worked frantically through the cries. A tiny suction in the back of the throat and pulled out. In one nasal and then the other. He reached up and wiped his eyes before the tears could fall. 

You, on the other hand, dread grew in your gut. A dizziness overtook you and your grip on Minho’s hand weakened. “Minho?” You whispered. 

“Hmm?” 

“I don’t feel very good.” 

The doctor caught your words and glanced up. The moment she realized the color of your face was fading, her eyes widened. “Hey! I need some help over here!” 

Unoccupied nurses glanced back at you. 

“Sutures stat! We’ve got hemorrhaging!” She jerked her surgical mask back over her face and rushed back between your legs. 

You didn’t know what was happening, but you could feel it. Warmth flooded between your legs. It soaked the bed sheet beneath you and spread out in every direction. The doctor cursed beneath her breath and grabbed a cloth to place pressure on the bleeding. 

“What’s going on?” 

“The baby was larger than expected. When that happens, sometimes there’s tearing. Stitches are going to be needed.” The doctor called your name and glanced back up at your face. “Can you hear me?” 

“Baby?” Minho reached up and gently tapped your cheek. “Stay awake. Do you hear me? Don’t close your eyes. You’re going to be okay. They’re going to fix you and-” 

“I love you.” 

His heart dropped. Three little words that held so much weight. He dropped to his knees, tucking your face between his hands. “Don’t you dare leave me here. Fight! Don’t fall asleep!” 

In the distance, the baby cried louder. A nurse cooed, trying to console up as chaos broke loose in the background. Minho tapped your cheek rapidly, but your eyes drooped further and further shut. 

“No, no, no. Wake up. Wake up! WAKE UP! Don’t leave us here!” 

“Get him out of here, now!” 

“No!” 

A nurse rushed to his side. “Sir, please.” 

“I’m not leaving!” 

“You need to let the doctor work. Please, you’re only making this worse for everyone involved.” 

“Don’t tell me what to do!” 

He didn’t get a choice in the end. Not willingly. Another nurse appeared, a male with biceps protruding beneath his light pink scrubs. “Sir, we’re not asking you, we’re telling you.” 

Your eyes drooped until your head slumped back against the hospital bed. A suture kit found the doctor’s hand and she began to instruct a nurse what she needed from her. Her hands worked methodically. This wasn’t the first time she raced death to save a patient after giving birth. 

He fought against the man-handling, but it was no use. All he could do was call out your name through the cries of your newborn son. Stepping outside felt like losing both of you. 

A family of three and now possibly, back to a family of one. 

~ ~ ~ 

Minho didn’t pray. Not regularly. Not religiously. Not as much as he probably should. Life was always hectic and believing in a higher power, it never took up too much time in his life. 

In the hospital chapel, at first, he prayed; then he called his mom. 

She picked up on the third ring. A soft spoken voice that he’d found comfort in ever since he was a child. “Mom?” 

“Hi, honey! How is everything? Is it going well?” 

It broke him. Between the barren wooden pews, the stained glass windows, and the image of Jesus in the front of the altar, he burst into tears. He called out to his mother and his voice may have changed from childhood to puberty, but the need for his mother did not. 

On the opposite end of the phone, his mother frowned. She clutched the phone tighter and tried to get through her son’s grief. “Honey, what happened? What’s wrong? You’ve got to talk to me, sweetheart.” 

“S-she-” 

“Did something happen to your wife?” 

“Hemorrhaging.” 

“Oh, Minho.” 

Her words sent him into another sob that he couldn’t hold back. How many times had he tried to hold back his sobs as a kid? Back when he fell off the bike for the first time and hit the pavement. When he toddled along on stubby legs and unexpectedly hit the ground with a faint thud. 

Being a parent never ends, never fully. At least, it’s not supposed to. At the end of the day, that book always shut. Who disappears first? The parent or the child? No matter what, it always hurts. 

A sting that zaps your heart and buries into every part of your life. It strikes you at the wrong time. The mourning for your kid. The loss of a parent. It never goes away, not really. The years travel by and the hurt lessens, but it doesn’t mean it never aches. 

At that moment, his mother wished she could climb through the phone and hug him. It didn’t matter that he’d turned into a man. In her heart, he’d always be her baby. His cats were the closest thing she’d get to being around him all the time. 

You cannot keep your kid in a cage. You have to let them explore the world around them. Nurture them right and send them on their way. If your kid doesn’t learn how to navigate the outside world, they’ll never strengthen the wings to gain flight. If you do it right, they’ll come back. 

Like a pigeon, they’ll find their way back home. Chirping and hopping. Cooing with a new shiny thing. Stories about their career and new friends. A final love, a new family, something more that fills their heart, just the way that they’ve always filled yours. 

“I-I’m trying to stay positive, Mom. I’m so scared. What if-” 

“I know it’s scary, but I have to believe that she’ll overcome this.” 

“How do you know for sure?” 

“I believe it, the exact same way that I believed when your father and I had you.” 

~ ~ ~ 

Do not go gentle into that goodnight. 

Rage, rage against the dying of the light. 

The memories flickered like the lash of a sudden spark. Flipping through clouded currents and forming in between static filled channels. You remember what life was like as a kid. You remember it all. 

The bright green grass and the way the butterfly wings flapped. The melodic sound of the ice cream truck and the way a late family member laughed at the sight of your sticky face. It dripped down your chin and coated your collar. 

The bees came by, betting on which one of them could taste the sweetness first. They never had a chance. Not when your mother whisked you away to wipe off the sticky remnants of another early summer. 

People filled the beach at the first lake you went to. They speckled up and down the sandy shore. Umbrellas stuck out to shield the harsh sunlight. It blinded your sensitive eyes as you rushed with arms up to meet the water. 

Your father called after you, warning you to be careful. You were still young. This much water all at once, it was still so new to you. Some unkept secret that some higher power stashed away. You remember the way the cool water hit your toes. Love grew in your bones and then you dived in. 

A conversation in passing that you had with your mother nearly a decade ago. Sitting beside her while she folded her laundry. You didn’t know where the words came from, but you blurted them out anyway. “I don’t know if I want kids.” 

“Oh, but you will. Having kids, it’s the most rewarding and best thing ever. When you have them, treat them right and they’ll always come back to you.” 

A familiar smile, the same eyes as you, and two decades older. I am all that you can be. You are what I could have been. Two separate generations can dream and conquer the same exact thing. 

In the winter snow, you flopped face down. Bundled in too many layers, brought to you proudly by your mother. Because if too much skin was exposed, you’d surely freeze to death. 

Minho’s eyes held you captive the first time you saw him. You always romanticized the idea of dating a singer. A singer. A song-writer. A dancer. 

Someone who jerks and throws their limbs out, creating a story in their own way. Words on a page, hidden inklings of their soul. The words unveil and pulse out into the world. A happy jingle. A devastating ballad. Whatever they sang, they always breathed life into the story behind the words. 

You never believed in love at first sight. Not really. Not until that moment. You tipped over and free fell into a vat of sticky syrup, but you didn’t fight against it. Minho’s wit sucked you in. Every talent unlocked, you began to think he was superhuman. 

Touching created sparks. No matter how minor, your heart banged like a drum. A never-ending current danced through your body with him. Your cheeks flushed red and even if he laughed at you, it never really mattered. 

The two of you had something special. Special enough to make that leap of faith to the altar. Two families became one. He forced his cats to make a brief appearance in cat sized tuxedos. You didn’t know why, but he did. 

Your laughter set his soul ablaze. With you, every mountain felt like a molehill. Your joy was his. He’d collect the stars and bottle them to help you find your way through the dark. He wasn’t a collector, but he wrote down every moment with you. 

Write the memories and trudge through the passage of time. Hand-in-hand, life felt better with you. Not just a partner, but a lover. Someone he could hold and mend. Whenever he didn’t feel good enough, he just looked over at you. 

From day one, your face never changed when you looked at him. A softness bloomed. Something sweeter, kinder, and simpler. You were his to keep forever, just as he was yours. 

The first cry of your baby before you blacked out, the sound of your husband telling you to fight, it powered something indescribable. Humans are capable of anything if they believe hard enough. Some call it pure delusion and some call it God. 

If there is a constant push of will, humans will always, always find a way. You found your way in that hospital room. Despite the blood oozing down the doctor’s gloves and staining the sheets, your heart kept beating. It weakened briefly, but it never stopped. 

Do not go gentle into that good night. 

Rage, rage against the dying of the light. 

~ ~ ~ 

When your eyes reopened, Minho was the first to grab your hand. Two tears slipped down his cheeks and rolled against the warmth of his neck. It was so unlike him, you had to look again to see if you were seeing it right. 

“Minho?” Your voice cracked. 

“It’s alright, I’ve got you. You’re okay. The doctor stabilized you and it’s okay now. Don’t worry, I’m right here.” 

“The baby?” 

“He’s okay, too. He’s on the other side of you sleeping. The doctor let him stay in the incubator right here. All his vitals are good. The only problem is that he lacks a name.” 

He slipped his hand into yours and gently squeezed it. He didn’t care about the bruising around his dominant hand. All he cared about was your safety and health. He reached the back of your palm to his lips and planted the warmth of a kiss. 

“You’re both okay?” 

He weakly chuckled and nodded. “Now that you’re okay, yes. We’re both okay. We’ve been waiting for you to come back to us. It’s time for us to be parents now.” 

“Minho?” You whispered as your eyes drooped. 

“Hm?” 

“I’m so scared.” 

“I’m scared too, but that’s okay. My mom said that it’s completely normal to be scared. If you’re scared and still trying your best, you’re probably doing it right, apparently.” 

“I love your mom.” 

“I love her, too.” 

A silence broke out in the space between you. Still exhausted from your brush against death, Minho couldn’t blame you for wanting to go back to sleep. He reached up and pushed a strand of hair from your forehead. 

“Have you held him?” 

His head shook. “I considered it, but you carried him in your stomach for nine months. I figured that you should be the first parent to hold him.” 

“Can you bring him to me?” 

“Doesn’t that mean I get to be the one to hold him first?” 

“I don’t care, I want to see our son.” 

He sighed and gently released your hand. “I have to warn you before I hand him over. He’s very, very cute. He has my eyes and your eyebrows.” 

“Does he have your prominent cupid's bow?” 

“If I said yes?” 

“I’d be the happiest person alive.” 

“You’ll be happy to hear that he does. He’s also completely bald and looks a little like an old man, but the nurses said that’s temporary.” 

Your eyes cracked open. You watched Minho gently scoop the newborn up from the incubator. The baby curled against his chest and he carefully brought him towards you. 

“I don’t think you’re supposed to say that thought out loud.” 

“Look at the cute little hat. If I ask the guys, maybe they can purchase some cute beanies for his bald head. I can’t have him looking like Hyunjin. This little guy is the perfect size to put in the air fryer.” 

“If you air fry our son, I’m putting you in the oven.” 

“Fair enough.” He lowered himself down and carefully shimmied the baby into your awaiting arms. “There you go.” 

The moment he settled into your arms, a wave of peace hit you. A baby in your arms and Minho by your side. Your eyes shut before you began to speak. “Hi, we’re your parents.” 

“He needs an introduction to us?” 

“We can’t wait to raise you and have adventures.” 

“You came back from the dead and turned into a sap.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him and he gave you a smile. “I’m glad you came back. I love you, you know? I love both of you. Look at that, there’s two of you to love now.” 

“I love both of you, too.” 

“And a personality like Seungmin, the ungrateful kid can’t even say he loves us back.” 

“Lee Minho, if I wasn’t in a hospital bed recovering from giving birth, I’d kick your ass.” 

“I’d like to see you try.” 

While the two of them bickered, what they didn’t know was just merely a few feet away. In the doorway, Minho’s mother arrived with a bundle of brightly colored flowers in one hand and a thermos of warm seaweed soup in the other. She rushed here as fast as she could after Minho’s distressing phone call. 

