#the look of mild shock and realization

[cherienymphe]

His Father's Son

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: After the untimely death of his father, Rafe takes it upon himself to become the man of the house.

warnings: NON-CON, STEPCEST, AGE GAP, mentions of major character death, depression, alcoholism, stepmom!reader, underage drinking, canon ages

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

⭑

The overwhelming feeling of being watched turned out to be true.

You flinched at the sight of the figure standing next to your bed, eerily still and eerily familiar in the darkness. Reason took over, and your heart started to slow just as quickly as it had started to race. You struggled to move, legs twisted within the sheets as you reached over to turn on the lamp. Sleep was still clinging to you, desperate to pull you back in, but you pushed it away with one look at Rafe’s face.

“It’s 8 o’clock,” was all he said in that tone you had never cared for.

Once his words actually registered though, you swallowed down the mild irritation that had threatened to bubble up. You felt your heart drop to your stomach as you blinked, staring at him with parted lips before hurrying to search for your phone. When it bounced out of your unsteady hands and onto the floor, you cursed.

Sliding out of bed, you unfortunately confirmed that it was indeed 8 o’clock.

Now 8:03.

“Shit,” you breathed, pressing your hand to your forehead. “Um…”

You swiped your tongue between your lips, noting how dry they felt.

“Tell Wheezie-.”

“I already took Wheezie to school.”

The teenager’s words surprised you, and your hand fell, staring at him in a mixture of shock and shame. At those words, you finally registered the look on his face, and you found yourself thinking that his tone earlier made a lot more sense. You opened and closed your mouth, fighting to figure out how to respond. Unfortunately, you didn’t come up with anything clever.

“…oh.”

You watched the blond cross his arms over his chest, head tilted with the barest of frowns between his brows.

“I’m sorry,” you finally added, letting out a sigh. “I overslept and my alarm didn’t go off and…”

You found yourself trailing off, hating the sound of your excuses.

You got the feeling that Rafe hated the sound of them too by the even stare he fixed you with. You imagined that he hadn’t planned on dropping Wheezie off to her first day of school this year, and while it was something you both knew he should expect to do sometimes, it was also something he should’ve been asked to do. You couldn’t even remember going to bed the previous night, and you were sure the two bottles of wine you’d consumed had something to do with it.

“Should I anticipate dropping her off tomorrow too?”

There was an edge in his voice that you didn’t like but couldn’t necessarily be angry at.

“No,” you told him, tone sheepish. “I’ll get up on time.”

Rafe didn’t respond, but he also didn’t leave right away. He simply stood there, drinking you in with a frown. There was a look that passed through his eyes that made you think he probably wanted to say something, but if that were true, he swiftly changed his mind. You watched him silently leave, and you resisted the urge to sigh, closing your eyes instead.

When you married Ward Cameron two years ago, it wasn’t for the most honorable of reasons you’d admit. However, the same could also be said for him. After all, what would a forty-year-old man possibly want with a twenty-seven-year-old woman? Probably something equally as superficial as the same reasons a twenty-seven-year-old woman would want to marry a forty-year-old man. With that being said though, you hadn’t actually expected to fall for him. In hindsight, how could you not?

He had never been bad looking, and he was far kinder than you ever expected. Sure, the money and security of a comfortable life were what pulled you in, but after saying yes, you realized that he wasn’t the typical cold and rich husband you expected him to be. Seeing him do his best with his children only made it harder to pretend like it was some loveless marriage of mutual benefit.

You loved him.

…and then he died.

With one boating accident, you were suddenly the single mother of three teenagers. It wasn’t something you were prepared for, and while one was technically an adult, that still left two who weren’t and couldn’t possibly fend for themselves. On top of it all, you still found it hard to get out of bed most days, a problem that wasn’t so bad during the summer.

…but the new term was here, and you couldn’t put your responsibilities off any longer.

Reminding yourself that you’d quite literally drank yourself to sleep the previous night and therefore overslept, you noted that you were off to a bad start. The thought made your eyes burn, the full realization of your new reality hitting you. After Ward died, Rafe was basically the one to take care of everything while you spent most days in bed, but months had passed and summer was over and now your time had come to be a parent.

Resisting the urge to cry, you stumbled to the bathroom, hoping you didn’t look as bad as you felt.

“Did you hear me?”

His voice pulled you out of your own head and you slowly turned to look at him.

“What?”

Rafe stared at you for what felt like a long time, and it was then that you realized he’d probably been speaking to you for some time. You swallowed at the realization, noting that you’d spaced out again, and when Rafe heaved a sigh, you actually felt like the scolded child.

“Sarah’s staying over at a friend’s house tonight,” he told you.

You could feel his gaze on you when you nodded, and deep in the back of your mind you knew that you should’ve asked some follow up questions, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. You’d always trusted Sarah and her judgement—Rafe being the one you and Ward always worried about—and considering the circumstances, you wouldn’t question her on this. In your current state of mind, you were positive she could ask you to smoke a blunt and you’d give her the okay.

You were pulled from your thoughts again by the sound of your name.

You were unsurprised to meet Rafe’s gaze.

You couldn’t place the look on his face, but he seemed like he was deep in thought. Rafe’s behavior and demeanor had taken a 180 after Ward’s death you had to admit. Granted, you supposed that was to be expected, but for some reason it surprised you. Maybe it was because the change was so drastic or maybe because Rafe seemed so set in his ways that it was hard for you to remember that he was only nineteen and still had so much capacity to mature into someone entirely other than what you knew him to be.

Your thoughts on the matter didn’t really matter, you supposed. All that mattered was that he’d stepped up where you’d so clearly dropped the ball, and maybe that was why you found it so hard to snap out of it and be the responsible parent, now. There were days when your grief paralyzed you, and you didn’t feel that nagging obligation to get out of bed because you knew Rafe would handle it.

The blond didn’t say anything, but his thoughts were plain as day as he reached along the counter and slid your drink from in front of you.

“Rafe-.”

“I think you’ve had enough,” was all he drawled, and you found yourself frowning.

“Who’s the parent in this scenario?”

“Apparently me,” he fired back, making your jaw tick. “I’m the one running the business and taking Wheezie to school and making sure there’s actually something to eat in the house.”

You blinked at that, recalling that you couldn’t remember the last time you went grocery shopping. Shame filled you once again, and your gaze lowered, eyes tracing the patterns of the granite. The silence that descended between you was thick, and just when you were about to apologize, Rafe spoke.

“Look, I get that you loved him or whatever, but… So did we…,” your eyes met his at that. “…and Wheezie and Sarah still have to go to school, and I still have to talk to people and deal with contracts and bullshit I didn’t think I would for at least another ten years.”

You realized that Rafe was right, and it made you feel worse because you didn’t think Ward would have married you if he didn’t think you were capable of looking after his children should something happen to him. Yet here you were…letting him down…

Rafe moved from his spot on the other side of the counter, and you only let him when he gently took your arm and forced you to stand. It was a far cry from your dynamic only five months ago. In your defense, you never clicked with Rafe. It wasn’t for lack of trying on your end, but Rafe was so troubled and had so many pent-up emotions and awful drug habits that it only proved to be a breeding ground for disaster.

You could think of too many instances in which you tried to be a parent to him only to be met with the same snarky and cruel demeanor he gave to everyone. He never quite took to you as his new parental figure, and you’d quickly learned that Ward was the only authority he’d respect and listen to. You tended to try and stay out of his way as a result, but Rafe was the one to catch you when you collapsed after getting the news that day.

Overnight, he’d gone from treating you like the ugly stepmother and instead like some injured foal he needed to look out for.

“That’s not healthy,” Mrs. Thornton said to you a few days later.

You watched her set her tea down, lips twisted into disapproval as she marinated on your words.

“You are the parent,” she sternly told you. “It’s your duty to pick up right where Ward left off, and instead you are letting some teenager run things.”

You knew that she was right, but you didn’t exactly relish hearing it.

You had never cared for the older woman, her upbringing influencing the majority of her opinions and stern exterior. However, after the boating accident, you desperately needed another actual adult to talk to. You were out of your element, and everyone knew it, and the first time you sat with her after your husband’s death felt humiliating. Now, however, you practically relied on her to keep your head on straight.

“…but I don’t know how to parent two teenagers all by myself, let alone handle the family business that I was never all that privy to.”

She made a noise at your admission, and it only served to humiliate you further. You had long suspected that she didn’t approve of Ward marrying a significantly younger woman, and by telling her that you weren’t included at all in the important decisions, you only validated her suspicions that you were only ever for show.

You forced yourself to ignore it.

“Their relationship was rocky, yes, but… No one knew Ward like Rafe,” you quietly admitted. “…and Rafe is the only one Ward talked to about all of this. Rafe knows how to make the decisions Ward would want.”

“He’s nineteen,” she scoffed. “Barely older than my own son.”

At your unsure expression, she leaned in closer, brows drawn together and lips pursed.

“You are his parent,” she repeated. “…and the longer you refuse to act like it and let him handle the business and the household and his siblings, he will forget it and start to challenge you in your own home.”

You didn’t have the heart to tell Mrs. Thornton that it didn’t exactly feel like your home anymore. At least not without Ward. While it relieved you that Sarah and Wheezie still treated you as they did before his death, you still couldn’t help but worry that without him around they would soon refuse to take you seriously as a parent. Part of you wouldn’t even blame them.

You’d only been in their life for three years, six months of which you were just their father’s silly twenty something girlfriend. You didn’t need to be a genius to know that they never expected him to actually marry you. Rafe had made that pretty clear when Ward had broken the news with you at his side.

It was a week later when you found yourself knocking on the door of Ward’s study. You supposed that it belonged to Rafe, now, and that correction made your heart clench. Even seeing him in the same spot where Ward often sat made you falter, and it took you a moment to remember why you’d disturbed him. Mrs. Thornton’s words were front and center in your mind.

“We need to have a serious talk about the business.”

At your words, Rafe only tilted his head, and you noted how out of place he looked in Ward’s space. Rafe was so young and everything about him betrayed his mindset and inexperience and impulsive tendencies. He didn’t belong, at all, but who were you to deny him his birthright?

“What about it?” he finally wondered, and you were hyperaware that he was watching your every move as you walked about the room.

“I think that I should be more involved with it,” you told him, continuing at his frown. “Rafe, you’re only nineteen, and like you’d said. You weren’t prepared to be fully involved in this for at least another decade.”

You watched him toss some papers aside at that, and the look he fixed you with made you swallow. It was reminiscent of the Rafe you were used to. You didn’t miss the way he dragged his blue gaze over you, sizing you up, and you definitely didn’t like it.

“You don’t know anything about it.”

The acknowledgement that Ward had never included you in these matters stung, but you only sighed.

“No…but…”

Your words died in the air as Rafe stood, and you had an inkling of what he was going to say by the look on his face.

“Do you even want to be involved in my dad’s business?” he asked you, leaning against the desk with his hands pressed into the wood. “Or are you just listening to Topper’s mom again?”

The blond chuckled at your silence, and it lacked humor.

“My dad left it to me,” he finally said, holding your gaze. “…and I know you think you should be involved because…well…you’re the parent, now…”

You didn’t like the way he rolled his eyes at that, and you blinked when Rafe straightened, nearing you.

“…but you don’t get it.”

Rafe looked between your eyes.

“I disappointed him too much while he was here, and this… This is my chance to make him proud,” he admitted, and your shoulders drooped.

“Rafe…”

“…and not just with his business,” he continued. “He’s gone…so now I have to step up and be the man of the house.”

Despite the fact that you could see where Rafe was coming from, you didn’t necessarily agree. He was too young to be putting so much pressure on himself to follow Ward’s footsteps and make up for his absence. That was your job, and you heaved a sigh, looking down. You’d just started to shake your head when he spoke again.

“Besides…you’re still knocking back…what? Twelve bottles a week?”

You reared back at that, lifting your gaze as he’d already started turning away from you.

“I’m not saying it to be mean,” he assured you, leaning against the desk and intently watching you. “I’m just stating a fact.”

Your throat felt incredibly thick all of a sudden.

“My dad’s death hit you really hard, and I get it. Mrs. Thornton is telling you that you’re the parent—the adult—and so you need to put me in my place and step into your role.”

You looked away, avoiding his eye.

“…but you can barely function most days, and I treated you like shit on more than one occasion, so…” you reluctantly met his gaze again. “It’s only fair that you let me look after you, now.”

