#she might not LIKE him doing them and might feel bad about it but that's not enough to stop her

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 38: Shattered

Summary: Things aren't okay. They never will be again.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 7,743 words

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, angst, PTSD, nightmares, POV changes, depression and anxiety, medical stuff, injuries, brief description of a possible death, language, mention of weight loss due to medical stuff, emotionally heavy chapter (again), slightly graphic imagery, illness, so much crying

A/N: I just want to make something very clear here since there's a scene in this chapter that might be interpreted this way, but 'mega is NOT suicidal. That's not something that's going to be in this fic, and neither is self-harm. It would have been well warned in advance if that was going to be something coming up in this fic. She's struggling a lot, but she's not suicidal, she's not going to become suicidal, nor will she self-harm even off screen. So don't worry. That's not what's happening. It won't be happening.

Okay, just wanted to make that clear. Enjoy the suffering!

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The scream slices through the silence seconds before chaos erupts. 

John is on his feet and out the door before Kyle is even fully awake. Simon is on his heels down the stairs, the two of them nearly colliding in their rush. His heart thuds in his chest as he sees your door open, the overhead light on. It’s bad. It must be bad if the overhead light is on. You hate the overhead light. 

He barrels in like a bull, ready to fight. The screaming has stopped, but it still rings in his ears. The fear, the panic. Something has happened. Someone got in. He should have made you take the room upstairs. He should have put a barrier between you and the door. That window. Someone could break that easily and grab you before they even noticed.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” 

The screaming has stopped, but gut-wrenching sobs have taken its place. He takes a moment to scan the room. Nothing is misplaced. The window isn’t broken, there’s no bodies, no one that shouldn’t be in there. 

“You’re okay.” Christine soothes you as you sob. “It was just a nightmare.” 

The bright fluorescent overhead light burns his eyes as he stands there, staring at the bed. Christine is right there, having beaten them across the living room, or perhaps she had already been in there, having heard you in your distress before they could. You're tucked in her arms, your face against her shoulder as she holds you. 

Nightmare. 

The safety and security the cottage promised has faded, leaving you at the mercy of the horrors your mind can conjure up in your sleep. Something twists deep in John’s stomach as he turns, motioning for the others to back up and give you some space. You won’t want them there, and things will only get worse if you notice them. 

His heart is still thudding in his chest as he stands there, the sharp sound of your scream still ringing in his ears despite his confirmation of your safety. The other three look just as startled as he feels, standing there tensely in the dark living room. He brings himself to move, turning his back on them for a moment to try and gather his thoughts as he flips on the lamp in the corner. It casts a warm light across the living room, far too warm for how he’s feeling. He’s trying not to panic, trying not to be sick on the floor from the worry. His heart is in his throat, trying to choke him. He’s trying so hard to be strong, not just for him, but for his pack, for you. 

He sinks down on one of the couches, rubbing a hand over his face. He had been so sure something had happened, that their safe little bubble had been breached and someone knew about their whereabouts. He had been so sure someone was trying to hurt you with a scream like that. 

Maybe someone was, but not in reality. 

What is it you dream about now? Your nightmares about your father and your traumatic presentation must seem like nothing now compared to what must haunt your mind. Do you dream of Graves and his torture? Do you dream of them leaving you behind? Do you dream of dying because of their failures? 

A hand settles on his shoulder, a body sinking onto the couch next to him. Arms are wrapping around him, easing him against a solid chest. 

He’s crying. 

He didn’t even realize the tears had started flowing. 

He can hear the reverberating voice in his head, yelling at him, telling him not to show such weakness in front of his pack, in front of his team. He’s supposed to be the strong one, he’s supposed to be the stable one keeping the pack afloat and steady. Yet here he is, breaking down in front of them. 

“It’s okay.” 

Kyle. 

His sweet Kyle. 

How he’s been neglecting his sweet beta, and yet, how willing Kyle still is to reach out and comfort him in such a time of visible distress. That’s what betas are supposed to do. Mediate and balance the emotions of the pack. How have they been coping with all of this? How have Kyle and Johnny been managing in such a time of disarray and upheaval? Have they been managing it? He doesn’t even know. He doesn’t even know the state of his pack, of the members of his team. 

What a failure he is. 

He lets himself lean against Kyle, something filling his chest as Kyle’s soft scent seeps into his senses. He’s projecting it, not just for John but also for the whole room. Johnny is crying too, soft sobs tearing from his chest as he sits on the other couch. Simon is on his knees in front of him, trying to get him calmed and breathing. 

They’ve been ignoring and denying each other for days, fraying the bonds further while trying so hard not to. The pain they’ve been causing in their emotional constipation and intentional neglect is almost worse than the pain caused by their infighting. At least fighting they were feeling something. At least fighting they weren’t cutting each other off so willingly. 

“We can’t do this anymore.” He says, his voice thick and shaky from his tears. “Cutting each other off. It’s not helping anything.” He doesn’t move from where he’s tucked against Kyle’s chest, letting the comfort wash over him for the first time in a week and a half. 

How he’s missed this. 

“It’s not doing any good for any of us.” Simon says, shifting onto the couch next to Johnny. 

“Especially not our omega.” Kyle says, voicing the thought flashing through all of their minds. 

“We may not be able to do much to help her right now, but we can focus on each other. That is something we can do.” John swallows thickly, his alpha starting to come back to life, his instincts aware again as he stares at Johnny and Simon. “Doing nothing isn’t good for any of us. We need to have something to focus on, something tangible we can do. Denying each other comfort isn’t going to help anyone.” 

“I full-heartedly agree.” 

John whips around, Christine standing in front of your closed door. He hadn’t even noticed her enter the room, hadn’t sensed her standing behind them. Johnny and Simon are the only two that don’t look startled, but they must have seen her come out from their position facing your door. 

“Sorry.” The corner of her lip twitches up in a smirk. “Thought you would have noticed.” 

John clears his throat. “How is she?” 

“Settled again.” Christine says, moving over to the chair. 

“How long has she been having nightmares?” Kyle asks. 

“Since that first day in the med center in Dallas.” She says, sinking into the chair. How heavy this must all be on her shoulders. “I’d almost call them more sleep hallucinations. Mostly of Graves. Seeing him in the room, being attacked by him.” 

“Is there anything that can be done to help?” John asks. 

“For these kinds of nightmares? Not really.” Christine folds her hands in her lap. “Her brain is trying to process what happened. Until she feels safe enough to truly begin working on processing the trauma, it’s likely the nightmares will continue.” 

“Is there anything we can do to help her feel safe?” Kyle says. 

Christine’s lips purse as she looks between the four of them. “I’m not sure any of you could do anything right now directly, at least. She’s not open to that yet. Working on your bonds with each other, though, could help her omega finally settle and allow her emotions to even out again. That can help her feel safer, remove that instability and the fear of losing control again.” 

All of them share looks, John and Simon staring at one another. They hadn’t even thought about that. Well, at least he hadn’t. Christine had told him months ago that omegas need their alpha when they distress, when their omega takes over. They can come back from it with the help of an alpha...their alpha. Without one, the chances of survival were slim. Yet here you are, trying to do it all on your own. Having to do it all on your own. 

That ache in his chest starts again as he stares at Simon. He sent Simon after you, he made Simon go through that process of seeing you in that state and scruffing you. He made Simon be the one to help you through that. He made Simon be there when you needed an alpha most because he couldn’t face the fact that he abandoned you, he left you behind like you were nothing but another faceless soldier. 

He wipes his face as the tears start falling again. He truly is a failure of an alpha. 

Despite Christine’s reassurances, John can’t help the automatic reaction to your screams. On his feet instantly, his heart pounding in his chest ready to fight bare handed whatever might be causing such a reaction. Whoever might be causing such a reaction. He can’t fight the demons in your head, though, and he’s always greeted by the sight of Christine by your side, comforting you as best she can. 

He wants to hate her, wants to be angry at her for taking his place, doing what he should be doing. His alpha scratches at his mind every time he sees her by your side, giving you comforts he should be giving, but it’s his fault. It’s his fault she’s the one there with you. It’s his fault you’re suffering so much. Those thoughts send his alpha crawling back into its cage with its tail between its legs. 

It doesn’t matter the time of day, whether it was a nap or the middle of the night, your screams have a pain throbbing deep in his chest. His heart is constantly racing, waiting for that rush of adrenaline at the sound of your terrified scream, at that rush of instinct to protect and fight. He’s not sure how much his heart can take. 

He might have a heart attack by the end of their stay at the cottage. 

That’s something he’s been trying not to think about. 

They can’t stay here forever, no matter how much he knows you’ll want to, how much the others will want to. Eventually they’ll begin to go stir-crazy, itching for something to do. They still have jobs, and Kate can only keep them off the radar for so long, and can only give so many excuses. Eventually they’ll have to go back. Eventually they’ll have to make that decision of what comes next. 

He’s going to delay that as much as he possibly can. 

They can’t go back while Shepherd is still out there. They can’t trust that anywhere is safe while he’s still skulking around, while he still has contacts that could put them all in danger. That could put you in danger. 

That’s not a risk he’s willing to take again. 

But what comes next? 

What will they decide to do? Can they go back, knowing what the inevitable will be? Can they take that risk of having to leave you again, put you through that constant fear and worry that they might not come back? What if they all leave again? Could you survive the fear that something might happen while they’re away again? Not to them, but to you? 

Could they leave you alone again? 

Those are thoughts for another day when they’re inevitably faced with the fact they have to return to society and their lives and jobs. 

They have time. 

He has to make sure you’re okay first. 

You’re not okay.

You’re so very far from okay. 

The bedside lamp is on, casting a golden glow around the room. 

There’s nothing there. There’s nothing there. 

It’s one of the rare times you’ve woken before you can react, before you can scream and alert everyone in the house that you’ve had a nightmare. They’ll all come running. All of them. 

You hate it. 

You hate the nightmares, you hate the fear, you hate the constant pain and worry and the constant knowledge that your pack is right there. They want to go back to how things were, they want things to go back to normal, but they can’t. They expect you to forgive them, to go back to loving them, but how can you after everything? 

They left you. 

They let this happen to you and they just want you to pretend like nothing happened. That’s what they would do. Go back to normal life after being tortured and forget it all happened because that’s what they do. 

You’re not them. 

You don’t want to be like them. 

Cold. Heartless. Uncaring. Unwilling to put anyone but themselves first. 

Fuck them. 

The only thing keeping you here is the fact you’re bonded to them. That, and you’re an omega. You’d get picked up off the street and brought right back here to your owner. Or, worse, you’d get picked up by someone looking for a cute little omega to add to their collection. 

Or worse. 

You’d get picked up by someone else. 

Graves. Shepherd. 

If you’re lucky, they’d kill you instantly. Leave your body on the front porch for the others to find. You won’t care anymore. You’ll be dead. 

You hastily wipe the tears from your cheeks, wiggling yourself back until you’re leaning against the headboard. Your shoulder doesn’t hurt quite as much anymore. It still throbs, still aches, still occasionally almost puts you on the floor when you try to reach over your head with it. Your throat is healing too. Soup isn’t quite as horrible as it was a few days ago. Solid food makes you ache, but at least you can get it down without feeling like you’re swallowing glass. 

You still haven’t spoken to them, though. 

You can hardly stand to look at them. 

Fuck them. 

Just the thought of them makes you want to scream. 

Dr. Keller says it's normal, being angry. ‘It’s all part of the process.’ The anger, the fear, the pain, the depression. It’s all normal. It’s all part of the process. It’s all necessary. You won’t get better holding it all in. You won’t get better numbing yourself. You won’t get better if you don’t allow yourself to feel everything. 

You hate it. 

Why should you have to go through all these feelings, all this pain? Why should you be the one suffering because of their decisions? It’s not fair. They should be suffering. They should be in pain. They should be the ones on the brink of insanity because of the fear and the pain and the suffering and their omega constantly screaming at them. 

It makes you want to scream. 

Screaming will only draw them in, force them closer. Screaming will alert them all, make them all come running. You don’t want any of them near. You don’t want to have to see them again. 

Fuck them. 

You let out a huff before wiggling back down the bed until your head hits the pillow. You won’t go back to sleep. You never do. At least you have the pain and exhaustion and tumultuous emotions and your very nature to excuse your constant naps, constant sleeping during the day. They don’t need to know you’re not sleeping at night. They won’t care. They don’t care. None of them do. 

Fuck. Them. 

You want your phone, you want something to keep you occupied. It’s probably lying somewhere on the side of the road shattered beyond repair. That, or it’s back in the barracks. The barracks. Fuck that place. You’ll rip your hair out strand by strand if you have to go back there. It’s not safe, it’s not happy. There’s nothing good about that place anymore. 

It’s just a place of pain. You might as well have been tortured by Phil there. 

You were tortured there. 

It wasn’t a physical torture, but a mental one. The entire experiment was just torture for you. No one thought of you, no one cared about you. 

Dr. Keller cares. 

It’s her job to care. 

Still, you can’t hate her entirely. She’s the only one that understands. She’s the only one that can help. She’s the only one that’s been helping. Not just now, but back then. She cared, she fought for you, she did her best with what she had. Sure, she made mistakes, but so did you. She’s the only one you can forgive. 

She’s the only one you want to forgive. 

Fuck the others. Fuck your pack. Fuck those fucking soldiers who were never going to care about anyone but themselves, who were never going to care about anything but their jobs and their duties and the good of the world. 

You should have been their world. 

They couldn’t put you first. They wouldn’t put you first. They didn’t want to put you first. 

They won’t change. They can’t change. There’s no hope for change. 

You’ll just go back to the way things were before and be forced to pretend everything's okay and that you’re happy and fine and content. Were you ever really content or were you just trying to make the best of the situation? Were you deluding yourself into believing you loved them and cared about them and that they loved you and cared about you to numb the fact you knew deep down that they never would, that they never could. Were you deluding yourself into thinking everything was fine and dandy to hide the constant pain from the knowledge that you would never come first? 

The pain begins to burn in your chest again. It’s hot like acid, rising in your chest to your throat, threatening to choke you. It’s a deep pain, one nestled right in against your soul. Tears leak out of your eyes again as you squeeze them shut, pushing your right hand against your chest in an attempt to get it to pass. 

You thought you were dying the first time. 

You could only be so lucky. 

The bond. 

It’s trying to break, trying to sever itself, trying to free you from the constant pain, but it can’t. 

Maybe because deep down you don’t want it to. Maybe deep down you want to forgive them and move past all of this. Maybe you want things to go back to normal, even if normal means pain and distress and fear. Maybe you want to believe them that they’re finally going to put you first. 

‘Maybe’ is only a doorway to disappointment and pain. 

Fuck yourself. 

Fuck your omega. 

Fuck your pack. 

Hell, fuck Dr. Keller for not fighting harder, for not doing more. 

Fuck Graves and his haunting of your nightmares.

Fuck Kate for choosing you.

Fuck Shepherd for creating the initiative in the first place to try and cover his own ass. 

Fuck them all. 

You tug the blanket higher around yourself, rolling onto your right side. 

Fuck. Them. All. 

You don’t want him here. 

He does it now, usually in the mornings. 

You hate it. 

You like it. It’s nice. He’s the only one making an effort. 

He never says anything, surprisingly enough. It’s silent as he sits there, steaming cup of coffee in hand. Always coffee, never tea. He won’t sink that low. He brings you a cup, but you can never bring yourself to touch it. You feel like a mental patient stuck in a straight jacket. You could free yourself, but that would bring too much awareness, too many questions, too much pain. 

You don’t want to. 

So instead you sit there in silence, staring out at the sea. It’s so far away still, yet it’s right there. You can hear it and smell it and see it. 

The sea. 

They brought you to the sea. 

John remembered. He did it for you. 

The thought has something stirring in your chest, and it’s not pain or anger. 

You hate it. 

Johnny leans back in the chair, his eyes on the horizon like yours. He sits there in that chair every chance he gets, usually in the mornings when Dr. Keller takes time for herself and leaves one of them watching you through the sliding glass door. You do feel guilty for forcing so much on Dr. Keller’s shoulders, yet you need her. 

You’re not ready for the others yet, no matter how loudly your omega screams at you. 

You don’t want them. 

Fuck, you desperately need them. 

Your eyelids flutter frantically as you try to keep the tears at bay. You can’t cry. You can’t let him know how close you are to breaking down. You can’t. 

You can’t reach out. 

You can’t take his hand. 

How desperately you want to. 

You nearly breathe a sigh of relief when the sliding door opens, Dr. Keller’s soft footsteps crossing the wood planks of the porch. 

“Ready to go inside now?” She asks, pressing the back of her hand against your cheek. You don’t say anything, don’t react, frozen in fear of everything coming tumbling out in front of Johnny. “You’re getting cold.” 

Johnny glances your way and you immediately turn to look at Dr. Keller, scared to look him in the face. That desperate hold you have on the gaping wound in your abdomen will open and your guts will come spilling out like some gory scene in a horror movie. 

Disembowelment thanks to your own weakness. 

Dr. Keller holds the crutch out for you as you push yourself to stand. Your legs are strong enough you could probably walk without it, but it’s still nice to have it in case you get tired. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

It’s the weakness from your liquid diet over the past week and a half. The weakness of being unable to eat solid foods, to properly nourish. You’ve lost weight, your clothes hanging from your body in a way they never did before. You’ve lost the softness that marks you as an omega, but it feels fitting. You don’t feel like an omega anymore. 

You don’t feel like anything anymore. 

You’re fighting your instincts out of pain and suffering and stubbornness. You keep taping your omega’s mouth shut despite how loudly she screams at you. You don’t want your instincts. You don’t want that need. Eventually it has to go away. Eventually it has to recede and your omega has to go back into her cage and sleep. Eventually you can numb yourself to it and force it away forever. 

That will certainly make things easier. 

But will it make things better? 

No. Probably not. 

It’ll make things worse. 

But if it allows you to keep your distance, allows you to avoid them, you’ll risk it. You’d take numbness over anything right now. 

How you miss those long days of depression while they were away. How you took those days for granted. 

Who knew those hours spent worrying about them and their distance and what might happen to them would be for nothing? 

What you wouldn’t give for all of them to disappear right now. 

How badly it would destroy you. 

“She’s at war with herself. That instinctual need is screaming at her, but that emotional pain is keeping her shut away. If anyone is going to get through to her, it will probably be you.” 

“I can’t do that.” 

“Can’t or won’t?” 

Simon clenches his jaw as he stares at Christine. As much as he wants to hate the doctor and her ability to see straight through him, he can’t deny how necessary her presence has been. She’s the only one you tolerate, the only one you’ll let close. Without her you’d probably be rotting in bed, stuck and unable to do anything out of stubbornness. You won’t let them close, yet you need them close. 

You’re going to rip yourself in half, metaphorically and possibly even literally. 

He shakes that mental image from his mind. The horrifying images his mind has conjured up over the last few days have his stomach churning. Even his tea no longer looks appetizing. 

He put milk in it this time. Almost how he likes it. Almost how he wants it. 

“Johnny’s the one actually trying.” Simon says, staring across at her. She doesn’t shy from his gaze, doesn't even flinch. “You should talk to him.” 

“While I agree, reintroducing a beta from the pack is the first step, eventually she’s going to need an alpha.” Christine says. 

“She needs her alpha.” He argues. 

“She doesn’t want her alpha.” Christine counters. “He’s going to be the last she lets close, but she’s going to need some kind of stability.” 

“I can’t give her that.” 

“Can’t or won’t?” 

Simon clenches his hand around his mug, his knuckles going white. She’s infuriating, yet he can’t be mad at her. Not completely. The good she’s doing for you, for the pack, far outweighs his annoyance with the doctor. She’s right. He knows it deep down, but he can’t. He can’t do that, he can’t put you through that. He’s already done enough. He did his part, he faced his fears, he saved your life. That’s enough for him. It’s up to John now. 

John has to do the work to fix it. He broke it, it’s no one else’s job to fix it. 

“Maybe both.” Simon finally says, pushing himself up to stand. “It’s not my job to fix this.” 

He leaves his mug behind as he stalks out of the kitchen, heading for the front door. He can’t stand being in the house any longer, cooped up with the same five people. Four people and a ghost. 