She didn’t break the bond between the two of you. Instead, she blinked back tears. Years ago, a similar situation played out between her and Minho’s father. A new bundle of joy in her arms and a lifetime of the unexpected paved out before them. 

Just as they made it through the currents of life, so will Minho and you. Just as your son will. The next generation will follow and although it’ll always be difficult at times, time will march on. All the good meant to happen will find you. Always. 

Do not go gentle into that good night. 

Rage, rage against the dying of the light. 

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lia-linny @seungnishi @stellasays45 @emilyywhyy @rockstarkkami @flightlessackerman @inlovewithstraykids @velvetmoonlght @chrizrizz

Masterlist

Taglist and inbox rules

Ko-fi

[titania-sleeps]

Submissive Omega Yandere x Alpha Reader

hi guys it's tmr and i was able to cut down some of the words! i left out the full ver of his first heat and your first rut so that'll be a dif post

idk if i should go fully into omegaverse stuff and just give reader a dick regardless of gender (cause apparently female alphas have retractable dicks) so i'm avoiding that for now

edit: more works featuring Adonis: Adonis Rides You, First Heat

warning: nsfw, dom reader, omegaverse (heats, ruts, yknow), minors DNI pls

• Adonis and you have been fuck buddies for three years now. At first, it was out of necessity; you were both teenagers with raging hormones, and being an omega and alpha respectively meant that the two of you had a difficult time taking care of your needs on your own.

• Adonis was surprised when you proposed the idea to him in your third year of high school. The two of you were good friends by then, and you probably knew of his plight. However, his heart raced nonetheless and he wondered if you secretly had a crush on him. He wouldn't have minded if you did, since you were his type! Sadly, you made it clear to him that you weren't interested in him as a romantic partner, only as a sexual partner.

• Adonis didn't let that deter him, however. He couldn't deny that he felt a little disappointed, but he didn't think too much of it at that time. As long as he didn't fall in love with you, everything would be alright.

• Adonis fucked up. Two months into your friends w/ benefit situation with him, he'd already caught feelings. Whenever he was around you, his pulse would increase and his senses would go into overdrive. Even when the two of you weren't fucking like rabbits, his hole was dripping for you.

• Adonis cursed at himself every time he went on a date with you. (They were dates because he considered it so and he would take no other opinions.) It was especially terrible when you went shopping with him. He couldn't help himself but think about you fucking him senseless in the changing rooms. Just the thought of it alone had him squeezing his thighs, his breaths heavy.

• Adonis tried to hide it from you, but you easily noticed his rose scent growing stronger. You would pull him to the side and ask him gently if he was in heat. The worst part was that he wasn't. He was simply always like this around you.

• Adonis loved that you never asked any further questions. You would quickly take him home and tell him to strip. And strip he gladly did. He didn't have the time to prepare himself for you, but you didn't need it. In a matter of seconds, your tongue was in his hole, thrusting in and out. Your hand rubbed his rock-hard member, sliding easily with his slick. During those nights, he would cum quickly and sleep deeply, arms wrapped around your waist tightly. He would not let you leave him.

• Adonis didn't understand how you were so nonchalant. He felt silly being the only one so affected by the intimacy the two of you were supposedly sharing. He assumed that you would've bitten him already, but you were so resilient.

• Adonis tried to ignore it, and he did a really good job at doing so! Well, for about a week. He just didn't get it; he was perfect for you and you were perfect for him. Your scent intoxicated him, and he was sure that his scent affected you the same way. So why didn't you want him more?

• Adonis spent the next year grappling with his situation. It only got worse over time; just a small whiff of your scent drove his instincts insane. He needed to be bred by you, for you to mark him. He needed you to claim him, to destroy his being and rebuild him from scratch.

• Adonis had his first official heat in the middle of the day at school that same year. It came out of nowhere, and the arousal he felt was far greater than anything he'd ever experienced in the past.

• Adonis didn't bother hiding it. You were talking to your friends, but he interrupted and dragged you away by the arm, his face flushed. You were concerned, as you always were, but his eyes were clouded in need. He pushed you into the janitor's closet, locking the door behind you.

• Adonis stuck onto you in the closet, trembling. Sweat trickled down his neck, glistening against his skin. His scent was stronger than it had ever been; no longer just roses but now with a hint of lemon.

• Adonis whined, grinding against your leg. His pants were already soaking wet, the sticky liquid coating your leg. You sighed; you knew were going to miss class for the rest of the day.

• Adonis clung to you for the rest of the school year, nearly attached to your hip. You had lunch with him every day, you walked him home every day, and even your weekends were spent with him. He was so happy that you were giving him so much attention!

• Adonis suffered greatly during your last year of high school. He was so close to confessing to you, but he didn't want to lose what he already had with you. But you were glowing, your demeanor so confident and charismatic. He could see the other omegas turning their heads whenever they walked past the two of you.

• Adonis knew that if he didn't act quick, another omega would try and seduce you. He couldn't stand the thought of that, especially since he laid his eyes on you first. He would be your first and only mate. No one else.

• Adonis's heart dropped when he witnessed a small female omega confess to you under a cherry blossom tree the day of your graduation. He was planning to do that. That was supposed to be you and him.

• Adonis didn't bother trying to think when he intercepted her confession. He grabbed your arm, pressing his chest against it.

"Who is this, darling?" he had asked. The shock and hurt on her face were worth every ounce of courage it took for him to do that. She ran away, sobbing, and he was left with you and a sense of pride. No one was going to come between you and him.

• Adonis was scolded by you afterward, but he didn't care. You were his alpha, his fated mate. You didn't need any other omegas. That night, you treated him roughly, your body pressed heavily against his and your teeth baring at him.

• Adonis grinned. You were going to bite him! Surely, this was where you would finally, finally bite him. Hurry, show him what bad boys get. Show him that naughty boys get bitten, claimed against their will, and used like toys.

• Adonis was disappointed when you left the morning after, no bite marks on his body. He was being so good for you, so why didn't you claim him? Did you have someone else? Did he have to resort to murder just so you'd look solely at him?

• Adonis swore to himself that this year would be the year you bite him. This year would be your final year as fuck buddies. Next year, you two will already be mates. And if there's one thing you need to know about Adonis, it is that he mates for life.

something in me wanted to name him adonis casanova bc that would've been really funny but he's just adonis. for now.

next adonis fic is gonna be his first heat (in detail) and then maybe your first rut (also in detail),,,

-> masterlist

[ratatouillewastakendammit]

Sensitive (the Sequel)

Pairing: Hawks x reader

Summary: Based on the idea that if you rub Hawks' feathers he gets turned on + a quirk switch hehe; When you and your pro-hero boyfriend get hit with a quirk swap, he most definitely remembers how sensitive his wings, your wings, are and decides to have some fun (Technically, you can read this one first, but you don't need to <3)

Warnings: smut, language, more feather play lol, lots of teasing, little bit of brat taming, praise; I popped this out in a few hours so sorry for any typos

Word Count: 2k

It started at the grocery store. 

Quite honestly, you enjoyed shopping for food. It was always fun to pick out different ingredients and see what dish they might add up to, like an extremely less annoying form of math with whatever answer you decided would work best.

This time, however, was just slightly more stressful than usual, seeing as you were now desperately trying to hide the giant pair of wings that had recently grown right out of your back.

Almost four days had passed since the change, exactly eighty-seven hours since you had found yourself sprouting a duo of new apendages and Hawks in a panic once he saw that his own had gone missing.

Nighttime had fallen over the city and fatigue weighed on your consciousness, making you halfway believe that you had been dreaming when you ran your fingers over the scarlet feathers for the first time in awe.  

As a pro, your boyfriend dealt with villains on a daily basis, meaning his employment was infested with quite a variety of odd quirks from the adversaries he faced. 

But one thing that you had never expected to have to deal with was a quirk swapping ability.

Apparently, the curse traveled by touch. So, when Kei got home to you, hero costume and gloves shrugged off after a day of hard work, the both of you had been met with the giant surprise when he cupped your face in a greeting kiss.

According to the provider of the switch, a lesser known criminal who had been promptly taken into custody before being interrogated about his power, said that it would be a little less than a week before the two of you got back to normal. 

Staying home and relaxing with your boyfriend was an extremely enjoyable time, but you simultaneously found yourself feeling bad for the constant Doordash orders and InstaCart requests. Plus there was absolutely no way that the sight of Hawks, the number two pro in Japan, out in about without his wings wouldn’t cause an uproar among civilians. This laziness infused guilt and need to prohibit public panic was what originally prompted you out the door and in the direction of the market, giant wings now concealed within a large backpack Keigo had lent to you. Thankfully, he had been able to teach you how to release the feathers if nothing else, meaning the pinions fit quite well inside the pack.

Everything had been going suspiciously smoothly until you had barely made it to the register before you felt it: a soft warm beginning to bloom from underneath your abdomen. 

At first, you had just thought of it as coincidence, a random occurrence due to the ever changing hormones of a woman's body. Or maybe you had been absentmindedly dreaming of the individual waiting patiently for you back home. But the second wave of pleasure had you curling over slightly in surprise, a soft groan rumbling through your vocal cords.

From the corner of your eye, you caught the cash register looking at you in slight concern and you offered her a friendly smile. “Just that time of the month.”

“Ah.” She returned the smile before putting the last of your produce in a bag. “Don’t I know it. Never been more grateful to hit menopause.”

The only response you were able to give was a nod of appreciation before grabbing your groceries and practically sprinting out the door, hoping to get away from the prying eyes of others as rapidly as possible. 

Driving home was quick, yet mentally tumultuous, the journey plagued by the psychological traffic of worried thoughts speeding through your mind. They followed you into the building you had recently learned to call home, rising like a toxic gas with the elevator to the top floor.

One of them in particular had you grimacing awkwardly.

Were you in heat?

Did Keigo go into heats?

Of course, you had only been living with the man for about half a year, meaning it was more than possible that this was just something you had yet to see. Plus, he was technically part bird.

Did the same yearly tendencies that ran through years of avian evolution course through his DNA as well?

If that was the case, there was absolutely no way that asshole would let you live this down. 

The idea of just pretending everything was fine did jump onto your train of thought for a moment, but the fear of this being a potential medical issue quickly overpowered it. 

Slipping past the automatic doors, you tossed the groceries onto the marble island with as much caution as you could muster, just grateful to be back into a secluded area. 

“Uh, Kei?” A wave of embarrassment blocked the words in your throat for a moment. “I think… I think something’s wrong.”

“Are you okay?” His voice echoed from the next room over into the kitchen. “Did the backpack fall off or something?”

“No, uh… I-” You stopped in your tracks when you turned the corner and moved past the large wall to reveal the penthouse living space. Hawks was lounging on the couch, donning low sweatpants and a white shirt. The thin, pale fabric outlined each crevic of his muscles perfectly, and you found your attention snagged in the midst of every swirling angle for a moment. However, it wasn’t enough to distract you from the look of pure amusement gracing his beautiful features, one you only got to see when he was up to no good. 

Confusion turned to horror as your eyes caught sight of the tiny, red feather hanging idly between his fingers. 

Realization hit you like a ton of bricks.

This son of a bitch

“What’s that?”

Cocking an eyebrow, he followed your gaze and smiled in a way that was far too innocent to be real. “Oh this? I mean, it got really boring while you were gone and you know how fidgety I get sometimes.”

For a moment there, you had thought that maybe, prayed that maybe, it had just been an accident. Maybe he had really just found his sense of excitement dulled after days stuck inside and picked the closest thing up to fiddle with while he waited for you to return.

But that ridiculously arrogant look flashing in those golden irises had you kicking yourself for such unfounded hope.

Apparently, cabin fever must have also infected you with a sense of delusion.

“Give it back.”

“Calm down, gorgeous, these are technically mine.” 

Each of your eyes were locked on the quill, a silent standoff to see who would move first. Without giving him another chance, you took off in his direction, arms outstretched to grasp to object.

Of course, you were fast, but he would always be faster, even without his quirk.