You wanted to tell him that that wasn’t his job, and that more importantly, it should be the other way around. However, he was right. In your condition, you’d screw everything up and drive the whole family into debt. It wouldn’t be like this forever, you knew that, and so you reluctantly agreed that you needed time to get yourself together before you fucked it all up.

You woke up in tears, chest tight as you struggled to breathe.

It wasn’t the first time you dreamed about Ward, but instead of a good dream it was only a memory of that day Shoupe had knocked on your door. You’d felt trapped and panicked as you watched on, telling yourself not to answer it. Somehow, if you didn’t answer it then it wouldn’t be true. He wouldn’t be dead but just…still on his boat…enjoying a long vacation.

The events played out just like they did that day. You’d been able to feel the dread deep in your gut at the look on Shoupe’s face, and you kept screaming at yourself to kick him out of your house, that he had nothing good to tell you. You watched the way your face fell and the way your hands shook, and Rafe had only walked into the room for two seconds before hurrying to grab you when your knees buckled. He’d held you, fighting to calm you down as you wailed…

Much like he was doing now.

“Hey, hey,” you heard him harshly whisper, arms tight around you as he kept you from bucking around on the bed. “Y/N…”

Your nails dug into his arm as you tried to catch your breath, but your choked sobs were coming out too fast to give you any kind of reprieve. You could feel Rafe’s chest at your back as he moved closer, and one of his arms snaked around your neck as he held you in place.

“Is she okay?”

It was only then that you realized the hallway light was on and bleeding into the otherwise dark room. Wheezie sounded worried—scared—and you cursed yourself for doing that to her. You were supposed to be their support, comforting them and providing a safe space during this awful time in their lives, and instead it was the other way around.

You both heard and felt Rafe sigh.

“Yeah, she’ll…she’ll be fine. Wheezie, you should go back to bed,” he told her. “Now.”

You could only assume she listened to him, and Rafe only let you go when your breathing started to slow. You weren’t crying as hard when he laid you back down, and his absence was only felt for a few minutes before the bed dipped again. You felt him put a pill in your hand, and you frowned at it as he pulled you into a sitting position.

“Take this,” he told you, pushing your hand towards your mouth.

“What…?”

“It’ll help you sleep,” was all he said, forcing you to pop it into your mouth, a glass of water being pressed to your lips almost immediately.

In your distress, some slipped past your lips, and Rafe beat you to it in brushing his thumb across your chin. Slowly blinking, you laid back down, and you heard Rafe set the glass of water aside. You naturally thought that he’d leave, but you were surprised to feel his hand on the side of your face, smoothing it over your face and hair.

You really didn’t like that he was taking on a role that should’ve been yours, and after some time, you quietly mumbled an apology.

“I loved him,” you whispered in the darkness, and you felt Rafe freeze. “I know you guys think that I didn’t. I know what you and your friends have probably said about me behind my back.”

You tiredly scoffed, more tears escaping as you squeezed your eyes shut.

“…but I loved your father very much, and I wasn’t prepared to do this alone.”

Rafe didn’t say anything, but he didn’t move either, and you pressed your hand to your face, feeling the pill taking effect.

“I don’t know what to do,” you choked out. “He was supposed to be here, Rafe, I’m not supposed to do this alone.”

You could feel your chest tightening again, and Rafe shushed you. You could feel your body becoming lighter, and you welcomed it, face relaxing and breathing slowing. Rafe was still next to you, his body so close to yours that you could feel the heat coming off of it. You didn’t have the strength to push his hand away as his fingers grazed your cheek, and after some time you felt him pull the cover over you.

You didn’t feel him move or leave, but you became less concerned about that the more your fatigue grew.

You stared at Wheezie’s hopeful face, chewing on your lip as you contemplated her request.

“Have I met Natalie’s parents before?” you wondered, and you realized your mistake in asking that when her face dimmed.

“I don’t think so, but…dad did.”

You slowly nodded at that, whispering a small ‘right’ before looking away. It was a Friday evening, and in order to make up for your less than stellar behavior, you’d planned to cook and have dinner as a family—something that hadn’t been done in months. However, Sarah’s plans with her boyfriend put a damper on that, and now Wheezie was asking to stay over at a friend’s.

It didn’t seem fair to make Wheezie stay while Sarah didn’t. Granted, Sarah hadn’t exactly asked you, but still. The plan was to have dinner as a family anyway, and without Sarah, that wish was already ruined. The way you saw it, you might as well let Wheezie go, but you didn’t know Natalie’s parents, and so you felt unsure.

Rafe came into the kitchen then, and with one look between you, he deduced that a serious discussion was being had.

“What’s wrong?” he asked no one in particular.

“I’m asking mom if I can sleep over at Natalie’s tonight.”

“…and I’ve never met Natalie’s parents so…”

You watched Rafe chuckle at that, lips curving into a smirk as he moved to taste the vodka sauce on the stove.

“They’re almost as uptight as Topper’s mom, so Wheezie will be in good hands if that’s what you’re worried about,” he told you, tone light.

While that reassured you, you still felt a little down about your plans for the evening being ruined. You got the feeling that it was noticeable, and you flinched a bit when you felt Rafe’s hands briefly come down on your shoulders before brushing past you.

“You can do your family dinner thing another night,” he suggested, shrugging at you. “Sarah won’t be here anyway.”

Wheezie gave you a pouty lip, and you thought it over. If she said that Ward had met them before, and Rafe confirmed that they were indeed trustworthy, then you didn’t see why not. Even still, you unintentionally found yourself looking to Rafe, and when he gave you the barest of nods, you smiled at the thirteen-year-old.

“Okay,” you breathed, and she jumped up with her phone in hand.

“Natalie’s mom is picking me up,” she threw over her shoulder, hurriedly heading for the stairs.

You were happy to see her coping better with things, so you tried to focus on that instead of the fact that you’d be eating alone. Turning back to the stove, you turned the dial down to a simmer, half expecting Rafe to be gone when you turned around. He wasn’t, and you didn’t miss the way he eyed you as he leaned his arms on the counter.

“Let me guess, you have plans too? It’s Friday, and that usually means you’ll be out somewhere with Topper and Kelce.”

The crooked smile on his face was mocking as he peered up at you from beneath his lashes.

“It’s family dinner night.”

You only rolled your eyes at that, turning away from him.

“You’re nineteen, Rafe. I don’t expect you to turn down plans with your friends just to stay home and sit across from your stepmom,” you sighed. “You can go, it’s fine.”

“You and I both know I don’t do anything I don’t want to do,” he said, something you silently agreed on. “I want to stay.”

When you looked at him again, you were surprised to find him standing much closer, now. You hadn’t even heard him move nor realize just how close his voice was. You couldn’t place the look on the blonde’s face as he stared at you, and you watched him reach up to grab a plate.

“Why?” you chuckled.

Despite how nice he was being now, you both knew that it was only the case because of Ward’s death. Rafe had never cared for you, and if the circumstances were different, he wouldn’t hesitate to get as far away from this house as possible. You felt like Rafe’s thoughts were probably mirroring your own, something passing through his gaze that looked a lot like confusion.

“…because you loved him. Probably more than me,” he shrugged.

You frowned because you didn’t agree with that, at all, and you told him so.

“I think there are very few people who can love someone as much as a son loves his father.”

You threw Rafe a small smile, reaching out to rest your hand on his arm.

“…and you did love him, Rafe. Sure, you guys fought worse than teenage sisters at times,” you breathed, frantically blinking at the memories. “…but that’s just because he wanted the best for you, and you had your own problems that didn’t stop you from disappointing him.”

You tilted your head at him when he looked away.

“You idolized him, and all you wanted was to make him proud. It made things very complicated, but please don’t ever say I loved him more than you did.”

When Rafe looked at you again, there was a deep frown on his face, and for some reason, you felt very small beneath his stare.

“…but you did,” he said with a small shrug, gesturing around. “I mean, look at you.”

You blinked.

“You have to be medicated just to get some sleep, and you still don’t remember staring at the wall for days after he died.”

You felt a chill pass through you at his words, hating how much you’d let them down, but also because there was something about the way Rafe stepped towards you and held your gaze that you didn’t think you liked. It made an unsure feeling twist deep in your gut for some reason.

“So, no. I don’t want to go anywhere with Kelce and Top, not when my dad’s wife is one bad day away from a psychotic break,” he whispered. “He would want me to take care of you.”

His words were reminiscent of the same ones he’d spoken to you in Ward’s study that day, but unlike that day, today they made you feel uneasy, and you didn’t know why. You dropped your hand, taking a step back from him just as Wheezie’s voice reached your ears.

“Natalie’s mom is outside, I’ll text you when I get there,” she called as she ran through the house.

Your voice cracked when you told her to have fun, but you didn’t think she heard, the door slamming shut mid-sentence. Forcing yourself to turn away from Rafe, you grabbed a plate with shaky hands, Mrs. Thornton’s words echoing in your mind that Rafe’s new role in the household wasn’t healthy.

“I swear I’m not doing it to be a bitch, okay?” Sarah’s voice reached your ears. “It’s just really hard to be around her without thinking about dad.”

You swallowed at her words, taking a step back on the stairs,

“Especially when it’s obvious just how hard she’s taking it,” she said. “I mean, she’s a little better, sure, but those sleeping pills you give her aren’t doing a thing. She’s not tired, Rafe, she’s depressed.”

“Well, you’re making her feel like shit,” you heard him reply, a tone in his voice that you hadn’t heard in quite some time. “This is the fourth dinner you skipped out on for your Pogue boyfriend.”

The younger girl didn’t respond right away.

“I’m sorry,” you heard her eventually say. “When did you start caring about her anyway? Weren’t you the one who called her some gold-digger, saying she was coming for your spot in the will?”

That didn’t shock you nor hurt you, long imagining that Rafe had said far worse. You heard him heave a sigh, and it sounded angry.

“Dad’s gone, Sarah, and that means we should stay together as a family,” he sneered. “…and I’m doing what I can to make that happen.”

You heard a slight scuffle, and you hurriedly made your way down the stairs and towards the kitchen. It had been some time since you heard Rafe and Sarah fight, something you definitely didn’t miss, but considering the topic of this discussion, it didn’t surprise you that it was a little more emotionally charged than normal.

When you rounded the corner, Rafe had a tight grip on Sarah’s arm, the younger girl trying to leave with her purse in hand. The expression on his face was unnerving, a deep frown between his brows with his lip curled over his teeth a she got in her face.

“Things are going to be different, now.”

“Rafe.”

Sarah’s eyes were wide and terrified when she looked at you, relaxing a bit at your presence, and you were relieved when Rafe let her go. Sarah only briefly acknowledged you on her way out, desperate to get away from Rafe, and you watched the way he glared after her.

“Rafe, it’s fine,” you told him. “She’s allowed to hang out with her friends for whatever reasons she wants, especially now.”

“Are you going to use that excuse forever? Just because dad died it doesn’t mean that she can do whatever she wants,” he snapped, gesturing towards the door.

“She’s grieving!”

“She’s using it as an excuse to be a shitty daughter, and you’re just letting her.”

You reared back at both his words and his tone, and for the first time in months, you felt something like anger bubble up in your chest.

“It’s not your place to tell me how to raise her. She’s not your daughter,” you spat.

The small laugh that he let out lacked humor, and by the look on his face, you knew that there was something on the tip of his tongue that you would hate.

“Yeah, well, she’s barely yours.”

You could tell that he wanted to take it back almost as soon as he said it, and you pressed your lips together just as he touched his forehead.

“Fuck, that’s not…”

His words trailed off, and you crossed your arms over your chest. You were only thirteen years older than Sarah and knew her for all of three years, so it wasn’t like you didn’t feel the same at times, but it still hurt to hear. It’s like Rafe was voicing your worst fears that she would come to lack respect for you and your presence in her life as a mom.

You didn’t know how to do this…and everyone knew it.

“I just feel like…you’re treating her like dad did, letting her get away with everything, and I hate it,” he slowly said.

Rafe’s feelings about Sarah had never been a secret, and neither had Ward’s. You wouldn’t ever deny the fact that Ward favored her, and it was unfortunately noticeable, something that was always visibly distressing for Rafe. With Ward gone—and with Rafe feeling like he now needed to be the man of the house—this made for a very complex situation.

You couldn’t tell what was rightful concern and what was just Rafe wanting to put Sarah in her place, something he’d never been subtle about.

“I wasn’t expecting to be left raising teenagers by myself before I was even thirty, Rafe,” you finally replied. “I’m trying…”

“I know you are,” he hurried to say, quickly approaching you and reaching for you. “That’s why I’m trying to help.”