He shakes his head, jogging down the steps into the gravel. He should go for a jog. A long jog. He could jog to town and back. That will clear his head. 

That’s a long jog.

If something happens while he’s away, he won’t get back in time. It’ll be his fault because he took the time to do something selfish. He can picture it, coming back to find five bodies laying in pools of blood, dead because he wasn’t there to help, because he wasn’t there to fight. 

It’s a ridiculous thought. There’s three other highly trained soldiers in the house. If anyone tried anything, they wouldn’t make it past the door. He can see it now, Price’s alpha coming out in a rage because someone dared try to enter and hurt his vulnerable omega. He’d probably win in a fight ten to one if that happened, and he has Kyle and Johnny to back him up. Christine would take you and run the first chance she could. She wouldn’t let anything happen to you. Not again. 

Still, he can’t shake that fear. If he can’t sprint back, then it's too far. If it will leave the pack too vulnerable, he can’t. 

To the beach and back, then. 

She’s like an angel. 

The soft sunlight streaming through the clouds makes her glow. You wouldn’t be surprised if the sun was shining just for her, sending down a beam just to illuminate just how ethereal she is. 

The Garrick beauty is genetic. 

Kyle is beautiful in terms of a man. He shares the same ethereal glow as his sister, but Ashley? You don’t feel worthy of looking upon her. 

“Kyle never mentioned an omega, but then again, he never says much about his job.” She gives another dazzling smile, your heart rate picking up just slightly. “Can’t, I should say. You haven’t been with them long, huh.” 

“About nine months.” You say, your voice still a bit hoarse. It’s not quite healed yet. It might be that way forever. 

“Such a short amount of time to go through so much.” She says, giving you a soft, sympathetic look. You don’t know how much she knows, though it’s still fairly obvious you’ve been through hell. That you’re still going through hell. “Christine told me a bit about what happened. I don’t blame you one bit for being upset at them. I would have left them, but I know. In a perfect world, right?” 

You make a quiet sound. Indeed in a perfect world where omegas have rights and can make their own decisions and could leave and have support in doing so. You’d leave with Dr. Keller or even Ashley, even though you’ve only known her for ten minutes. She has the same magnetic energy as Kyle, so much so you don’t mind the way the scent blockers burn your nose. She probably smells like something warm and soft, something comforting. 

“So, tell me about yourself. What do you like to do?” She says, settling in the chair. It’s cool outside, but she doesn’t seem bothered by it one bit. 

You scramble for something, anything. What is it you like to do? What are your hobbies? You’re drawing a blank, your mind searching through its filing cabinets to find where you shoved all the things you like to do. 

“I like to read.” You finally say, remembering the stack of untouched books on the dresser across from the bed. 

“Oh? What do you like to read?” She asks. 

What do you like to read? What is a genre? What are books? 

“Oh, I read anything, as long as it’s interesting.” Is that the truth? You’re not quite sure. 

“I see, I see. Well, there’s quite the collection on those shelves inside. I’m a reader too. Read through those entire shelves over the years.” She grins at you. “We could do a little book club, if you’d like. Read some books and talk about them over some tea. We could get Christine in on it too. Have a little thing just for us girls.” 

You nod, staring at her in awe. This is the first time someone outside of your little circle has offered to do anything with you, for you. 

You want to do it. 

You want to spend time with someone who isn’t your pack, who isn’t Dr. Keller. 

“Okay.” You say, still staring at her in awe. 

“I could come over on the weekends, or we could do a call if you’re not up to seeing anyone.” She continues, and you’re not sure if she made this plan before she came, or if she’s coming up with it on the spot. Regardless, you're still impressed by her and her dedication to a complete stranger. 

“Would...would that be too much?” You ask, your brain starting to wake up again, the wires connecting once more. 

“Not at all.” She shakes her head. “I live and work in Exeter, so I’m not too terribly far away.” 

You’re not sure where Exeter is off the top of your head. Your mental map isn’t even sure how far away London is...or even where you are on a map of England. Are you even in England right now? 

“What do you do for work?” You ask, realizing you’ve been silent for an awkward amount of time. 

“I’m a finance lawyer.” She says. “Mum used to say ‘you love to argue so much, you should become a lawyer.’” She laughs. “So I did.” 

“You must make a lot of money.” You say. You don’t know how much lawyers make in England relative to the US. 

“I make enough to be comfortable.” She says. Enough to travel back and forth every weekend. “Seriously, though, if you need or want anything, let me know. I’m more than happy to come sit with you and give you a break from those stinky men.” 

You’re not quite sure what happens to your face. It contorts, muscles shaking off the dust and starting to move before you even realize it. Your lips are tilting upwards instead of downwards. Something is happening. Something that feels good, something that you’ve been missing. 

You’re smiling. 

You’re smiling. You haven’t smiled in a long time. Weeks. Not since the cameras. Not since your pack left. You haven’t felt like smiling in so long you’re certain you forgot how to. But yet, here you are, smiling at Ashley. It’s not a genuine smile, one that crinkles your eyes and shows joy, but it’s a smile. It almost hurts your face after so long. 

She’s funny too. 

Stinky men. 

They are that. 

Your smile falls as soon as the sliding glass door opens, your head whipping around to look. Ashley turns to look too, perhaps out of instinct at your sudden movement. 

You’re half expecting it to be one of the guys, maybe Kyle out to ruin the moment, but it’s only Dr. Keller. 

“How are things going?” She asks, stepping up beside you. 

“Good.” Ashley says. “We’re planning a book club.” 

“Oh?” Dr. Keller raises a brow, looking between you. “I think that would be fantastic.” 

“You’re welcome to join in if you’d like,” Ashley says, giving Dr. Keller a smile. 

You stare up at Dr. Keller, watching the way her lips turn up a smile, her eyes shining with...something. Her hands open and close, tugging at her pants almost nervously. Your brows raise as you look back up at her face. She almost looks...flustered. 

Oh. 

Another grin forms on your face as you stare between them, Ashley still smiling and Dr. Keller still looking a bit flustered. 

Oh. 

“You could join us if you want.” You say slowly, still looking up at Dr. Keller. 

She seems to snap out of her daze, her gaze darting down to you. She gives you a soft smile, back to her composed, professional self. “If that’s what you’d like.” 

You nod. Even though you see her constantly every day, you’re not tired of her existence yet. She’s the only one whose existence in the house doesn’t make you want to gouge your eyes out, the only one you want to talk to, to see, to have around. If you had the choice, you’d be here alone with her. 

That’s not possible. You know it’s not. 

“A thing for just us girls.” Ashley says. “On the weekends. No pressure whatsoever.” 

“I think that would be fantastic.” Dr. Keller says. “A nice little distraction.” 

“A nice break from those stinky men.” You say. 

Both Dr. Keller and Ashley erupt in laughter. 

Another smile tugs at your lips. 

You don’t want to be here. You can feel him staring at you from behind. He hasn’t moved since Dr. Keller left, still just standing there like he’s not sure he can approach you or not. You hope he doesn’t. You want him to. 

You don’t say anything, still staring out at the ocean, but you can see him reflected in the glass, obscuring your view of the horizon. Hatred burns inside of you as you have no choice but to stare at him, even when you’re trying not to. He’s like a ghost, always haunting you. He always will be. 

“I didn’t want to try to rush into this.” He finally says, knowing you’re not going to say anything. You won’t greet him, welcome him into your space. It already feels like an intrusion into your safety, him being here. 

Is this becoming a safe space? A nest? No, not that far. It’s becoming sacred to you, though, and having him in it without invitation feels wrong. It makes you uncomfortable. 

You hate it. 

“But I just wanted you to know that we’re all feeling the weight of what we did, I’m feeling the weight of what I decided to do. We all feel guilty for putting you through that, for forcing you to endure things you never should have.” 

He swallows thickly, falling silent for a moment. You almost feel like laughing at his attempt at an apology, another attempt at an apology. Why is he even bothering? He knows you won’t forgive him. He’s probably doing it for himself again, to make himself feel better. 

“I know it’s not an ideal situation, being forced in such a small space together, but we all wanted you to know that you’re the one setting the boundaries. If you don’t want us to be somewhere or do something, then you can tell us, or have Christine tell us. If you don’t want to see us at all, we can make our best attempts at that.” 

“That would be ideal.” You say, breaking the silence you’ve held for days. It’s the first time you’ve spoken to him since the hospital, since his first sad attempt at an apology. 

It shocks him to stillness and silence. 

The words hurt, burning your throat like acid as you stare at his reflection in the glass. You hate it, how pathetic he looks standing there. Where’s the big, tough alpha? Where’s the strong protector? Where’s the person that’s supposed to take care of you and care about you? 

He never existed. 

He left you behind. 

He never cared. 

Anger begins to bubble within you. 

“I’m sorry.” He says, his voice shaking. “I never meant for this to happen-”

“You think your sad attempts at apologies are going to work?” You hiss at him through your teeth. You push yourself to stand, turning to face him. “You left me. You fucking left me there knowing full well what was going to happen!” You’re shouting now. All the quiet movements on the other side of the wall in the main area stop. 

They’re all listening. 

It’s not like you’re giving them much of a choice not to. 

Fuck them.

“I know,” He says, his eyes wide as he stares at you. 

“Do you? Do you know?” Your voice is wavering, your throat starting to ache but you can’t stop. Not now. It’s all coming out and there’s no stopping it. “You. Left. Me. You willingly turned your back on me time and time again even when I was being tortured! You leaving was torture enough and you still chose me second. I’ve always been second. I’ve never mattered enough for you to even question anything!” 

You let out a sob, the sound cracking in your throat. It hurts, but it will always hurt. You’ll always carry this hurt with you, so you want him to hurt too. 

“I asked you once if you would ever leave for me. You said if things got dangerous, if my life were ever at risk because of you, you’d leave in a heartbeat.” The tears are falling, streaming down your face. “Was that a lie?” 

He doesn’t say anything. He just stands there, staring at you. Does he even remember that conversation? 

“Was that a lie?” You shout, making him jump. 

His eyes drop to the floor, his scent souring. Good, you think. Let it hurt. 

“Answer me.” You say, pushing him to give some response to your question. You need to know. You need him to say it. 

“I didn’t intend for it to be.” He says quietly. 

“You didn’t intend for it to be.” You say, bitterness coating your tone. “What the fuck does that mean? You said you wouldn’t let me go even if the initiative failed. Was that a lie too? Was it all a lie to keep me happy and complacent? ‘The job always comes first,’ even when my life is in danger, right? The job always comes first over everything, even me. You lied to me.” You swallow the sob threatening to come up. “I want to hear you say it.” 

He stands there, tears brimming in his eyes. He hasn’t moved hardly a muscle, still frozen like a statue. 

“Say it!” You scream at him, your throat tearing around the words. You’re surprised you’re not tasting blood yet from how raw it feels. 

“I lied.” He says, swallowing thickly. “I lied to you and I couldn’t keep my promise. And I’m sorry-” 

“Don’t apologize.” You cut him off starting to pace as the anger burns hot in you. “Don’t you fucking apologize to me, you don’t deserve to apologize. You don’t deserve the chance at forgiveness. You’re a shitty alpha and you always have been!” 

You let out a sob, wiping at the tears streaming down your face. There’s a tear sliding down his cheek, and it brings you some sort of relief deep down. So he can feel things after all. 

“I don’t know what I expected, though.” You let out a sardonic laugh. “You military men are all the same. It’s always about the job and the image and the ‘greater good’ and making sacrifices, even if that means sacrificing your pack. You’re just like my dad. You never wanted an omega, you never wanted me. You cast me out and let me suffer when I needed you most.” 

The anger burns hot in you again, shooting through your veins until it’s choking you as you stare at him standing there pathetically. He thought he could apologize, he thought his groveling would mean anything to you. Fuck him. Fuck them all. 

“You left me.” You grit out, your hands starting to shake. “You left me! You abandoned me, you let me get hurt! You didn’t care, you never cared about me!” You storm over to him. “Fuck you!” You scream, hitting his chest. “I fucking hate you!” You shove him back, sending him stumbling. “Get out!” You shove him again, pushing him back towards the door. “Get out! I never want to see you again!” 

He stumbles back out of the door and you slam it in his face so hard it shakes on its hinges. You click the lock as you sob in pain, pain both physical and emotional. Your chest aches, a tearing feeling burning through it. 

The bond. 

You don’t care. You don’t give a fuck anymore. You hate him, you hate them all. 

The tears and sobs threaten to choke you but you don’t care. You don’t care anymore. You don’t care about anything anymore except the anger burning hot through you, making your hands shake. Your legs give out and you slide to the floor against the door, sliding until you’re laying down on your back on the hardwood. It’s cold against your skin but you don’t care. You can’t care anymore. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

Her hand presses against your forehead, wiping some of the sweat beading on your skin. Despite your shivers, you’re burning hot. A fever. You worked yourself up too much earlier in your outburst. She had been proud of you for finally releasing some of it and showing some emotion, but she knew the consequences of getting so worked up would be high. Your omega is still unstable, on top of still trying to physically recover. You hurt yourself doing that, even if it was necessary. 

She shushes you as you whine, fingers grasping at the blanket clumsily. She pulls it higher over you, your body shuddering underneath the pile already stacked on top of you. She’d put every blanket she could find over you, and yet you still shiver. Worry floods her again as she stares down at you, your eyes pinched closed. You must be aching, your show of anger taking its toll. 

It was necessary, but at what cost? 

If your temperature continues to spike, the risk of distress heightens. You can’t handle distress in your current state, which would mean your omega would come out, finally be freed again from the unprotected cage it's been pushed back into. If your omega comes out, that will require John to help, which may only drive you further into distress. 

She needs to try and stop this before the situation continues to deteriorate. 

But how? 

How can she move you past this without the help of your pack? She can’t give you the comfort you need. Medicine or any therapeutic methods can help solve the issue at its core. Sure she can try and lower your fever with medicine, but you need your pack. You need that comfort and stability that only they can offer. 

You need someone, and it can’t be her. 

If your omega comes back out, they might never be able to get it back in. It’ll be the end of you. All of your recovery, the fight you’ve put up against your body and your instincts and your mind will have been for nothing. 

You need someone. 

An idea begins to form in her head, her hand resting against your forehead. It’s hot under her hand, your skin burning. You might hate her later for this. It’s risky, but sometimes risks have to be taken in dire situations. Sometimes those risks pan out in the end. What will happen if it fails? The inevitable that’s going to happen if she doesn’t try. It’s a lose-lose situation, but if it works, it could be a win-win. 

She can’t help you, but maybe she has someone who can. 

She tucks the blankets around you, cocooning you in an attempt to keep you warm and still while she steps away. She won’t be gone long.  

She leaves your door cracked open just in case, even though she doubts you’ll be moving much while she’s away. 

Just in case. 

One can never be too careful. 

She heads up the stairs quietly, going slow to avoid startling any of them. She’s intruding on the safe space they’ve made in their solitude. It feels like invading sacred grounds, but it's a necessary invasion. Their omega is in danger. They’ll forgive her. 

The bathroom door is closed at the end of the short hallway, a light on inside. The lights are on in both rooms too, glowing beneath both doors, and she takes a gamble. Based on the heaviness of the footsteps above the kitchen she can guess the room on the right is the one Simon and Johnny are staying in. If she’s wrong, she’ll have some explaining to do before she’s ready, and she knows John will have his thoughts about this. Though, with what happened earlier, perhaps he’ll agree. You won’t see him, but maybe...just maybe... 

She lets out a deep breath before knocking firmly, waiting a breath before she calls out.  

“Johnny, I need your help.”

She just hopes you don’t hate her too much later. 

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[charliemwrites]

Part 12 SpecGru reader!!

No content warnings for this chapter.

You mull over your captain’s words in the hours before dinner. Sitting behind Nova in her temporary room, Doctor Who’s opening theme warbling from your laptop’s speakers. You gently work oil into her scalp, following the precise alleys formed by her braids.

It’s a soothing ritual, not just for her, but for you. An act of care for a woman who’s been so kind and patient with you. Who always stood her ground on your worst days, and never allowed herself to be goaded into a useless argument. She’s warm beneath your fingers, soft against your chest, the scent of coconut and cinnamon sweet in your nose.

Slowly, you begin to card through memories you put great care into neglecting.

The day you left the hospital, feeling more pathetic than you ever had in your life. A packet of care instructions folded over in one hand. You remember the way Gaz hadn’t quite looked you in the eye, mouth tight and regretful at the corners. Almost guilty. Even when he handed over a bag of fresh clothes, saying he was glad to see you on your feet.

Did you know then? Was there some twinge of foreshadowing in your gut? Did you hear a foreboding whisper in your mind, of how the following twenty-four hours would devolve?

Maybe you did or maybe hindsight is a liar.

What really stands out, even after all this time, is how betrayed you felt (still feel) when you reflect on that interaction with Gaz. That the best he offered was a weak warning that Ghost and Price were pissed off at you. The hurt that he didn’t even ask how you felt before disappearing for the rest of that awful day. You never saw him after your initial discharge, he might as well have borrowed his lieutenant’s namesake.

And then there was Johnny.

Soap, who made himself perfectly visible, if only to express how pissed off he was. He never bothered to ask how you were doing either – didn’t even seem relieved to see you conscious and in one piece. He was tight-jawed and tense; the few times he deigned to speak to you was clipped and terse.

When you finally left, you remember how your chest ached, knowing (intending) you’d never see his thousand-watt smile again. A fair few of your tears on that flight had been in self-deprecation for expecting anything but his total, unwavering loyalty to Simon. It stung that for all his crowing about being a team, looking out for each other, no one left behind – he couldn’t spare you a crumb of forgiveness for a mistake in the field.

Price and Ghost had almost made sense, really. But Gaz and Soap had been a peculiar sort of pain. Your fellow sergeants, who had made you feel welcome and comfortable in the beginning – who had been the bridge and buffer between you and your intimidating superiors. And maybe it wasn’t their fault that you never quite felt like you had a seat at their table, but they’d tried.

Still… at least you can look at them. You can’t imagine opening your mouth to face Price or Ghost and anything but acid pouring out.

“What’s on your mind, babes?”

You blink, palms automatically cradling Nova’s head as she tilts it back to peer at you. On autopilot, you dip down to kiss her forehead, then the gentle curve of her lips.

“Hmm?”

“Don’t get me wrong, the massage is nice,” she teases, “but you’ve gone over my whole head at least twice now.”

“Oh,” you intone, swiping your thumb behind her ear. “Just thinkin’ is all.”

“I can tell,” she giggles, “there’s practically smoke comin’ outta your ears.”

You grimace a bit, arms lowering down to circle her shoulders in a hug. She curls her clever, slender fingers around your forearm, tracing soft patterns with her blunt nails.

“Sorry, love,” you mumble, flicking your eyes to the screen. Realize you’ve only got a vague idea of what’s going on. “I’m being a bad date.”

“You’re not,” she insists, squeezing your wrist. “This s’all been a lot, yeah? I just don’ want you being on your own in there.”

She taps two fingers against your temple. You used to spend all your time alone in your own head. Not because it was safe – it wasn’t – but it was familiar. It took her and the rest of the team concerted effort to pry anything of value from you.

Now, you muster up an appreciative smile as you nuzzle into her hand.

“I’ve just been trying to decide…”

She pauses the show and wriggles to get a better look at your face, hums for you to continue.

“If I should try talking to the 141,” you continue. “Cap said I should consider it. See if we can put all that old shit to rest.”

“Do you want to put it to rest?”

“I should.”

“But do you want to?”

The question brings you up a bit short. Being mad is easy. You’ve been mad at them for so long, one step short of loathing, that you’ve settled into the feeling. Dug your heels in. It’s an easy way to put a stopper on all the complicated hurt lying beneath.

“I want to talk to them the same way I want to go to the dentist,” you muse.

She picks up what you aren’t saying.

“You don’t want to, but you know it’s healthier if you do.”

You grunt, still too proud to admit it outright.

“The wound closed over, but it never healed properly,” she says. “Maybe you’ve got to reset it, yeah?”

You sigh. “Yeah. Just not sure where to start.”

She shrugs. “Wherever you want to. Do it on your own terms. Only way you’ll be able to stomach them.”

You chuckle. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“’Course I am,” she chirps. “I’m used to navigating bad weather.”