This time, however, he didn’t exactly need to be. Instead, he rolled the crimson plumage under his thumb, the rush of pleasure swiftly stopping you in your tracks.

“Oh, you fucker,” you gritted through clenched teeth, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of hearing how much his actions affected you.

“Ya know, this is what most people call karma.”

Just as you were about to ask what he meant, the phantom memories from this past year popped into your brain to haunt you. Many a time had you grazed your touch through his sea of crimson just to watch his form shiver and face darken with redness. Usually, he would happily take your teasing out through other methods later on, which you never protested, but you had heard him grumble a few times in complaint about how you lacked such an easy outlet for torture. 

Now, you looked up at the bastard, waiting for any hint on his face that he may offer you mercy. When you found none, you bit your tongue, hoping it might contain some of your pride with the sting. "I'm... I'm sorry, okay?"

“Aww, is someone starting to regret her actions?” He cooed mockingly. “If you’re gonna beg for forgiveness, you might as well get on your knees.”

“Wait, wha-”

A moan, horrendously lewed and downright humiliating, was ripped from your lips as he drew another feather from his pocket, about half the size of the first, and rolled it over his thumb. That quick, simple movement had your limbs shivering with pure pleasure, legs bending until you were forced into a kneeling position on the shining wooden floor.

Taking a squat, Keigo titled his head to get a better look at his handiwork, gaze a glorious mix of arrogance and adoration. “Cool trick, huh? The smallest ones are the most sensitive.”

At this point, you lacked the proper etiquette to respond, instead falling into his arms when they wrapped over your form. With a gentleness that collided with everything he continued to put you through, he carried you over to the couch, making sure to properly place the pillows before letting your body fall into the dark leather plush. 

With one hand continuing to rub at the feather, his other snuck under your shirt to tenderly squeeze at the flesh beneath. “There you go, angel. Fuck you’re gorgeous.”

“Kei-” You groaned. “I’m… I’m-”

“Close?” He cocked an eyebrow, movements coming to a slow. All self-respect thrown out the window at this point, you gave him a whine when he stopped completely. “And what makes you think you deserve it?”

“Please,” you begged. Your clit burned for release, body screaming at him for a mercy only he could give. 

The side of his lips curled upward. “Want to see a magic trick?”

Even with your mind buried within the fog of euphoria, you found enough bodily control to give him a nod. 

Then shrieked with pleasure when he stuck the feather in his mouth. 

You could practically feel the way he rolled it under his tongue, feel the vibrations echoing over your skin when he hummed in delight at the pure sight of you.

That was one of the wonderful things about Hawks;

He talked a big game, but you were something he could never refuse.

Left arm now free, he quietly moved his touch to the backpack to nudge it off. Bright, crimson wings streamed out, the apendages still somehow responding to their rightful owner. Hawks gently glided his touch through the plumage, watching as you squirmed and writhed beneath a simple wave of his hand. 

It wasn’t long before euphoria consumed you completely, pure bliss tickling your body as Hawks guided you through your organism. He made sure the feather grazed his lips when he withdrew it, forcing another pleasured shudder to roll through your still sensetive form. 

You slowly opened an eye, groaning in embarrassment when you caught sight of the horrendously cocky smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Darkness covered your gaze as you attempted to hide within the feeble confines of your palms. “You’re an asshole.”

“I get you like this for what? Three more days? And you really think I’m not gonna have some fun?” He grabbed either one of your wrists and forced your hands away in glee. 

“I could have died! On the way home, I almost ran two traffic lights.”

“I was watching the car's location! I stopped once it said you were on the road.”

“Yeah, well, I was still distracted,” you huffed with no real anger behind the noise.

“Aww, I’m sorry, sweetheart.” His apology was less than sincere, enjoyment and desire still hiding beneath his tone as he nuzzled into your neck. “But I know there are few ways I could make it up to ya.”

You snorted. “Wow, so romantic.”

Keigo chuckled and began to plant tender kisses along your collarbone, tongue rolling over the skin to claim it with his marks “Too bad you’re stuck with me.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

A quick nip into your neck had you giggling in delight, the act ripping away your facade of irritation as he picked you up once more and carried you into the bedroom.

It seemed that the following days of imprisonment continued to push the both of you in the direction of less holy activities.

But you couldn't find it in yourself to mind.

[sstrwbrryccke]

— bullying him pt.4 | sub soobin

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

tags: loser!nerd!soobin x bully!mean!reader, gn reader, sadistic reader, masochistic soobin, dubcon, hate fingering, sadist x masochistic relationship, mutual pining, mild violence, hurt w comfort, mean dirty talk, reader's genitals are unclear and can be interpreted as either a cock or a strap, misunderstandings, public bathroom indecency, bdsm, happy ending!!!

the long await part 4 is here!! i tagged everyone who wanted a part 4 i hope you aren't too irritated by the tag >.< i did this very tired and sleep deprived so i hope it makes sense HAHAHA

tags: @yaegerphobic @strwbrryjaem @ke4s @sk104kx @bennybenten @queer-n-here @sleeping143 @browni-bin @skinnyzlegendz @roturo @zuzuhasablog

something changed after that date, you could feel it, soobin could feel it and the other classmates felt it too. it was the lingering touches, the maintained gazes during class. the way he dared to stare for just a second longer. you didn't want to admit it, and it was initially easy to ignore the problem. it's not like you weren't used to overlooking soobin. he was simply an accessory in your eyes, what's the use in admiring the shine of a singular gem on a sapphire bracelet?

though, perhaps your dismissiveness was your greatest achilles heel after all. in the end, an undeniable itch would creep up on the back of your neck. like a minuscule mosquito sting that would bloom into large red welts. it started irritating you to a degree. sure you were blatantly ignoring the man, but can a contradiction not be such opposing parallels?

because how dare he, even for a second, ignore you back?

maybe it was the small sigh of relief he let out when you passed by, or the way he kept his head down low when he exited the class. when did it start to bother you so much?

no way. he would come running back. he always did and he always will, you know it in your bones, he will come back he will. what's a victim without a bully? a nerd without a jock??? a locker without a dim-witted loser to push into????????

you will wait it out, wait for him to come out crawling and kneeling, grasping at your leg like a devout to their divine deity— prayers forcing their way frantically out of his mouth.

but seconds tick by, days even, and suddenly it's been two weeks already with no movement. all silent on the battlefront. is this what it's like for drinks to fizzle out at the bottle of a can? when a songbird no longer sings for the morning sun? and the stars no longer shine for the moon? and whatever next poetic quote that rhymes with moon?

damn, what a sad and pathetic way to conclude it. so this is the ending chapter of the depressing story of a mega fluke and his cool fling.

is what you would say if you were the cowardly choi soobin!!!

because you weren't a pussy, and you certainly weren't one to give up on your pride. so be it, if he wants you to come to him, you'll give it to him.

☆★☆

your glare bore holes into the hunched back of choi soobin. now see, normally you wouldn't even gift that loser a glance in his direction, too risky to pay him attention and blow the cover of your unconventional connection after all. but this was a special occasion, and you felt like your nerves were lit on fire, like a hormonal teenager going through puberty again. it was abnormal for everyone else too, many did not even know the unimportant side character soobin was even associated with you, arguably the most interesting (or maybe the right word is known) person in the classroom.

the metal keys weigh heavy in your uniform pants (retrieved from the staffroom after many great excuses to convince your teacher), waiting for the right moment to pounce. come on soobin, you dare him to move. fall right into the metal prongs.

"—dude, hey— HEY!" one of your friends, kiwoo, shook your shoulder, hard enough that you broke your gaze just for a second. you snap your head at him, giving him an irritated look that makes him retreat his hand.

"what's with you?" he says, suspicious, "you've been glaring at soobin ever since he entered the classroom. what? he gave you bad head or something?"

"not funny." you roll your eyes.

"is there something happening between the two of you? it doesn't feel like a simple errand boy situation anymore. you're not nonchalant and mysterious for ignoring the question by the way."

you groan, this really wasn't the time for it. what kind of excuse can you even give him? that the weird situationship you had with soobin backfired and now you're acting like an angsty possessive insecure spouse trying to get him back? tough shit.

"it's not even that deep, kiwoo. he just pissed me off this morning, that's all." you scoff out an excuse, hoping that's enough to deter your nosy friend. you look back at where soobin was seated— shit where did he go?!

"what did he do now?—" "not the time, he's gone, where did he go?" you look around, irritation seeping into your voice.

"chill, he probably just went to the b—"

you stand up, muttering another alibi before dashing out of the classroom. you catch a glimpse of his white shirt turning the corner, bingo, he's headed to the restroom! your heart thumps in your throat as you approach the bathroom, was the dominos actually falling into place? you can't believe your stupid plan was working.

once you reach the entrance, you silently take a breath, getting ready for the confrontation. you step in, closing the restroom door behind you with the keys, and you hear an all too familiar gasp as the lock sets into place.

"oh, you, the door,"

his stupid voice stutters out (you missed hearing it), shaky eyes meeting yours. he was sweating visibly, like this was a horror game and he just came face to face with the final boss.

"so—sorry wrong room!" he turns around like an npc reciting a practised line, only to be met with the tile wall, what a dumb bunny. when he pivots back around, you are already eye-to-eye with him. his voice hitches, a pathetic excuse for a squeal, and the world spins— you pin him into the wall right behind him. he would crumble onto the floor right there if it weren't for your hands holding his wrists up.

there was a moment of silence between you two, his eyes scattering around as if the gum on the floor was suddenly so much more interesting than the person in front. he bites his bottom lip in fear.

"oh stop it i told you before to not bite your chapped lips." the first words exchanged, a command that he obeys immediately like following your words was as natural as breathing. you forgot how satisfying it was to order him around.

"care to explain why you're avoiding me?" your tone sharp and cutting; as if you were physically pressing a knife up against his chest. he tries to talk. lip trembling, eyes closing, but all that comes out is a fearful whimper. you click your tongue in irritation, releasing one of his wrists— which limply drops to his side like a ragdoll. using your free hand you grab his face, forcing him to look at you.

"answer."

he tears up, sniffling as he tries not to sob. "m' sorry... i—i'm sorry for ignoring you."

you felt a pang in your heart, you can't tell if it was guilt or anger. "shit quit apologising and just answer my question. why were you avoiding me."

his shoulders were raised all the way up as if he was expecting you to smack him across the cheek, his whole body was wrecked with trembles and you're impressed he wasn't full-on sobbing yet. his face was red and holy shit no fucking way he was hard. what a strong sense of deja vu, wasn't this exactly how this whole mess started in the first place? you just stare at him for a minute, shaking and quivering with a bulge, no answer on his tongue.

"are you fucking for real? what'd i expect from a masochistic dog. of course, you're getting off from this." you grit your teeth, was he just using you for a quick jerk? that this was his kink this whole time and he only ever saw you as a fuck partner? did he ignore you simply so you would snap and give him exactly what he wants???

and for some reason, you felt betrayed, as if there was actually some relationship between you two. how hypocritical too, did you not also see soobin as sexual relief? wasn't he supposed to be an obedient mouth that opened for your dick? why was your fist clenching and veins pumping as if you caught your long-term partner cheating???

"maybe the only way to get shit through your thick skull is to fuck it out of you huh? bend you over in front of everyone with your ass out as you get fucking drilled by a big fat cock? is that what you want?" your words come out forced and throbbing red with anger.

"i—"

you clasp a rough hand over his throat, though you didn't actually squeeze, he shuts up immediately, eyes wide and fingers quivering. you almost rip his pants down, taking his underwear as well in one swift motion. he snivels pathetically, helplessly being led around as you savagely grasp his hair. you pull him to the sink, forcing him to bend over in front of the mirror. he desperately clutches the edges of the sink with a grunt, otherwise he might be toppled over by your rough handling. his body leaning down with his elbows bent onto the sink edge.

you grip his hair, painfully hard, his scalp must be killing him. you lift his head up until he's staring at his face in the reflection. it was like a brush with scarlet paint used his face as a canvas. his cheeks red and trembling. tears bulge on the edge of his eyes, threatening to slip out any second. his lips long-bitten and bleeding.