You backed away from him before he could touch you, and you didn’t miss the way his expression clouded over at that. Looking away, you swiped your tongue between your lips, choosing your next words carefully. You could feel his heated gaze burning a hole into your face.

“I get that you’re trying to help, and believe me when I say I’m so appreciative of it, Rafe, but… It is not your place,” you carefully said, looking at him again.

You watched him roll his eyes towards the ceiling, nodding to himself. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and when his gaze fell back to you, you immediately knew that you didn’t like it. Rafe’s nostrils flared, and you didn’t need to be a mind reader to know that your words had bothered him, no matter how carefully you chose them.

“What you mean is you’re the parent, I’m not, and I need to stay in a child’s place.”

You sighed at that.

“Not necessarily, I just-.”

“…because if that were true, who would’ve driven Wheezie to school on the mornings when you couldn’t even get out of bed?”

You didn’t appreciate him throwing that in your face, and by the look in his eyes, you could tell he wasn’t done.

“You want me to stay in my place, but I’m the one who made the funeral arrangements and answered the important questions and kept this house together when the woman our dad married was too grief stricken to even stand on her own two feet.”

You bit your tongue, warily eyeing him as he moved to stand directly before you.

“Dad died, and I stepped up. Not you…me,” he firmly told you. “…and now that you’re sort of kind of getting your shit together, you just want to pretend like I should have no say in any of this.”

You didn’t like how close Rafe was, but when you went to take a step back, his hand shot out to dig into your arm, preventing you from doing so. You winced at the tight grip, and you swore you saw his face soften some at the sight. His grip certainly did, and you almost wished that it didn’t because the gentle way he held your arm and the gentle way he looked between your eyes made you deeply uncomfortable.

“Someone has to be the man of the house, now…and it falls to me,” he whispered.

You didn’t even have a proper response for that, feeling wholly unnerved as you stared at one another, and you took a deep breath.

“Let go of me, Rafe,” you quietly said.

You were relieved when he listened, almost convinced that he wouldn’t, and you touched your arm with a step back. You studied his face, searching for what? You didn’t know, but again…Mrs. Thornton’s words would not leave your mind, and you hated the way your lips trembled.

“Do not touch me like that again.”

Your tone was even, but you were sure your eyes betrayed you because Rafe merely raised an eyebrow at you.

“Or what? You’ll send me to my room?”

Your heart sank at his mocking words and the subtle challenge in them, and despite how much nicer Rafe’s next words were, they didn’t make you any less uneasy.

“I’m just trying to do right by my dad and look after everything he left behind.”

His words seemed innocent enough, but for the first time, you allowed yourself to wonder just what that entailed exactly and what role he expected to play in this family. You didn’t want your mind to linger on something that couldn’t be true, and so you left him without another word.

The feel of a hand shaking your shoulder is what pulled you from sleep, and it took you a long time to peel your eyes open. Doing so felt difficult for some reason, and when you exhaled—smelling the wine on your breath—you realized why. Rafe’s face was the one that met you, and you immediately squeezed your eyes shut.

“Y/N,” he gently said. “It’s late.”

As he said this, you realized that you were on the couch, and it didn’t take you long to surmise that you’d fallen asleep there. You didn’t want to move, but you also didn’t want to spend the rest of the night on the couch, knowing you’d regret it the moment you stood up in the morning. Just when you were about to mumble to Rafe to leave you be, you heard him sigh before feeling his arms slide underneath you.

In an effort to keep from falling, you quickly held onto him.

“Rafe,” you mumbled, disapproving.

“Wheezie has friends coming over in the morning,” you were barely able to make out. “I don’t think their moms would appreciate stumbling upon you asleep and hungover on the couch.”

He chuckled to himself as he climbed the stairs.

“They already don’t like you…”

You merely hummed at that, and you were relieved when you felt yourself being deposited onto the bed. Rafe was saying something else to you, but none of it registered as you sought out sleep once again. Your intentions were interrupted though when you felt a hand on your face, and even in your inebriated state, you knew it didn’t feel right. Forcing your eyes open, you struggled to push Rafe’s hand away.

“I just want to make sure you don’t throw up in your sleep,” he mumbled when your eyes blearily met his. “Is that okay?”

You drunkenly blinked at him, lips trembling.

“Why don’t you call me ‘mom’?”

Your question was whispered, voice shaky, and as much as you wanted him out of your bedroom, you also wanted him to answer the question. The house was quiet, both Wheezie and Sarah asleep, and the only light was that of the light in the hall. You didn’t take your eyes off of Rafe as you waited for him to answer no matter how much you wanted to.

In the low lighting, you could see the way his dirty blond hair hung onto his forehead, the light glinting off of his blue eyes.

“I never have,” was his response.

“Well, maybe you should,” you forced out. “I don’t want you saying my name anymore.”

You didn’t miss the way his nostrils flared at that.

“Why not?”

“…because I don’t like it,” you confessed, tears kissing your eyes. “Not anymore.”

His face fell a bit at the way your voice cracked, and when he reached for you again, you hurriedly sat up.

The silence was loud as you just stared at each other, something unspoken passing between you. You felt like you wanted to crawl out of your own skin whenever he so much as looked at you, now, thoughts running wild with what you prayed to be untrue. His stony expression told you that they weren’t, that he’d been found out, and in your drunken state, you couldn’t stop your tears from spilling over.

When he reached for you again, it startled you right off of the bed.

The night stand shook as you fell against it, and you cried out in pain just as Rafe cursed. You didn’t want his help, but that didn’t mean that you didn’t need it as he hurried to reach you. The feel of his hands on you burned and not in a good way, causing you to flinch away from his touch. That didn’t deter him though, and his grip was tight as he kept you in place, his other hand reaching for your head.

“Did you hit your head? Are you-?”

“Don’t touch me,” you hissed, shoving at his chest, and Rafe grew quiet.

The only sound for a while was your soft sobs, and Rafe’s refusal to leave you alone kept him kneeling before you. When you tried to stand up, he ignored your protests, reaching out and helping you. You swayed, and Rafe kept you close much to your chagrin. You wanted him gone as soon as possible, so you were quick to sit back down, but Rafe didn’t let your waist or your hand go.

Swooping down, he captured your lips in a kiss.

You wanted to gag.

His hand was almost painfully twisted around yours, making you wince, and every attempt to scoot back was only met with the resistance of his hand on your waist. Your stomach churned as he moved his mouth against yours, wanting to be sick at the feel of him kissing you on the same bed where Ward used to sleep. When his fingers dipped beneath your shirt, you bit him.

Hard.

You took the moment to remove yourself as he cried out, hurrying towards the bathroom and locking yourself inside. That awful sick feeling wasn’t as hollow as you thought, your knees hitting the floor almost as soon as you made it inside, head bent in the toilet. You couldn’t stop crying as you emptied your stomach, throat scratchy from the alcohol that was coming back up.

When you were able to catch your breath, you were shaking. You could still feel Rafe’s lips on yours, and on top of everything else you were forced to deal with in the months following your husband’s death, this was the last thing you’d ever anticipated.

You’d slept on the bathroom floor that night, refusing to leave and face Rafe. If Sarah and Wheezie noticed the tension between the two of you, they didn’t comment on it or at the very least, not to you. The knowledge that Rafe wanted to take Ward’s place in every facet of the household made you sick, and while neither of you mentioned that night, it also felt clear between the two of you that it wouldn’t be ignored forever.

You wanted him out of the house.

…but that wasn’t your place, was it? Rafe had more of a right to all of this way more than you did, and you couldn’t be the one to leave. Rafe may have been nineteen and an adult in the eyes of the law, but no matter how much of a 180 he’d done, you couldn’t trust him to properly raise Wheezie and Sarah. Especially now that you knew his 180 had less to do with just wanting to be a better person or more about taking on the role Ward had played in every way.

You shuddered at the thought, and oddly enough, this tempted you to drink yourself into a stupor more than Ward’s death ever did.

You and Rafe were ten years apart, so seeing him like a son had always been hard at times, but it didn’t stop you from treating him like one in the years that you’d been with his father. You’d liked to think that the sentiment was returned, and maybe at one time it had been, and maybe after Ward’s death things just…changed.

Was this your fault?

Had you dropped the ball so hard that he couldn’t even bring himself to see you as a parental figure anymore? Did he stop trying to respect you as one or…? Or did it have to do with how much he’d had to take care of you? You didn’t treat him any different, talk to him any different, so maybe you hadn’t done anything to change his perception of you.

Even if you had…what could you possibly have done to make him see you as a potential partner?

As if your nights weren’t bad enough—haunted by memories of Ward and that day you’d been told he was dead—you were now also kept awake by the knowledge that your stepson very much wanted to fill the void left by his father. And maybe if Rafe were anyone else, you could’ve talked about this, tried to sort through this, but Rafe was Rafe, and you reminded yourself that the Rafe you were accustomed to had only disappeared less than six months ago.

…and you’d seen hints of him just peeking from below the surface.

You resisted the urge to drink these days, positive that one sip would have you spiraling. You didn’t know how to cope with this new development, but you knew it couldn’t be that way. It didn’t go unnoticed that the night Rafe kissed you, you’d been drunk out of your mind, completely vulnerable to him. You also couldn’t bring yourself to take anymore sleeping pills, recalling Sarah’s words that day as she’d told Rafe that you were depressed…not tired.

She was right.

…and so despite the difficulty, you forced yourself to try and sleep without medication night after night. It was hard for several reasons, the most pressing of which being the unnerving presence of the nineteen-year-old just down the hall. It made it hard to find sleep most nights, and on the nights in which you did, you still do so with only maybe four hours to your name.

It was noticeable.

“I can stay and help, you know. It’s just John B., and he’ll understand why I’m late,” Sarah offered.

You could see by the look on her face that she was worried about you, and despite your attempt, you knew that your reassuring smile didn’t convince her.

“Sarah, it’s a Saturday night,” you told her. “I’m not going to make you stay and help me clean the kitchen, especially when you helped me cook and stayed for dinner.”

She looked like she wanted to argue but decided against it.

“Yeah, I’m glad I did.”

Her tone told you that she was feeling bad about the other dinners she’d skipped out on, and you were proven right.

“I’m sorry about not staying for all the others and…basically avoiding you,” she quietly apologized. “It’s just that Ward cared about you a lot, and when I’m around you, it’s easy to see why…and it just makes me think about him.”

You only exhaled at that, letting out a small chuckle as you washed the dishes.

“You don’t have to apologize, Sarah. I get it,” you whispered, pausing. “I miss him too.”

“Yeah, well, he’s an asshole, but Rafe was kind of right in confronting me over my behavior.”

The mention of Rafe had your hairs standing on end, and you swallowed down a sigh, still unsure what you were going to do about the blond.

“There were better ways for him to get his point across…”

Sarah only found that funny, softly laughing to herself.

“Yeah, but he wouldn’t be Rafe if he didn’t be rude about it, so,” she trailed off, pushing away from the counter. “I’ll be back before 1.”

You hummed at that, letting her know that was okay, and it was only ten minutes later that you were alone. Wheezie went to a sleepover just after dinner, and Rafe hadn’t been home all day. Before where that would have concerned you, now you could only be relieved to get some reprieve from the oldest Cameron. God knows that you needed the space to think.

Going over every scenario in your mind, the best one seemed to be to hope that it would just go away. You didn’t want to find yourself in some sort of legal battle if you even attempted to kick Rafe out and basically bar him from his own home. Legality of it all aside, it just wasn’t morally right. This was where he grew up, his safe space, and you couldn’t even pretend to feel comfortable at the thought.

The other option just wasn’t even an option. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t just pack up and abandon Wheezie and Sarah. Never mind the fact that you’d been in their lives for three years now, but now more than ever they needed stability. Their father only just died, and what kind of person would you be if you decided you just didn’t want to be responsible for them anymore? Allowing Rafe to run you off wasn’t an option.

Besides, there was a tiny and terrifying voice in the back of your head anyway that said he wouldn’t even let you.

It was an hour later that you found yourself in bed after cleaning the kitchen and taking a bath. You needed the soak, needed to do whatever you could to relax you. It wasn’t even ten o’clock, but considering how hard sleep was for you to find lately, you figured there was no harm in letting your head hit the pillow early.

Maybe you could trick your body into going to sleep at a decent time.

The minutes dragged on and were made to feel like hours, but the silence of the house and the fact that you were alone did more wonders than you thought. You could feel your eyelids becoming heavy, and what little sounds you could make out from outside slowly started to fade. The last thing you recalled was your body feeling heavier…

…and then you were standing in front of Shoupe, and he was telling you that Ward was dead, and you couldn’t even stand on your feet anymore.