You nip at her fingers, prompting a bright peel of laughter as she tries to squirm away. As you wrestle her back into your lap, your nerves soften and settle.

Even if you excise this wound, you know you won’t be left bleeding alone. Not ever again.

You haven’t come to any concrete decision after dinner. Not that anyone asks. Nova isn’t one to push and your captain has already said his piece. You haven’t told Nikto or Keegan about your dilemma yet, and you’re not sure if you will.

Nikto’s take on the situation isn’t obvious – though if you had to guess, it would be similar to Nova’s. But Keegan? You already know what his answer would be.

Of anyone in SpecGru, he had to work the hardest to earn even an iota of warmth from you. He reminded you too much of Ghost – and how could he not? The perpetual mask, the sharp one-liners. Gruff and closed off, frighteningly capable, and a crack shot with a sniper rifle to boot.

It used to take everything in you to pull your punches during spars. The rare instances that you would agree to eat with your new team were never if Keegan was present. And more than once, you walked into the rec room, saw his looming figure, and turned right back around.

The only time you could stand to look at him was during missions, but your captain was always sure to receive a killer glare if he paired the two of you together.

Keegan was your partner on the mission that changed things.

It had been a week straight of shit sleep and bad memories, sick on loneliness and anger. When boots hit the ground, you stormed right in, eager to prove to yourself (but really, to them) that you were valuable. Didn’t wait for Keegan, but that had never stopped him from keeping pace with you before.

You didn’t clear your corners, got sloppy and hasty.

Took two stab wounds before Keegan shot the hostile in the temple. When he tried to call the others, you demanded that he finish the mission first. Would have rather bled out than be the reason another mission failed.

The pain and blood loss dragged you under as soon as you choked out the demand.

Then, Keegan’s face was the first thing you saw in the hospital room. Not the mask, him.

Even with dirt and black paint smudging his face, you could see the dark, worried circles beneath his eyes. Could read regret in his angular jaw, relief in the slant of his scarred mouth. For the first time, you looked in his eyes and saw more than an echo of your former lieutenant.

You saw your teammate. The partner you’d left to fend for himself because you’d been handicapped by your own pride. You saw Keegan.

“Did you finish the mission?” you rasped.

He frowned, but your captain stepped forward. “He did – once we were there to stop the bleeding.”

You never saw Ghost in the weave of his mask again.

And soon after, Keegan was the first person you opened up to about the 141.

It was that very same week. You’d been sick on shame and embarrassment, using your injuries to nurse your wounded ego. Skipping meals in exchange for raiding your snack drawers and moping in your cot.

Keegan hadn’t made himself scarce after your discharge. None of your team had, really – but he’d made a point of checking on you. And lacking your usual sharpness, he hadn’t been deterred by your comparatively mild standoffishness either.

Which was how you found yourself stubbornly tucked into the corner of your cot one night, while Keegan sewed the holes in your shirt. He kept shooting you amused looks – probably because you hadn’t taken your eyes off him once. Half wondering why he was there, half waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“You gonna say something, or you just glare all night?” he drawled eventually.

You narrowed your eyes. “Do you plan to stay all night?”

He shrugged, but his eyes flicked to yours, the corner of his mouth ticking up. (No mask. He hadn’t worn one around you since the hospital. Not unless people outside your team were around.)

“If you’ll have me. Been meaning to get you caught up on the show we’ve been watching.”

You huffed, frustrated. “Why?”

He arched his brows at you, needle paused. “Because I like you, despite your best efforts.”

You stared, a little appalled, a little touched. Keegan just chuckled and went right back to mending your shirt. You drew your knees up tighter and hid your quivering mouth with your arms.

“Cap says your last team was shit to you,” he said into your sullen silence.

You scowled. He put a hand up as if in surrender.

“He hasn’t said more’n that, don’t worry,” he continued, “I’m just sayin’… I don’t take any of it personal. You’re a good teammate, I trust you with more than my six.”

Why, you wanted to demand, flabbergasted and all the guiltier because you knew you didn’t deserve it. Why did he trust you? Why was he so patient? Why was he there at all?

You sniffled, but he just kept talking.

“I want to return the favor, ya know? I’m not askin’ you to trust me after the mission, but you don’t gotta be on your own either.”

You were crying quietly by that point, face so hot that your tears felt cold, stomach aching from more than stab wounds. He finally looked up, saw how you were falling apart. But he didn’t shy away, didn’t close himself off. It wasn’t pity or sympathy that softened his eyes.

“The shit you and I carry, we’re not meant to do it alone, sweets.”

And what else could you do, but spill your sorry guts?

You remember the expression on his face when you got to the part about Ghost. Remember how tightly he held you on your cot, all the distance (emotional and physical) closed between you two. Remember waking up the next morning, Netflix still open on your laptop and flopped gracelessly over Keegan’s stomach like a childhood sleepover.

You couldn’t have iced him out again even if you wanted to, after that.

No, there’s no question what Keegan would tell you, if you asked about talking to the 141. He would say there’s no good reason to waste oxygen on a single one of them.

So, you don’t ask.

You climb into his lap in your temporary room that evening, peeling his mask up and off with slow hands. His eyes are already half-lidded, the corner of his mouth curved fondly. His hands spread across your thighs, warm and rough. The scar twisting across his left palm is sweetly familiar when he draws it along your skin.

“I’m going to try talking to the 141,” you admit.

His jaw twitches, eyes flickering. “Now why the hell would you do that?”

You sigh, curl your fingers into the brassy crop of hair he’s been growing out. He’s got a quick temper, and a habit of misplacing it when it’s been triggered by something out of his control. You don’t take it personally, you never have – it’s gratifying to see how much he cares.

“There’s no good reason to waste oxygen on a single one of ‘em,” he growls.

“There might be.”

He sits back, skeptical but waiting.

You continue, “I’ve got a lot of shit to say to them, and they seem eager to hear it.”

“Why give ‘em the satisfaction?” he asks.

“Maybe it’ll help with the nightmares.” That gives him pause. You draw your thumb soothingly across his temple – a bullet graze from saving your life. “We’ve got too much shit to carry, you and me. Unloading some of it is as good a reason as any.”

His hand drifts up your side, grazes the tattoo coiling down your arm. (The second you ever got – a big piece that took hours, Keegan never leaving your side. Nikto, Nova, and your captain periodically dropping in to provide snacks and water.)

He cups your jaw, guides your face down until your foreheads touch. You stay there, breathing him in. He smells like yours.

“What if they make it worse, huh?” His thumb caresses over your cheekbone the way it has a dozen times before, wiping away tears. “I’ll have to kill ‘em.”

You huff softly, amused. “Then kill ‘em. But I’m stronger than I was, Kee. There’s nothing they can weigh me down with that I can’t carry.”

“I know,” he whispers, tilting his chin to drop a sweet, aching kiss on your lips.

“Besides, I wouldn’t be carrying it alone anymore.”

His expression lightens, pride shining from his eyes. “Damn right.”

It’s nearly midnight when you wake from a light doze. Keegan is snoring softly, an arm and leg each hanging over the side of the bed. Your mouth is dry, but you realize it’s your stomach that woke you – pangs of hunger from picking at your dinner earlier. You need to eat.

Quiet and careful, you crawl out from beneath the sheets. Keegan is a heavy sleeper compared to the nearly supernatural senses of Nikto; he hardly stirs as you pad for the door. The hall lights are dim, but you only open it a crack to slip out.

The hall is quiet, no lights on beneath any of the other doors. You hope that means the rest of your team is sleeping peacefully. If you remember right, Nikto and Nova crawled in with your captain this evening. They’re all in good company if nightmares creep in; you pray Keegan doesn’t have any while you’re up.

Thankfully, the rec room is only two halls away. Light is spilling out as you turn the corner – there’s a sensor that shuts them off if no movement is detected for a while. Someone is either in there now or was recently. You half hope it’s the latter, but that doesn��t deter you from entering.

Your surprised to find Soap leaning against the kitchenette counter, a steaming mug in hand. His expression is flat, grim. Tired. You pause just inside the doorway.

“Might as well come in,” he says, voice low and rough. “I’ll clear out in a mo’.”

Even from where you’re standing, you can see that his cup is mostly full.

You exhale and shake your head. “Don’t have to.”

“How gracious,” he rasps, brows twitching like he wants to scowl. Like he can’t quite commit to being as bitter as he should be.

You’re too tired for your usual acid, as well. Just sigh and reach for the fridge door.

“Is that how you want this conversation to go?” you ask.

“Is this a conversation?” he replies.

You pluck out a yogurt cup. “It can be.”

He’s glaring into his coffee now, index finger tapping at the ceramic. Thinking. Or maybe just leashing all the things he wants to say but knows will drive you right back out.

“Why now?” he says finally.

You shrug. “Because I’m ready now.”

A tendon in his jaw twitches. “That’s not fair.”

A hot flicker of anger ignites in your chest. You tamp it down with a spoonful of yogurt, measuring out your words and tone.

“How do you reckon?” you inquire.

“You left,” he says. It’s been a while, but you can detect the hurt underlying the accusation. You suspect it’s something he’s wanted to say for a long time. “You left us behind.”

You click your teeth off your spoon, take a deep breath. It’s factually true. You are the one that left but—

“I wasn’t going to wait for you all to kick me out officially.”

He finally raises his eyes, a dark storm of emotion swirling within them.

“We wouldnae have.”

You tilt your head, cynicism in the flat line of your mouth. “Didn’t seem that way to me.”

“I ken you and Simon were—”

“Don’t.”

His mouth snaps shut, brows furrowed. You point at him with your spoon warningly but bite back the sharp remark on your tongue. Arguing isn’t the point here.

Settle instead to say, “Don’t speak for the others.”

There’s a beat of silence as he digests that, then finally nods. “Alright. Just you ‘n me then.”

You turn back to your yogurt, swipe up another spoonful as you reorganize your thoughts.

“I didn’t leave because of Ghost,” you begin. “Not entirely. I left because I was never part of the team. And what happened after that mission just… made it all very clear.”

Soap frowns, opens his mouth like he wants to deny it, but you hold up a finger to stop him. He takes a long sip of coffee and waits.

“You didn’t check on me at all. You weren’t there when I woke up. You never asked if I was okay,” you continue. “You were too busy being angry on Ghost’s behalf.”

“You almost got the both of you killed,” he argues.

“But you cared more about Ghost almost being hurt than the fact that I was,” you say. And dammit, you feel your sinuses burning, but your eyes stay blessedly dry. The anger disappears from his face all at once as realization sinks in. “I mattered to you less than Ghost.”

His hand tightens around his mug, knuckles blanching. “No. No, lass, tha’s no’… you were always… you survived.”

“I felt the worst I ever had in my life, but you didn’t care because I crossed the almighty Ghost,” you insist.

“I cared about you,” he denies.

“But not more than you did about Ghost.” You drag your gaze up to his. Even his eyes look a little wet now. “And that… that wasn’t enough for me.”

You suck in a shuddering breath, trying to loosen the tightness in your chest. Clear your throat once you feel the threatening prick of tears subside.

“I didn’t… it wasnae that,” he rasps. “I ken you think I’m full of shite, but ‘s true.”

You do think he’s full of shit. Maybe not on purpose, maybe he really does think he cared about you as much as Ghost, but you know better.

“I was just… so angry wi’ you,” he explains. “You could have died. Nearly got Simon killed, all because you thought you knew better.”

You exhale hard. “You’ve never made a bad call?” you challenge.

“It wasnae your call to make. You should have listened to Ghost. Instead, you—”

“I what?”

Your fingers tingle, numb. Can’t even feel the spoon, or the chill of the yogurt cup anymore.

“You disobeyed orders, it was so—”

“I didn’t.”

He stops. Stares. “What?”

You stare right back, “I didn’t disobey orders.”

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Masterlist

[highdefhoetry]

a clash of sword and flame.

cw: nsfw!!! mmf, competitive threesome, penetration (penis in vagina), doggy style, missionary, blow job/facefucking, oral sex, unprotected sex, creampies, spanking, hair pulling, praise, body worship, fingersucking, fingering, g-spot stimulation, multiple orgasms, biting/marking, possessive zoro, pussydrunk sanji

summary: zoro and sanji find out you've been fucking them both. a competition ensues, with you smack dab in the middle.

You were in trouble. Big trouble. And no amount of sweet talking or sugar coating could get you out of this situation. 

Your eyes dart back and forth between your two furious crew mates - Sanji, who was half naked in bed next to you, clutching the white sheets in tight fists, and Zoro, fully clothed and standing in front of the closed door with his arms crossed and his face twisted into a scowl. Both looked at you expectantly, waiting for an answer, silently fuming as a thick and palpable tension wafted through the air. 

It was a well kept secret. Or so you thought. Only Nami and Robin were privy to your midnight visits to the kitchen and your early morning calls to the crow’s nest. You had made sure of that. There was no reason anyone else on the crew needed to know that you were secretly fucking two of your crewmates. Hell would break loose, knowing how intense the rivalry was between those two. 

But even the best kept secrets eventually came to light. And the consequence of your sex-driven decisions was staring you right in the face.

“Tch... you can’t be serious…” the swordsman sneered, shooting daggers at the blonde. “I can’t believe you fell for the shitty cook’s bullshit.”

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?!” Sanji stumbles to his feet while struggling to pull up his briefs, his erection still visible through the white fabric. 

“She's smarter than that,” Zoro storms towards him until they’re both neck and neck. “She knows she can do better than a perverted cook who can't keep it in his pants.”

“Oh, so you think you’re better than me?!”

“I don’t think I’m better than you. I know I am.”

This is bad. Really bad. The two of them always bicker and argue, but they might actually kill each other this time if you don’t do something about it. You pull the thin bed sheets up to your chest, hiding your nude form underneath, and stand up to try and get between them. You created this mess, you had to at least try to stop it from escalating any further.

“Guys, don’t fight…” you try to reason with them, but your words go unheard as their argument continues.

“At least I know how to treat a lady! A brute like you has no concept of chivalry or romance!”

“I don’t need any damn chivalry,” a smirk creeps up Zoro’s face, twisting his expression into one of manic rage. “And I don’t need to smooth talk a woman to get laid.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Sanji’s voice falls, the quiet tone a stark contrast to the previous screaming and yelling. He tears his eyes away from Zoro and looks at you with both passion and scorn in his gaze. It breaks your heart, seeing him this way. This wasn’t what you wanted at all.

But strangely, it doesn’t last. Something shifts in his gaze, encompassing his body as he breaks away from the argument.

He returns to the bed, gently taking your fingers and leaving soft kisses from the back of your hand and up the rest of your arm. It happens so fast you don’t have time to protest, succumbing to his embrace as he wraps his arm around the small of your back. His soft hands glide across your skin, caressing every sensitive nerve with the most delicate touch he can muster. A fluttered moan escapes when his lips reach your neck and shoulders. You close your eyes, then open them again when you feel Zoro’s sharp glare boring into you. He watches on in shock, fists clenched tightly at his sides.

“A beautiful lady like her needs to be worshiped properly… something an ape like you could never do,” Sanji’s sweet words flutter in your ears, making you shiver as he leaves a trail of soft kisses across your skin. “Ma chérie, tu n'as pas besoin d'un imbécile comme lui.”

Zoro mutters something about “stupid fancy French bullshit” as you try to suppress your moans, melting at the praise Sanji is showering over you. It’s what you love most about fucking him; he treats you like a goddess, devoting himself entirely to your pleasure. You truly feel like he’s become your lover, as if the two of you are the only ones who exist in this moment.

But you’re suddenly reminded of the other’s presence when you’re pulled toward the other side of the bed and into a strong pair of arms. Zoro holds you tightly, muscles bulging as he wraps himself around your frame. He’s shirtless, and his black pants are laying on the ground beside the bed, leaving him in his boxers. You feel his erection press against your back and instinctively rub your ass against it. Just how he likes.

“You’re not doing it right,” he grunts, glaring at a shocked-looking Sanji while he pushes you onto your stomach. You start to say something, but you’re silenced when his rough, calloused hands take hold of your thighs and spread them out, pulling your hips back onto his while his tip pushes into your hole.

You cry out when his cock starts pumping inside you, slamming into your walls at an incredible pace. Your teeth sink into the pillow, muffling your cries of pleasure as the swordsman fucks you deeply, passionately, right in front of the cook. He grunts quietly, letting out short, labored breaths while enjoying the feeling of your walls clenching around his shaft.

“She’s not some… delicate little flower…” he grumbles in between strokes. “You need… to fuck her… properly…”

It was rough and intense, as it always was when you fucked Zoro. But you couldn’t get enough of it. You loved the way he’d manhandle you, tossing you around like a doll into whatever position he wanted. You’d melt when he told you how tight you were, how fucking good it felt to be inside you, how you had the best ass in the Grand Line. He spanks you a couple times, grinning when he hears the surprised little noises you make from the unexpected impact. His fingers run through your hair, then grasp a clump of your locks before pulling back tightly. Your head moves back, forcing you to look Sanji in the eyes as he watches Zoro fuck you into a dizzying headspace. He gawks at you wide-eyed, cheeks pink and cigarette dangling precariously from his mouth.

“Sanji…!” you gasp, earning another spank from Zoro.

“You’re mine, got it?” he sneers into your ear, tugging your hair a little harder. “Say it nice and loud so the shitty cook can hear it.”

“I’m yours.”

“Good. Say it again.”

“I’m yours!” you cry out, feeling Zoro’s cock throb inside you. He speeds up, the steady pumping turning into a wild, frenzied rhythm that is so intense you start seeing stars. Then finally, he explodes inside you, filling your hole with comforting warmth. You can feel him throbbing as he holds your hips, making sure he’s emptied every drop of cum inside you. Making sure Sanji knows who you belong to.

You lay down on your stomach, skin damp with sweat and flushed with heat. But you don’t get to rest for long. You’re pulled into another firm pair of arms that flip you onto your back, forcing you to look your French lover in the eyes despite your guilty conscience telling you to hide. Your eyes dart away, but when a gentle hand takes your chin and pulls it towards him, you bashfully meet his gaze. You expected anger, sadness, resentment… but all you see reflected in those eyes is worry and concern. 

“Ma cœur…” he runs his thumb across your bottom lip, cradling your cheek in his other hand. “Are you alright? Did that idiot hurt you?”

He runs a hand down your chest, flicking your nipples before caressing the soft, supple skin underneath. He gently gropes your breast, coaxing moans and other little sounds from your parted lips before running down your stomach and between your thighs. His fingers play with your clit, teasing it by massaging the hood of your clit. Your moans become louder, your body becomes more desperate for release. Sanji pushes a finger inside you, despite your hole still slick with Zoro’s cum, and curls against your walls until you erupt in an intense orgasm that causes your legs to shake. Zoro had brought you to the peak, but Sanji had pushed you over the edge.

Your cry of pleasure is so loud it makes your throat feel hoarse. Satisfied, Sanji smirks and pulls down his white briefs. It was his turn now. He enters you slowly, carefully, and calmly, asking every now and then, “Does it feel good? Am I going too fast? Are you alright, ma amour?” 

You nod and spread your legs, inviting him in.

His strokes are longer, deeper, more controlled. His dick pulsates within you, the slight curve of his shaft hitting your walls perfectly and spurring you towards another orgasm. He holds your legs at his sides, gazing deeply into your eyes without tearing them away for a moment. You’ve never felt so seen, so vulnerable. You almost forget there’s another person there with you.

It’s not long before you cum again, this time a little harder than before. Sanji cums shortly after, having kept himself in control until this moment. Ladies always came first. That was something he lived by, a motto that made sex with him all the more satisfying. You smile up at him, mirroring back the affectionate grin he’s giving you from above. He fills you with his own cum, pumping into you a few more times as if he was trying to shove his own seed past Zoro’s. He wasn’t going to let the swordsman one-up him. It was his own way of claiming you. 

You’re only given a small respite before the next round. A strong pair of hands grips your ankles and yanks you towards the other side of the bed. Zoro locks eyes with you, brows furrowed in displeasure as he takes in your blissed out expression. He leans forward and kisses you intensely, biting your lower lip while his tongue presses against yours. His teeth sink into your neck, leaving bite marks down to your collar bones prominent enough to see. He’s mid-bite when Sanji crawls on top and pushes him off. The blonde looks pissed as he notes the marks on your skin.