"keep staring at your slutty self. watch how pathetic and ugly you're gonna look when you get your organs fucked out. if you break your gaze even for a second i'll fucking kill you."

you cuss with every malevolence in your soul, for a second soobin thinks you might actually kill him. he holds in his breath as if one more sound from him will settle the hatred in your heart and murder him. you spit down onto his ass, watching as it dribbles down, you abruptly prod at his hole. not waiting like you would before. breaking through the rim and forcing your finger in like an intruder.

he loudly groans out in agony, body shuddering and wavering. you smack him over the head. "quit moving so much. shit, i wasted so many stupid gifts on you. and to think i was saving up the actual fucking for something more special. like we were actually a couple or something. but now you're gonna get your organs reorganised in a public bathroom. i guess that's suiting for a whore like you."

he grits his teeth in pain, trying to endure the pain and the humiliation for you. he stares at himself in the mirror in despair, brows furrowed and his vision blurry, his glasses were knocked off his nose from all the movement, but he keeps looking at himself just like you commanded. not trying to disobey you. why did he do that for you? it pissed you to new heights. why was he still acting like he was a goodie two shoes who didn't want to displease you?

you thrust the finger in and out with no care, barely being assisted by your makeshift lube to slide against his walls. his soft whimpers barely slipping out. you press another finger against his hole and this time he does stir, he jerks away. incoherent protests come out when he feels the second finger try to enter.

"break! a break! please give me uh a break b—before the second!" he begs, on the verge of breaking into full sobs.

"what makes you think you can bargain?"

he shivers at your harsh words, head hanging in shame. it was so pathetic, you feel a small semblance of pity, spitting more on his ass to assist the second. but you weren't merciful by any standard and promptly slid the two fingers in.

his shoulders shake, feeling full already with the two fingers. tears finally slip out in both overwhelming pain and pleasure. he hadn't touched himself ever since the last time you two met.

your ruthless fingers pump in and out of his ass like you were digging for his stomach, violently pressing against his prostate. it hurts like crazy. a primal and animalistic type of pain. but oh man, the electricity zipping through his body was hitting all the right places. it felt so wrong yet so right. like he belonged here pressed underneath your feet and hands. this felt like pleasure. his dick was tall and alert, pent up and ready to burst. his body begged for more while his mind was praying for mercy.

he thrashes around with each new thrust, being unable to control his body as a guttural wail forces its way out of his mouth. the slopping of skin slapping skin fills your ears. you grunt as you tighten your hold on his hair, trying to get him to stop moving. the more you ram your fingers into his prostate, the more frantic he becomes, one of his hands coming up to weakly pry at your hand holding his hair. you let go of your grip on his scalp to instead pull his body flush against your chest, hand snaking to the front and onto his throat. your fingers ceasing to stop with its insane momentum.

"please— no more— have me—mercy! i'm so sorry i'm so sorry i'm sorry—" he begs endlessly, sobbing and shaking his head, struggling against your hold.

you ignore his pleas, hand trailing down from his throat to his lower stomach, you can feel the movement of your fingers. suddenly, you push your palm down on his lower abdomen, right above his prostate. just as your two fingers press into the glands. he cries out, head blanking into sparks of light and stars. his cock spasming as he spurts out white stripes, shooting onto the mirror. his hands that were frantically prying at your wrists limps down.

your lips curl into a cruel smile, a sense of satisfaction raking over your body. you slid your two fingers out of his hole. a scoff comes out, naturally.

"hah. you came? i wasn't even trying to pleasure you, and you came like a little..."

your nasty words drift off as you look at him in the mirror. the room is now uncomfortably quiet, only the weeping and sobbing of soobin echoing in the restroom. he looks like a wreck, not in a sexy, sweaty way. but in a heart-hanging, guilt-tripping way. his face was painted with tears, snot and substance. eyes closed and afraid to look up at you. his body exhausted and leaning against you, he didn't even have the energy to quiver.

you did this to him, you absolutely ruined his pretty face and his sweet eyes. you actually deserve hell. what was wrong with you? how could you do this to someone so cute and precious? soobin deserved the world and so much more, he deserved everything good and nice and sweet and right on this earth. but what happened at that moment, how did you get here?

suddenly it was like your throat was constricted and swollen, lips dry with unsaid words. what do you say? apologise? promise to leave him alone forever?

"i..."

"i'm sorry..." he beats you to it with shaky words.

"holy shit no— no no, don't apologise." you quickly mumble, holding him up.

"i— i was scared, i didn't know how you would react. because i think, i think i'm insane, i don't know what's wrong with me. i'm scared you would be disgusted" his words tumble out breathlessly, you just stare silently in shock.

"i'm sorry— i don't get myself either, because everything about you drives me crazy and i can't be around you— i know i'm a masochistic dog but i just can't help it— no matter what you do to me makes me like you more, d—don't hate me please. i'm such a freak—" his words are barely coherent as he sobs.

"shh shhh shh it's okay, calm down soobin, calm down." you try to comfort him, beyond confused and shocked. he's crying so hard he's hiccuping and stammering. you help him lean on a wall and he slides down, you frantically kneel down to try and ground him.

"i— i don't want you to hate me— but your attention just feels so good to me— anything— any attention you give me it just shakes me to my core... i couldn't do it anymore—hic— i had to avoid you hick—" he hides his face in his hands. you try to understand his words, your head spiralling in turmoil. he what? he avoided you because you gave him too much attention? what kind of fucked up logic was that? this was starting to sound like those cliche misunderstanding tropes in romcoms. nevermind that, you had a sexually confused pile of fluff to comfort.

"soobin breathe, hey, come on." you say as softly as you can, like you were trying to approach an injured bunny in the wild. no matter, your heart pangs with guilt as he keeps crying. you pull him into a hug on your lap, wrapping your arms tight around his frame. this seems to make him cry more, but he leans into you, knees bundled tight against his chest as he savours the warmth. you two stay on the floor in this strong embrace. you coo sweet and reassuring words into his ear as you rock him back and forth, doing your best to console him. kissing each tear as it falls.

his sobs quiet down with each passing minute until there was only silence and mute sniffling. it was bizarre to cuddle on the restroom floor, but it was nice, and you have to admit that you do like soobin in your arms. not embracing him in sex, but in comfort and simply to make him feel good. this was crazy hypocritical to say, considering he was partly crying due to your assholery.

after a few more minutes of silence, you glance at soobin, still hidden away by his hands. "soob, come on, look at me." you coo into his ear, and he makes a small noise of acknowledgement. your hands gently pry at his hands and he lets you remove his shield from his face. he looks at you pitifully, eyes red and puffy from the crying, pouting. you kiss his cheek, you don't know why you did it, but it felt right to. "do you want to talk to me now?"

he nods, but hides his face in your shoulder.

"i... i'm crazy and a freak. you hurt me, you humiliate me, you cause me so much pain."

you grimace, stroking his hair. yeah, that sounds about right. if there was one thing consistent about your inconsistent personality, it was how much of an asshole you are. if soobin was your salvation, it was like the angels gave you a second chance at life. but you honestly wouldn't blame them if the ground caved beneath you right now and sent you straight to hell. was it bad to say you enjoyed all the sadistic acts? probably. you can't lie and say you regret being a sadist. but if it makes it better, you do regret the pain soobin is feeling right now.

"but... please don't hate me for this..."

"i won't hate you, soobin." you encourage him to keep talking, shushing his worries away.

"i like all of it, i like it so much it drives me crazy. i'm abnormal, i know. and i get it if you think i'm disgusting. but i'm so obsessed with you. i think about the things you do to me every night, i replay it in my head over and over again until i'm touching myself again. the more you hurt me, the more i like you... but... but you kept avoiding me, and i thought you knew how i felt and you were disgusted... and if that was the case... i didn't want to get hurt anymore..." he confesses fully, face buried deep in your neck and you feel your shirt slowly wet with his tears again.

it was silence, absolute, bewilderment from your side. the quiet seems to gnaw at soobin's heart, because he lifts his head up, gaze lowered as he stutters. "i— i get it if you're disgusted, my feelings are so strang—"

"soobin, you're a proper, proper masochist, wow." you breathe out. lifting his face up gently with two of your hands. wiping away his tears with your sleeve.

"oh..." he just mouths, mind seemingly blank. confused by how mundane your reaction was.

"wait, so how'd you feel about what we did just then? did you like it?"

"i... didn't like you being angry at me..."

"but what about the feeling? the fingering? the rough treatment?"

he blushes. "i liked the rough treatment." he pauses for a moment. "and you paying attention to me again."

the both of you fall quiet and he crumbles at the scrutiny. you knew soobin was masochistic and that he liked you. this was not new information. shit, you knew this from the beginning. so what changed? why did you freak out and go ballistic? why'd you corner him and demand him to tell you why he avoided you? why'd you force him to endure all that pain?

"i... i was so mean to you today... i... because you kept, looking away from me, and, ignoring my gaze and avoiding me. i thought..." the words fall into noiseless void. burning on the tip of your tongue.

"i thought you didn't like me anymore,"

you admit, shame and humiliation weighing down your heart. for a self-proclaimed smartass, you were sure stupid and dense to your own emotions. when did it start? when did you actually start caring about the loser? maybe the answer was simpler than that, you never felt the feelings creeping up to you, because, in truth, you've always been looking at him. maybe that's why you picked on him so easily, always eyeing for his reaction. shit, what a twisted way your heart works. but damn did you have a lifetime of sins to atone for.

soobin was blinking up at you blearily, clearly confused and oblivious to the conclusion in your head. you pick up his cracked glasses from the ground, gently inserting them behind his ears. (you'll buy him another pair later.)

"you don't hate me?" his voice was weak and hopeful. you scoff.

"you're too easy to bully and pick on. it's the complete opposite idiot. i just have a shitty way to show my feelings, and you're unfortunately the victim." it takes a moment for him to process your words, and his face morphs into a cute kind of shock, he is ecstatic, you can tell by the way his dimples deepen. you really didn't deserve this man or any of the feelings he has, for some reason, god was merciful and sent the perfect masochistic man to slot into your sadistic tendencies.

"but... isn't our relationship weird?" he frowns.

"we crossed that line the moment i fingered you dude." he chuckles at this, caught off guard. and you appreciate the clear ringing of his laughter without any more denial.

"honestly, you picked such a shitty person to crush on. i'm the worst, i like being mean to you. i like humiliating you, i like the feeling of having you grovel at my feet."

his face reddens with each word, hiding his face into your shoulder again. you lean into him, appreciating the silky softness of his hair.

"i don't deserve you. i'm an idiot, it took what? months of sexual tension and emotional buildup for me to realise i actually like you instead of hating you?" you ramble, he snorts.

"but i'll make it up to you, i promise." you can tell he was blushing by the heated tips of his ears. this was nice, him in your lap. he's still a loser, but he's your loser. (gross, you reconsider taking everything back with this one thought.)

"let's get out of here first. screw class, we're gonna graduate anyways, what are the teachers gonna do?"

"and i should wear some pants..." he comments.

"that too."

☆★☆

you do a final check over at soobin, ointment applied and bandaged up. he looks out of place in your fancy bedroom and it makes you snicker. once a loser, forever a loser.

"okay, that's it. does it hurt anywhere else?" you ask, setting down the ointment. he's only injured slightly, it was mostly his bitten lip and some bruises from the rough handling.

he nods and you instantly look at him with concern. "where? where and what hurts?"

he exaggeratedly points at his heart and you scoff, rolling your eyes, trying your hardest not to smile at his antics. "what does the big baby want?"

soobin is pensive and shy at first, he wasn't expecting you to take his dramatics seriously. but soon his lips curl into a cheeky grin. "...cuddles, and kisses." you blush at the idea, grimacing. you stand up and walk away from him towards the bed.

soobin panics at your reaction. "s—sorry! i was being stupid, you don't have to take it seriously, don't leave me!"