You sat up with a gasp, struggling to breathe, and by the way your vision blurred, you knew that you’d been crying in your sleep. There was a voice in your ear shushing you, and despite the fact that you knew who the hands on your arms belonged to, your mind was too preoccupied with painful memories to fully register it.

Rafe pulled you against him, holding you to him as you sobbed, thinking to yourself that it had been a few weeks since you’d had a really bad reaction. You shook in his hold, head bowed as you wailed, and you were momentarily grateful that the house was empty. The blond rocked you, forcing you to press your face into the crook of his neck, and it was only then that you registered the smell of alcohol.

Before you could gather yourself to ask Rafe where he’d been, his hands were clumsily grasping at your face.

You sharply inhaled when he kissed you…again. You could taste the alcohol on his tongue, and you were so distraught that it took you too long to realize what was happening. The kiss was hungry, Rafe tasting the inside of your mouth and kissing you in a way that might’ve taken your breath away under different circumstances.

As it were, you could only register that you were being kissed by your deceased husband’s son again. It made your stomach twist uncomfortably, and your efforts to reach up and pull his hands away from your face were futile. You made a noise of protest, attempting to lean away, but he ignored it. Even when you bit at him like before, he ignored it.

With horror, you realized that Rafe wasn’t stopping it.

Panic began to set in, and when you shoved at his chest, he quickly reached to close his hand around your wrist. At the same time, he leaned into you more, forcing you back, and you didn’t put your hand down in time to prevent that. With him now on top of you, your heart was threatening to leap from your chest.

“Rafe,” you gasped when he pulled away. “Rafe, stop!”

Your voice came out panicked and shrill, but instead of listening to you, the sounds were only joined by that of your shorts ripping.

“He would want me to look after you,” he drunkenly murmured, making your stomach drop.

You both fought for the right to your shirt, you trying to keep it on and Rafe trying to take it off. You felt like you were on the verge of a panic attack, telling yourself that this wasn’t happening. In the worst way possible, you discovered that Rafe was much stronger than he looked, feeling like you got the wind knocked out of you when he roughly shoved you down after your attempt to sit up.

You could hear yourself crying, and you knew that Rafe could too.

With a hand tightly snaking around your throat, his other fumbled to get his own pants off. Focused on trying to breathe, you reached up to pull at his hand. You could hear a ringing in your ears, and your chest felt tighter than it did when you first woke up from your nightmare. His lower half was pinning you down, and the blood you could feel yourself drawing on his hand and arm didn’t slow him down.

He was shushing you when you felt his skin against yours, and one of your hands twisted into his shirt as he started to push himself into you. The feel had your feet stretching, and you let out a choked sound despite the pressure on your throat. He was torturously slow in stretching you out around him, and with every further push of his hips, you clawed at his shirt some more.

He only let your neck go when his hips were firmly pressed against yours.

As you coughed and wheezed, he reached behind his head to pull the fabric off, tossing it somewhere without a car. The moment his chest was bare, he reached for you again despite your difficulty to breathe, and his lips covered yours in another kiss. You didn’t even have time to register the kiss because he was thrusting into you with abandon. His hips were wildly snapping against yours, and you gasped into his mouth.

Rafe searched for your hands, threading his fingers through your own and pinning it against the bed next to your head. His other hand was digging into your hips, kipping them in place as he fucked you. You struggled to catch your breath, sharply inhaling and gasping with every thrust. The stretch was unfamiliar, and your mind spun with the fact that you hadn’t experienced this in months and also who it was with.

When Rafe pulled his lips away from yours, you let out a sob, and he gently shushed you, curving his hips into yours.

“Let me take care of you,” he murmured in the darkness. “It’s okay.”

You had so much you wanted to scream and shout at the blond, but you couldn’t even find the words. With every feeling of his cock sliding against your walls, your eyes rolled. His head fell next to yours, his heavy breathing in your ear as he pinned you down with his entire body. You weren’t able to move, only forced to lie beneath him and feel what he was doing to you.

He grunted in your ear with a particularly hard thrust, and you let out a yelp.

Just then, you heard the door open downstairs, and hearing it too, Rafe stopped. He was quick to cover your mouth with a hand, and he was completely still as you heard who you surmised was Sarah coming up the stairs. Your heart was so heavy in your chest, and it was all you could hear in your ears.

When she made it to the hallway, she stopped.

“Y/N, are you asleep?” she called.

At that, Rafe pressed down harder on both your mouth and you, and after a few moments, you heard the younger girl sigh. When the sound of her room door shutting reached your ears, Rafe kept his hand on your mouth, but he felt compelled to keep fucking you.

He was slow in doing so, now, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

He slowly dragged his cock in and out of you, pulling his hips back until just the tip remained—sometimes pulling out completely—before pushing back in and making your chest arch up into his. He quietly told you that it was okay, softly groaning as you unintentionally squeezed him. Rafe’s lips brushed against your neck and jaw, and now that the two of you were no longer alone, the room was deathly quiet.

So quiet that you could hear the sound of his cock plunging into you.

It was a sound that embarrassed you, a sound that made you want to cry. Rafe’s arms trembled as he fought to keep himself from just relaxing on top of you completely, and you didn’t have the heart to tell him that if he uncovered your mouth, you wouldn’t even scream. You would be too ashamed to let anyone know what Rafe Cameron was doing to you.

With his lips at your neck, you could feel them move as he talked.

“My dad’s gone…”

The mention of Ward in this moment made more tears spill over, and when he slowly removed his hand, you let out a shaky breath as you silently cried. Lifting his head, Rafe’s gaze found yours, his hips still slowly pushing against yours.

“…and I know that it’s killing you, but…”

He swallowed, looking between your eyes.

“…but you have me, now,” you let out a soft cry at that. “You do, and I’m…I’m going to take care of you.”

His hand reached up to touch your face, the tips of his fingers grazing your wet cheek. You shook your head, feeling like you were going to be sick, and Rafe only shushed you. His lips followed yours as you attempted to turn your head away, and you could taste your tears in the kiss.

“I’ve got the business…I’ve got the family ring…” his lips moved against yours as he spoke into the kiss. “…and I’ve got you.”

[scuderiahoney]

Always Walk Me Home

Max Verstappen x Reader // Strawberry Wine Pt I

Strawberry Wine Series

Masterlist

Summary: You and Max are keeping things casual. Sooo casual. You can be casual. Right?

Word Count: 4.3k

a/n: Heeeeere we go, his number is in my bio for a reason, it’s my other favorite boy! This one is heavily inspired by some of the prompts on this list. anyways enjoy!

Warnings: alcohol/mild intoxication, mild sexual references, google translated Dutch

Things with Max are… brand new. Everything is still fresh. Everything he does gives you butterflies, makes your heart skip a beat. It’s the honeymoon phase, as everyone calls it.

It’s so brand new that nobody knows. Nothing is… official, yet. You’ve just been on a few dates, had a few movie nights. You’ve stayed at his place a couple times, waking up with his arm around your waist and Jimmy and Sassy curled up next to you. It’s casual. You’re keeping things casual. Max seems content to feel things out, to keep seeing you without labeling it. You’re trying so hard to be casual about it that it’s almost embarrassing.

You feel like everyone sees straight through you. On top of spending time alone together, you and Max are friends, so you see each other at group outings and clubs and dinners with your other friends. Max acts the same there as he always has- kind, courteous, and friendly. You won’t lie, sometimes you wish he’d hold your hand or pull your chair out for you or something, anything to show you that you’re not the only one feeling less than casual. But you’re scared of scaring him away, so you keep your mouth shut.

…..

You’re out to dinner with friends, somehow ending up sitting next to him. It’s nice, really nice. You can smell his cologne, can feel the warmth radiating off of him at the packed table. You have to fight the urge to nudge his foot with yours, to press your knee against his. That wouldn’t be very casual of you. You can do this, you can be normal.

He’s saying something to the person next to him, laughing and leaning towards them. You want to be the reason he’s laughing, want to be in on the jokes. You keep your mouth shut and look at the menu instead.

“What are you going to get?” Max asks.

He’s suddenly in your space. He’s leaning close, his shoulder brushing against yours. Be normal. You shrug, sliding your finger down the menu.

“Probably the shrimp scampi,” you say, pointing at the item.

Max nods. “You love seafood.”

You blink, breath caught in your chest. He’s right, but you didn’t know he knew that. Let alone for him to say it as fact. It’s not like he’s whispering either- someone else could hear. It’s silly, because it’s such a small thing, but you’re overanalyzing everything about it.

“I do,” you agree, turning and smiling at him.

“I remember things,” he says, a soft smile on his face, and now your face is growing hot.

Someone draws his attention away, and you look back to the menu. You nearly yelp in shock when something brushes your knee, but- it’s Max, you realize with a start, his hand searching for something. You hold your breath. His fingers find yours, and he interlaces your hands, palm to palm. He keeps them resting on your leg.

You try to take even breaths. He’s holding your hand in public, with your friends right next to you. Sure, it’s under the table, but this is the most you’ve gotten from him in a setting like this. He’s held your hand on dates, done much more in the privacy of his home, but here it feels overwhelming. His thumb brushes over the back of your hand, and you resist the urge to hold on so tightly to him that he can’t let go.

Eventually the food comes, and you both let go so you can eat. But it was nice while it lasted.

…..

Max’s apartment is spacious and cozy, despite the fact that he’s gone from it so often. There’s a warmth here, an aura that just screams Max. His cats roam freely, though while you’re there they have a tendency to follow you around.

“They are traitors,” Max accuses as Jimmy and Sassy weave around your ankles in the kitchen.

“Maybe I’m just better than you,” you say.

“Oh, you are,” he says, sending up a swirl of butterflies in your stomach. “But I feed them. So they are traitors.”

You laugh, leaning down to pet the cats. They nudge their heads against your hands and legs, paw at your socks, and when you walk into the living room, they follow after. Max just watches with disappointment.

By the time he joins you in the living room, drinks in hand, both of them are curled up in your lap. He lets out a huff and sets the drinks on the table. Then he’s nudging at the cats, and you cry out when he pushes them both off your lap.

“Max!” You say, appalled.

He laughs, lays down on the couch, and promptly placed his head exactly where the two cats had been. He stares up at you with a wide grin, eyes squeezed nearly shut.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” you answer.

He reaches for one of your hands. He squeezes your fingers softly before bringing your hand up to his hair. You laugh and take the hint, start running your fingers through the blonde strands. He lets his eyes fall shut. Then you watch as he brings his hand up, purses his lips, and points at them.

You take that hint too, lean over and plant a kiss on his lips. When you try to pull away, he wraps a hand around the back of your neck and keeps you there. He deepens the kiss, fingers slipping into the hair at the nape of your neck to hold you there. It’s not the best angle, but it’s nice, always nice to kiss him.

He finally lets you go and collapses back into your lap, a satisfied smile on his reddened lips.

…..

“I can’t open it!” You squeak. “What the fuck, how do they make it look so easy?”

You’re holding a bottle of champagne in your friend’s apartment, trying to get the cork out. It doesn’t help that you’re scared- one too many horror stories about someone getting a cork to the eye, or breaking a window. You huff and try again, gently. No use.

“Lando slams it on the ground,” your friend suggests, her eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, and he also shattered one of Max’s trophies,” you say. “So maybe not the best example.”

You hear familiar laughter, then, and you drop one hand to your side, still holding the bottle in front of you with the other. Max makes his way through the kitchen, a smile on his lips that paints his whole face. You hold it out to him, pouting.

“No, no,” he says. “I’ll show you.”

He wraps his hand around yours, around the bottle. You can’t lie, your mind goes somewhere else for a second, but you tamp those thoughts down and try to focus.

“See, you put this hand on the cork,” he instructs, “and this hand on the bottom.”

His hands are warm over yours. Your face feels hot. Does he feel the sparks when his skin touches yours, too? Or is this normal for him? Is it just a friend helping another friend? You wish you knew, wish he’d say something to quell your worries and calm your racing heart.

“-and then you twist, like this,” he demonstrates.

The bottle hisses, and you jump, but there’s no dramatic pop, no shooting of the cork. You just pull it out, and you stare at the bottle with wide eyes. Oh. That was-

“Easy, right?” He says. “You are already a pro.”

You laugh, shake your head, and hold out the bottle to your friends, standing there with their empty glasses. You want to study their faces, ask them if they noticed anything. You want to ask if they saw the sparks, too. Someone takes the bottle, and your hands fall to your side, the cork still between your fingers.