“You’re like a damn animal!” he yells, once again butting heads with the surly swordsman. “This is no way to treat a lady!”

“She likes it, you moron!” Zoro spits back, forehead pressed against Sanji’s. 

“Guys, please…!” You try to placate them, but it only ends with each man taking hold of your hands and pinning them down on the bed next to you.

“I made her cum, twice,” Sanji notes while planting his lips onto your wrist. “How many times did she cum with you, mosshead? Oh, right. Zero.”

“I can make her cum just fine, curlybrow,” Zoro sneers, lacing his rough fingers with yours while nipping at your neck. 

“Oh, yeah?!”

“Yeah,” he says with a smirk.

You feel another pair of fingers push inside your hole and dig into your walls, seeking out the ribbed spot he knows will make you scream. It doesn’t take long for him to find it, and within seconds you’ve reached another climax, an orgasm brought about by his expert hands and the steady way he’s pumping them inside you. He pulls them out and sticks them in your mouth, letting you suck the cum off his chapped skin. You see him smile as he watches your lips encompass his hands. Focused entirely on the feel of his fingers in your mouth, you shudder when you suddenly feel a soft, wet tongue lapping at your clit. And when you look down, you see a mop of blonde hair in between your legs, Sanji’s soft hands holding each of your thighs. He eats you out, his lips kissing and licking every part of your mound. His tongue darts in between your folds, circles around your clit, tastes the entrance of your hole and the puffy lips around it. Still dripping with both sets of cum, he licks that up too, tasting the sweet mixture of you and his arch rival. 

You arch your back and throw back your head, giving him further access to you. He buries his face in your pussy, inhaling the scent while eating you fervently, as if you’re the best goddamn thing he’s ever tasted. But as you’re enjoying yourself, something forces your lips apart and shoves itself inside your mouth. The taste of dick and sweat fills your senses. Instinctively, your lips wrap around Zoro’s shaft and take in his massive cock, lips sliding up and down before letting your tongue linger on his tip. The swordsman groans with every soft movement, carefully pumping in and out of your mouth and speeding up only when he’s sure you’re ready to deep throat him. You open your jaw wider, signaling that you’re ready, and within moments he cradles both of your cheeks in hand and fucks into your mouth with ferver. 

The next orgasm shocks your system, sending electric waves through every nerve. You cry out hoarsely, high pitched notes warbling through the air that are muffled by the thick cock in your mouth. The taste of salty cum fills your senses as Zoro finishes; the warmth slides down your throat when you swallow it whole. He pulls out, allowing you to catch your breath. Sanji tears himself away from your pussy, looking at you with a completely blissed out expression before collapsing beside you. The swordsman lays at your other side, squishing you between the two men on a bed that’s only just big enough for the three of you. 

“...Stupid shitty cook…” Zoro grumbles, pulling you into his chest. You can feel his racing heartbeat as your skin presses against his, sticky with sweat and other fluids. He glares at the blonde, who’s finally coming to his senses enough to argue with him again.

“Damn mosshead…” Sanji returns his scowl before grabbing your arm and pulling you against him. His heart is pound against his chest, a steady beat beneath flushed red skin. 

You look over at Sanji, then back at a now snoozing Zoro who still has his arms wrapped around your waist, clinging to you possessively. You hear quiet snoring from behind, and look to see that Sanji has fallen asleep, as well. 

You wondered what this meant for the three of you, if you’d wake up to another round of bickering or if the two of them had come to some sort of silent conclusion. Your own heart races as you consider the future, a selfish part of you hoping this wasn’t just a one time thing despite knowing the trouble it had caused. 

When your own eyelids start to close, you decide that the matter can wait until morning. You’re exhausted, and it would take more than the promise of treasure to tear you away from the two men you loved most in this world.

[simplygojo]

I Like Your Tie...

A/n: OMG ONE OF MY FAVS REQUESTED! I loved this request; thats why it took SO LONG I’m sorry my friend I hope you enjoyyyy!! <3 I needed another Nanami request so bad so you did me a favour with this one, LOLLL.

Request: “Your last Toji fic got me frothing like a rabid dog. Lol. in all ways it was very uniquely him indeed ! The same for Gojo and Witch!Reader. Could I shy request a fic with the song 'Talk' by Hozier paired up with Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader ? Something sensual steamy but ever so romantic for the blonde? I can practically see him saying or thinking such lyric quotes as "I won't deny I've got in my mind now all the things we'd do... So I'll try to talk refined for fear that you find out how I'm imaginin' you. Imagine being loved by me". May she's a fellow Special Grade sorcerer, and their friendship keeps building up, but neither wants to cross the line ? So they dance around it, until something happens ? Idk. >\\\\\\\\\\\\\\< I'll leave it to your artistic hands and imagination what to do with this? If you feel inspired to. In any case, please delete if this seems rubbish. Anyway, thank you for your stories ! Thank you so much. ♡” - @erebus-et-eigengrau (lurvv uu)

My requests are always open :)

Pairing: Kento Nanami x f/reader

Word count: 3.8K

Warnings: 18+ Content, SMUT!, intercourse, light choking, control kink(ish), pet name

The late-night quiet of Jujutsu High was comforting in a way—no students rushing through the halls, no teachers around to monitor. You had been grateful for the peace, retreating to your room after a long day.

But as you reached your door, you stopped in your tracks.

There he was. Nanami Kento stood in front of your door, leaning casually against the wall. 

—

You and Nanami had been friends for what felt like a lifetime, though it all began back in high school. Back then, you had a bit of a crush on him—not that you’d ever admit it. He wasn’t the type to flirt or give much attention to relationships, but there was something about him that always caught your eye. 

You had your moments, too—shared laughter, and private conversations late into the night, when the walls between friends almost seemed to blur. 

But Nanami never made a move, and neither did you. You knew how seriously he took his role as a sorcerer, and you didn’t want to complicate your friendship with feelings that you weren’t sure were mutual.

As you both graduated and eventually became high-level sorcerers, those moments of potential intimacy became even more distant. You grew into your own roles, taking on increasingly dangerous missions and fighting curses that most could barely comprehend. Nanami was often assigned to the same missions as you, his calm, steady presence a source of reassurance when things got chaotic.

There were times when his professionalism would slip, just for a moment. A fleeting look, a brush of his fingers against yours, his voice dropping an octave when he spoke your name. You always wondered if he felt it too—that same tension you tried so hard to ignore. But you never dared to ask, afraid of what it might mean if the answer was yes.

And now, standing in front of him in the quiet after everything that had just happened, you realized just how deeply those old feelings still ran.

There were times, though, when your old crush resurfaced. 

Sometimes, it was the way he’d look at you across the battlefield, silently checking to see if you were okay, his eyes filled with a concern that was more than just professional. Other times, it was the rare, gentle touch when he’d help you after a fight—his hand brushing your arm or waist as he steadied you after a particularly tough encounter.

But you always pushed those feelings down, refusing to acknowledge them for the sake of professionalism. 

The sorcery world didn’t leave much room for distractions, and you knew that Nanami was as dedicated as ever. He was the picture of control, never letting emotions dictate his actions, always focused on the mission at hand. You convinced yourself that whatever crush you had on him was just remnants of your high school days, a fleeting fantasy that had no place in your current life.

—

His arms were crossed, his tie long loosened, and the top buttons of his shirt undone. The dim lighting of the hallway cast a shadow over his sharp features, making the intensity in his eyes even more pronounced. He looked every bit the composed man he always was, but something about the way his gaze followed your every movement made your heart stutter.

“Nanami…” His name left your lips in a quiet murmur, not expecting to see him there, not like this.

“You’re out late,” he observed, his voice steady but lower than usual, as if the stillness of the night demanded it.

You nodded, feeling the weight of his gaze on you. “Well, one of the first-years wanted some late-night training…What are you doing here?”

He didn’t answer right away, eyes flicking down to your lips before settling back on yours. 

You could feel the tension in the air, thick and palpable, making it hard to think clearly. His usual restraint seemed to falter, just slightly, but enough to make your pulse race.

“I was waiting for you.” His voice was steady, but the words made your breath hitch.

Your heart pounded in your chest. 

“Waiting for me?” You said quietly, a heat beginning to pool between your thighs.

Nanami pushed off the doorframe and stepped closer to you, his movements deliberate. The space between you closed as his tall figure made its way toward you—the tension that had been simmering beneath the surface for weeks finally came to a boil. 

“Why were you waiting for me..?” You questioned, “I need to talk,” He responded, his voice barely above a whisper.

He was close enough now that you could feel the warmth radiating from him, the faint scent of his cologne filling your senses.

“I used to try to talk so refined, in fear of you finding out…” He admitted, his voice lower now, almost rough around the edges. His eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your knees weak. 

“Finding out what, Nanami.” You breathed, watching how his lips parted just slightly while he paused. “How I’ve been imagining you." 

The air between you was thick with tension, so heavy you could almost taste it. Nanami stood inches away, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his body. His normally professional demeanour had cracked, revealing something raw, something primal. The careful distance you both had maintained was no longer there.

"Imagining me…?" You repeated, your voice barely more than a whisper. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you were certain he could hear it.

Nanami’s eyes darkened, and his gaze roamed over you in a way that left your body practically squirming under his scrutiny. His jaw clenched for a moment as though fighting some internal battle, but when he spoke, his voice was low and hoarse, filled with a desire he was no longer trying to hide.

“Every time I look at you,” he confessed, his hands flexing at his sides, like he was resisting the urge to touch you, “I think about how you’d feel under my touch… under me.”

Your breath caught, your throat suddenly dry as his words sank in. The image of his hands on your skin, the weight of him pressing against you, the feeling of him between your legs—it sent a wave of heat through your body, leaving you borderline trembling with anticipation.

“Nanami…” you whispered his name, your voice trembling with the same desire that was now coursing through you. The distance between you felt unbearable.

The professionalism you both held onto so tightly was crumbling, and the temptation to give in was overwhelming.

The hallway was too quiet, too intimate, and it felt like the rest of the world had fallen away. It was just the two of you, standing there on the precipice of something dangerous and irresistible.

“I won’t deny I’ve got in my mind now all the things we’d do,” he confessed, his voice barely a whisper as his thumb traced your jawline, gently tilting your head with two fingers. His eyes darkened with want, and the weight of his words hung heavily in the air.

That was all it took. The pull between you snapped, and before you could think, your hands were fisting in his dark blue shirt, pulling him down to meet your lips in a kiss that was heated, desperate—inevitable.

His hand swiftly opened your door before pushing you into it, causing both of you to stumble into the dimly lit room. With a loud thud, Nanami kicked the door shut before pushing you back up against your entryway wall.

Nanami groaned softly into your mouth—your pussy practically throbbing at the sound—and his hands immediately wrapped around your waist, tugging you closer as if he couldn’t stand the idea of any space between you. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that you hadn’t expected, and it left you breathless.

You gasped when his hands gripped your hips firmly, pushing more firmly against the wall. The cool surface against your back was a stark contrast to the heat that radiated from him as he pressed himself closer, his lips never leaving yours.

His kisses were deliberate, slow—but rough—as if he wanted to savour every moment of this. 

"Mmf…Nanami," you breathed, pulling back just enough to look at him, your lips swollen from the kiss, breathless. "What are we doing?"

His forehead rested against yours, his breath ragged as he looked down at you. There was something raw, unguarded in his expression. “What I’ve wanted to do for a long time.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and before you could say anything else, he was kissing you again, deeper this time. “Now be a good girl for me, y/n.” He practically purred against your lips, as he lifed you so your legs wrapped around his waist. 

His hands moved with more confidence now, sliding up your sides while you were pinned against the wall, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You tugged at his hair, your fingers desperate to feel more of him.

His hands, rough from battle and years of work, were surprisingly gentle as they slid beneath your shirt, fingers brushing over your painfully hard nipples, teasing you. You arched into him, your body responding to every touch.

He made quick work of your jacket—and that tiny tank top you wore underneath it, his hands roughly reaching for every bit of exposed skin.

Nanami growled softly with your legs wrapped around his waist, his lips trailed down the column of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that had you moaning his name.

"Do you want me to stop?" He asked, his breath hot against your neck, but the fire in his eyes told you stopping was the last thing he wanted to do.

"Don’t," you whispered—pleading with him for more, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer. "Don’t stop."

Nanami’s eyes darkened further at your words, and a slow, subtle smirk spread across his lips. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. 

His hand moved up to the tie hanging loosely around his neck, fingers working quickly to loosen it even further. Before you could register what he was doing, he slid the tie off entirely, his movements deliberate and slow as he looped the fabric around your neck.

The silk felt cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from your body. His eyes never left yours as he gently tugged at the tie, pulling you closer, the pressure on your throat light but enough to send a thrill through you that went straight to your now-soaked pussy.

“There,” he whispered, his thumb brushing over the side of your neck as he admired how the tie looked wrapped around you, it falling on your bare chest. In a moment, his lips were back on your skin, trailing lower this time as his free hand continued to explore your body. He kissed a path down to your chest, the tie around your neck tightening just slightly as he pulled you even closer.

He brought you to the couch in your small room with one hand while the other held the back of your head as his tongue explored your mouth.

“You look so beautiful like this, do you know that, y/n? With my tie around your pretty little neck…” He murmured against your skin, his voice laced with raw, unfiltered need. 

Hoisting you up onto the back of the couch, his hand slipped beneath the waistband of your skirt, fingers brushing against the wetness between your thighs, and the contact made you gasp. 

With one swift but gentle movement, Nanami slid your skirt and tights down your legs, and now you sat in front of him—completely vulnerable.

“Nanami—” Your words were cut off by a moan as his fingers returned, pressing more firmly, the slow, torturous circles he drew making your entire body tremble. The tie tightened just a fraction more as he leaned back to look at you, his thumb brushing against your clit in a way that had your heart racing even faster.

“You’re so responsive for me,” he growled softly, his fingers entering your dripping cunt slowly, making sure to feel every inch of your interior. “It’s driving me insane.”

You could barely breathe, the combination of his fingers between your legs and the light pressure of the tie around your neck leaving you a trembling mess in his arms. You clung to him, your hands gripping his broad shoulders as you fought to hold on, your body betraying you with every ragged breath and every desperate moan.

"Nanami, please..." You barely recognized your own voice, hoarse and breathless as you begged for him.

He smirked against your skin, clearly pleased by your reaction. “You want more, don’t you?” He asked, his voice thick with amusement, but the tension in his body told you he was just as desperate as you were.

You nodded, your head falling back as your body arched into his touch. “Please…”

The sound of your begging seemed to snap something in him. With one swift motion, he lifted you up with one arm and spun you around before setting you on your feet in front of him, your ass pressing up against his bulge as the cool leather from the couch pressed against your lower abdomen. 

He leaned down, his lips brushing your ear as his fingers slipped inside you again, making you gasp loudly at the sudden (welcomed) intrusion. 

“I want to hear you beg for me again,” he whispered, his breath hot against your skin as his fingers moved with agonizing slowness, teasing you, driving you to the brink of insanity. His other hand subtly undid his belt, lowering his pants just enough to expose his desperate cock.

You moaned, arching into his hand, your body betraying you as it responded to every touch, every whisper of his breath on your skin. “Nanami...hmmf…please...I-I need you in me.” You managed to get out between moans.

“That’s it,” he growled, his fingers exiting you, but they were quickly replaced by his dick as he inserted himself into you—feeling you stretch around him caused him to throw his head back in pleasure, and he gave a little yank on the tie, your head jerking backwards as your stomach pressed harder into the couch, provoking a pornographic moan to exit your lips.

“Fuck,” he growled, his breath hot against your skin as he buried himself inside you, again and again, each stroke thrusting deeper into your gummy walls, sending waves of pleasure through your body. “You feel so good.”

His pace quickened, and the slow, deliberate rhythm gave way to something more primal and desperate. His control was slipping, and you could feel it in every rough thrust, every growl that rumbled from his chest as he claimed you completely.

The tie tightened again, the silk digging into your skin just enough to heighten the pleasure, and the sensation sent you spiralling toward the edge. Your body trembled beneath him, your nails digging into his shoulders as you gasped for breath, the intensity of it all overwhelming.

He leaned forward, the new angle allowing him to go even deeper into you. He gently moved your hair off of your shoulder as his delicate fingers traced the border of his tie and your skin. “You really are such a good girl.”

His thumb pushed into clit as he thrusted into you at a dominating pace—the sensation was nearly enough to push you over the edge—but you held on a little longer. You cried out his name, your entire body shaking as his pace quickened, he tightened the feeling around your throat with the tie around your neck pulling you closer to him.

Nanami’s body moved behind you, the warmth of him pressing against your back as his hands gripped your hips. Bent over the back of your couch, with the cool surface a stark contrast to the heat radiating from your flushed skin. “Mmhf–Nanami…Oh please.” You moaned out, practically begging him for more as he fucked you with a controlling pace

His breath was heavy, ragged, as he leaned over you, his chest pressing against your back, making you feel the sheer size and strength of him as he dominated you completely.

Nanami’s fingers wrapped around his tie nicely wrapped around your neck, pulling it taut. The sensation made you gasp, your head tilting back slightly as the silk tightened around your throat just enough to send a jolt of pleasure through your already overstimulated body. Suddenly he took his soaked dick out of you letting it land on your ass, rubbing his hand over the smooth skin.

“You look just perfect like this,” he growled low in your ear, his voice thick with lust as he tugged the tie just a bit tighter, your chin tilting up as he whispered in your ear. “Bent over—begging for me.”

Your legs trembled beneath you, your body quivering with anticipation, but before you could respond, he was inside you again. 

The stretch was immediate, deep, and overwhelming as he thrust into you from behind, filling you completely with a single stroke. You cried out, your fingers gripping the edge of the desk as he pulled you back against him, the tie keeping you tethered, under his controlled.

“Nanami…” You moaned his name, your voice barely more than a breathless whisper as he began to move, his hips snapping against you in a relentless rhythm. Every thrust was harder than the last, his grip on the tie tightening with every movement, pulling you back into him, forcing you to feel every inch of him.

His pace was brutal, his control slipping entirely as he watched the way your body reacted to him, the way you moaned his name with every stroke. His free hand found your hip, gripping you so tightly that you were sure there’d be marks tomorrow, but the thought only sent another wave of arousal through you.

“You feel so good, y/n,” he growled, his voice rough as he leaned over you, his lips brushing against the back of your neck. “My good girl...”

His words are what sent you over the edge, the stimulation of your orgasm turning your vision white. 

Your body was on fire, every nerve alive with pleasure as he drove into you again and again. The tie around your neck tightened even more, the pressure just enough to leave you lightheaded, completely at his mercy. You felt every inch of him inside you, the sound of skin against skin filling the room, along with your breathless moans as pleasure washed over you.

Nanami's body pressed closer as you shuddered beneath him, the waves of your orgasm still coursing through you. 

But he didn’t stop. 

Even as your body trembled, oversensitive and breathless, he kept thrusting into you with the same relentless intensity. His pace didn’t falter, and each stroke seemed deeper, more demanding, as if he couldn't get enough of the way you clenched around him.

Your moans turned to gasps as pleasure mixed with the overwhelming sensation of him continuing to push you past your limit. Your fingers clutched at his back, nails digging into his skin with a painful force, but he didn't slow down. He leaned over you, his lips brushing against your ear, his breath hot and ragged.

“Look at you, taking it so well," he groaned, his voice dark and full of praise. "You feel so good, I don’t want to stop.”

Your legs shook around him, your body still pulsating from your release, and the overstimulation had you crying out, your nails leaving marks along his back. 

"Nanami... please..." you gasped, unsure if you were begging him to stop or to keep going. You felt like you were being consumed, every nerve on fire, and yet your body responded to his touch, desperate for more.

He shifted slightly, angling his hips to hit that perfect spot inside you with every thrust, his hand still pressed firmly against your clit drawing rough circles. The tie around your neck tightened just a bit more, enough to remind you of the control he had, the control you were willingly giving him.

“I’m not done with you yet," he growled, his thrusts growing rougher, faster, his body taking full control over yours. "You can come again for me, can’t you?"