"shut up, do you want it or not?" you say, sitting on the edge of the bed. arms stretched out. he grins widely, hurrying up to jump into your arms. you two roll over into the bed as you stretch the blanket to cover your bodies. you admire soobin's joyful expression, stroking his hair.

don't get it wrong, you still think such blatant displays of affection were cringe, and soobin was still a loser. but maybe it was never that deep, and you could definitely see yourself get used to this.

you lean down, your lips connecting with his, he feels so plush and soft underneath you. he's still a masochistic dog definitely, and you still think he's a pervert, but he's also so precious and lovable, there was so many things you could list about him.

you two separate. he seems beyond pleased with himself, burying his face into your neck. "i feel like this is all a dream, and i'm going to wake up."

"don't insult me, dream me could never kiss this well." you roll your eyes. he snickers.

"yeah, you're right. no one else could make me feel this way except real you."

you feel yourself grin, really grin. not out of malice, a grin of genuine satisfaction and joy. you feel your eyelids drooping as soobin drifts to sleep in your arms. if you told younger you that this was how things would turn out with soobin, they probably would've cussed and flipped you out.

oh well. they will come to accept it eventually anyways. this wasn't so bad after all.

end.

☆★☆ BONUS SCENE

soobin drools, senses heightened. tied up, gagged, blindfolded and a vibrator pressing at his cock. he wasn't going to last much longer. you were cruel, so fucking cruel. and he had no idea where you even were. did you leave him? how long has it been? minutes? hours? did you leave the room?

he was snapped back to reality by a harsh slap on his thigh. he trembles and sobs, curling into himself. he feels a pressure at the back of his head before the gag loosened up, allowing him to breathe and talk.

"pl—please, can't, can't— gon cum, can't hold it in. mercy, please mercy." he cries out, voice broken. he sobs and thrashes around. hoping he can charm his way out of this. he was going to burst any moment and he was going to be punished harshly for disobeying you.

"colour?" you whisper by his ear, making him jump with a whimper.

"g—green." he sniffles.

"good boy." you coo, stroking his chest, circling around one of his nipples. he cries, nerves jerking all over the place. "beg for it."

"please..." he begins, swallowing down a sob.

"please fuck me... please give me permission to cum— i— i can't last any longer— hic!"

you interrupt him with a large intrusion in his ass, he almost mewls in both pleasure and pain. "a—ah! so big, feeeels good, uhhg feels so good. love you, love you."

you grin cruelly, thrusting into him hard and accurate. the pleasure he was in twists into panic as he realises you hadn't given him permission to cum yet. and if you kept going at this pace, he was surely going to cum before your permission.

"w—wait ple—ease let me cum! i've been good, i've been good! please let me cum, i've been so good for you!" he snivels, were you going to be nice or heartless today? the closer he reaches to his climax, the more he frets. grovelling down at you, begging relentlessly for permission. before long, he feels his limit.

"i'm going to oh god i'm going to! i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm so disobedient i'm going to disobey you! i feel it— hic—" he cries louder, and just before he climaxes, you press down on his lower stomach, whispering in his ear.

"come for me baby."

with that, his body violently convulses, and his back arches as his mouth opens in a silent scream. cum forces its way out of his painfully hard dick, a guttural groan digs its way out as he empties completely onto the bed.

after his ejaculation, he huffs heavily, whines mixed in with his wheezing. you let him ride out his orgasm, pulling out of him. you untie him and take off the blindfold. kissing him sweetly.

"you did so well, you were so cute soob." you cheekily grin. he smiles tiredly up at you. body sore and thoroughly ruined. he stretches his arms out and you take it as a signal to lift him up into your lap.

he settles into your embrace like it is the most natural thing in the world. giggling into your shoulder. "that was amazing, i love you so much."

"i gueesss i love you." you tease.

"hey!"

you chuckle, kissing his cheek. "just kidding, i love you." soobin whispers a quiet 'i know.'

you two enjoy each other's company for a second, only interrupted by soobin's growling stomach. "greedy." you jab at him with a grin and he pouts.

"i'll get you something to eat at the convenience store." you shake your head, getting up to leave but soobin tugs at your sleeve.

"i'm going to be lonely, take me with you!"

you roll your eyes at his dramatic antics, but oblige anyways.

☆★☆

at the convenience store, you buy a simple bread bun for soobin, your hands warming up in your pockets as he enjoys his snack. it was a cold winter, and you wanted to return back to your apartment as soon as possible.

"yo!"

a vaguely familiar voice calls out, you turn around to be met with a recognizable face, a gasp on your lips—

"holy shit, kiwoo! i haven't seen you since graduation." soobin vaguely identify the man as one of your old high school friends.

"it's been quite a few years, hasn't it," he chuckles, though confusion was evident in his eyes as he recognises soobin.

"soobin? what are you doing here?" he pauses, glancing between you, and then soobin, and then you. like the gears of a clock slowly turning.

"you guys are still friends?" he asks.

you and soobin exchange a look. "not really." you chuckle.

he tilts his head and you dutifully wrap an arm around soobin's waist. a cheeky grin on your face as you show off the glinting gem on your finger.

"he's my fiance, obviously."

★★★ end ★★★

an: i hope you guys enjoyed the fic and the ending!!! it took a lot of contemplating on how i was going to end this highly anticipated series... i do have a lot of inbox asks for alternative realities and spin-offs, so i will probably work on them next!!! also so sorry for disappearing for like multiple months... i had been so busy with life help!!!

anyways... reshares and comments are always appreciated! please do let me know how you felt about the fic....

[dyl-the-pregoologist]

The weeks passed by, after getting pregnant with my child, you see as your body changes…for the better, feeling confident about your big belly, proudly showing it off any time we’re out, knowing you carry my strong and healthy baby in there, happy to feel it kick and move in there filling you with nothing but joy and pride, as the sea of pregnancy hormones comes in, you ask more and more for stimulation, sex, you can’t reach past your belly anymore, it’s so big with my child, and you’re reminded every time you look down and not even see your own feet, to feel it kick eagerly inside, or when you know you’re wet, soaking and you can’t do anything yourself.

Ask me for help reach down, remove those soaked panties and get to work, giving me free access to those two puffy marshmallows that are your breasts, as a responsible father I am~ I have to make sure the baby is going to be well fed, tasting and drinking your milk from your swollen breasts.

Measuring the changes in your body and being happy about it, seeing my handy work

Sometimes hormones are too much, and you can’t do much but take off your clothes, lay down and spread your legs, when it becomes too much, you’re already wet and eagerly waiting for what made you very pregnant, going at it until I make your water break

[greeniegaes]

Thinking about Omega SQQ again sigh

Okay. So warning this is a male lactation AU so if you don’t like that don’t read, nothing explicit happens tho, just a guy and his pups

I imagine when he first goes into his body everything feels like he’s in haywire, constantly on edge and ready for a fight. Once he’s gotten the hang of things he uses his cultivation to try and simmer down his hormones.

Only to realize it was his cultivation preventing hormones that was making him feel like shit all the time.

So eventually he sighs and stops doing that. The first few days are bad, cramps and sickness and a general feeling of wanting to claw everyone’s eyes out. He gets through that though.

Then his breasts start to come in.

He knew PIDW has its weirder parts of omegaverse so he knew that this would happen. At first he starts binding his chest but that hurts SO SO SO much that he collapses on like the third day (he was also doing it improperly because it’s him, yk) and gets stuffed into Qian Cao

MQF: I was not aware shixiong was an omega

SQQ: I’ve only recently decided to stop holding myself back

MQF: it is recommended that you form a small pack of your disciples to help with your instincts and… that *waving at SQQs chest.*

SQQ: *screams internally.* Okay :)

At this point after like a week of just draining himself and going insane he finally gives up. LBH has already started living in the bamboo hut so he’s kinda the best option so he sits the boy down.

SQQ: Binghe, I hope you know this isn’t going to change anything but

LBH, thinking: oh my god no please don’t kick me out

SQQ: since this master has allowed his omega side back out he’s been struggling with his urges about thinking of his disciples like pups. If it’s not an offense to your character can I take some of it out on you

LBH, internally: YES YES YES PLEASE OH GOD YES I NEED IT

LBH, externally: If that would please shizun then sure :]

So they start a twice daily thing of in the morning and night LBH goes into SQQs room and his nest and gets feed. Apparently milk is hella good for the skin and shit because after a few weeks he starts to look flawless somehow.

And SQQ really wants to see his other kids- DISCIPLES flourish like that. He extends the offer to a close few and some look like they going to cry at the honor of their teacher wanting to take care of them.

LBH is still the main drinker and always wants to huff when he has to share, but he does it none the less. His Shizun gets really cute during feeding sessions, purring and chirping at them, fixing their hair and playing with it, scratching their scalp, the whole nine yards.

So LBH repays it by feeding SQQ more, which also makes him have more milk in turn. He huffs and complains at his body’s need to produce so much, his chest wayyy too heavy in the middle of the day to be comfortable, leaking and wasting everything.

He ignored that though, even if LBH and his other pups- disciples offer to help him.

Eventually after the Abyss his body is still making big amounts of milk because that’s what it was used to. Most of the time he just gets it out himself and pours it into the grass, often now also starting his other feedings.

Everything starts to get to him and he’s decided that staying on the mountain is no good. So he sneaks out, by himself, in search of something to heal his heart.

All the peak lords and disciples are going crazy, nobody can find him and nobody knows where he could’ve gone. Eventually while LQG is talking to a random villager out in a border town of their territory he sees SQQ again, arms filled with two pudgy babies and looking ever so pleased.

SQQ: Oh! Hi Shidi

SQQ internally: OH FUCK I FORGOT ABOUT THE SECT

LQG: where have you been???

SQQ: sorry sorry babies are hard work I didn’t want to travel alone with them

LQG, wanting to have an aneurysm but can’t: let me just help you home

On one hand the entire sect is so relieved that SQQ didn’t die of heartbreak over losing his favorite pup or get kidnapped. On the other hand SQQ??? Where’d you’d acquire those babies?? They aren’t yours, it’s only been 6 months!!

Anyways after SQQ is safely back in the sect he doesn’t see a point in leaving. I mean! Look! Look at his pups! So cute and round! One of them has little dimples!

The other peak lords carefully go to see what was going on, YQY opening the door to the bamboo house after being told to come in and all of them are just smacked with happy omega pheromones, SQQ gently cradling them both in his arms as he rocks in a chair.

At that point all of the peak lords decide that yk, maybe it doesn’t matter how the children were acquired. They were well feed and cared for and obviously SQQ was happy again.

(He got the children from a working in the WRP, she had wanted babies and all her sisters were supportive but then she realized she didn’t like being a parent but you also can’t morally just… dispose of a child. SQQ visited there once in his depression stoop and stayed for a few days after falling in love with the kiddos. Then he just went on an adventure with his babies and got distracted by the cool world building.)

[nanamisbbygirl]

—☆ friends with benefits!

chapter 4. mary jane & co.

paring: geto suguru x reader

genre: college au, drama, smut with plot

summary: a pact of pleasure between friends runs the risk of ruining everything. passionate flames burn the hardest. you and geto care about each other, but what happens when sex gets tangled with friendship?

cw: marijuana use, toxic relationships and friendships, angst, smut, creampie, unprotected sex

a/n: hi! i just wanted to pop in and say that trust the process with this chapter! and also that the next one might take a little longer to come out as my schedule is very hectic for the next week! i hope though that i can at least have chapter 5 out in 7-8 days instead of 4-5! enjoy!

prev. < masterlist > next

Geto hated being home. He hated the quietness of the halls, he hated the smell of the carpets. He hated how the only time his mother was there, she would complain. She would taunt him, curse his father, complain how love is for idiots. Ever since the divorce she’d been keen on that fact. 

“Your father was a fucking asshole, never believe it when someone tells you they love you. Before you know it they’ll move onto someone else,” she would hiss, scanning her son with discontent. On other occasions, she would sneer at him, reminding Geto that he was starting to look just like him. 