Your knuckles brush against something- when you look, it’s Max’s hand. He’s still standing there, watching as everyone passes the bottle around. You swallow tightly, bump your hand into his. Deliberately. You want to look up at his face, want to gauge his reaction, but you resist the urge.

Max reaches his pinky out and hooks it with yours. For just a moment, standing in the kitchen, surrounded by your friends, you’re linked. The sparks run from his finger, up your wrist and arm and straight to your heart. Your chest fizzes like the champagne, bubbly and overflowing.

…..

You weren’t even planning on seeing Max tonight. It’s a girls night, one that’s been suggested over and over, each of you being too busy to make it happen until tonight. You’re at your favorite bar, bass thudding in your chest, your friends all around you.

And then, there’s a tingling feeling in your spine. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Someone is watching you. You turn over your shoulder and lock eyes with Max.

He’s leaning against the wall, one ankle crossed over the other. He has a black t-shirt on that’s always been one of your favorites- it hugs his upper arms and his chest so perfectly. He’s watching you, a soft smirk on his lips, a drink in his hand. Everyone is moving around you, but you’re stuck on him.

You smile, wave, and force yourself to turn back to your friends. You like him, you want to spend time with him, but you’ve been neglecting your friendships because of it. Your friends have been teasing you all night about how you’ve been too busy, how you keep checking your phone, how there must be a guy. You’ve denied it at every turn. You can’t leave them now. Ditching your friends for the guy who isn’t even your boyfriend would be the opposite of casual. You force yourself not to look at him, but you swear you can still feel him staring.

Ten minutes later, a bartender appears with a tray of shots and lime wedges. “For you,” she says, pointing at you, and your friends squeal in excitement. She points behind you, then. “From him.”

You turn over your shoulder again. Max is watching, and waving this time. You laugh and wave back, and your friends all do the same. He’s far away, too far to make it in time as you each grab a shot and throw them back in unison. You put the lime between your lips and turn to look at him again, raising your brows. He laughs, eyes lit up so bright you can see the blue even across the room, you swear. Then he juts his chin in the direction of the hallway when nobody else is looking. A message just for you.

You find him out there ten minutes later, trying not to make it obvious and taking the time to come up with an excuse- you fake a phone call. The hall is empty when you walk out, and you wonder if he’s given up on you- you know you saw him walk out. Then he pops his head out from around a corner and waves you over frantically.

He’s leaning against the wall, the same way he was in the club. You stand against the wall on the other side of the hallway and stare at him.

“I’m not leaving right now,” you say. “I promised I’d stay out late.”

“I know,” he says. “Just wanted to see you.”

You tilt your head. “Yeah? Seeing me across the bar wasn’t enough?”

The tequila running in your veins has you feeling braver than usual. It doesn’t seem to scare Max. He just grins wider, brow quirked.

“No, it wasn’t,” he says. “You’re pretty from far away, but even prettier up close.”

Your face feels hot. He pushes off from the wall, leans towards you. He could box you in if he wanted, could pin you right there, but he doesn’t. Instead, he takes your hand in his and pulls you away from the wall, too. The kiss he sweeps you into is sweet. He wraps his arm around you, and you sling yours around the back of his neck. One of his hands cradles the side of your face as he deepens the kiss. Out of all of it, you’re much more focused on the feeling of his thumb on your cheek than the feeling of his lips on yours. It’s strangely intimate, strangely soft, the way he holds you as he kisses you in the hallway of a bar. The way his nose nudges against your cheek, the way he pulls you closer and closer like he can’t get enough.

He pulls away, leaves you gasping for air.

“You taste like lime,” he says.

You nod, dumbfounded.

“You should go back to your friends,” he suggests, kissing your temple. “If I keep kissing you I won’t want to let you go.”

You breathe out a laugh and slap his shoulder. “If you keep staring at me in the club I won’t be able to focus on anything else.”

He laughs. “I know,” he says. “That’s what makes it fun. Besides, you’re fun to watch.”

…..

Three days later, Max is holding your purse. He’d taken it from you when you were all standing in the lobby of the restaurant and your friend dragged you into the bathroom. He’d promised to keep it safe. Now you’re back, your friends are gathering their things and saying goodbyes, getting ready to go home. You’re watching him.

The little black bag looks even smaller in his hands. His fingers are wrapped around the clutch, thumb rubbing back and forth across one of the stitches the same way it had on your skin the night before. He’s talking to someone else, but when there’s a break in the conversation, you nudge him.

“I can take that back,” you say, holding your hand out.

He tilts his head, blinks softly. “That’s okay. I’ll carry it.”

You’re sure you’re staring at him like a deer in the headlights. “Okay, but I’m leaving, so I need my purse.”

He nods. “I thought maybe I could walk you home. If you wanted.”

You nod in response, feeling a bit dumbfounded. The two of you exit the restaurant, waving goodbye to your friends. He takes your hand the second you’re outside, your purse still in his other one. Your fingers knit together like second nature, now. You could predict the pattern of the brush of his thumb against your skin like clockwork.

Your apartment isn’t far, but you find yourself walking slow on purpose, prolonging the moment. You pass people on the street and you know that to them, the two of you look like a real, actual couple. It’s nice to pretend. You lean into his shoulder, and he stumbles and laughs and keeps both of you upright. The two of you talk the whole way there, about everything and nothing and all the stuff in between.

When you reach the apartment building, he finally holds your purse out to you. You open the clutch, digging through it to find your keys and the front door access card. He watches in amusement as your fingers fumble through the bag.

“D’you wanna come up?” You ask. “I have some of that wine you like.”

You pull the card triumphantly from your bag. You look up at him, and he’s smiling softly, something sparkling in his eyes that makes your breath hitch. Makes the champagne bubble in your chest all over again.

“That’s okay,” he says, softly. “I’ve got to get back to the cats. But can I take you to breakfast tomorrow?”

You blink, card still pinched between your fingers. “Yeah, sure.”

He tilts his head at you. “Maybe brunch. You are going to need sleep. How about you text me when you wake up and we’ll go from there?”

You nod. He nods back. Then he reaches up, cups the side of your face in his hand. He’s so gentle about it, more so than he normally is. When he presses his lips to yours, he tastes like gin and he kisses like… like he cares for you. Like this isn’t leading somewhere else, like he’s not going to pull you into his lap and start trailing kisses down your neck. He kisses you just to kiss you, just to say goodnight.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says when he pulls away. “Goodnight, liefje.”

You smile up at him. “Goodnight, Max.”

He smiles back. Then he leans forward and presses his lips to your forehead softly. You swear you’re melting into the sidewalk. You must be a puddle under his feet. You want to press yourself into his chest, tell him to wrap his arms around you, ask him to never let you go.

But you’re trying so hard to be so good at being casual, so you kiss his cheek, turn around, and walk inside. You take the elevator up, leaning against the wall and covering your giddy smile with your hand. When you get into your apartment, kick off your heels, and drop your bag on the counter, your phone buzzes. It’s a call. You look at the screen and see Max’s face.

“Hello?” You answer.

“Did you get in alright?” He asks.

Your heart squeezes fiercely in your chest. He sounds so soft, asking it. You walk over to the window, peel back the curtains, hoping you’re right about what you think you’ll see. There he is, still standing in front of the entrance, phone to his ear. He’s staring up at your window. When he sees you, he waves.

“Yeah,” you say. “You didn’t have to wait, you know.”

But I’m so glad you did.

“Yes I did,” he says, voice soft and scratchy from the night out. “Had to make sure you were safe.”

“Okay,” you breathe. “Let me know when you get home, okay?”

“I will,” he says. You watch as he waves again, smiling up at you. “Goodnight.”

…..

He picks you up for brunch the next day. By the time you’re in his car, it’s nearly 10:30. He drives with his hand on your knee, like always, fingers dancing across your exposed skin below the hem of your sundress. You like watching him drive, like being here with him. He pulls up to the restaurant and runs around to open your door for you, leaving you laughing. He hands the keys to the valet. Then he slips his arm around your waist and leads you inside.

You’ve been on dates with him, but none this fancy, none where you feel a little out of your element. Max seems comfortable, though- it’s moments like these where you’re reminded he’s not just your-friend-Max. He’s F1-world-champion-Max-Verstappen. Of course he can get a reservation here with such short notice. They’re honored to have him here.

A waiter leads you to a booth in the back. The restaurant is bright and airy, fresh flowers on every table. Max asks for a pitcher of water and orange juice before the waiter leaves. He pulls your chair out for you, pushes it in when you sit down. Your palms are sweating, heart beating rapidly. It’s just- this is the closest you’ve come to feeling like you’re actually dating him. Suddenly, it’s terrifying.

You ask him what’s good on the menu. He points out his favorites- the French toast, the eggs Benedict, the omelettes. He tells you he’s going to order a fruit sampler for the two of you to share, and you smile softly.

“They always have the best strawberries,” he tells you, eyes lit up. “You love strawberries.”

“I do,” you tell him, warmth filling your cheeks. “You do too.”

You’d bonded over that, when you first became friends. A strawberry wine that nobody else wanted to drink. Too sweet. You’d split the bottle with Max and went to bed with a sugar rush, your lips still tasting like strawberry. Ever since, for every special occasion, the two of you have gifted each other that same strawberry wine. It’s a running joke, among your friends- you’ll open the bottle, ask if anyone wants a glass. They’ll ignore you, but Max will come running.

He opens his mouth to say something, but over his shoulder, you spot something that makes your blood run cold.

“Shit,” you mutter.

He looks at you in concern. “What is it?”

“Nothing, just-“ you sigh. “Your coworker is here.”

Charles Leclerc has just walked in the door, a girl on his arm. The waiter is pointing in your general direction, towards an open table a little ways away. There goes your whole morning. He’s going to want to leave now.

Max turns to look, brows raised. “Oh. At least it’s one I like.”

You can’t help the laugh. “Should we go?”

Max turns back to you, perplexed. “What, get up to say hi? I don’t like him that much. He’ll come over here when he sees us.”

Us. You wish he meant it how you want him to.

“No, like-“ you sigh, gaze flickering down to the table. “You don’t want people to know, so-“

“What?” He asks, wide eyed. “What do you mean, I don’t want-“

“You didn’t want to tell anyone,” you say, quietly. You can’t look at him. “We haven’t even really talked about this, and… I figured you…”

You trail off, because you can feel him staring at you. He reaches over and tucks his finger under your chin. He tilts your face upwards towards his. His gaze is soft, a small smile on his face.

“Schatje, you have to be joking,” he says, and you stare back at him. “Of course I want to tell people. I have wanted to tell the whole world since I kissed you the first time.”

You blink. “But you- you didn’t want to put a label on it. You never…”

“We never talked about it,” he says. “I was giving you time. I’m a lot. Dating me is a lot. You are… I was following your lead.”

“Oh my god,” you blurt out, a giddy feeling in your chest. “Oh my god, I’m so dumb.”

The two of you just stare at each other for a moment. His eyes are bright and sparkling, his smile spreading across his whole face. You’re so done being casual.

Charles appears at the end of your table seconds later, smiling at the two of you. “Max, hi, good to see you. And I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met,” he adds, turning to you.

“Charles, this is my girlfriend,” Max says, reaching across the table to take your hand.

When you greet Charles, you can’t wipe the giddy grin from your face. It stays there the whole rest of the day- through breakfast, through a walk through a park, through a late lunch at Max’s with the cats winding around your ankles. Every time it starts to fade you think of Max, bright blue eyes, his finger under your chin. You fall asleep still smiling. You’re pretty sure it’ll be there when you wake up.

…..

The next time you go out with your friends, Max carries your bag the whole night. He also keeps his hand on the small of your back nearly constantly. He orders and pays for all of your drinks, includes you in all the conversations, and brushes his lips against your temple every time there’s a lull in the talking.

Nobody questions it. None of your friends even bat an eye. You find out why when you end up in the bathroom with the girls, a tradition as old as time itself.

It turns out they all already knew.

“Max told us all the day after he kissed you the first time,” someone tells you. “And then he told us we all had to act like nothing was different, because he didn’t want to scare you off.”

You collapse into a fit of laughter, bracing yourself against the sink. All this time, you were worried about it, and he’d told everyone right away. You’d thought you were the one struggling to be casual. God, you’d have saved yourself so much trouble if you’d only asked. If you’d only told him straightforward what you wanted. If you’d only been up front.