You didn’t know how it was possible, but the overwhelming pleasure began to build again inside you. His touch on your clit was insistent, his hips snapping against yours in a rhythm that left you breathless, teetering on the edge of something even more intense than before.

Your body trembled beneath him, the overstimulation and pleasure merging into something maddening. Every nerve was alight, your body responding to him in ways you couldn’t control. You were already too sensitive, your mind spinning as he pushed you closer and closer to the brink once again.

Nanami could feel it—he knew exactly how close you were, how your body tensed around him. His lips brushed your ear as he spoke, his voice low and commanding. “Come for me again, y/n. I want to feel you fall apart around me baby.”

With that, his fingers pressed harder against your clit, and his hips slammed into you at a brutal pace, each thrust sending you spiraling further out of control. The pressure inside you coiled impossibly tight, and with a cry of his name, you shattered once more, the intensity of your second orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave.

Your body shook uncontrollably, your moans turning to sobs of pleasure as you convulsed around him. The sensation was too much, too overwhelming, and yet you never wanted it to end. Nanami’s name fell from your lips like a prayer as he continued thrusting into you, his own breathing growing more ragged, more desperate.

"That's it," he growled, his voice thick with pleasure as he watched you unravel beneath him, his pace rapidly increasing. "So fucking beautiful."

He wasn’t far behind. The way your walls clenched around him, the way you shook with each thrust, sent him over the edge. 

His pace grew erratic, his grip on your waist tightening as he buried himself deep inside you one last time, groaning your name as he came. He tugged at the tie harshly, yanking you up form your bent over position so yoru back was against his sweaty chest, his hand gently holding your chin up. 

“You were so good for me,” he breathed, his voice hoarse, igniting a spark in you again. You remained silent for a few moments, breath staggered as you tried to catch it, still shaking with pleasure as he held you upright in front of him. 

Finally, you opened your mouth to speak, a cheeky smile playing on your lips, “I like your tie…”

[lulunothulu]

Loovveee your writing. 😍 Would you be able to write where reader and Tyler are married and he’s out running errands when he gets notified from her Apple Watch that she’s taken a hard fall because she was thrown from a horse and 911 was called so he drives as quick as he can home to her driving through their gate trying to get to her faster and she’s unconscious and bleeding from a cut on her head and just worried husband vibes until she wakes up and is fine 💙

Oooo I love this. I gotchu boo 🤠 and thank youuuu I’m so sorry this is late 💗

“Don’t worry”

Tyler Owens x Reader

“Let me check the list because if I miss something, my wife is gonna have a fit.” Tyler laughs, pulling the grocery list out of his pocket.

He’d been tasked by you with getting groceries and knew you were particular about what kind of apples you liked.

When he finally pulls the list out, he hands it to the worker before him who smiles and points him to the section where the honey crisp apples are.

“Thank you!” He calls out, steering the buggy toward the section and grabbing a plastic bag to collect the four apples you wanted.

He’s about to put the last apple in the bag when he gets a notification from your AppleWatch.

‘My Wife 💗’ has fallen and their breathing has slowed down significantly. 9-1-1 has been called and they are 10 minutes out.

Tyler’s heart stops.

Within seconds, his legs are moving, sprinting out of the store the buggy full of groceries left behind.

He’ll come back another time. Right now, he had to get to his wife. He had to get to you.

He knew he was only five minutes away, but he let his foot hit the accelerator. Anything to get to you quicker.

When he finally—painstakingly—arrives at y’all’s house, your horse, Sugar, is galloping around the front yard, neighing happily to herself. He reaches for her, gently pulling her close.

“Where is she?” He asks her. He doesn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he jogs to the training ring to the right of the house where he finds your lifeless body.

He sprints at the sight of you, fear taking over all of his thoughts and he brushes the random strands of hair covering your face.

“Oh my god,” he whispers. “Oh my god. Baby? Can you hear me?”

He checks your pulse.

Good, steady but kind of weak.

Your breathing is slow, almost too slow for his taste. Your face is relaxed in unconsciousness and there’s a pretty bad gash on your forehead and the back of your head.

Tyler knows not to move you so he holds your hand, waiting and praying that the ambulance hurries.

The next five minutes feel like hours but the paramedics finally arrive.

“I think she fell and hit her head on the ground or a rock,” Tyler tells them.

He watches from the side as they take your vitals and get you ready to transfer to the ER.

“Do you want to ride with her?” One of the paramedics asks.

“No, I’ll follow behind in my truck,” he tells them.

———

At the hospital, Tyler looks down at you from his standing position next to your bed.

How could this have happened? When is she gonna wake up?

He rubs his eyes, checking his watch again to see that it’s almost 10 PM. he’s been here for the past few hours, waiting for you to wake up.

Unfortunately, for him, the doctor said that it might take a bit for you to wake up, especially because of the fall you took.

“She’ll wake up when she’s ready,” they said.

“When?” He’d asked.

“Within a few hours. She has a concussion so she needs to rest as much as she can.”

The waiting was the hardest part for him. He hated just standing around. He needed to do something, anything to make sure you were okay, to help you wake up. Worry begins to eat at him the longer he stays in the hospital room with you so Tyler decided it would be best to go to the cafeteria.

Only when he’s about to walk out the door, he hears you groan.

“Tyler?”

“Baby,” he cries, running back to your side. He takes your hand in his, kissing each knuckles before smiling down at you with happy tears stuck in his eyes. “How’re you feeling?”

“I’m okay,” you tell him. “Am I in the hospital?”

“Yeah,” he tells you, wiping his eyes. “What happened?”

“I was trying to give Sugar a little test run before the next race and she got spooked by a garden snake,” you recount. “I must’ve hit my head on a rock or something.”

“You did,” he tells you, voice quiet. “You scared the hell out of me.”

You look up into his green eyes and smile softly. Placing your hand on his cheek, you pull him down to kiss you.

The kiss is sweet and tender, something Tyler didn’t know he knew he needed until then.

“I love you, Ty,” you tell him.

“I love you too, Baby,” he hiccups, tears freely falling now. “You really did scare me. I didn’t know if you would be okay. If you’d d—”

He couldn’t bring himself to finish his sentence. Instead, he smiles down at you and kisses you again.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” he says instead.

“I am too,” you tell him. Then, smirking a bit, you add, “I would be pretty pissed if I died from falling off a horse.”

Tyler laughs at that. “I would be too.”

“When can I eat? And when can I leave?” You ask. “But most importantly, when can I eat?”

“Doctors said he wanted to keep you overnight,” he tells you. “I can get you something to eat if you want.”

“Okay, as long as it’s something filling. I have t eaten since… what time is it?”

“10:30 PM,” he tells you.

“Jesus Christ, since 8 AM this morning,” you marvel.

Tyler laughs, pecking your lips before standing. “I’ll get you a nice fat sandwich.”

“Sounds perfect.”

You watch as he walks away before saying, “And Tyler?”

He turns around. “Yes baby?”

“Walk slower, your ass looks really nice in those jeans.”

Tyler only laughs and obeys as he walks out the door.

[trippinsorrows]

without you + three

authors note: welp. the ball is, gradually, rolling.

do not read this story if you haven’t read ’with me’. it won’t work as a standalone.

warnings: none

song inspo: be without you by mary j. blige

one + two

words: 4k

“I’ve been thinking.”

“That’s never a good thing.” Removing your eyes from the book in hand, you glare and flip your soon to be ex-fiance off if he keeps playing with you like this. 

Of course, he simply laughs as you shove on Joe’s shoulder.. “I’m serious.”

His hand moves to your stomach, rubbing a circle as he beckons, “tell me.”

Using the bookmark on the comforter, you stick it in the page you’re on and lay it against the side of you. “I think we should take Callie back so she can have her graduation.”

Joe looks over at you, brows furrowed. “I thought we were just going to do something here?”

“I know, and I think we still can, but I don’t want to take that from her. She was really excited about graduating.” It’s something you’ve been thinking about a lot, both as a teacher and a mom. It’s so important for children to feel and be able to celebrate their accomplishments. Sure, it’s only preschool, but it’s still a big deal for her.

You want her to be able to celebrate with her ‘classmates.’

And you express as such.

“She should be able to celebrate with the other kids. Plus, and I know right now, she’s still excited about them, but I don’t know, something tells me she’s going to struggle with some form of jealousy when the babies get here.”

Joe nods, not necessarily disagreeing with you. “But, that’s not entirely abnormal, right?”

“No, doesn’t mean it’ll be any easier to deal with though.” Frowning, it’s only now you also think about how that might be for you as well. For almost five years, you’ve been able to devote all of your time and attention onto one child. 

Now, it’s about to be four.

“Hey.” Joe, forever adept at reading you, brings his hand to your chin, forcing your gaze to land on him. “We’ll handle it together, alright?”

His words, as per usual, comfort you greatly. “You’re right.” His thumb flicks your chin, as you chuckle. “It’s probably good her little spoiled self is spending all this time with you now. Before she has to share you.”

His scowl makes you snort as he drops his hand back to your ever growing belly. “She’s not spoiled.”

“Joe, as the kids say, be so fucking for real.”

“What?”

Ignoring the fact that this man literally probably still has an AOL email with out of touch he is, you continue with your very valid point. “That little girl is spoiled rotten. You give her whatever she wants.”

“She doesn’t ask for much.”

“Not you being in straight up denial.” He’s so down bad for Callie Bear. It’s not even funny. “Need I remind you of her little tantrum two weeks ago? Baby, the way you folded so quickly should have been recorded. Tribal Chief, my ass. Got taken down by a four year old.”

Joe shoves you gently. “Shut up.”

Laughing, you continue, “just admit it, she has you wrapped around her lil’ finger, and she knows it. That’s why she tried you the way she did, but I mean it, next time it happens, and it will, set her little butt straight. She can take it.”

Joe’s frown doesn’t make it any easier for you to hold in your laughter. “I don’t like being mean to her.”

“It’s not being mean, baby. It’s being a parent. As much as she loves to play with you like you’re one of her little friends, you’re not. You’re her dad. She needs to respect you as such.”

“She does,” he defends, and you sigh, knowing this is probably just a battle you won’t win. Quieting down, you decide to switch topics to something you’ve been thinking more about as you prepare for the arrival of your children.

“I’m gonna tell her, you know. When she gets older, that I’m the reason you weren’t there the first few years of her life.”

Joe sits up in the bed, removing his hand from your stomach, concern evident all over his handsome face. “Y/N—”

You lift your hand to silence him. “No, she’s going to eventually ask, and I’m not going to lie to her. Whatever anger she feels would be justified, and I’ll handle it.” 

You’ve thought about this more and more as you progress with your pregnancy. The fact that these babies will get to experience Joe from day one when Callie didn’t. There’s undeniable unfairness, and should she ever want to know just why Joe was MIA at the beginning, you will be honest with her.

You’ll make sure she knows that it was you who decided to keep her a secret from her father. How specific you’ll get will depend on her age, but you’re not a fan of lying to and holding secrets from kids when it directly impacts them.

You know firsthand how thinking your dad didn’t want to be around can fuck with someone’s mental.

You won’t let that be the case with Callie.

Joe looks just as bothered, like he doesn’t want you doing anything that could impact how Callie sees you. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Oh, but I do and will, baby.” You place your hand to his cheek, his beard a little more outgrown and slightly unkempt as he truly relaxes in the embrace of vacation. “Because that’s one thing I never did and would never do. I never let anyone say any disrespectful shit about you not being in Callie’s life. Amir would try it a lot, and I shot him down every time.”

The mention of Amir brings a scowl to Joe’s handsome face. It’s a bit of a distraction technique you’re grateful worked. This will also be a revisited topic over the years, clearly. “I don’t know what the fuck you saw in him.”

Small smile on your face, you shrug, “he’s not ugly, and his dick was decent.” And before he can say anything smug and smart, “yours is better, duh. Why you think I’m giving you all these kids, huh?” He smiles and shakes his head. “You gotta have God tier dick for me to push out not one but gonna be four of your big headed ass children. Boy, I wish you would try to leave me. You gon be wrestling into your eighties with how much I’ll come for you in child support.”

He rolls his eyes and kisses your temple, “you know I’m not going anywhere and neither are you.”

“Of course not, who the hell is gonna want me with all these damn kids?” The topic at hand reminds you of the book on the side of your bed, the previous reason you two were taking a break from figuring out your approach for letting friends and family know about the courthouse wedding. “Now, we really need to start deciding on names. I’m almost five months.” Pretty soon you’ll be finding out the sexes of the babies. It’s crazy to you how quickly this pregnancy is passing by, most likely due to the happiness you feel. 

Time flies when life is good. 

“Did you get Callie’s list?” 

He curses. “Shit, I forgot.”

You wave him off. “No worries.” Sitting further up in bed, you shout out, “Callie Bear! Bring us your list for baby names!” 

She doesn’t say anything, and you start to try again when she comes running into the room, Disney notebook in one hand and her American Doll in the other. She doesn’t hesitate to climb onto the bed and sit on her knees at the end, “here you go, mommy!”

You accept her notebook that’s already opened to her list of potential baby names that she came up with. “Thank you, baby.” Callie switches to sitting with her legs crossed, her doll that looks just like her, courtesy of her rich ass daddy, smack dab in the middle. “Let’s see.”

A smile falls on your face as you share the notebook with Joe, pointing out the first name that he also smiles at. 

“Moana.” Predictable. So predictable. “Maui. Hei Hei. Tamatoa.” Joe coughs beside you to clearly hold in his laugh. “Baby….are these all names from Moana?”

Callie nods happily. “And Toy Story and Encanto and The Little Mermaid,” she essentially continues to sing-song list off damn near every Disney movie ever created. “The babies have to like Disney too, mommy! Like me, you, and Grandma.”

“You’re so right.” To be fair, you really shouldn’t have expected too much more. She is one Disney loving kid, through and through. “Well, thank you so much for the list, Callie Bear.”

“Daddy, did you make a list?” She asks, head tilted as she gently caresses the top of her doll’s head.

“Not yet, baby. Mommy and I are gonna make one together.” 

“I like baby Moana.” 

He chuckles. “But you’re our little Moana.”

She pouts and corrects, “no, I’m Callie.” Her sass makes you laugh. Joe wasn’t entirely wrong. She really is a lot like you sometimes. “I want a baby sister named Moana.”

“What if they’re all boys?”

You and Callie have similar reactions. It’s just that yours is one of horror and hers is more of shock.

“Noooo, I want a little sister.” 

Adding onto Callie’s vehement protest, you make your own strong thoughts and feelings known. “And I am not pushing out three boys at once, Joe. You done lost your god—”

“What do you want for your birthday, Callie Bear?” You’re partially thankful for the save but also irritated he’s asking this question he already knows is gonna generate a wild ass answer.

“A puppy!”

See.

You do your best to use the perfect combination of understanding yet assertiveness. “Baby, we done had this conversation before, we are not getting a puppy until you’re at least ten.”

“But, I’ll be old!”

“Exactly, old enough to take care of a puppy.” One look at Joe, and you can see he’s about to open his mouth and probably find some reason to ‘agree’ with or at least defend Callie’s request. “Absolutely not. No dog until she’s older, and that’s final.”

Callie, understandably, does not agree nor like this rule, and it’s evident in her deep pout and the way she crosses her arms over her little body. “Not fair.”

“Life ain’t fair, buttercup.” You retort, quickly reminding her as you take in her appearance. “Speaking of, it’s almost time for your wash day….”

The infamous, dreaded day of nonstop hair washing and styling is enough to wipe her smile away and award her a brand new reason to start whining, “I don’t want to.”

The feeling is mutual. “Neither does mommy, but we gotta do it eventually, Callie Bear.” Looking over at Joe, you inform him, “and you will be present for this ordeal, sir, so you can learn how to do her hair for me.”

He looks confused, nose turned up. A chuckle is withheld at how much he and his daughter mimic each other in this situation. “Baby, I don’t know how to do hair.”

Sucking your teeth, you smartly point out, “you do your own!”

“I barely do anything with my hair. You know this.” 

Damn. He’s right. Lucky ass. “Regardless, when I get too big to be bending over the sink like that, someone’s gonna have to do it.”

Of course, Joe’s smartass just decides to throw out something that should probably be discussed before saying around Callie, “I’ll take her to your mom.”

Callie’s eyes light up a bit. “Grandma!”

“Joe.” Lord, this man got too much money or something. “You seriously are going to fly our daughter out to my hometown so my mama can do her hair?”

He shrugs, clearly not seeing an issue with what’s being proposed. “Yeah.”

Rolling your eyes and shaking your head, you lean further back in the pillows of the bed. “You are too—” However, you’re cut short mid-sentence, face and chest dropping simultaneously, the change in your disposition enough to catch Joe’s attention. 

“What’s wrong?” He’s sitting up even more, expertly masking the concern that’s growing by the second. Recognizing this, you will that small smile to start forming on your face, shaking your head as you motion for him and Callie to move closer.

“Mommy?” Callie is just as confused as you reach for both her and Joe’s hands, placing them on your belly, trying to find the spot of origin. “What—”

This time, she’s the one to stop mid-sentence as she feels it, the sensation you last felt when you were pregnant with her. Callie’s face is still set with understandable confusion, but your gaze on Joe reveals minimal concern and an abundance of amazement. 

“What is that, mommy?” Callie finally asks. The emotion in your throat takes you back a bit. You’re not typically a super emotional person, but there’s something about this moment, about feeling your babies kick for the first time and being able to share it with your fiance and child that does something to you. Knocks at those pillars that hold up your resolve. 

“That’s the babies. They’re kicking.” You explain, smiling a bit as Callie looks at you in horror.

“Why are they hurting you?”

“They’re not, sweetie. That’s what babies do. As they get bigger and grow, they need to move around and sometimes kick. You did the same thing to me.” Adding some playfulness into your voice, there’s a level of relief to see she appears less concerned. 

Your attention, however, is brought back to Joe as he kisses your temple, hand still planted on your stomach, clearly soaking up every bit of this precious, cherished moment. 

“I love you,” he murmurs against your temple. It’s such a simple statement, a little three letter sentence that means more than anyone could ever understand. Moving your hand to the side of his face, you both laugh as Callie moves her face to your stomach. 

“Don’t kick mommy too much, okay, little babies?” The determination on her face should be captured and locked away for safekeeping for the rest of time. “She’s the bestest mommy ever and pretty and smart and—”

“—and still not getting you a puppy.” While your daughter is undoubtedly one of the sweetest kids you’ve ever come across, she’s also intelligent as hell. And you know her like the back of your hand. Enough to know where she’s headed with this. 

And, you’re proven correct when she rolls her eyes again, making a ‘hmmph’ sound that has Joe chuckling next to you. She then sets her little plotting sights on Joe as she takes her hand from your stomach and moves to crawl into his lap.

You have to keep yourself from rolling your own eyes as she pulls out that sickeningly sweet voice and holds onto his shirt. “Daddy?”

Joe doesn’t hesitate to answer right away. “Yes, baby?” One look at him, and you already know what the answer is going to be. This man is so weak for this little girl. It’s not even funny. 

“Hallie wants a friend…..” Joe’s eyebrows cave in confusion as he looks over at you. 

Gesturing to her American Girl doll on the edge of the bed, you fill him in, “that’s what she named the doll.” 

He chuckles, clearly amused by the name that rhymes with hers. “She does?”

Callie nods, that excitement building back up. “Two friends!”

Mouth dropping, you prepare to put this child in her place when Daddy Warbucks beats you to it, living up to his reputation.

“Well, then we need to get her two friends.”

“Yay!” Callie celebrates, hugging Joe who ignores your look of disapproval. “Can I make her friends too?” 

And once again, the first living, breathing bank to ever exist is quick to fold. “Of course, Callie Bear.”

“Yay!” She cheers yet again for another way too easy battle. It’s not even a battle at this point. Battle would mean that both parties have somewhat of a chance, and Joe is clearly putty for his little girl. “Thank you, daddy.” She seals the deal with a hug and kiss on his cheek before climbing off the bed, grabbing Hallie as she shares, “I’m gonna make them now!”

With her tablet, clearly. The tablet you’d bet any money Joe once again disabled the time limits on. 

Lord, you’re about to have five damn children to take care of at this point. 

It’s only when Callie is out of the room and on her way to celebrate yet another successful day of finessing her daddy that you punch this man in his big ass arm. 