It was the main reason he always hosted parties– it was a day to drown out the silence that haunted his house. It was an easy distraction, the drinking, the fun, the girls. He took his mothers words very seriously, realizing among all the sweaty teenage hormones, that no one knew what loyalty was, just like what his mother had warned him about. There was always some kind of drama and someone’s heart was always breaking. 

He stood with his best friend near the window of his room, feeling the breeze dilute the skunkish smell. Intertwined between their fingers was a perfectly rolled joint, and with every inhale they puffed smoke out the opening. Geto was feeling buzzed, and he could tell Gojo was even more out of it. He knew he should’ve been using the week to study– that was its intended purpose– but being home, looking at his bed, staring at his empty phone notifications, he felt as though there was nothing else to do. 

“This shit feels so fuckin’ good,” Gojo hummed, taking another drag, “we should do it more often.” 

Geto only agreed, fidgeting with the joint slightly, cautiously taking a hit. Judging by Gojo’s body language, he was much more loose, as though his thoughts had become unfiltered. 

“This year’s been so much fun so far– whoever said college was stressful clearly wasn’t doing it right.” He laughed, continuing with his gibbering nonsense. “And man, honestly I gotta tell ya– I thought I’d been fucking around hard once school began, but I think I’m fucking falling in love.” 

The black haired boy raised a suspicious eyebrow, intrigued on what else his friend would admit to him, “oh, really?” 

Before you know it they’ll be in love with someone else, ringing in his head at the thought of his best friend supposedly being in love. 

Gojo only nodded, “something about her, the way she laughs, the way she does her makeup, I don’t know I haven’t been able to shake it. We’ve gotten much closer in the past two months. I think I’m gonna give it a shot.” 

“Gotten closer?” Geto looks confused, “did you know her from highschool or something.” 

“Something like that,” Gojo mutters. He seems tense, like he’s unsure about what he’s going to say next. “I’m just worried that things might change too drastically, stuff like this gets messy.” 

Geto thought of you, about how it all started on the very bed that was next to him. Messy was an understatement. He hadn’t seen or spoken to you since that party, since you were cozying up with that other guy, since you broke off your friendship. 

“Do you think she likes you back?” He wasn’t sure why he was playing into Gojo’s delusions, but he couldn’t help it. 

“It’s hard to say,” Gojo huffs, inhaling his joint, “we usually hang out in group settings, but when we’re alone we always have fun.” 

“Worth a shot then,” Geto muses, “but probably best to not get your hopes up.” 

“Yeah but this girl is different.” He clarifies. “Trust me, if you knew who I was talking about, you’d understand.” 

“You’re saying that like I know this chick personally.” He laughs. 

However, Gojo stiffens. “You do.” 

Geto’s eyes narrow, trying to refocus himself on the conversation. Who the hell was Gojo falling in love with? 

“Shoko?” He questions, causing his friend to scoff, rolling his eyes. 

“Don’t be fucking dense.” Geto felt his face go pale, his breath slowing down as Gojo finished his sentence. “It’s y/n.” 

There’s a sinking feeling in his chest, although he tries his best to keep a straight face. Geto can feel the twitching of his heart, the way it’s trying to claw through his ribcage– it makes him nauseous, and he doesn’t know why. He thinks about your angered face, the way you stormed out on him just a handful of weeks ago. 

He didn’t know what to say, wondering how much time had gone by since Gojo last spoke. He wasn’t sure if his senses were being skewed because of the weed, or because of the perplexity of the whole situation. He figured it was the weed. 

A part of him wanted to tell Gojo about your friends with benefits situation, even though it had soured. He wanted to brag to his best friend about how he’d taken your virginity, about how he was the only one to see you in such a vulnerable state. It was twisted on how much he wanted to splice through Gojo’s little romantic fantasy, but still his lips moved without his brain. 

“Really? Her?” He said almost with a chuckle, taking another long drag. “You know she probably isn’t into guys like you.” 

Gojo hissed, “and what kinda guys is she into?” 

Geto could sense the devious little smile creeping up on his face, “she’s into the type of guys that make her work for it. She likes when they’re a little bit mean.” 

“And how the fuck would you know that?” Gojo asked, puffing smoke out the window, coughing slightly. 

“Because we’ve been fucking.” He admitted, even though it was him who suggested keeping your affairs secret. Geto’s lips were curled into a grin while he smoked, waiting in anticipation for how Gojo would react. 

“You’re full of shit,” he said, starting to raise his voice. It was obvious that Geto’s words stung. 

“Tell yourself what you want,” he told his best friend, “but I even took her virginity, right… here.” He said, pointing to his bed. 

Gojo remained speechless while Geto continued. “And the craziest thing is that we’ve been doing this whole friends with benefits shit, too, but she hasn’t slept with anyone other than me.” He couldn’t say the same for himself, though. 

“Yeah but you’re not anymore. Right? That’s why we haven’t hung out as a group for a while, isn’t it?” Gojo was always the bright one, and he seemed to have figured it out quickly. 

“Maybe,” Geto mumbled and Gojo only hummed. 

“Man, I don’t know what the fuck your problem is, but if you don’t give a shit about her, and she doesn’t give a shit about you, I’m still gonna fucking ask her out.” He boldly declared. 

“Sure you will,” Geto could feel his words slurring together, heart still thumping. 

“No kidding she broke things off with you, do you not see how much of a douche you are? Fuck, man, me and y/n are going to the bar tonight, I’m gonna take my chances, whether you were fuck buddies or not.” 

With that, Gojo stormed out, not looking back to see the expression on his friend's face. Geto was in awe about what had just happened, as if he hadn’t been the one to instigate the situation. He couldn’t believe that Gojo was so adamant on confessing his love to you. It seemed ridiculous– couldn’t he tell that you were his? Wasn’t it clear from what he had said? Even if you weren’t on speaking terms, he knew you’d come around eventually, he knew you well enough to know that you were a forgiving person. Yet, there was an inkling of doubt now. Why wouldn’t you pick Gojo over him? 

Remembering that fateful night, how he tore that guy off of you, the rage you directed towards him, the way you brushed off his advances, he wasn’t too sure anymore. He sat down on the edge of the bed, hand over his chest as his breaths became heavy. He could only think about your face, how you seemed to hate him– how he caused all of it. He never had regrets about who he slept with, but something about you was making a new sensation arise within him. Was it because you were friends first? A constant in his life? Before you started sleeping together, he could rely on you; you would listen to his woes, and make him smile. You were a mistake, he realized, and he had to let you know that. He had to put things back the way they were before.

He was standing outside your house, still not sure what he was possibly thinking. He thought about throwing pebbles at your window, but he figured that would only make you more upset with him. He pictured himself ringing the doorbell and the face you would make when it was him standing at your door. 

But, he had already dragged himself that far, he just had to push through.

Before his knuckles could even knock on the door, though, it swung open, as if his presence had already been anticipated. It was your mom at the door, although she was clearly in a rush to get somewhere. 

“Oh hi, Suguru, nice to see you,” she smiled, warmly. “I’m just running to the store, but y/n’s upstairs.” She turned to call for you, letting you know that a friend was at the door. 

“Tell them to come up,” you replied, although judging by how happy you sounded, you weren’t expected to see him standing at your door. 

You were seated at your vanity, starting to doll yourself up, wearing nothing but lingerie. Were you doing all this just to see Gojo? He felt his heart skip a beat, studying every inch of your body. The white lace; the way it perfectly framed your plunging breasts, complimenting your skin. You just looked so angelic, hair pushed back, innocently getting ready. Little did you know Gojo had every intention of confessing to you. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” You snapped at him, rightfully so. 

Geto was speechless, it felt like for the first time in his life, he was at a true loss of words. He stared deeply into your eyes, gulping before mustering up the courage to spew out his words. 

“I just needed to talk to you, now that we’ve both calmed down.” 

“Both? You think a week was enough for me to not be mad at you anymore?” Your eyes narrowed. 

“No- I mean I just at least wanted to tell you something, before anyone else got the chance to tell you this.” He explained, “When you and Satoru go out tonight, he’s gonna tell you that he’s in love with you.” 

Your expression softened, as if you were imagining the other man, filling your face up with some perfect little day dream. Geto could feel an angry grunt getting caught in his mouth before he continued with what he thought was the best solution to all of this. 

“And I think you should also know that I’m sorry.” 

“Do you really think sorry is going to fix it? You treated me like shit.” You huffed, standing up in order to get closer to him. As you looked up at him, Geto felt himself melting, almost as if the proximity between the two of you was affecting his judgement. 

“I know, I-I can’t explain what it is about me, but I can never get close to people properly. I always do something to fuck it up. I’m surprised our friendship lasted three years before I fucked it up-” 

“Are you saying sleeping with me was a mistake?" You interrupted, and Geto felt himself shaking his head quickly. 

“No,” he took a deep breath, building up the strength to continue, “I’m saying that I shouldn’t have done things the way I did. But, I will never regret sleeping with you. I just wish that I could’ve just been honest with you from the start.”

You’re practically standing face-to-face, feeling the intensity of his soul crushing down on you. He was being truthful, it was clear through his gaze, with the way his body was limp, like he had dropped every line of defense. 

“Honest about what?” Your voice was a borderline whisper. 

“Honest about the fact I’m in love with you. It just took me ruining everything to realize it.” His confession is swift, but heartfelt. You look up at him with starry eyes, wide and yearning for him to kiss you. 

“Su..” you say, your thoughts trailing off as you reach up to kiss him, entangling your hands in his hair. His arms hug your waist, bringing you into his chest. 

Everything felt like a blur, from the way you guided him to your bed, wrapping your legs around his waist, passionately kissing him with all the strength in your body. He feels it in the way he grinds himself against your white panties, and how he slips down your bra straps. You’ve never looked more beautiful, he can barely find words to describe it. 

So when you end up on top of him, cute little underwear pushed to the side, his raw cock teasing your entrance, he thinks he’s finally at peace with the world. You carefully ease yourself onto him, chanting out how much you love him, how good he is, it rings in his ears like a melodic symphony. 

“Fuck Sugu, you feel so good,” you cry out, riding him without a care in the world. This is different from all the sex he’s had before, this one isn’t as lustful, the girls aren’t squealing out obscenities for him, not begging to be roughed up, or to be degraded. It’s genuine. He feels as though he could be in this moment forever. 

You bounce on his dick, hands resting on his chest for support, simultaneously pushing your boobs forward. 

“I’m gonna cum,” you pant out, giving him a warning before he starts feeling the intensity of your orgasm. You clench around him and he’s never felt better. He can sense that his own end is near too, but he doesn’t want to pull out. 

“That’s it pretty girl, cum for me, yeah good girl.” His hands find your waist, stopping you from squirming, “fuck, ‘gonna make me cum, fuuck I’m gonna cum so deep inside you, baby.” 

“Please Su,” you plead with him, “I love you so much, please cum in me.” And he does.

Although, it doesn’t feel as good as he thinks it would feel. 

That’s when he wakes up. 

That’s when he realises he never left his room.

He curses the marijuana for making him pass out, and he curses himself even more when he looks down and sees the stain on his crotch. It was just some fucking wet dream, he concludes, groaning as he rubs his hands over his face. 

Before he could reach for his phone, he took a deep breath, feeling the way his heart ached at the fact that he didn’t get to say those words to you in real life. Looking at the time, it read 10:47. Fuck. 

He thought about what Gojo was telling him early– that you were going to the bar. Which bar? He looked to see if his friend had posted any photos and luckily for Geto, he had. 

Roxxy Bar and Lounge. Posted ten minutes ago, it’s a picture of your drinks. He figures if he leaves now maybe he’ll make it in time, before Gojo drinks up the courage to tell you how he really feels. 

Geto knows that he, too, has some explaining to do. He needs to tell you that he’s sorry, he needs to tell you everything he told you in his dream and more. He can’t let you slip away, not like this, not when he was the one driving you away the whole time. 