You’re giddy with it, then. You can feel it coursing through your veins and buzzing in your fingertips. You won’t call it love yet, at least not out loud. It’s too soon, right? It can’t be love. But it’s something, and now you want him next to you. You want his lips on yours again. You’re missing him even though he’s just through the door, waiting for you, your bag in his hand.

When you return to his side, you lean up to press a kiss to his cheek. You watch his smile grow and his cheeks turn red. You place your hand on his shoulder and put your lips against his ear.

“You should take me home,” you tell him.

His cheeks get even redder, and he turns to you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say with a nod. “You’ll walk me home, right?”

“Always,” he agrees.

He takes your hand, squeezes lightly. You feel like you’re glowing brighter than the neon lights above your head.

…..

You slip up over your morning cup of coffee three days later. The cats are in your lap. There’s the perfect amount of cream and sugar in the mug, he’s made it exactly right. The sun is shining through the windows, bouncing off his hair and painting his skin in golden light. You weren’t going to say it out loud, you really weren’t, but it slips past your lips anyways.

“I love you,” you say.

Max laughs, takes the mug from your hands, and kisses you.

Then he says it right back.

read the prequel/ sequel, Someone Sane

okay, now I’ve got my three favorite boys in the masterlist! thanks for reading! come say hi, or check out more of my writing here. drop an ask or a dm to be added to the tag list!

taglist: @4-mula1

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Oh GOD, breeding kink with Ghost but he's actually determined to get his darling pregnant because after everything they've been through together, how much he loves her and vice versa? I could go on but it's just something to think about. I also strongly believe he'd be that kind of girl dad heheh

Couldn't Love You More (Ghost x F!Reader)

Left pic credit: @ vhenan_virabelasan on IG

Word count: 3.7 k

Tags/warnings: Tooth-rotting FLUFF. Mild, soft smut 🔞, crying (from joy), breeding kink (obv), comfort no hurt. All the softness and love.

A/N: Excuse me, more soft!Ghost coming through! I hope you like this take anon 💕

"I'm tired of using those things."

Simon rarely whispers, hardly ever murmurs, and never coos. But this time, his voice is deliberately soft. 

You sigh and put the condom package down on the table. This evening had been a nice change, a pampering for your poor, stressed-out nerves. He had done his best to take your mind off work ever since he got home: he took you out for a 3-course dinner – which reminded you of the early days of your dating – and it was all supposed to end in a good stress relief of a fuck.

You'd sent him suggestive texts all morning, knowing he was coming home today. Those messages were extra naughty because you happened to be ovulating, and juicy, and horny as hell.

And you know he has waited for this moment as well. Which is why you can't get your head around why he wants to raise the subject of using other methods of contraception right before you're about to have sex. 

Why would he suddenly start complaining when both of you are already naked – practically seconds before you're about to roll down the condom for him?

"You know I've tried, Simon," you sigh again – you don't even bother to disguise the annoyance in your voice. After all, you've tried basically everything to make it more pleasurable for you to make love without the risk of getting knocked up. You hate the rubber between the two of you just as much as he does, if not more. Apparently you need to remind him how the last attempt with the pill went.

"I become a bloated monster," you say, realizing you're pouting only when he laughs.

You absolutely love it when he does: it's a rare thing, even with you. Even after all these years of love and dedication, the warm, husky chuckle at the back of his throat makes your heart flutter and your head feel dizzy.

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean…?"

The man has a tiny twinkle in his eyes, and the flutter in your heart turns into something heavier, more serious. He looks you up and down as if to weigh whether you're ready to take in what he's about to say.

"How about we just ditch the bloody things?"

Your heart is truly getting it today: it skips a beat or two from what he says. From what he implies.

"But you…” you whisper, still unsure if you're truly discussing the same thing here. “You said that kids are a bad idea." 

"They are." 

The twinkle in those eyes turns into an amused gleam, the corner of his mouth lifts up a bit from seeing you so shocked. 

And Simon never said he didn't want children.

It's just that he has avoided the subject like it's a seasonal flu he doesn't want to catch. 

He would make the perfect father: you just know it. Sad to say, but it was one of the main reasons you fell for this man. It's stupid, but it's true: women look for these things. They can tell if a guy would be a good choice for a father. They notice safety, security, the willingness to support and provide.

Biology and instincts be damned, you simply can't deny that Simon is the first man who made you think about what it would be like to have children. And of course the perfect candidate for a father thought that kids were a bad idea…

It seemed like a cruel joke, the way he brushed you off when you first approached him with your shy request. You pussyfooted around the subject, were as delicate as one can be, knowing it might make him uncomfortable. 

And it did. It more than just did.

He freaked the fuck out, went to work, and worked himself nearly to death – literally almost got himself killed, and you understood that this was serious. His childhood, his past, the dangers of his work – of course he thought himself unfit for the role.

Infuriatingly, it only made you more convinced that he was the perfect choice. The man was just so fricking responsible.

You barred your mouth shut after that. Instinct told you Simon might just leave if you continued the talk about having kids. Not because he couldn't take it, but because he would want to give you a chance to find someone to raise a family with before it was too late. 

It was his view of unconditional love: he was ready to let you go if need be. He would set you free if he suspected it would make you happy.

But then you saw him look at tiny kids – usually the ones that had just learned to walk – with a fleeting longing in his stare. It always turned into a withdrawn sulk, the gaze of a man who has accepted his fate.

He seemed to have the softest spot for little girls, especially when they were laughing and giggling or being unruly rascals, and sometimes flinched when a baby started to cry in the store. He looked a bit distressed for a second, and not because of the noise – but because he couldn't locate the immediate source and go and calm the baby. 

That's when you realized he actually wanted kids. The biological clock on this man was ticking just as furiously as yours. 

Years passed, and you silently buried your dreams of raising a little family together. He was enough for you, more than enough: you would not break up because of this. No man could ever replace Simon. 

But it still hurt. It was like a wound that never healed.

Until this night…

This night, it seemed he would not only cure it but heal it so well it wouldn’t even leave a scar. 

You suddenly find yourself under him – his moves are so quick that it's almost like you're teleported there. He sometimes does that: lets you play with him for a while, have your fun on top before reminding you who is in control here.

And this time, he won't even let you play.

"Simon, what are you doing," you sigh with barely concealed exhilaration. 

As if you didn't know exactly what he is about to do. 

He looks at you with that possessive look he sometimes has when you two have been apart for far too long. And there's something more behind that stare. It tells you that this is serious; this means business. The package you placed on the nightstand remains unopened and, apparently, will be the witness to his mission tonight. 

Serves the damn thing right…

You take in the absolute beef of this man: the bulk of pecs above you, the wide, solid middle that nearly swallows you every time you're under him.

You almost disappear between him and the mattress when you two are doing missionary, and it's one of the best feelings in the world. You've wanted to sink your teeth in to those huge, solid shoulders for god knows how many times. Once or twice, you actually did give him a little bite, only a nib, really, during a good pounding – and giggled at the breathless grunt of "Hey" that followed.

The trail of hair, darker in tone compared to the hair on his head, spreads over his abs which rest under a thin layer of fat. The happy trail, as you call it, runs down until it meets the heavy cock that always makes your mouth water like it's your favorite meal.

His hand is weighty, adoring when it comes to rest on your waist – the callous of his palms feels just the right kind of rough as he gives you the softest squeeze and a caress.

And he must know from the wanton looks you gave him all evening that he can just walk right in. Probably knew from those texts already that you've been wet all day long.

You try to spread your legs wider than they can go as he grabs himself to be positioned to your entrance. The fat tip of him feels heavy on your folds as he lazily slides himself up and down your slit, teasing the opening but not going in. It feels heavenly to sense him, all of him, with nothing there between you. There's no lifeless rubber: just his thick velvet meeting your wetness and silk.

The darned man won't even answer your question… Probably knows it's not really a question, just an astonished sigh of love.

"It's…not safe," your head falls back as he pushes the first few inches in – teasing you still by not giving you the full length and thick of him.

"Tired of safe, too," he rumbles softly above you, feeds more of himself in, and you tighten around his cock: receive him with fierce love and yearning. He groans at the sensation – it must feel divine for him, too. It must feel like it's meant to be this way. Now and forever.

You sigh as he starts to move, slow and intense, just the way he knows you like it when there's been too much stress and life has been a bitch. He always makes you feel better, always makes you melt in his arms when you run to him from the unfair, fucked up world. 

He's got some bad days too, and that’s when you ruffle his hair, scrub his back in the shower, give him a sloppy little blowjob, or make him his favorite dish, anything to make the tension in those mountains of shoulders disappear. 

You two worship each other; there’s no question about that. 

"Simon–ah… Truly, are you serious…?" 

"Hell yeah."

The idea of him cumming inside you is thrilling enough, but it's not just about that. 

You're ovulating, and he's a man in his absolute prime. He reminds you of mountain lions and snow leopards, living their life in harsh conditions and in wandering solitude until… Until the perfect companion comes along. He's simply the most virile male there is; broad, wide, and heavy, always ready when you are.

A man like Simon just cannot be infertile.

His eyes are half-lidded already, and those pale eyelashes make you bite your lip and grab his butt like it would be a life or death situation if he chose to withdraw.

And you know he loves it when you grope his ass and try to assist him with the thrusts. 

His little helper, indeed…

"Bloody fucking hell, you feel good…"

His head rolls back, exposing the tendons on his neck, thick, like the rest of him. Everything in this man is thick and broad and good – and fuck – he glides in and out like a dream. Somehow the extra layer of rubber has taken the brunt of his thickness away, but you feel it now, all of it, and it's something you could die for.

He grunts and thrusts, then halts for a while, chuckles all breathless…

"It's gonna be one hell of a show, sweetheart."

He's talking about what comes after. How it will be when there's a new addition and not a crew of two anymore. It brings tears to your eyes to see how he's already thinking about the future – and how he does it with a smile and a pleased chuckle.

"I'm used to sleepless nights," he reminds you softly. "You're not."

Ugh – he's thinking about your well-being when it would only make you the happiest woman on earth to take care of his children. Your children.

"I'll manage," you whisper.

"I know you will."

The tears are so close now; he’s simply the one and only person in this world for whom your love is boundless. It’s endless, overflowing.

He pulls back a little, raises your legs to rest on his shoulders, then crawls forward – he’s about to go deep, and the indecent but insanely sweet position makes you quail from him at first. It’s just too much all of a sudden.

"Wait–"

"The boys said this'll do the trick," he explains, waits until you adjust under and around him.

"The–the boys?"

He had been discussing this with his workmates…? 

Discussing which position is the best to help conceive?

"Yeah. Wanna do this properly."

This man might actually be serious… He just might be serious about this, and you still have difficulty grasping it.

"I can't believe you want this," you whisper, still trying to catch your breath on what's happening.

"Believe it or not, it's gonna happen now."

The smallest tear escapes, and you purse your lips, shut them tight to prevent a tiny little bawl from erupting. 

"I've always wanted you, Simon," you breathe into the air between you as he starts to make love to you, fill you with intent. "Just you, all these years…"

He rarely whispers, but this time, his voice is the softest hush.

"Right back at ya, darling."

"I–I want to give you… want your kids," you whimper, tears coating your voice as he continues the torture while the sweet, tight love surrounds you both.

"I want a family, Simon," you pant weakly, almost distressed. So urgent, desperate, like the wound is yet to be healed. You've never said those words to him before because you were afraid he might leave. 

"Love… fuckin' hell."

He has to stop to catch his breath, to catch the truth. Of course he has known it all along without you telling him, because he simply has those instincts of a wild animal. 

But words are powerful… They are magic. And this magic wants itself spelled out.

"I'll give them to you," he promises. "All of it. I swear."

Your eyes drift closed from the full wave of his vow. This mission is a crucial one, then, one of his most important ones. The man loves challenges; he loves when you up the stakes. Perhaps that's what this is about: he doesn't want to be a coward about the thing you both want. 

The skulls, the brass and death that always surround him can't take away the fact that he's a lifegiver. No matter what anyone says, men can give life, too. He has already given you so much, and now he's going to give you children.

A few more tears push through, and it's one of the sweetest things in your life: to get fucked by him so good while you're crying from joy.

"Luv. You trust me?"

You open your eyes again, and the sight of him is crystallized through tears. It's the most beautiful thing. 

"I trust you," you answer with a shaky breath.

Your trust is even more drugging to him than the tightness of your cunt, it seems. The corner of his eye twitches once, his brows knit together, and a pained look passes in his stare: but it's the sweet kind of pain, just like yours is.