“What?” It’s him having the audacity to sound and look confused that has you ready to kick him out of the room. 

“What do you mean what?” Angling your body more toward him, you explain, “Joe, why are you buying her more dolls? American Girl dolls, at that. I know you must have paid at least $300 for the first one you got her. I saw all them accessories.” He rolls his eyes but doesn’t deny it, because he can’t. Callie had always asked you for one, and while you could have scraped some money together to make it happen, you couldn’t come to grips with just how many other more useful things one could do with that money. “She doesn’t need them dolls, babe.”

“You gon’ let her get a puppy now?”

An easy ass answer. “Hell no.”

He has the nerve to catch a slight attitude with you as he affirms, “then she’s getting the dolls.”

Rubbing your temples, you realize this isn’t a ‘fight’ you’re not going to win. “You know what, whatever. You do what you want, but I’m telling you right now, these—” You bring his hand back to your belly. “—babies are not going to be spoiled like their big sister. They gon be like Oliver Twist and grateful for a bowl of soup.”

He moves his hand around, probably trying to see if he can feel any more movement. “Callie is grateful.”

“For now.” Not really wanting to have this circular dialogue with him, you grab your phone to see a couple missed texts but open the one from your mom first, instantly rolling your eyes. “Not this again.”

The shift in your voice catches Joe’s attention. “What?”

Shaking your head, you show him the thread, thumb right next to the link for an article on ‘melanin maternal mental health’. 

Talk about fucking alliteration. 

“I don’t know what’s been up with her lately, but she’s been sending me all these links for articles and like motivational photos about mental health and motherhood.” You explain to him, going to heart the message and send a quick response to at least show some appreciation. Because there is a little there. That your mom cares about you so much. But the concern isn’t necessarily valid or needed..

This is the happiest you’ve been in some time. A long time. If ever.

Nothing is going to change that.

Especially being a mother to three more children. 

Placing your phone back on the nightstand, a glance at Joe reveals he’s debating something. “What?”

He moves closer to you, hand pushing back some of your coils. “Been thinking about that movie thing…..”

The smile on your face grows as you move closer, eyes twinkling with all the curiosity in the world. “What did you decide?”

—------

Megan is having a wonderful day.

One of the best she’s had in a while.

Not only did she manage to wake up on time, but the coffee she ordered from this cute little cafe she found while on a business trip in Denver a couple months ago awaited her on the outside of her apartment door when she got back from her pilates class the night before.

And there’s few things she loves more than a delicious cup of morning Joe.

A smirk falls on her face as she hums “Here Comes the Bride” while engaging in her extensive shower routine, admiring the expert work of her wax lady. Body hair has always been an absolute no. But, it’s when she moves the loofah across the weight of her heavy breast that Megan imagines hands and not her loofah. Big hands that would cup her boobs roughly as he forces her to turn around, slams her up against the shower wall and fucks her hard from behind, her moans and shouts of pleasure dancing across the tile, alerting everyone of just who owns this pussy.

Hand gliding down her wet, nude body, she keeps the vision going, slender thighs clenching together at the thought of him forcing her on her knees, his dick down the back of her throat, eyes watering as he mouth fucks her.

“Joe….” Thin fingers slip past wet folds as she realizes she’s going to be a couple minutes late for work.

So worth it though. 

Because Megan hasn’t come like that in years. Her legs are practically wobbly as she finally exits the shower, bathroom mirror completely fogged to where she has to grab a towel to clear up a section so she can see herself.

The pink tinge of her cheek brings a sly smile to her face. 

“I can’t wait until we can be together, my love…” A sweep of sadness comes over her as she grabs her phone, admiring his handsome face on her lock screen and opens Apple Music to play his entrance music, selecting the repeat button before she continues with her routine. 

It takes her about the usual time.

And soon enough, Megan is out the door, having finished her delicious coffee and opted to just have a banana for breakfast. There’s no time for unnecessary caloric intake.

She has to start preparing for the wedding. 

Walking into the office, right away, she can detect the almost sullen atmosphere and does her best to match the vibe.

To play along. 

And before she can go to her office bestie, Paige, to “find out” why everything feels so off, the team is pulled in for a mandatory meeting.

Luke’s quiet demeanor does take her a bit back. He’s never quiet. She’s not complaining though. Not at all.

As soon as everyone is seated, he starts off with the general pleasantries that are weighed by the sadness in his voice. And then he gets into it. “I know some of you have heard, but for those who haven’t, I—uh—I got some bad news.” He takes a deep breath, shaking his head. “There’s uh—no way to say this, but Susan Jackson was found dead this morning.”

As an array of gasps and shocked countenances fill the room, Megan does her best to blend in, to play along with the genuine surprise of all of her coworkers.

Paige leans over to whisper to Megan, eyes also watery, “they say she killed herself. That she was found her on the sidewalk in front of her apartment building. Window was open and everything.”

Megan expertly fakes a horrified expression. “Oh my god, how heartbreaking.” She even manages to crank out some tears that don’t shed but get the job done. “I can’t believe she’s gone….”

“Megan.” She lifts her head, eyebrows also raising. “I know you worked close with Susan on a couple of clients, and you also know she was set to assist Roman Reigns on his debut film, but with Susan gone….”

Megan shakes her head, pulling out a few sniffles. “It’s okay. I’ll….I’ll do it. I’ll take Reigns as my client.”

And my husband.

Luke gives her a nod of appreciation, wiping at his eyes as he clears his throat and continues to address the room.

It takes almost everything in her not to roll her eyes. The woman was fucking fifty for crying out loud. 

She lived long enough. 

He says something about grief counseling, the suicide hotline, blah blah blah.

Megan does her best to listen but mostly tunes out the rest of the meeting. It’s irrelevant. She has what she wants. Now, it’s time to go after who she wants, the thought alone creating such an intense, euphoric feeling inside of her stomach as she casually traces the brand new tiny letter ‘J’ she now has tattooed on her ring finger.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Bad Guy 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power dynamics, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The men your mother brings home rarely stick around, but her latest catch can’t seem to unhook himself from your life.

Characters: Destroyer!Chris

Note: don't act like you don't want a meanie

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The stump of the cone drips down your fingertips as the car jolts to a stop. You lurch against your seatbelt and hold up your hand and cup the other beneath, trying to keep the melting mess concentrated. Chris cranks the shifter as he idles in front of your mother’s house. 

“Hey, told ya not to get that all over,” he sneers. 

“Sorry, I...” you utter. “I’ll get out.” 

You balance the cone with one hand you do your best not to smear the mess as you unbuckle the seat belt. He huffs as he turns off the engine and his own belt recoils sharply. You glance over as he gets out and slams the door. He stomps around the car and wrenches open your side. 

“Out, now,” he barks. 

You obey and climb out, stepping up on the curb to examine the front of your shirt. He snaps the door shut and snarls again. 

“Keep pushing your chest out like that, someone might just take it as an invitation,” he grits. 

You wince and look up at him, hunching your shoulders. He makes everything you do a crime. As if you’re intentionally trying to offend him. 

“Well, thanks for the ride,” you mutter. “I’ll just go--” 

“I’m comin’ with ya. Mom’s waitin’,” he insists. “Sure, she’s real worried about you. Girl your age can get up to all sortsa trouble, can’t she?” 

He points you up the slanted walk and you glare ahead. Your eyes hurt as they long to roll. He walks beside you, crowding you on the thin blocks of pavement. As you get to the steps, he reaches over and taps your ass. 

“Go on, get up,” he orders you. 

You squeak and hurry up the steps. You just want to get away from him. He probably wants the same thing with the way he speaks to you. 

You wrench the door back with your free hand and angle inside. He catches the door behind you, brushing close as he follows you inside. You feel a tickle on your lower back and hurry up. 

“Gail,” Chris calls past you. 

There’s no answer. You don’t worry about it. Most of the time, your mom isn’t home when you get in. It never bothers you as you like having the house to yourself. 

You go into the kitchen and toss what’s left of your cone. You rinse your hands and ignore the man as he trudges around your house. Your mother’s squeaky hinge whines and he comes back out with a harrumph. 

You dry off and go back into the front room. He’s not far behind as he flops onto the couch with a growl. You peek over as he pulls out his phone and taps on it with his thumb. He jams the screen so hard you expect it to crack. 

“See where you get it from, huh,” he scoffs. “Damn woman.” 

You quickly flit away before you can hear any more of his gripes. He just seems the type to look for anything to be mad about. You might be a cynic, but you’re not an asshole about it. 

You change out of your uniform and toss it into the basket by the door. You’re annoyed. If he had driven a bit slower, you could have worn it at least one more time. 

You shimmy out of your pants and pull on some linen shorts and find a loose tee patterned with sunflowers. You stretch out on your bed and put on the next episode of your serial addiction. As you settle in, you hear him moving around in the kitchen. 

From what you can guess, your mom isn’t even there. She tends to do that. Just wander in and out whenever it suits you. If you were less of an introvert, you might have actually gotten in trouble as a teen with so little parental supervision. Come to think of it, she seems to have lived your teenage rebellion for you. 

A pounding on the door shakes you from your Netflix-induced trance. You sit up and sigh as you go to the door. It’s bad enough he’s getting in the way of your late night snacking but not he’s interrupting your binge. 

You crack the door open an inch and look out, “she’s probably down at Jim’s,” you say. 

“I didn’t ask that,” he brings his hand up to grim the door frame. “Did I?” 

“No,” you frown. 

“'No, sir,'” he wags his index at you. “You should try a smile. Be a lot prettier if ya did.” 

You blink. The only response you have will only piss him off. You clamp your lips tight and shrug instead. 

“There’s shit all in the cupboards.” 

You squint and shake your head, “okay?” 

“I mean, you can figure it out, can’t you? Man’s gotta eat.” 

You tilt your head in confusion, “what?” 

“Don’t tell me ya can’t cook neither. What kinda man’s gonna want a woman can’t do nothing?” He snorts. 

“I-- I don’t want to,” you blurt out. “Cook for yourself.” 

You push the door but he slaps his hand against it and forces it inward, “what did you just say, girl?” 

“I... you’re here for my mom. Go down to Jim’s and tell her to cook--” 

“You’re right. I’m here ‘cause your mommy’s a slut. Any other man stick around, huh? Pay for her bills? Her food? Don’t sound like men to me, and you,” he grabs your chin and you whimper, “don’t speak like much of a lady.” 

“Let go of me,” you smack his wrist, “ow.” 

“See, I knew your mama isn’t shit. The way she acts, shoulda figured you’d be the same.” He yanks you into the hall, “don’t worry, I’ll teach ya manners, girl.” 

“Ah, you’re hurting me--” 

“What do you think your husband’s gonna do when you get mouthy, huh? I’m saving you a lot of hard lessons,” he shoves you past him and you hit the wall with your shoulder. He snaps his knuckles against your ass. “I saw a box of macaroni, think you can boil some water or is that too much for that empty head of yours?” 

“What is your problem?” You turn and lean against the door. “I didn’t do anything and... and...” your words fizzle out as you see the way his icy eyes sear. You gulp. “Why are you so mean?” 

“Mean?” He laughs, “keep talking and I’ll put you over my knee. Now take your ass to the kitchen and make some dinner. I know you ain’t some child eating ice cream for supper, hm? Can’t be walking around like that.” 

He reaches for you and tugs the hem of your tee, letting it go so the fabric springs back up and you feel air flow along the underside of your tits. You quickly cross your arms and try to dissolve into the wall. You stare at him, annoyed but frightened. It occurs to you that he’s a lot stronger than you. 

“Well, you gonna walk around dressed like a woman, may as well be one,” he points down the hall. “You won’t like me when I’m real hungry.” 

You peel yourself off the wall and cower as you pass him. You feel his gaze on you, as oppressive as his presence. You bite down on your lip, as much to keep your thoughts inside as to keep from screaming. You should’ve known that one day your mother would bring home the wrong sort. Well, she always does but they can’t be bothered to stick around. 

You enter the kitchen and go to the cupboard. You search around for the sole box of mac and cheese. That’s your insurance policy. Your mother rarely grocery shops. She only ever goes to the bar or the liquor store. She drinks, she doesn’t eat. 

You grab a pot and fill it with water. As you light the burner, you glance over your shoulder. Chris stands in the doorway, watching, like a warden in a jail. You add salt to the water. You step back and wait for it to boil. The silence scrapes your ears. 

You sway listlessly and another growl rolls up his throat. He clicks his tongue. “Must get good tips down at the ice cream joint, huh? Wearing your cutoffs like you're at the beach.” 

You turn and frown, “...what?” 

“Nah, nah,” he shifts to stand inside the door, leaning his back on the wall, “not ‘what’. You say, ‘sorry, sir, my sweet little head’s empty and I don’t understand. Please explain to me what you mean.’ 

Your lips part and you stare at him. He snickers. 

“The way you look at me, I know you don’t got much going on in there, do ya, girl? So let’s think. You go down to the parlour in those jean shirts, wagging your ass as the boys, and they toss you a couple dollars extra. Hell, I bet those pudgy-bellied dads with all their regret and whiny brats like ya too.” He sniffs and his eyes pinpoint, “keep that up, you’ll find out how much you could make on a pole, flirting with all those greasy dicks down at Bunnies.” 

You recoil at the mention of the strip club. The very thought makes your skin crawl. And your shorts aren’t that short. Your boss said they’re just fine and it’s so hot out in the summer. 

“Shouldn’t flaunt it if you’re not selling it,” he says. 

You stare at the floor and drop your arms, tugging the hem of your shorts to make sure they aren’t bunched. “Sir, I’m not... flaunting it.” 

“Coulda fooled me.” He exhales loudly. “You wanna end up like your ma?” 

No, you don’t want to end up with a man like him. You keep that thought to yourself. You shake your head and take the box of the macaroni. You tear off the top as the water starts to boil. 

“So maybe you should take some advice from someone older and wiser. Do you know what your mama’s problem is?” He asks. 

You shake your head again. You dump the noodles into the water. You go to the drawer and open it to grab a wooden spatula. As you do, he shuts it on your fingers. You yelp as he keeps your hand trapped. You look up at him as he stands close. 

“She can’t hang onto a man. She’s too easy. No guy’s gonna take care of a fucking mess like her. And what good is she without a man lookin’ after her? Living in this hellhole with some deadbeat daughter--” 

“That’s...” you whimper and squirm as you try to free your fingers. “Ow, please--” 

“It is true,” he insists against your unspoken protest. “Whatcha think you’ll be doin’ in another few years? You’re gonna age out and those tips are gonna dry up like sand.” He taunts as he leans in, “and you’re only happiness will be at the bottom of a glass--” 

“Stop. Please,” you beg as the drawer crushes your knuckles. You can’t bear it anymore. You put your hand on his hard stomach and push. “Ow! It hurts--” 

He lets up on the drawer but only to grab your arm. He twists your wrist around and you bend with the angle of your arm. He has you facing the tile as he hyperextends your elbow. You whimper and wiggle your throbbing fingers. 

“See, a woman don’t just need a man to take care of her,” he puts his hand on your ass and brushes up your shorts. “He needs to discipline her.” He pulls his hand away and the drawer rolls open. “And I know your mama didn't do none of that.” 

He rests the spatula against your ass and you twitch, “sir, please, I wasn’t--” 

“Either you shut up and take it like a good girl or each noise means the next one’s harder,” he swings his arm back then forward. The wood strikes your ass in a radiating crack. Your legs tremble and you yowl. “Now what did I say?" 

He spanks you again with the spatula, this time on the other cheek. You grunt behind your teeth and reach back with your other arm. He raps your knuckles with the wood and you recoil. You bend your arm to your chest and he swats you again. Your ass burns from his cruel force. 

He does it again, and again, and again. You try not to make a sound but the whimpers fall out of you. Your arm strains from the angle and his unyielding grip, your ass pulsing in agony. The spatula thwaps down over and over until your eyes are streaming and all you can muster are hollow gasps. 

He lets you go and you crumple to the floor, holding yourself on your hands and knees. He whips the spatula down to it hits the tile and bounces. You wipe your face and look up at him. The air smells like fire. He sighs as his eyes drift to the stove, the water boiling over. 

“Fuck damnit, girl,” he tuts, “figure it the fuck out.” 

He shakes his head and marches out of the kitchen. You stare after him, breathless and battered. You can’t believe he just did that.  

[lukolabrainrot]

Calm theory anon here again!! Lord knows I'm exhausted of this little girl but I wanted to touch on what all we have seen since Italy Birthday trip and Lukes recent like. 1. It was reported by someone who took a photo with Luke at the airport that he was alone. Meaning he flew back by himself. Rumor that he left two days before 2. We got radio silence from the group for a while. 3. Rory unfollowed sienna then it was reported on by the fan pages and then he followed her back. 4. Sienna unfollowed Jack Vine (this is the guy that Luke stays with when he didn't have a house) then it was reported on by the fan pages and she followed him back. The last couple days she's unfollowed him again. 5. Charmaine reposted on TikTok about NDA👀 6. Rory takes a trip with his mom. 7. Sienna likes a post of Hannah Dodd and Nicola from fashion week. 8. Sienna hasn't liked any type of photos of A since early August nor did she like that last Luke post. Now with all this information I'm sure we all can come up with some conclusions. I do think that Luke set up some type of NDA which in my opinion was necessary. We have to remember that Luke's management team is actually a very well-known and establish team this was told to me by people in the PR field. He doesn't have newbies. Now I'm sure that pissed a lot of his friends off. It made them keep quiet about things that they might not have wanted to be quiet about. We clearly see something going on. Now Luke liking A stuff. it was 10 1/2 hours after she posted on her grid with a story posted after four hours of the photos being live. Now the posting to her stories of the grid picture is a new thing. That didn't start till after Italy. What does that tell me? She knows that his notifications for her has been probably turned off. So in order for him to see her photos, she would have to post it in her story which he most likely watches those. This particular photo wasn't liked until after Nicola posted at the concert. I don't believe in coincidences. He got a notification that Nicole posted. Then he went online afterwards watching Nicola story. Now who to say it's not part of his NDA that he has with her that. But as I was thinking about all of this today, one of the interviews that Nic and Luke came to mind. When they were discussing red flags. And one of the questions was keeping up with an ex. Nic said something like I feel that how you speak of your ex says a lot about you or something like that. Remember, Luke listens to every single thing that Nikola has said. She's the one person in this world that he remembers how they met down to the chairs they had sat on. So he would remember stuff like this. So it could be an NDA thing or it could be him trying to be civil with his ex. Regardless of the like which does not tell you anything. The only thing that tells me is she is desperate for that like. She has to put it in her story so that he will see it, she wants that like so bad that she's doing something she never had to do before. Why does she want the like so bad? Because she can control the fandom. Every time Luke likes this girls picture people spiral. it's like on a photo. He's not commenting on it. He's not giving her heart eyes. He's not sharing it to his stories. He liked the picture. We don't know the reason why and we will never know. All I'm saying there is a lot going on BTS that's clearly evident by how they're all moving. We just gotta wait for Nicola to speak more. Remember, her voice should always outshine this girl's voice. Nicola has given us all hints that something more is happening. Let's trust her please

As always, love your thoughts and theories!

Here are some additional theories/thoughts I have about the SM events from today. Disclaimer: These are just my thoughts and interpretations based on all the publicly available information I have seen recently. So please do not take this as 100% fact!

N didn't post her Chappell Roan story until almost midnight her time

L THEN preceded to like A's post approximately 30 minutes after N's CR story- which at that point was technically the day AFTER A made her post

So my little delulu theory is that N went home to L after the concert with her besties, they cuddled up and caught up, N posted her story, this made L log on to IG and prompted him to do his obligatory like of miss A's post after seeing A's story

Some additional notes/thoughts:

Even if N DIDN'T go home to L, all of the available information Calm Theory Anon and I have laid out here tells me this. L DOES NOT HAVE NOTIFICATIONS ON FOR A AND IS NOT PAYING ATTENTION TO WHAT SHE IS POSTING. L IS DOING THIS WITH N THOUGH.