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© all work belongs to nanamisbbygirl on tumblr, please do not plagiarize, repost or translate anywhere

[stlllle]

Headcanon: Having a Daughter with Kim Namjoon

Genre: Fluff | Smut | Comedy(???)

bts masterlist

main list

A Planned Beginning

It started on a calm autumn night. Wrapped in a cozy blanket, jazz playing softly in the background, and a half-full glass of wine forgotten on the nightstand, Namjoon turned to you with a look of quiet seriousness.

"What if we had... a little us?"

You laughed at first, thinking he was joking. But his eyes held a different kind of glow—hopeful and nervous. Namjoon, always logical and thoughtful, was suddenly filled with dreamy vulnerability.

You nodded. And just like that, the decision was made.

Trying for a Baby (aka the Sweetest, Hottest Homework)

Namjoon immediately dove into research, tracking ovulation, reading articles, downloading apps. But what really mattered were the nights he made love to you like you were already carrying his legacy.

"Gonna fill you up with our future, baby," he’d whisper, breathless, forehead pressed to yours.

He made sure every touch, every stroke, was laced with devotion. His large hands cradled your belly like something sacred—even before anything was there.

Two Pink Lines & a Panicked Genius

The pregnancy test turned positive on a quiet Tuesday morning. You stared at it, blinking, then ran to find him. Namjoon froze.

"Are you sure? Like—sure sure?"

You showed him three more tests before he fell to his knees, gently pressing his lips to your stomach, eyes shimmering.

"Hi, baby moon. It’s appa. I’m right here."

Namjoon: Father-in-Training

He bought every book. “Pregnancy 101,” “Mindful Parenting,” “Fatherhood for Dummies.” His Kindle was a full-on dad library.

He made you smoothies every morning with kale and chia seeds. He documented your cravings. He even made a spreadsheet tracking your moods (though he swore he didn’t).

Every week, he updated you on the baby’s size:

"She's a mango now! A literal mango!"

He nicknamed your belly Mini Moon, and every night he whispered to it:

"Goodnight, my little universe. I love you."

Cravings, Meltdowns & Laughter

You craved pickles with peanut butter. He made it. You sobbed because a pigeon looked at you funny. Namjoon dramatically “talked” to the pigeon on the balcony like it was a school principal.

One time you laughed so hard at his bad dad jokes that you peed yourself a little. He found it adorable.

Pregnancy Glow? Nah, Pregnancy Lust.

Namjoon was obsessed with you. More than ever.

"You’re carrying my daughter… and still the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen."

Even as your belly grew, his desire only deepened. He made love to you slowly, reverently—especially when you were hormonal and needy.

"Tell me what you want, jagi. I’ll give you everything."

His hands on your swollen breasts, your thighs trembling under his touch, both of you breathless in candlelight—pure magic.

The Birth of Ha-rin

He picked her name: Ha-rin, meaning “heavenly grace.”

When labor started, Namjoon panicked. He put your socks on inside out, forgot where the car keys were, and banged his head on the cabinet. Twice.

But when it mattered, he was there. Holding your hand, whispering in your ear.

"You’ve got this. You’re amazing. Our baby’s coming... She’s coming, jagi."

And then she arrived. Tiny, pink, wrinkly perfection. With a pout just like her dad’s.

Namjoon sobbed openly. Clutched her to his chest like the world had stopped.

The Fourth Trimester: Chaos & Cuddles

Namjoon learned to change diapers like a pro. Wrote lullabies for her. Sang her to sleep with made-up songs like “Ha-rin’s Symphony.”

He’d cry the first time she smiled. He kissed your temple as you nursed her, whispering:

"You made a whole human. You’re everything to me."

He didn’t sleep much. Neither did you. But somehow, in that haze of spit-up, laughter, and love—you thrived.

Hot Dad Energy™ in Full Force

Late at night, when Ha-rin finally slept, Namjoon would press himself against your back, his hands tracing your curves again.

"Even now… you make me crazy."

He’d worship you slowly, reverently—loving your new body, kissing every inch like it was divine.

Your moans mixed with baby monitor static, your body arching into his, both of you breathless and whole.

The Best Version of Him

Namjoon read her poetry. Took thousands of photos. Cried the first time she said “appa.”

He’d hold you close in bed and say:

"Thank you for giving me the most beautiful life. You. Her. Us."

And you’d smile, because somehow, in the chaos of becoming parents, you’d fallen even more in love.

Epilogue: A Family of Three (and Counting?)

Years from now, you’d look back and remember it all:

The cravings. The tears. The laughter. The firsts.

And Namjoon—your soulmate, your partner, your favorite disaster—who held your hand through it all.

The man who gave you the moon, then helped you raise a star.

End. Or maybe just the beginning.

[flowery-mess]

pairing: nerd Noah x female reader

warnings: 18+ MDNI! / shower sex / edging? / unprotected sex / Noah showing signs of dominance I guess? / let me know if there's anything else

words: 2,4k

author's note: well, period hormones make you think of things... and I got a request for nerd Noah smut, so I hope you like it🤭 not proof read sorry lol

nerd Noah masterlist

It all started when Noah suggested you two take a shower together, that he missed you after not spending the whole week together. And who are you to say no to a shower with him.

He lets you stand under the upper shower head, letting the warm water cascade over your curves with your eye closed to avoid the water in your eyes.

His eyes follow a random water drop that lands on your forehead, slides over your face, then down your neck and then over the curve of your breast. You turn around to get a better angle to wet your hair, your ass now facing Noah who’s already making its way to you.

You pull your hair to one side, combing your fingers through it which Noah uses as an opportunity to put his mouth on your shoulder.

You feel the familiar warmth of his lips on your skin, starting with slow kisses on your shoulder and then he slowly makes his way to kiss your neck, your jaw and then your ear.

He stops there and whispers “Open your legs for me.” and then his arms make their way around you, changing the water stream to flow out of the manually used shower head and you feel one of his knees helping you spread your legs to give him more access.

“I missed you.” he whispers again, setting the flow of the water to the strongest level and putting it against your nipple.

You gasp at the feeling, not expecting it. The warm water relaxes your body immediately. You let your head fall against his shoulder and close your eyes.

He moves the shower head to your other nipple, teasing it just as much. Meanwhile his mouth is kissing at your jaw, switching to soft bites here and there.

You feel his hard dick against your ass and feel overwhelmed in a good way by everything your body can feel now.

“Noah.” your moan almost gets lost behind the sound of running water.

“Mhm?” he hums against your skin, using his free hand to wrap around your middle, already feeling you shifting your weight to him, giving into the pleasure.

“Please.” you know he knows what you’re asking for, but you find out very soon that he decided to be a little tease today.

He lifts the shower head higher and lets the water run over your neck and then down your body. Some droplets find their way between your open legs, running over your clit, which just makes you groan in frustration.

“Please, Noah please.” you grip his hand that’s around your middle, hoping he’ll give in.

“Look at you, begging like that.” you feel his cock twitch behind you and you decide to tease him back by rubbing your ass against him.

His hand leaves your waist and gently, but firmly grabs your hair.

“That’s not how you gonna get what you want baby.” you hear the smirk in his voice even without seeing his face.

“Then do something Noah, please.” he’s making you go crazy, the desperation in your voice makes him even more hard and eager to finally get what he missed the nights you spend apart.

“I got you.” his hand that’s holding the shower hand finally moves lower and his other hand finds its way back around your waist, but not stopping there.

He slides it low enough to use his fingers to spread your fold and angling the shower head in a way that the water runs directly on your exposed clit.

He hears you take a sharp breath in and your fingers wrap around his forearm.

You missed him too, falling asleep every night thinking of his touch on you, but you made it without touching yourself, which only made you more sensitive and horny stupid for him now.

You’re sure the flow of the water alone is enough to make you cum, fearing it won’t take long. But that wouldn’t be Noah if he would let you come easy like that. Soon the shower head is moved back to your nipple, making you groan and turn your head sideways to hide in the crook of his neck.

You hear him chuckle against your forehead before he presses a soft kiss there.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good baby, you just have to wait.”

“Don’t wanna.” you mumble against the skin of his neck.

He lets the water run over your nipple for a few more seconds before he moves his hand back down between your legs.

His decisions are based on the amount of pressure you use to squeeze his forearm, everytime you squeeze harder he moves the shower head away from your core, denying you the orgasm you desperately want, need.

“Noah please. Please, please, please.” if it wouldn’t be for the water running down your face from your dump hair the tears of frustration would be visible on your face.

He felt your legs shaking and saw your chest going up and down quicker each second, deciding to finally have mercy on you.

“Okay baby, you can cum for me now.” spreading your folds apart again, he started making small circles with the shower head, making the water flow circle your clit, teasing it and slowly but surely making you see stars.

After all the teasing it didn’t take long for the knot in your lower tummy to snap, your knees almost failing you and pleasure taking over your whole body.

“That’s it, you’re doing so good.” little praises left Noah’s mouth as he watched you have your first orgasm of the night. He was happy with his work here, he let you push his hand away when the water became too much for you pussy, too sensitive.

He switched the water flow back to the one over your heads and used both of his hands to hold you through the aftershocks.

“That was,” you let out a breath and finally opened your eyes to look at him, “so fucking good.”

He smirked at your flushed face and used his fingers to run them through your hair and then pull you in for a kiss.

You wrapped your arms around his middle and kissed him back.

“You’re okay? Wasn’t that too much?” he knew you would tell him if it was, but he still felt the need to ask, because he knew that at one point you hated him for prolonging your needs.

“I’m okay, more than okay actually. We’re gonna be spending every week apart if this is what I’ll get when we’re together.” you smirked against his lips and he frowned at the idea.

“Absolutely not happening.” he said and pulled you in for another kiss, more passionate this time.

You felt his dick against your tummy, screaming for attention.

Your hands slid down his chest before wrapping around his hard cock. It was his turn to grab your hips to get some stability. He was sensitive in your hand, you felt him twitch after every stroke, you felt the pulsing every time you squeezed him just a little bit more.

He knew he wasn’t gonna last long, so he just leaned his forehead against yours, his mouth open as moans were coming from his throat.

You occasionally slipped your tongue inside of his mouth, his own reacting almost naturally and meeting yours in a fight for dominance.

You saw his abs flex and you knew his orgasm was close.

You felt his warm cum on your hands as you continued to stroke him until he grabbed your wrists and stopped your movements.

While giving him a few seconds to catch his breath you kissed his chest, neck and jaw until you captured his lips with yours.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” he breathed against your mouth and let his hands slide down to squeeze your ass.

“I want you to fuck me Noah.” he groaned at your request and grabbed your chin before pulling in messy and aggressive kiss, a one that promised you that he’s going to do exactly that, fuck you so good.

He helped you out of the shower, neither of you bothering to dry your bodies and making your way straight to your bed.

Noah left zero space for you to have some power, pinning you to the matters and kissing you hungrily.

He supported his body on his left elbow and used his right hand to explore your body.

He started with giving your throat a gentle squeeze, something that he learned made you go crazy.

Then he palmed your breast, rolling your still sensitive nipple over in his fingers a few times before his hand made its way to squeeze your hip.

You opened your legs as much as you could, silently begging him to touch you there while never breaking the passionate making out. He pulled away first so he could see your face when he used his fingers to apply pressure against your clit.

Satisfied with you rolling your eyes and arching your back off the mattress, he leaned down to bite the skin on your shoulder. He knew that having more than one stimulation made your head dizzy.

When he felt you’re wet enough to take him he stood up and pulled you to the edge of the bed. He helped you spread your legs and then took his dick in his hand.

He used his swollen tip to gather your wetness and spread it through your fold, sliding between them a few times, teasing your clit while doing that.

“Noah I need you inside me.” you whined while you watched his dick move between your folds.

He repeated his movements a few more times before he easily slid into you.

Your shared moans filled the bedroom as you both enjoyed the feeling.