"Feels so good," you whisper, looking up at him with devout love. "So, so good…"

"You're damn right," he sighs, panting with strained, short breaths. "Never felt this good."

He rocks you like you're under the sea, at the bottom of the ocean where the waves are mellow and the seabed is made of the softest sand. You're squeezed between his arms, tightly; he pins you to the bed with his body. The flutter of those pale lashes with every thrust is illegally sweet.

Your lips are bolted shut from the raw sensation, the swelling waves, but when a noise finally erupts, it does so with force. 

You know it makes him wild whenever you cry and plead under him. You know it sends him straight to the edge, too: when you moan and tighten around his cock, spread yourself for him to plunder while you're clawing at his back. You were so embarrassed the first time you noticed the red marks on his skin after your little sessions, but he was only pleased and said you should never apologize for that. His body is full of past pain and torture, and still, still, he allows, even wants you to destroy it even more.

"Faster, Simon, please…" 

"Yeah, that's it. Beg... Beg for me, love… "

And damn right, he's eating up your wrecked state like it's time for Christmas dinner, and the table is brimming with his favorite food. You're close, so close it would be torture, devastation if he stopped. 

"Ya want me to give it to you?" His voice is more rough, more commanding. God, he's close too.

"Yes–give it to me, please–"

Just don't stop, whatever you do, don't stop…

You beg some more, but it's incoherent. Just the way he likes. 

Simon–fuck…

There's no reason to it, just ah's and fuck's and love's, all knit together in a sweet, heady mess as you come– 

Fuck–!

…the orgasm is so intense it points your toes, makes you wrap around his middle with what little strength you have in your arms and fingers and those tiny little claws. Your nails sink in, somewhere between his shoulder blades: he's so wide you can't quite reach to hug him, but you latch onto him like a drowning person nonetheless.

"Oh–oh fucking god…!" 

He comes, right after, buries himself so deep that it stings a little, but you would never, ever complain. He pumps you full, doesn't even move, only arches his back to go even deeper, although he's already buried there to the hilt.

And never has he in all your years together sounded so vulnerable. He usually just grunts and huffs when he comes, but now you get a whole string of words and a fragile, broken pitch. He sounds as if he's near the point of breaking into tears. 

It must feel divine to cum inside you instead of a condom, and what's even more, with the intent to fulfill a mission with that shot. Give life.

If you don't get pregnant from this, well… you doubt you ever will.

He's lying on top of you in a heavy, panting heap, sounding like he's just done ten deadlift PRs in a row. You can't help but laugh, breathless, too, and caress him as he comes down from his sex high.

"You can let me go now," you ghost your fingertips up and down his back when he still doesn't move. It's not that you want him to release you, but he's simply too heavy to be lying all over you like this for long periods of time.

"Nah not yet. Gotta make sure..."

He thinks you want him to pull out, and you giggle some more.

"You're crushing me," you laugh. "And we can do this all weekend, silly. If you want to make sure."

His middle contracts with a silent laugh, too.

"Got a fair point there, love."

Finally, he lets you out of the spread. He pulls out, too – that's not necessarily what you wanted, but when he takes you in his arms, you don't complain.

"That was… so nice," you say, suddenly shy. As if this was the first time he wrapped himself around you in a post-coital embrace.

"That was the best."

He's so warm, and the arm around you is heavy, even when lax. Especially when lax. You feel soft and sweet in his hold made of pure strength.

"I'd be surprised if not. You were very determined."

"You think that did it..?"

He's suddenly shy, too. You could swear he has never asked such a fragile question during or after a mission.

"No half-assing with my sweetheart."

One could say he really used his whole ass on this. You know it, because you're the one who spurred him on with weak but eager hands.

"...but I think it would be best to try again tomorrow. Just in case," he suggests, and you can hear the smile. God, that you love him.

"I wouldn't say no to that."

You imagine him waking up to your baby's cry with a sigh and a jaw-dislocating yawn, hushing you back to sleep by telling you it's his turn to go. He would finally locate the source of crying and make it his mission to cradle the little breadcrumb back to sleep, too. You just know Simon would sometimes fall asleep on the sofa while the baby is still in his arms, sound asleep just like their dad.

And you also know the child would make him laugh more. He would have the greatest time hearing all the silly (not to talk about the clever!) things the kid comes up with once it started talking. Simon would listen with a straight face, at first – out of respect – but then he would come to you with an unrestrained smile and a comment: "Did'ya hear what that little thing just said? Unbelievable..."

Whenever the kid had a tricky question, you would send them to Simon. It's decided already. You imagine him explaining things to the child with his steady and calm briefing voice while you're trying to keep your giggle in.

And when the little one was big enough to run around and poke things off the shelves, Simon would embrace you from behind while you're pouring some morning tea and say: "Should we make another one, hmm?"

After all, your little troublemaker would also need a friend to play with...

There's a gigantic, peaceful smile on your face, and Simon should be snoring by now… But he's still awake, and the arm around you draws you closer. He even tucks his hand partly between your body and the mattress. It's the sweetest prison from which you never want to escape.

"What if… What if I get grumpy when I'm pregnant?" You start to chit-chat nonsense while he holds you against a solid chest. You know he will fall asleep soon, and you wish to voice some fragile concerns before he does.

"I'll bring you ice cream to keep you nice and calm," he mutters in the back of your neck, sounding drowsy already.

"What if ice cream won't help?"

"I'll bring you chocolate."

You smile at him having a solution to every problem, no matter how minor. 

"You're really not afraid…?"

"Of you being grumpy? Nah I don't think so."

"No," you laugh at him joking around. "Of… changes."

"After all that we've been through? No." He brushes his lips over your neck, and you turn a little to look at him.

"Simon... What made you change your mind?"

He thinks on the answer for a good ten seconds. You know that inward look, which is both a gaze to the past and a shaky, hopeful glimpse to the future.

"Don't wanna die without knowing how our kid would look like. What they would be like."

You swallow past sorrow – it's such a beautiful thing to say that you have to catch your breath for a moment. Then you put your hand over his arm, the one keeping you close to him.

"Guess I got tired of living in fear," he sums up the change of heart, and you have to blink back more tears.

"I'm tired of living in fear, too," you whisper, and he entwines your fingers together. The kiss that follows is like a seal to your change of plans. It's pure hope.

"Could you... Could you say that we'll be fine?" You speak on his lips as softly as you can. You sometimes worry that he's annoyed by your constant need for reassurance, but he sounds as solid as a soldier can be.

"We'll be fine like always. Promise you that."

He doesn't seem to mind: if anything, you could swear that giving you encouragement only makes his chest puff up a little. The man gets satisfaction from you needing him in your life like this.

"Don't worry. I'll take care of us."

You ease fully into his embrace. He has said he'll take care of you many times before, but now your world is changing. It has changed already; you just know it. There's no more you and him, a team of two. 

There will be a tiny little breadcrumb too.

[cheriladycl01]

I need to go! No you need to race! - Max Verstappen x SwedishOlympicHockey! Reader

Plot: You get hurt during a hockey match at the Nationals and Mad Max makes a return for all the right reasons!

Credit to mverstappenn for the GIF

Usually yours and Max's timetable linked up, you'd be training or doing your tournaments from Monday to Wednesday which Max would join you on before you left in his jet with him to wherever his race was that weekend.

But this week you had a national tournament which was on a Saturday, Sunday where Max was in the world. It was race day for him, and he was using one of the televisions to watch your tournament being streamed.

He couldn't understand any of it, where it was in Swedish so he just watched on with some of the mechanics who knew you and were rooting for you.

It was a good game and you guys were winning, absolutely tearing up the hockey field of the stadium you guys were in. Every time you scored, everyone watching cheered and Max had a big grin on his face when it zoomed in on your face yelling in a smile.

He always found it funny when you smiled as you wore a mouth guard that made your cheeks look puffy.

But things took a turn, it was about 20 minutes until the end of your game and an hour before the race started. All the mechanics were crowed around the TV watching until one of the girls in the opposing team swung their stick up, just as another tripped you up causing the base of the stick to smash into your face.

Max's hand came up to cover his mouth and 'oooooo's' flowed around from the mechanics realizing what just happened.

"Is she okay?" one of them said.

"I could hear something break!" another admitted.

Max watched as a few girls helped you to stand, but it was hard your nose was streaming blood down your face and the knock had clearly made you a little fuzzy.

Max was frowning gripping his fists as he watched the girl who hit you argue with the ref and medics who came out. She was pretty much shouting while you held your nose to try and stop the blood flow coming out.

You were escorted off the pitch and Max immediately went to his phone hounding you with messages asking if you were okay.

When that didn't work he proceeded to blow up your fathers phone who had been at the match in person and would be with you, which also didn't work.

He was so caught up with trying to get in contact with you that he didn't see Christian come up to him.

"Max?" Christian asks tentatively having heard what happened from the mechanics.

"I need to go!" Max exclaims looking up still having no word from your family on how you are doing.

"No, you need to race!" Christian says looking to his watch which showed it wasn't long before he needed to get in the car.

"I can't get in contact with her though, and what if something happens when I'm racing and she needs me!" he admits angrily raising his voice at his team principle.

"Max, calm down!" Christian says, his voice going a little gruffer.

"NO! I need to know shes okay!" he shouts and everyone can tell he's getting madder by the second. He only ever got like this when he was younger and someone crashed into him, he didn't have as well a hold on his emotions back then than he did now. But that was slowly slipping.

He was arguing back and forth with Christian until his phone rang. It was your contact number.

He didn't answer straight away frozen in shock from your number being up there.

"Schat?" he asks as he holds his phone to his ear.

"läckerbit" you tease knowing he hated that nickname.

"Are you okay?" he asks and you can tell he's worried from the tense and strain in his voice.

"Focus on the race, I'm fine and you'll see me soon" you smile into the phone making loads of kissy noises to him before he sighs nodding. You reassure him before you hang up turning to the nurse who was coming back with the x-rays of you nose.

"Yeah, it's definitely broken!" she sighs showing you making ou sigh too.

"Oooo and you have a mild concussion!" she smiles kindly making you laugh a little.

After the race and his podium, Max rushed as quickly as his jet provided to get to the hospital in Sweden you were being helped in.

He tried to sleep on the flight but was far too nervous to the point where he was pacing up and down the free walkway in the middle of the jet until the airhost made him take a seat handing him a beer to calm his nerves.

When he arrived to your private room in the hospital to see you scrolling through your phone he didn't fully take in your appearance at first.

He didn't note the greasy hair, or the bags under your eyes or the stuff helping fix your nose.

"Hey Schat!" he sighs and your head snaps up you look at him in disgust and shock.

"No! Don't look at me!" you cry pulling his hoodie up over you head and face to cover everything. And he couldn't help but laugh at your reaction. Hiding from him as if he hadn't seen you at your worst.

"Why are you hiding from me Princess" he laughs coming over and sitting on the edge of the bed after having taking a picture of your embarrassment.

"Mmmmm i look awful!" you say peeking at him through the hood.

"I think you look beautiful, like always" he grins, kissing you cheek not wanting to risk kissing your lips and numbing his nose with yours.

y/user

Liked by maxverstappen1 and redbullracing

y/user: This weekend in order between my hockey competition and Max’s race.

Image 1 - me and my girlie frejalarsson getting ready for battle (we had a national tournament)

Image 2 - Max at his race to me tacking a hockey stick to the face 😳 (my nose was bleeding pretty bad)

Image 3 - Max leaving after his race on Sunday to fly to me in Sweden to visit me in the hospital. (I looked awful and was embarrassed)

Image 4 - going with Max to Monaco to get cuddles from Jimmy and Sassy

It’s been eventful to say the least!

Tagged 2 People

View all 165 comments

redbullracing: get well soon y/n!

maxverstappen1: now I know how you feel when I get into a crash! Scariest moment of my life! So glad you are okay! 🥰

-> y/user: Love you Käresta 🤭🫶🏼

landonorris: get well soon y/n! Need you in the club asap 🍾🎈

-> y/user: i broke my nose Lando …

-> landonorris: so you can’t party with a broke nose? LAME!

-> maxverstappen1: I’m breaking your nose next buddy if you aren’t careful ❗️

-> landonorris: 😦

Instagram Story Caption: Lego Date 🧱

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul l @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @seomako @urdad-hot @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount @styl1shl1v

[rafeandonlyrafe]

i am a rich man

words: 1k

warnings: misogyny, brief mention of violence, reader is a kook

a/n: im on vacation starting tomorrow monday 1/22-friday so i will not be posting any new fics for this week!