He also liked A's post within a really short time of N's CR story. Now, the only thing this definitively says is that L/N were on their IG accounts around the same period of time. But this was around 12:30 AM their time. It was pretty late at night, and like it's just an interestingggg coincidence if L/N were separate and just both getting on SM around the same time at that time at night. We also know N tends to go on SM when she is getting ready for bed (N has said this). And she posted the CR story around the time she most likely was getting home from the concert. I think there are just a lot of signs/clues pointing that L/N were together around midnight their time. And L was NOT at the CR concert, so that means she would have met up with L AFTER the concert. And if she was meeting L after the concert at that time at night, they were probably with each other the rest of the night. So this is what leads me to believe that N went home to L OR L got the notification for N's story and got on SM and saw A's story. The timing of it all is just very interestingggg to me 🤔

Lastly, A had to essentially BEG L for this like. Why does L still have to like her posts? I have no definitive answer. My thoughts are it's some sort of contractual agreement. Regardless, these likes have no direct indication of L/A's relationship BTS. If I look at the full picture of EVERYTHING, all the signs indicate that L/N are spending more time together (or just since August decided to start publicly hinting to the fandom that they are spending a lot of time together). And all the signs point to L/A not being on good terms, and that there was some sort of rupture in L's friend group around the Italy bday trip.

These are just my thoughts though. What does everyone else think?

[cheynovak]

Preview

-> New Soldier Boy series

Set in the late 70s early 80s.

Soldier boy x F/reader Y/N aka his PA

This scene is set further on in the series

⚠️ Serie will contain: Spice, Smut, Cheating, Age gap, Drug and alcohol use, Dominance, Threesome, Herogasmn, basically basic soldier boy behaviour⚠️

Update! Check out the serie -> Complicated

Ben lay on his back, one arm draped lazily behind his head, the other resting on Y/N’s waist. She lay beside him, tracing absentminded shapes on his chest, her fingers gliding over the firm muscle. The room was quiet, save for the soft sound of their breathing and the occasional crackle of the city outside. It should have felt peaceful, but tonight something was different.

Y/N sighed softly, her hand stilling against his skin. “We can’t keep doing this,” she whispered, her voice heavy with the weight of her words.

Ben’s eyes flickered down to her, his jaw tightening. "Why not?" His voice was low, a little rough around the edges, as if the very idea irritated him.

She shifted slightly, pulling away just enough to look up at him. “Because,” she said softly, “what if I fall in love?”

For a moment, Ben said nothing. His face hardened, and his body tensed beneath her, the easygoing charm he usually carried vanishing in an instant. “Are you falling for me?” he asked sharply.

Y/N blinked, her heart skipping a beat. “No, but—”

“Then don’t,” he snapped, cutting her off. His tone was sharp, dismissive, like he could simply will the possibility away.

Y/N bit her lip, feeling frustration and something deeper rising within her. “And what if I fall for someone else? Someone who might actually want more than just... this?”

Ben’s expression darkened, his green eyes narrowing. “Again. Don’t.”

The room felt colder now, the intimacy they'd shared moments ago evaporating in the space between them. Y/N stared at him, disbelief and frustration bubbling to the surface. “You’re so selfish, Ben.”

His brow furrowed, confusion and irritation mingling. “Selfish? I give you everything, don’t I?”

“Everything you want,” she corrected, pushing herself up to sit beside him. “But I can’t have what I want. You get to have me whenever you feel like it, but the second I want something real, you shut it down.”

Ben scowled, sitting up slightly, his chest brushing against her. "What's so bad about what we have? You get the perks, I get—"

She shook her head, cutting him off. “You get control. You get to keep me at arm's length while you live your life without consequences. But I can’t do that, Ben. I can’t just keep being your... your mistress forever.”

His jaw clenched, and he reached out, grabbing her wrist gently but firmly. “You’re mine, Y/N. That’s not changing.”

Y/N stared down at him, her heart aching. He was everything—charming, powerful, dangerous—and yet, he was so emotionally unreachable. “But that’s the problem, isn’t it?” she whispered. “You want to own me, but you won’t let me have you. Not really.”

Ben’s hand loosened, and for the first time, he looked at her with something that resembled vulnerability, though it was fleeting. “I don’t want you to leave,” he admitted, voice softer but still laced with possessiveness.

Y/N sighed, her heart torn between the man she cared for and the man who would never truly let her in. “I haven’t... yet,” she said, pulling her wrist from his grip and lying back down beside him. She rested her head against his chest once more, but this time, the warmth between them felt hollow.

Ben didn’t say anything. He just wrapped his arm around her, holding her close, as if that alone could keep her from slipping away. But in the quiet of the night, both of them knew the truth: something had already changed.

--

Taglist:

@kr804573 @nancymcl@suckitands33 @mostlymarvelgirl @globetrotter28 @jackles010378 @hobby27

@yvonneeeee @call-me-mrs-winchester @winchesterwild78 @deans-baby-momma @soab1967 @livingdeadblondequeen @ladysparkles78

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt: the Core Four gangs up on Kon's objectification kink. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

And really, Cassie has always been perfectly happy about having a cunt, but fuck, right now she can see the temptation of having a cock instead. She wants to fuck the mess of Kon’s mouth so bad. She could just go dig out her strap, obviously, but the idea of using a toy on a toy doesn’t really feel like it fits, and she doesn’t wanna break immersion or anything. 

“It probably would,” Tim muses, and then he buries his face against her shoulder, his breath coming soft and short and staccato. He’s definitely close, yeah. He can usually hold out pretty long, especially after all this time of learning how to best pace himself to keep up with the rest of them, but he’s still a baseline human. “Mmm. ‘Pretty’ how?” 

“Like pretty,” Cassie says, and drags her thumb down the come-slick center of Kon’s lower lip, pressing down on it and stretching it away from his teeth. He’s still not breathing, and his eyes still don’t try to focus. “Mm. You really made a mess in there, Bart.” 

She probably said that already, but considering her personal taste for a partner making a mess in her, well . . . 

That must feel good, that’s all. 

“I mean, whatever, I can mess it up however I wanna if I’m the one cleaning it out,” Bart replies with a dismissive shrug, not even bothering to look down at Kon as he says it. Cassie lets go of his face and wipes her sticky fingers off across his chest, making the gesture careless and uncaring. Like she’s just using the nearest surface she isn’t worried about staining, because a toy wouldn’t stain; like she’s not concerned about how dried come on his skin might feel for Kon if he doesn’t get cleaned up before it does, because why would a toy feel anything? 

“Fair point,” Cassie says as she reaches back to stroke through Tim’s hair a few times, because his breathing just picked up a little sharper and she’s pretty sure he’s about to– 

“Mm,” Tim murmurs quietly into her shoulder as he comes inside Kon, his body tensing up against her back and hands gripping her breasts tighter for a moment, purposeless and directionless. Cassie strokes his hair again and presses a quick little kiss against his temple as his hips slow and stutter through the last of his orgasm, and stops rocking her own hips and ignores Kon’s cock inside her as anything but a source of pleasant pressure and fullness, like it’s not as important as Tim right now. 

“Had fun?” she asks him, dragging her nails lightly against his scalp. He presses a kiss of his own against her shoulder and shifts back enough to pull out of Kon–which he doesn’t usually do that quick; usually he takes his time about it, because Kon likes how it feels. But if Kon’s not here, and just a toy is . . . well, then obviously Tim wouldn’t have a reason to do that, would he. 

Kon doesn’t make the whiny little disappointed noise he usually does when Tim or Bart pulls out of him, though. 

So–yeah, Cassie is pretty sure she’s going to get herself off to literally just this scene and nothing else until the next time they can all get together at once. Pretty much positive, actually. Pretty definitely positive.

[chaifootsteps]

I cannot STAND the idea that good intentions equates to capability, and that ESPECIALLY applies to parenting. I loathe how the Helluva fandom treats Stolas as a good father BECAUSE of his good intentions alone, not because of his actual capability to meet the expectations of a father. So, if you’ll permit me, I’ve decided that I’m gonna be reeeeeeal obnoxious for the next few asks by breaking down all provided CANON evidence in the Helluva Boss series on Stolas as a father to Octavia in the episodes where it is directly relevant. Also, as much as this is being driven by spite, I will genuinely try to be fair, and feel free to call me out on any missed moments or unfair assessments for each episode mentioned!

So, to begin, how is Stolas as a father to Octavia in Loo Loo Land?

Things he does right: 

In the past, he goes to Octavia when she cries out for her parents in the middle of the night.

He asks her what’s wrong directly, and validates her fear by directly calling her bad dream a nightmare. 

He does not bring attention to how late it is or that she woke him up, and takes the time to slowly calm her down again.

He reassures her that he will be present in her life, and sings her a comforting lullaby.

He tucks her back into bed and only leaves after he sees she has clearly fallen back asleep. 

In the present, he recognizes Via’s awake and asks her how she slept.

He tries to engage in her interests by asking what music she’s listening to.

He realizes parental arguments might be stressful and tries to remove Via from that situation.

He tries to spend alone time with his daughter at a place she used to really enjoy.

He recognizes that people of their status could be at risk and takes into account their physical wellbeing.

He tries to encourage Via to engage with her environment positively at Loo Loo Land.

He does not discuss the stressful home situation while they are walking around the park.

He goes after her when she runs off upset.

When he finds her, he removes his goofy hat to show he is taking the situation seriously, and opens conversation with a gentle tone and consideration of her being upset instead of anger/fear that she ran off.

He apologizes for taking her somewhere she didn’t want to go and apologizes for how complicated everything has been and how he hasn’t been listening to her. 

He apologizes for not being able to properly convey the complicated adult situations happening around her. 

He makes it clear that he will not abandon her and hugs her. 

He initiates their departure and validates that Loo Loo Land is not an appropriate place for her to be at her age or in her current emotional state.

He carries her out of the park while she is in a clearly emotionally vulnerable state and still needs his parental validation and support.

He focuses entirely on her as they are leaving the park instead of on the others or the actively burning attractions, which includes him proactively protecting the two of them from an attacker himself.

He tries to end the day positively by specifically asking her what she would like to do next and agrees to her suggestion.

He thanks her for her positive words and patience with him. Things he does wrong:

In the past, he does not reassure Via that her mother also cares about her and will be present in her life like him. Admittedly, Via’s use of “you” when explaining her bad dream COULD refer to Stolas specifically, but it could just as well refer to the plural “you” of both her parents, which could be supported by the fact she called out to both her parents after her nightmare. 

In the present, he did not pay any attention as her parent to the type of breakfast she prepared for herself when considering that she is still a minor, which seemed to consist of a cup of coffee and some fistfuls of cereal straight from the box. Ideally, he could have encouraged her to use a bowl and have some milk and water, or he could have offered to get those for her to alleviate any possible implication of him judging her meal. She is almost eighteen, so he should be trying to encourage her in little ways to be more proactive in how she feeds herself.

When she makes it clear that she heard him and Stella scream arguing and implies it negatively impacts her, he does not apologize for the fact she had to hear that or try to assure her that the situation is manageable as a parent. I cannot emphasize enough how damaging it is to children to experience loud, angry confrontations between their parents, and the fact she is more personally inconvenienced instead of scared/confused implies that she has witnessed many negative interactions between her parents.

When he tries to engage in her interests by asking about her music, he doesn’t try to elevate tensions by redirecting the conversation when her response leaves him feeling guilty. It might have been better for him to try and make the conversation less tense by asking her what genre it is or what other songs “Fuck You Dad” has made that she likes.

He lies about their day at Loo Loo Land being just the two of them by inviting IMP and flirting with Blitz throughout their time there.

He disregards Via’s extremely negative response to his suggestion that they go to Loo Loo Land.

He refers to staying at the house as a very negative situation. This is the house Via is supposed to feel at home in.

He makes EXTREMELY age, situation, and relationship inappropriate comments in front of his daughter while calling Blitz. I, similarly, cannot emphasize enough how disgusting his remarks around and about his daughter were, and that judgement would apply whether OR NOT she was a minor. 

He actively brings along an affair partner to his day at the park with Via and frequently flirts with him in front of her. 

He never denies or argues against Via’s observations of his and Blitz’s apparent sexual relationship including when she implies she does not enjoy knowing that they have a sexual relationship together. Remember, unhappy as he may be, he is still a married man who has brought along his affair partner while the daughter he had with the wife he is cheating on was with him.

Instead of asking about her negative view of Loo Loo Land or trying to encourage her to see the positive, he laughs off the awkwardness and changes the topic, pulling her away from the scene.

In the scene where we see Blitz’s bodyguard shenanigans, there is no visual or audio cue that Stolas is trying to have conversation with Via as they walk around the park.

When he is being surrounded by attackers, he does not attempt to warn Via or consider how she might feel about seeing that situation. After Blitz saves him, he doesn’t check on whether she was scared for upset by seeing that happen.

(Heads up, but any heavy bias in this next statement is because this is one of my most-hated scenes in the episode) While chasing after her into the Lucifer building, he willingly stops and POSTPONES FOLLOWING HIS EMOTIONALLY DISTRAUGHT DAUGHTER out of annoyance and confusion that Blitz has not personally dealt with the extremely minor inconvenience that is the latest attacker. After Millie saves him, he further delays going after his daughter by spending time asking Millie and Moxxie where Blitz is.

When Via explains her specific reasons as to why she didn’t enjoy coming to Loo Loo Land (her parents fighting and watching him flirt with his affair partner), he does not address each of the specific issues she brings up or apologize for his role in each of those specific issues.

By opening his attempted explanation of his and Stella’s marriage situation with “You need to understand-“, this insinuates that Via would be expected to be less bothered by the fighting and flirting if she knew that him and Stella were in an unhappy marriage, which can come across as invalidating the child’s negative feelings.

When Via expresses fear over him leaving her, he does not try and ask her why that was a worry of her’s and THEN reaffirm why she wouldn’t need to worry about it in the first place. And that’s it for Stolas as a father in Loo Loo Land! Feel free to tell me your thoughts and if you’d like to read my breakdowns of his good and bad from the other episodes!

Good breakdown! And keep in mind, this is probably the pinnacle of his parenting. It's all downhill from there.

[sweetbottletops]

When Agu said one phase was ending and a new one was beginning I didn't realize the next phase would be putting Aya in the Pain Cave.

Ch 102

It looks like Koga is spending at least part of her juice box lunch periods with the cool kids now.

The bully (he hasn't earned a name) still seems to be mentally in that desk-kabedon Koga delivered earlier. I don't think he actually knows much about music, but he is still firmly stuck in her orbit with the other cool kids. She's got that kind of pull.

Meanwhile the subculture kids are in the hallway. It's easy to forget they aren't the cool kids and typically stuck to each other even before Koga. Narita gets to be included because Exhibit A.

It's always awkward when a friend crosses over genres and samples other groups at school. Even so...Aya is a touch too in the dumps for Chizuru to believe this is just related to Koga spending her lunch period with the norms. "Because of that?"

Chizuru is the drunken master of love gurus. Never misses even when she doesn't know where she's aiming.

Aka: Back in simpler times when Koga was having an existential crisis and being needy and Aya could fill her needs. Now Koga appears to be doing just fine in her identity and even found other people to talk to about music.

A twist of the knife. How the turn tables.

On a superficial level it doesn't seem like a big deal, but they are teenagers so everything is a big deal. Add in the fact Aya is closeted and hasn't been able to openly share her real feelings even to her best friend all this time and it's complicated.

She couldn't even do abstract girl talk at the overnight trip because "Onii-san" was right there among the girls. And her earlier gushing with Chizuru always was hidden behind "Onii-san".

Aya can only talk a bit more openly to Narita and Kanna and even then she's relying on them to fill in the blanks to accept why she's at this extreme level of desperate about Koga.

From Chizuru's POV Aya had never been interested in boy talk until "Onii-san" came into the scene, and "he" has drifted in and out of the scene unnamed like a "boyfriend" from Canada.

But she never pushed the issue. It was girl bonding stuff and something Chizuru had with Aya that was theirs if that makes sense. And then when Koga appeared Aya stopped gushing outside of when Chizuru would bring "him" up. Which was sus...

Chizuru is about to be jump scared with the title of this manga.

v v v

Chizuru is firing in every direction now. Her? Him? You?!!

The readers who had to have it spelled out to them vs the readers who knew. It was yuri all along.

She's hugging HERSELF. Help her!

The extra sad thing is going all the way back to the Radiohead performance it was Koga who reset them as friends.

Aya had an odd reaction to that at the time. Her crush wants to be friends. "There's no other option, right?" She didn't retract her crush after the reveal. It was Koga who downgraded them to friends and she went along with it. And it was fine at the time because it was the same Koga, however they were going to call it, and she got to at least be Koga's favorite and only.

Which isn't the healthiest considering how isolated Koga was, but when that's as close as you think you'll get with someone you like it's not so bad. She's stuck being hyper aware of how close she has the right to be and worries she might overstep and make Koga uncomfortable. What she wants is how close Joe and Kanna are. And that’s something she doesn't think she'll get. So there's the conflict.

Now Koga is the one feeling comfortable as herself in public and Aya is the only one left hiding who she is. From her perspective she thinks Koga doesn't know who she really is or how it will go over if she found out.

Team Chizuru + Nartia have a lot of work ahead of them. But now that they know at least Aya is not totally alone with her feelings anymore.

[bitethedevil]

Taming the Wolf (Raphael x Tav): Chapter 5

Tags and Warnings for this fic: Plus-Size!Tav, Druid!Tav, Tiefling!Tav, Dark!Raphael, Breeding Kink, Mind-control, Non-Con and Dub-Con Elements, Sex Pollen, Master/Pet Dynamic, Somnophilia, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

A link to read this fic on AO3 (kudos or comments make the author very happy <3)

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Fic Summary: Tav tried to avoid fulfilling her contract to Raphael by leaving the Crown of Karsus on the bottom of the Chionthar, leaving her contract unfulfilled by a technicality. Although, no situation is so bad that the new Archdevil of the First can't find a way to profit off it. All the other archdevils of the Hells have their own lineages of tieflings on the Material Plane and Raphael is not going to feel left out...

Chapter Summary: Haarlep helps out (NSFW).

AN: Warning: Mention of Baby-Eating (don't even ask...)

“Do you think I’m stupid?” she asked them with a scoff.

“I think that a woman in your position can’t afford to not grab at the opportunities presented to her,” Haarlep answered. “And I would be delighted to help you.”

She sat up in the bed to look at them better. It was unnerving how they were wearing Raphael’s face and yet their facial expressions were so different from his.

“Alright, second question then: are you stupid?” she asked. “Even if it was not a completely outrageous idea, how do you suppose you would explain a baby that does not even look like him? You might be able to take his form, but the child would take after your true form.”

“Oh, come now…” they pleaded. “Use your imagination a little, druid. That’s nothing a simple glamour spell won’t fix. Please…he starves me.”

She raised an eyebrow at them and looked them up and down.

“Ah…so that’s what this is all about,” she said. “I should have guessed. I’m busy enough being used by your master. I don’t need to be used by his pets too.”

“This is about revenge,” Haarlep said with a fire in their eyes and desperation in their voice. “That little brat has gotten too much power, and it has gone to his head. I used to have him wrapped around my little finger and now he keeps me in this demeaning collar, unable to feed myself while he is either too busy literally fucking you or figuratively fucking the other eight archdevils of the Hells.”

She watched their expression. They were truly desperate. There was no doubt about it. She did feel oddly bad for them. Their predicament was not too different from their own and they were both under the thumb of the same sadistic man.

“What would I even gain from this?” she asked with a sigh. “I am tired, Phaelar…or Haarlep or whatever the fuck your name is, and it seems my time here has barely even begun.”

“Peace,” they answered. “If he thinks that you are pregnant with his spawn, he will lose interest in fucking you. When I came in here, you thought I was him. How would you have known any better if I came in here and demanded what he does? You can blame it on me. I will take the punishment for it. It would be worth it to see the look on his face.”

She thought about it for a moment. It was a fucked situation, but she was considering it. Haarlep was not the only one who wanted revenge.

“And unlike with him,” Haarlep said. “You will be in complete control of it. I can’t touch you because of the collar, but I’d wager that you can touch me. Here.”

Haarlep held out a hand to her. She readied herself to be shocked by the collar, but when she touched his palm, no shock came. Haarlep smiled. She withdrew her hand.