“So tight, so wet and warm. So fucking perfect just for me.” he leaned down to his elbow again to whisper those things in your ear.

You held him by the back of his neck there, loving the feeling of having him this close to you while he was moving his hips in and out of you.

“I love you.” you said. Sex with Noah was another level of intimacy you never experienced before.

He was the dominant one, sometimes his actions could seem harsh, but it never felt like that. His touch was gentle, even when he used his long fingers to hold your hands above your head or wrap them around your throat. He always made eye contact with you, looking for the smallest signs of discomfort, scared that he’s hurting you. Everything he did was followed by the softest kisses, wiping away the pain even if it was pleasurable.

He lifted his head from your neck and looked you in your eyes, never stopping the movement of his hips when he said “I love you.” back.

He felt you squeeze around him and it made his heart skip a beat, that you don’t only get turned on by his dirty words, but that he gets a reaction like that even with sharing his love for you.

“I love you baby, but I need you to fuck me harder.” you whispered before pulling him for a kiss.

He kissed you back, giving you a few last seconds of this steady pace.

When he pulled away you could see the saliva connecting your lips until it popped when he was standing straight again.

He pulled you closer to him and held your legs against his chest with one hand, using the other one to rub at your clit.

His pace became faster, harder, giving you what you asked for.

Your left hand gripped the sheets under you while your right hand went to squeeze your breast.

Noah’s eyes were on you, flicking between your boobs bouncing from the movements of his hips and your face.

You tried to hold eye contact, but it was too much.

His dick filling you up, his thumb toying with your clit and your own hands gripping your own skin.

“Let go, make a mess on my dick.” Noah said with a hoarse voice when he saw you struggling to hold it together.

He felt your legs shake against his chest when your orgasm hit you, your eyes rolling to the back of your head and hands gripping anything they could.

Your pussy squeezing him made it impossible to last longer, just a few more thrusts and he was coming inside of you.

He collapsed on your chest and you laid just like that for a few minutes, in silence trying to catch your breaths.

“You okay?” he traced his nose along your jaw, inhaling the mixture of sweat and shampoo from your skin.

“Mhm.” you nodded and ran your fingers through his hair.

“Really?” he lifted his head from your chest and his hair fell down, hiding you both from the real world.

“Yeah.” you replied with a soft voice, running your thumb over his cheek.

He smiled at you, his eyes softening like every time he looked at you.

“I love you bug.” he whispered, as if anyone else could hear him.

“I love you Noah.”

You laid with him inside you for a few more moments, before he noticed the goosebumps on your skin.

“Let’s get cleaned up.” he slowly pulled out of you and started getting up. You mirrored his actions and stood up next to him.

“We need to change the sheets.” you said when you saw the wet silhouette of your body, consequences of not drying up after you got out of the shower.

“Can we get the soft ones? The ones you had last time?” it made you laugh how his behaviour was back to your sweet nerd Noah, asking you for the softest sheets you own with an excited face.

“Of course.”

The intimacy never ends when you leave the bed. Noah made you sit down on the edge of your bath and used your hairbrush to gently comb your hair and then dried them with a hairdryer. He lets you do the same to him, holding you by your hips while you run your fingers through his locks, kissing your tummy over the fabric of his shirt.

Then he makes you get snacks while he changes the bedding, waiting for you under the blanket when you come back, with a satisfied face cuddled into the soft sheets, lifting it only for you to get in and cuddle him some more.

dividers by silent-stories🤍

This story is a work of fiction, with the plot and characters entirely made up. The appearance and name of the main male character are inspired by Noah Sebastian Davis, but the storyline bears no connection to the real person. Please do not steal or repost this work on other platforms without permission.

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[acexsmhking]

What is your hc if Toby accidentally got (F) Reader pregnant?

𝐍𝐚𝐳

(𝗻.) 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗽𝗿𝗶𝗱𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘀 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗱 𝗻𝗼 𝗺𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗱𝗼

╰┈➤ Tobias x PREG!FEM!Reader

Summary: What would happen if Toby got Reader pregnant?

Warning(s): 18+ content, mentions of sexual actions, pregnancy hormones, pregnancy pains, mentions of mental health

Oh.. oh boy.

Now if Tobias is even having sex with you in the first place you’re a significant other, as Tobias doesn’t just sleep around

But coming home and you tell him you’re pregnant??? Yikes.

Now listen I know in Tobias HC I have mentioned he does THINK about it… but thinking is very different from it being true

First of all, Tobias will generally respect what decision you make… just… either decision warrants different reactions

Abortion:

This becomes a very long discussion between you both. Toby feels both relieved and a tiny itty witty bit sad about it

He does WANT to be a ‘normal’ and ‘healthy’ person and say he could be a good father but he understands with his… issues that is very much so 50/50 and no child should have a maybe maybe

Of course; Tobias is so very supportive of you, at the end of the day YOU are going through the physical effects of it all

He tries to be as present and comforting as he genuinely can muster, making sure you don’t feel any sort of pressure

After the procedure Tobias is actually a little.. sad. He thinks you’d look beautiful pregnant and it’s not like he doesn’t like the actual process….

besides his dumb thoughts he does actually start thinking about it more

Making a crib.. teaching them how to hunt, how to craft things

God forbid if whenever yall are actually out together that he SEES a baby, the baby fever will hit him.. HARD

just give him a week or two it’ll die out on it’s own

Keeping It

Oh boy..

Oh boy oh boy oh boy

He’s wearing a smile with you but when you turn your back he is full on looney toons panicking

Yeah he… has a panic attack a few times

BUT he does start growing excited

DO NOT EVEN THINK OF DOING ANYTHING

yeah you though Tobias was protective before well… he gets mega protective… and possessive

You think your nesting is bad??? HIS NESTING IS HORRIBLE

You start going a little insane

He pampers the hell out of you though

Foot rubs, cravings, full meals everything. You wake up at 1am hungry for something? He was already up watching you sleep

Watches you sleep a lot.

Back hurts? He lifts your bump for HOWEVER long you want, washes you hair, clips your nails fuck he even shaves you if you want

…. He will do some stupid haircut

even does little hearts<3

You gotta bonk him on the head a little to not get distracted

Worried about pregnancy weight? Yeah will you should be with Tobias cause he actually doesn’t give a fuck if you gain.

HE’S THE REASON YOU ARE

he wants the baby to be comfy and fat is the only way to do that!!

The liar, he’s the one that likes it

Scalp messages!!

Will rub and oil your scalp to improve and encourage hair growth and of course washes it himself too

Yeah… he starts becoming rapid over you

You just look so… good and you smell good

He’s gentle though! He actually mostly eats you out because he actually too horrified to put it in you…

… what if the baby can see??

Don’t try talking him out of it.. he’s too irrational

Just let him be

If you have a thing for body worship will Toby always worship your body even more so now that you pregnant

Now lemme say this that Tobias literally hand made every fucking piece of furniture

Sure he bought the screws and hinges, etc etc

But the actual wood carving? He did

The rocking chair, rocking foot stand so you can lay back on the chair, the dresser, the crib, the changing table, the cabinets under the changing table for diapers and etc

Fuck sake he literally decorated it all himself

I mean this baby room is dripped out

Like… everything this baby could need and every baby item ever made in human history is there

YOU NEVER KNOW!!

Tons of toys and blankets and clothes that Tim, Brian, and Jessica got them<3

You both actually agreed not to do a gender reveal, just let it be

So when the baby actually starts coming?? Omg. Omg omg omg omg omg

Lemme say you’re doing a home birth if you actually want Tobias to be there

Remember he kinda is… wanted… kinda.. ya know… kills people..

BUT YOU HAVE THE BEST

he made sure of it

Thankfully Brian is there since he has done nursing school, you have the best midwife Tim could find

Your own family is there (if you want) but everyone else is too!! By everyone else I literally mean Tim, Brian and Jessica since… ya know

Anyways

He is FREAKING OUT

It’s becoming very very very real

Tim is holding yours and his hand trying to calm the both of you

**tired mom sounds**

You break Toby’s hand during the delivery but he doesn’t care. Minor things

He is actually sobbing and crying when the baby arrives

Like snot and everything

He’s holding them kissing your face

So many thank you’s and I love you’s.

Brian is so crying.. so is Tim. They’re grandparents!!… slash uncles…

All in all pregnancy with Toby is a confusing thing but he doesn’t leave your side no matter what!

: ̗̀➛ this was so cute to write!! I NEED MORE DAD!TOBY OMG. Anyways imma tell y’all rn. I would be the one to get Toby pregnant don’t let him alone around me trust — Ace

[oceantornadoo]

okay but best frien johnny who gets in your last nerve when you’re pms-ing or ovulating. and he absolutely knows what he’s doing bc he tracks ur cycle

“johnny, just stop! god, it’s like you’re a little boy.” you get up in a huff, leaving a bewildered gaz and johnny in the common room. johnny’s still loosely gripping the remote you were fighting over, stuck doing mental math as he watches your retreating figure stomp down the hall and out of sight.

gaz breaks the tension by snatching the remote out of johnny’s hand, a murmured “sorry, mate” as he picks the first action movie he sees, just to have some background noise. it doesn’t drown out the buzzing in johnny’s head or the concerned look gaz is shooting his way, that ever-present cap doing little to hide his questioning eyes. “‘s fine. the lass isn’t feelin’ her best. gonna go check up on her.” he jerks his body off the couch, not waiting for an ok by gaz as johnny makes his way to your room.

you’d been snappy at him all week. critiquing his messy room (he preferred the term eclectic), his handsiness (was never an issue before), even his smell (he knew you liked his musk though). suddenly, he had an inkling to check that app on his phone, the one hooked up to your period tracker, and lo and behold, he had his answer. now it was a matter of getting on the right side of your hormones.

johnny stopped in front of your door, fishing out the copy of your key he made, unlocking it without announcing himself. he walked in on you changing, hand on your back to unhook your bra as you slipped out of your day clothes. you didn't acknowledge him, instead slipping on your pajama shirt (one of his old ones) and taking off your underwear, kicking it towards your laundry bag as you pulled on sleep shorts. "now who's bein' messy?" johnny muttered, ignoring your scoff as he picked up your discarded underwear and placed it in your laundry hamper. "you here to apologize?" you spit out, refusing to make eye contact as you looked in your mirror, pulling your shirt this way and that. johnny stalked over to where you were standing, settling behind you as he met your eyes in the mirror, shaking his head. "yer period's comin' soon, bonnie. 's why yer all mean an' spittin'."

your mouth dropped at the insinuation, taking a step forward to get out of his atmosphere. unfortunately, he followed you, taking two steps until your back was flush against his chest. one hairy paw reached out to cup your breast over your shirt, his fingers ignoring your pointed nipples as he squeezed you to his liking. "tender?" all you could do was nod and bite back the pain he was sending your way, hormonal nerves shouting at you to stop him. his hand traveled to your stomach, rolling your pudge between his fingers. "bloated?" you nodded again, his motions giving you no relief from your pms symptoms. he didn't seem to care, focusing more on your body reactions. "skin's hot. temp's goin' up, hm?" so that's why you woke up in a sweat last night. which you didn't even tell him about...

"you're being weird, johnny. how do you know all this?" he shrugged, his hand on your stomach traveling again to cup your pussy, his other hand sliding against your spine to reach the back of your neck. "what are best friends for? i know she's all sensitive." he squeezed your cunt for emphasis. "think i should kiss her an' make it all better, mo leannen?" you nodded silently. he pulled down your shorts and got to his knees, turning so he was eye-to-cunt with your sensitive pussy. he gave her a sniff, then a kiss on your clit. another for emphasis, tongue flicking in like he was trying to make out with her. the angle was all bad, the pleasure minimal, which he knew. it was for pure emphasis - to stake his claim that he knew you better than you knew yourself. after another kiss, he rose back up, righting your shorts. "c'mon, need yer sleep before the blood comes." it would be impossible to sleep with him, an absolute human furnace, but you went along anyways, your best friend johnny leading the way.

more best friend!johnny here!