“I’ll think about it,” she said. “But only on days where I am particularly fertile. I don’t want to waste any attempts.”

Haarlep whined and rolled their eyes, but then looked at her and nodded in understanding.

“Fine, fine,” they said and got off the bed. “I’ll come and visit you then.”

The days went by. She had not gotten her period when she was supposed to. Most likely it was due to stress and the staff at the fortress did not exactly help. The physician who tracked her cycle was starting to threaten her with gynecological check-ups to see if she was lying about it. The whole thing was awful. She wasn’t even sure if she should hope that it came or not.

Raphael kept badgering her too. There was not a single dinner where he did not ask her and if she snapped at him, he would either tone her out or use the collar if she got aggressive. She did however learn that he was more careful with using the collar as much as usual while she went through her pregnancy scare. Something told her that if she was going to try and escape, she should wait until she was pregnant so he would go easy on her if discovered.

Eventually her period did arrive a week too late. She felt an odd empty feeling in her stomach when it did. She was neither relieved nor stressed about it. The idea of lying and keeping it a secret did occur to her, but it would not do anything to help her. Eventually Raphael would no doubt find out anyway.

That empty feeling was becoming a theme for her. She had anything and everything at her disposal. Raphael was generous with her, just like he had promised. None of it mattered though. Her fate was the same and eventually Raphael would visit her again.

A day before he was supposed to, she got a visit from Haarlep in Raphael’s form once again.

They smiled at her when they entered her chamber and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“So…” they said with a seductive smile.

She really did not feel like it. Although, on the other hand, if it worked, she could stick it to Raphael and she would not have to endure his ministrations for nine months. She nodded. Haarlep began sliding out of his clothes and she stopped them with a hand gesture.

“Could you maybe…take any other form than his?” she asked.

Haarlep tilted their head as they looked at her.

“Oh, are you afraid that he will feel it?” they asked. “He shuts it off, you know. He only allows the connection when he wants to after he got the crown. Trust me, I have tested it thoroughly. He won’t feel it unless he gets suspicious and checks in, and he is in a meeting somewhere in Dis right now. He’s distracted.”

She honestly had not even considered that part of it, but that was sort of a terrifying thought too.

“Good to know, but it’s just…” she muttered. “I’ll see enough of Raphael’s for the next couple of days. It would be nice if you could be someone else.”

Haarlep paused half-way out of the doublet they had no doubt stolen from Raphael’s wardrobe.

“Well, darling, the options are rather limited,” they said with an apologetic smile. “He only allows me those of himself these days. The collar will react if I change into anything else.”

“How about your true form then?” she asked. “Surely, he can’t forbid you from using that.”

Haarlep’s smile faltered immediately. They were so much more expressive than Raphael was and there was a clear sense of melancholy on their features. They shook their head and schooled their expression into a tight smile.

“No, I’m afraid I can’t,” they said and shook out of the doublet and carefully folded it in their lap.

“Why?”

“Because I can’t!” they snapped.

Tav was shocked at the sudden outburst. She had really only been curious. She had no idea it was a tender subject for the incubus. They weren’t looking at her anymore. They were looking at the doublet in their lap. They reached forward and placed it on a chair near her bed before moving their focus to the buttons on the white shirt they were wearing underneath. It was painfully quiet for a while before they spoke up again.

“Apologies,” they said with a small bitter smile. “I suppose my hunger makes me grumpy. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I suppose it’s a reasonable question…”

She watched them while they fumbled with the buttons of their shirt. The question had clearly thrown them off.

“Well?” she asked gently.

Haarlep sighed deeply and shook their head. They leaned back on the bed, resting their weight on their arms.

“I have never told anyone…” they mumbled and looked at her.

They looked her up and down, but there was not the same hunger in their gaze as there had been the other times they had spoken together. This was a look of pity more than anything else.

“Centuries ago, I left Mephistopheles service as a gift to his son,” they began explaining. “I had seen the little brat around in his daddy’s castle. I had slept with him plenty of times before I ever came to Avernus… Now, Raphael’s relationship with his daddy is a complicated one. One day Mephistopheles wanted to humble his son at court after he had been a particularly naughty boy, so…he had me walk through the throne room, in front of the whole court, in his form and my best lingerie.”

She watched Haarlep smile in sadistic amusement at the memory, but their expression soon turned slightly sour again.

“Needless to say, Raphael was less than pleased. He has always been a sensitive boy, that one. Then eventually I came to stay in Avernus with him. We bickered a lot in the beginning. He was being unreasonable, as he always is, and I may or may not have mentioned that particular incident. I remember him fuming about it. I was used to Mephistopheles temper, and Raphael is his spitting image when it comes to the hereditary hissy fits.”

Haarlep sighed and a note of that same melancholy as before washed over their features. She was listening intently.

“I don’t remember much of what happened, truth be told. I just remember being woken up in his bed…some old greyed mortal wizard and him standing by the end of the bed. I was in the same form that I had used to humiliate him with that day. The one that looks younger and prettier than he does now. They had made me forget…”

“Forget what?” she asked. “What do you mean?”

“My true name and my true form. No matter how hard I try, my old memories are blurred. I can remember my time before Raphael’s service but every memory where I was wearing my true form is blurred. My true voice incoherent, my form blurry and unrecognizable, the memory of feeling my own body numbed… I had nightmares about blurry forms in mirrors for decades. Pathetic, really…”

Haarlep shook their head and changed into the younger looking Raphael in a flash of fire.

“This is who I am now. My body is his in the most literal sense and even my name is formed after his…” Haarlep mumbled and then made an imitation of Raphael’s tone: “’So, you don’t forget who you belong to, dear Haarlep’ he had said as his reasoning, the bastard…”

She was quiet. She truly did feel bad for them, fiend or not. She gently placed their hand on their shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t imagine what that must be like.”

Haarlep smiled and looked at her hand. They immediately returned to their usual aloof mood.

“Oh, not to worry darling,” they said with a sigh. “You won’t have to imagine soon. Raphael always ends up shaping everything around him into an image of himself in some shape or form. I do wonder though if I did make you pregnant… Would I even be able to look at the child or would it be a blurry blob as well since it has my true features, do you think?”

It was a terribly depressing thought, and it was said with such a light tone.

“I…I don’t know,” she said.

“I suppose we will never know if I keep yapping about my sad and horrible past,” they said as if it was a joke. “Again, I apologize. Hunger just makes me so moody, and I am starving.”

She shook her head and tried to shake herself from the heavy discussion they just had, but it was difficult.

“Alright…” she said. “How do we do this?”

Haarlep settled down on the bed and untied their pants before patting their lap in invitation. They were already hard. How in the Hells they managed to be aroused after what they just spoke about was beyond her. A feature of being an incubus, she assumed. She was really trying her best to return to reality and shake the feeling of dread.

She slid out of her nightgown. Haarlep watched her with bated breath as she did so. She crawled to straddle his lap. Her movements were clumsy and awkward, but Haarlep did not seem to mind in the least.

She looked to the side to distract herself from the form under her as she tried to lower herself onto him. It hurt. She was not at all in the mood for it yet. She cursed under her breath.

“No rush, darling,” Haarlep purred from under her. “I can’t help, but oh I wish I could.”

It was clear in their tone sounded that they were grieving the fact that they couldn’t touch her. She tried to rub her cunt on their cock instead to get herself wet. Haarlep let out a satisfied moan at the friction, though they could feel as much as her that she was not into this. Haarlep fed on her pleasure, and they would not get satisfied unless she was enjoying it too.

“I am not sure that you can kiss me without me accidentally kissing back, but I could spit in your mouth?” they suggested in a low tone with a smile. “Would you like that?”

Not really. She knew perfectly well the effects of their spit and how excruciating it could be. Then again, that had been with Raphael who teased and denied her. With Haarlep she could just take what she wanted, it seemed. She looked at them and nodded.

“Open your mouth.”

She did. They spat into it with the accuracy of someone who had done it a thousand times. She wrinkled her nose a bit as she closed her mouth and swallowed it. It only took seconds before she could start feeling her whole body tingle. It was more potent directly from the source and she grew wet so fast that it seemed entirely unnatural.

She parted her lips in a small moan of relief as she started sliding over his cock with ease now as she ground herself on it. Haarlep hummed in satisfaction and gripped the sheets not to touch her.

“Much better,” they purred. “You are doing so well…”

Their eyes looked almost in love as they watched her. As if she was the most beautiful being they had ever seen. Despite her knowing it was pure hunger being sated and nothing else, she had never had anyone look at her quite like that and the feeling went straight to her abdomen.

She moved to position them at her entrance. She slid down onto them with a breathless moan. Her whole body was on fire. She began riding them at a steady pace. Her hand went to her mouth to quiet herself.

“No, let me hear you,” they protested softly from under her. “Please…I want to hear those pretty sounds of yours.”

She moved her hand away from her mouth. She was not even sure why she did it in the first place. The guards outside thought it was Raphael in here with her anyway, but it was as if a tiny sliver of fear of getting caught was still in the back of her mind despite her dulled senses.

Her moans were getting louder, and she upped her pace. The spittle along with being able to take what she wanted felt like utter bliss. It did not take long before she was riding them like there was no tomorrow and Haarlep seemed to be living for it. They were feasting, as their moans turned into feral growls, and they started babbling dirty words at her. Their claws would surely rip up her mattress with the way they were digging into it to not touch her.

“Mm, you are so good,” they growled from under her. “So delicious…That’s it…Take what you want from me, my sweet greedy girl. Fill that pretty belly of yours…Yes, yes…mm.”

They were growling like an animal in heat, and it went straight to her core. She rode them harder. She was so close. Her nails dug into their chest. She almost screamed when she came. By the look on Haarlep’s face they were seconds behind her. She could feel them starting to spurt their seed inside her.

She felt a sharp, strong tug backwards and then a loud thud as the back of her head hit the wall on the opposite side of the room. Everything went black for a second as she grabbed the back of her head in confusion. She blinked and gave Haarlep a terrified look before the door to her chambers shot open.

She felt a cold shiver go through her whole body and she lowered her gaze to the floor. She did not need to look to know who just stepped inside her chambers. So, this would be how she died, she thought for a moment. She could hear his slow, heavy footsteps enter the room, followed by a loud slam of the door behind him.

“When the cat’s away, the mice will play, I see…” Raphael drawled in a dangerously calm tone. “Haarlep…my dear…would you kindly explain yourself?”

There was complete silence in the room. The kind of silence one might imagine there would be before the world crumbles down around your ears. She looked up at Haarlep. There was a slightly unhinged smile on their face.

“I am simply making your new pet feel welcome, master,” Haarlep said in a quiet voice. “And helping out, of course. Dreadfully punctual thing, all that baby-making and you are oh so busy these days.”

It was clear that despite their big mouth, Haarlep was scared of him too, even though they were better at hiding it than her at the moment. Raphael stared them down.

“Besides,” Haarlep said and looked at her. “She begged me to help.”

Her fear turned into anger at the drop of a hat. She opened her mouth to protest, but she barely got a sound out before Raphael pinned her with his glare.

“You will be quiet until spoken to,” Raphael growled at her and looked back at Haarlep. “You came inside her. I felt it. You have never been burdened by intelligence, Haarlep, and yet, you still manage to surprise me with your idiocy. Did either of you truly think that I was unaware of anything that happens here?”

They were both quiet. Raphael looked at her again. His eyes trailed down her body with a look of disdain. His eyes lingered at her sex that still dripped with Haarlep’s cum. He looked her in the eyes with a hateful, sadistic smile.

“If a child comes out of you that does not look like the perfect image of myself, I will fatten it up at your breast, make you love and care for it, before I feed it to you in pieces. If I am feeling gracious, I might kill it before doing so. Do we understand each other?”

The threat made her blood go cold. She knew that he meant every word of it. She gave him a slow nod. A big toothy smile spread over his features. He turned to look at Haarlep.

“Change into her form,” he ordered.

[storiesbyjes2g]

3.171 Happy birthday to ya

When it got closer to party time, Sophia and I moved the couch to the backyard for more seating options. Our parties always end up fragmented with some sims eating in the house and others on the patio. My goal is to keep everyone together, so hopefully this will help. We also moved the picnic blanket and put the portable crib outside to accommodate the little ones. Because we're friendly again, I invited Yasmine and her girls, but she declined. She doesn't know the other guests and didn't want anyone asking questions about Stacey. I completely understood but feel bad for her. This spellcaster business has really trapped her and the girls in their home.

Apart from my baby aging up, I'm most excited about having Dub and his family in our home for the first time. Between the deaths and parenthood, it's been super hard for us to connect lately. I guess I was naïve enough to believe it would be easier being in the same city, but life keeps proving it doesn't matter where we are. Life is going to life, and that's that. I suppose I'll have to be more intentional about hanging with him too.

"You got it smelling good out here, bro," a voice says from behind me.

That Henford accent is unmistakable, and I was so glad to hear it. I turned around and embraced him.

"Wassup, man! Did you find us okay? Welcome! Finally!"

"Right? Took you long enough!"

"Don't even play, man. You know how life is sometimes."

"Sure do. This house is nice! And the view!"

"Thanks. If you're able to stick around later, I'll give you the tour. Hey, where's Maia? Is she coming?"

"Yeah, she's running a little late. She's just finishing up a project for a client."

"Ahhh. See? San Sequoia has been good to you already. I'm glad her business is picking up."

There's no way Dub showed up alone, so I looked around for Tambara, knowing she couldn't be too far behind. I spotted her toddling across the yard, trying her best to catch up with her daddy.

"She's getting to be extremely independent these days," Dub said when he realized I was watching her. "She won't even let us pick her up anymore. I don't mind that so much, but waiting for her really slows me down."

"She'll get faster," I said, thinking about Desiree's determination. "Just give her time."

Tami and Desi look nothing alike, but I see glimpses of the immediate future in her proud face and wobbly gait. I want Desi to grow up and change the world, but I can't part with my little girl. At the same time, I'm anxious to see her continue to grow. I love watching her smash these milestones like the boss baby she is. Ugh. Fatherhood is just a melting pot of contradictions. How can I be happy and sad, proud and scared at the same time?

Tami finally made her way over to us, so I waved.

"Hey there! Do you remember me? I'm Luca. That's a pretty dress."

Her face lit up, and I knew it didn't matter if she remembered me or not. I was currently her new bestie. Flattery works at all ages, hee hee.

"What do you say when someone gives you a compliment?" Dub asked.

"I know," she shouted.

Me and Dub had a good laugh. She's so precocious, and I love it. Kids really do say the darndest things, and I can't wait to hear what Desi will have to say. Hopefully that's not a be careful what you wish for situation, heh.

"That's right, Tam," I said. "You better know it."

"How are you holding up?" Dub asked, wiping the smile off my face.

"I'm good. As good as I can be, rather. It gets a little better every day."

"I'm glad to hear it. I can't even think about what that's going to be like."

"It might sound morbid, but you should start thinking about it, man. It's the shock that's hard to get over."

"You play dollies with me," Tambara shouts.

That was probably supposed to be a question, but she's too excited about her new, big friend and it's too cute.

"Oh, no," Dub says to me. "You start that and she'll never let you go."

She's adorable, looking just like both of them. I hope she and Desi will like each other. It'll be a shame to have them fighting or snubbing each other when we hang out.

"You can play with Desiree later, okay?" he says.

"Speaking of... We should probably get this show on the road soon. Let me finish these ribs."

(makeovers and family photos below!)

Dub and fam by @mysimsloveaffair

[dullgecko]

Ok, so I just got back from my dnd session and am now curious how all the bad kids would do in the fae wild if they got thrown in .I feel that gorgug would probably be the calmest and either Fabian or adaine would be freaking out a bit

Adaine and Fabian are having to alternately hold Boggy so they don't have a full meltdown. Its a full on assault on their senses and nothing makes any sense to them so they hate it. Adaine might be doing a bit better since she's a High Elf and they're closer to being fae than not but its still overwhelming.

Kristen and Gorgug are pretty neutral about it, they're used to not knowing what the fuck is going on so they just stick close to the rest of their team and try not to get separated. Hell, Kristen might be doing the best out of everyone because of Cassandra. She is just FULL of doubt right now.

Fig is a little chaos gremlin. She's having a BLAST at the weirdness of it all and is taking photos to use for album covers later. They're there for thirty minutes and she's already drafted three songs and befriended seven creatures because her music is pretty and they like her. The fae love a bard after all, clever tongues and quick wit can charm basically any creature here.

Riz has got his hackles up the entire time and has not let go of Fabians pant leg since they arrived. The whole place feels weirdly familiar, like a home he's never been to, and he's hearing voices from the shadows welcoming him back and trying to get him to leave his party behind and join them. He swears he keeps spotting eyes in the dark corners, big ones with gold iris like his own, and if he steps too close hands that are so close to being goblin but are the wrong colour keep trying to grab his and tug him into the shadows.

[dr-spectre]

Guess what game I just finished!!!

I dont have a lot to say on this because I think over the past 20 years people have already said enough.

But... MY GOD! The level of variety, creativity, and fresh ideas each chapter brings holy SHITTTT!!! One moment you're going underground with a cute goomba girl, then you're fighting a dragon, then you're playing a World 1-1 recreation with BOWSER! Then you're playing as Peach who has this deeply emotional and sad relationship with an AI (Tec is the goat, I love that ai. Top 10 ai in fiction idc), then you're doing a tournament arc AND THEN YOU'RE DOING A TRAIN MYSTERY OH MY GOODNESS!!!!

The combat is really fun and charming, THE DIALOGUE IS SO WELL WRITTEN AND I LAUGHED MULTIPLEEEEE TIMES!!! I love the characters, I love the world, I love the art style, i love most of the boss fights, the music is banging (I played with the original ost), God there's so much to love.

I will say, the final chapter of this game did kinda drag on, and there's so many points where I was thinking "okay NOW I get to fight the final boss!" And it takes another hour to get to them.... there's so many obvious signs of padding (copy and pasted hallways, a trash "pick the right door" puzzle, etc.)

I also didn't like how when you swapped partners that counts as a turn, i feel like you should be able to swap without wasting a turn because it would help with the flow of combat and make using Goombella's tattle less of a fucking pain...

Also....

VIVIAN IS SO FUCKING CUTE!!! I LOVE HER SO MUCH!!! SHE'S MY FAVOURITE PARTNER BY FARRRRR!!!!! Goombella is really cute too and she has amazing dialogue. I love the storyline of Admiral Bobbery too and that stuff made me cry... but...EEEEE I LOVE VIVIAN!!!!

GOD I JUST WANNA HUG HER!!! I WANNA PINCH HER CHUBBY CHEEKS!!! I WANNA RUB HER BELLY!!!! Nintendo I need a plushie of her yesterday. Come on. Please... I need one...

I shall leave my partner rankings as well, i wonder if I got any hot takes or not...

6. Flurrie.

No. Just... no I don't like her. Her design creeps me out, I don't give a shit about her moves. I never used her. Get her away from me.

5. Goombella.

Although very cute I found her more of a hindrance and i kept going, "ugh I gotta swap to her to get the tattle..." At least her design and personality are cute. Plus, she's more useful than that creepy ass Flurrie....

4. Koops.

I like him! He helped me out a LOTTT in the final battle, his later moves that you can unlock make him pretty damn good. Although I am jealous that this wimp has a girlfriend....

3. Admiral Bobbey.

Honestly I think the reason why he might be this high is because of his story. I really felt bad for him... his design is also killer, I LOVEEEE Bob-ombs so much!

2. Mini-Yoshi.

The fact that you can name him is really funny to me idk why. He's got some very helpful moves and his ability to help you move faster in the overworld is really nice. I like how he calls you Gonzalez too. What a fun character man.

1. Vivian.

I already said why I like her earlier but I'll go on further.

I LOVE HER STORYLINE TOO!!! I LOVE HER DESIGN!!! I LOVE HOW SHE'S TRANS AND THE REMAKE DIDN'T GET RID OF IT LIKE HOW THE ORIGINAL NORTH AMERICAN AND EUROPEAN RELEASES OF THE GAMECUBE VERSION GOT RID OF IT!!!

God.... I love her. I wanna kiss her on the cheek. She's so cute. Her moveset too is fire!.... wait..

Also btw I didn't know that this RATTTT was an optional party member... oops...