“have you decided what car you want baby?” rafe asks, pressing a kiss to your cheek as you scroll through the dealerships website.

“i’ve narrowed it down to two.” you tilt your phone towards rafe, letting him look at one car before navigating to the other tab to show him.

“why don’t you test drive both and decide after that? and if you like both, just buy both.” rafe shrugs. it was weird for him at first being with someone who had even more money than his family, but now he’s grown used to it, liking knowing you can support yourself if needed, even though rafe likes to buy most things for you.

“good point.” you hum. “i’d have to park one on the driveway though, my dad is only giving me one spot in the garage.” you pout. your dad has a mild obsession with sports cars, and therefore three of the four spots in the garage were already taken.

“lets not worry about it now, figure it out after you see them in person.” rafe says, and you nod, getting up off the couch to head to the dealership, glad that rafe agreed to drive you and test the cars with you, mainly because you didn’t want to spend the day without him.

it’s a long drive to the nearest dealership that had cars in your price range, but you don’t mind as you sing along to your favorite songs playing through rafes trucks speakers, always letting you be the dj even if he can’t stand some of the girly pop songs that you play.

“almost there.” rafe reaches over, squeezing your thigh as the dealership finally comes into view.

“thank god.” you groan. “my butt is starting to go numb.” “don’t talk about your butt when we are about to be in public.” rafe warns, glancing over at you as you giggle.

“sorry baby.” you say, in a voice that tells rafe that you’re not at all sorry.

“let me drop you off at the front, i’ll park the car then join you inside.” rafe says upon pulling in and realizing that there are no close parking spots, and he doesn’t want to make you walk outside for longer than he has to.

“mmkay, thanks baby.” you lean over and press a kiss to his cheek, always extra appreciative and lovey on rafe when he does sweet things for you, even if its just something little.

you hop out of the truck, heading inside the main showroom of the dealership.

“hello, ma’am!” a sales associate instantly hurries over to you. “i’m john, did you have an appointment?” “no, but i’ve checked out your inventory online and i know what i’d like to test drive today.” you say with a fake smile right back, already not liking the condescending attitude that john is giving off.

“alright, well lets take a seat at my desk and you can tell me your budget.” john walks you over to his cubicle, and before he can begin talking you’re joined by rafe.

“this is my boyfriend, he’s helping me pick out a car today.” you say as he sits down next to you, reaching over and looping your fingers through his, already eyeing up john as he tries to size him up.

“hello, sir.” john smiles. “so what is your budget?” he addresses the question at rafe, making your eyebrows scrunch together.

“well,” you answer, making johns gaze flick quickly to you, “budget isn’t an issue. i know what two cars i would like to look at.”

“okay, if you just want to tell me the models i will pull them up.” john turns the computer screen so you all can see as you tell him the two cars that peaked your interest the most.

“and i assume you will be financing?” he hums. you glance at rafe, shocked that he would have the audacity to assume anything.

“no.” rafe answers for you. “in full.” “okay, that makes sense that you will be paying, sir.” john says, nonchalantly as if he didn’t just imply that you wouldn’t be able to afford the car.

“as said before, i will be the one purchasing the car, so while my boyfriend is here to help me, i am your customer.” you clear up, hand squeezing rafes as you try to hold back your anger, knowing you can get just as fired up as him.

“sorry, just don’t see many young women being able to buy cars like these outright.” he says before quickly switching the subject, going through some of the specs of the vehicles. “and the cost on that one is $94,000.”

“wait a minute.” you rub your forehead, getting tired of this mans bullshit. “while i said money was no issue, that doesn’t mean that i’m going to let you get away with scamming me. that car is worth no more than 75.” “well, ma’am, there are various-” “no.” you shake your head. “i have done my research on these vehicles and i know that ever 75 is on the high end.” “let me double check my figures.” john swallows nervously, turning the screen so only he can see it as you send a look at rafe, seeing he’s struggling just as much as you not to reach across the desk and smack the misogynistic sales associate across the face.

“my apologies, i must have accidentally selected an additional maintenance package. it is $74,000.” john says.

“that sounds much more reasonable, but i will not be purchasing a car from someone who tries to scam me out of my money just because they think i’m a dumb girl. get me a different sales associate, now.” you command.

john scurries away from the desk, the stark opposite of the cockiness air that he had when you first arrived.

“jesus, you’re hot when you’re scary.” rafe says, looking you up and down as you smirk at your boyfriend, knowing while you’re usually sickly sweet, when a man irks you wrong, it brings out your full wrath.

taglist: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie @drewstarkeyslut @rafecamerongirl @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @emma77645

[haeryna]

first time that i called you mine (that wasted summer) ↪ gojo satoru x reader x geto suguru ⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ

← previous | ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ | next →

summary: suguru figures out he loves you the summer when you're both fifteen. satoru calls you his a few months after. when you finally realize it, there's nothing left to call yours. ↪ a continuation of this drabble

tw: angst, referenced abandonment, homophobia, implied mild sexual content, reader calls satoru a manwhore (affectionate), swearing, the author loves parentheses a concerningly large amount, not proofread teehee

notes: title taken from loote's wasted summer. reader is a teenager, along with satoru, suguru, and shoko. banner from @/cafekitsune

Suguru is only six years old when he falls in love with you.

At first, it was entirely childish. When he saw you for the first time, tears streaming down your cheeks by the creek he'd explore with Satoru, he liked feeling needed. He liked how you'd clung to him so desperately, and selfishly, he liked having something he didn't share with Satoru.

(He should have known that whatever was Suguru's inevitably also became Satoru's)

He knew he loved you when you were eight, bravely defending Satoru from a group of bratty kids who were calling him slurs before Satoru had even knew what love was. He knew he loved you when you were twelve and crying for him when Suguru got into his first fist fight, sniffling as you patched up the bloody scrapes after.

But this was different.

"Sugu, sit still!" you hissed, as he squirmed uncomfortably on the lumpy sofa that resided in his basement. You were fifteen, and tired of Suguru complaining about how the nearest piercer was a two hour drive away. In one hand you brandished a piercing gun; in your other, the piercings that were meant to go into his earlobes. Besides you, Satoru gleefully filmed Suguru's discomfort.

"Are you sure that's sanitary? Why are we doing this because you're bored, can't you experiment on Satoru first?" Suguru shot back, leaning away from the piercing gun.

"You're such a big baby, you've been complaining about your empty earlobes for months now. You literally came with me to buy the piercing gun, which cost me my whole allowance by the way, so sit still. And it's summer break, so if you're going to do something dramatic to your appearance, you have to do it now." Before he could stop you, you determinedly swung your leg up and over, lightly straddling his lap.

Suguru realized several critical things as he registered your weight sinking into him.

You smelled like the meadows you'd roamed as kids, mixed with the smell of cigarette smoke (Shoko had convinced him to take up smoking with her) and burnt sugar (Satoru's failed attempt at some monstrosity that still sat smoking in Suguru's kitchen). You smelled like them, he realized. Like a mix of the people who loved you.

You were pretty. He'd always known that, but now, with the heat of your body pressed against his, he didn't realize how somewhere along the way you'd grown into your gangly limbs and the clothes you complained were a few sizes too large.

These two realizations were combined with the fact that he was a boy, a teenaged boy, and you were so close that his heart was going to burst. You smelled like flowers, smoke, and sugar, you smelled like him, like you could be his, and if you moved an inch lower you would know that the Suguru you always came to for comfort was just another boy, and he couldn't bear it. He would rather die than lose you, he would do anything just to have you, he wanted, he wanted, he wanted-

"Yay, all done!" Effortlessly you slid right off his lap as fast as you'd hopped on it, and it was then he realized his earlobes were stinging. In the time he'd spent dazedly staring at you, you'd pierced his ears.

Satoru snickered, still holding his phone obnoxiously close to Suguru's face. "He looks like he's in shock. Hey, if I get a piercing, would you straddle me like that too? You'll make me jealous, you know."

As the two of you bickered in the background, Suguru couldn't help but swallow shakily, lightly pressing his fingertips to the round black earrings you'd picked out for him.

"I love it," he says quietly. "Thank you."

(I love you, is what he meant to say, but you didn't understand because you merely shot him a smug smile before berating Satoru for being a "manwhore, Satoru, I'm not like your groupies at school, go get one of them to pierce your ears for you if you want one so bad!")

Suguru has always known he's loved you, but that summer, he knew he loved you.

Where Suguru goes, Satoru follows. It's only inevitable that he'd realize he was in love with you too. Despite his easygoing nature and flirtatious charms, there's a critical difference between Suguru and Satoru. Satoru gets possessive, a dangerous combination of the spoiled upbringing and how guarded his heart is.

"Who is that?"

Satoru blatantly stares at the boy leaning against your locker. Pettily, he thinks that he's definitely shorter than Satoru, and uglier too. It doesn't seem to matter though, because you're laughing at whatever the he said. As you turn to reach for your books, the hungry look in the boy's eyes make Satoru's fists clench.

"Kenji?" Shoko looks amused when she sees the look in Satoru's eyes. "Isn't he in our English class? He's got a massive crush on her, apparently it's all he talks to his friends about."

Satoru grits his teeth. "Oh, does he?"

He can't quite explain the burning, insidious feeling that forms in his chest. What could've possibly been so funny to make you laugh like that? The smiles you're giving him, why didn't you give those to Satoru too?

The boy, Kenji, reaches over to your face, looking as though he's going to tuck a loose strand of hair around your ear. Something inside of Satoru snaps. He stalks over, ignoring Shoko's snicker, calling your name loudly and abruptly.

"There you are!"

You turn, surprised, as Kenji's hand drops away, his lovesick smile turning into something that looks something similar to fear. "'Toru, where were you? Suguru said he needed to stay in during lunch for a club, but I couldn't find you when I waited outside your classroom."

Satoru's heart lurches traitorously inside his chest, and before he can stop himself, he latches onto your wrist, tugging you towards him. "Don't scare me like that," he murmurs, cradling you firmly in his arms. "Shoko and I couldn't find you, it made me worried."

You peer up at him, clueless to the long forgotten boy fuming behind you. "Ah, I'm sorry, I forgot I left my lunch in my locker." Something in Satoru's chest yearns. Is it because you're so used to his physical affection, his touch, his love, that you don't give him the same starry eyed look as the boy who's still awkwardly waiting by your locker? How can he get you to look like that? How could he make you love him too?

The realization doesn't strike him like he expects, but it feels a bit like finally finding the choreography that fit with the song, the way that he would find a lyric for a song Suguru was attempting to write. It felt like coming home, and reclaiming what was once lost.

Satoru loved you. He has always loved you.

"Let's go," he says, signature smile back on his face, any trace of vulnerability long gone. As he intertwines his fingers with yours, he turns back to see the resigned, frustrated look on Kenji's face.

Just to be an asshole, he tucks your hair behind your ear as you walk away.

You're sixteen when Suguru and Satoru get together. They don't tell you anything. They don't have to. You can see it in the way that Suguru cradles Satoru's face when he falls asleep, affection settling warm in his dark brown eyes. You can see it in the way that Satoru somehow always needs something from Suguru at the precise moment that a girl tries to ask him out. It's in the dark purple marks you can see peaking out from Suguru's collarbone when his shirt slips down an inch, in the way that when Satoru stretches, you can see angry red scratches down his back.

You're sixteen when Satoru's parents find out, shattering the life that you once had. You're sixteen, sitting in Suguru's basement, sobbing as his parents tell you that he's gone. Shoko is saying something to you, but everything feels muffled and hazy, as you let out a choked wail. You know he's gone. The guitar you gave him only a couple months ago, the binder full of music he's composed, even Satoru's clothes that he'd keep in the dresser next to his bed. Every trace of them is gone. You feel as though they took your heart with you.

You're sixteen when Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru leave you, and it's in that moment that you realize you loved them a little too late.

[hobblt]

I’m in Italy with Covid and the food I bought that I thought was yogurt is actually rice pudding lol

[cheralith]

to a heart's content — 「 single father!miguel o'hara x reader (part ii) 」

content warnings ; fem!reader, implied fem bodied!reader, use of she/her pronouns, reader wears dresses and makeup, mild violence mention

contains ; single father!miguel o'hara, boss!miguel o'hara, assistant!reader, angst, angst with some comfort, some fluff if you squint

word count ; 4.3k

notes ; at long last, here's the much waited part two! truly didn't expect the first part to blow up like it did, but i'm ever so grateful for all the support and the patience for those still here!

parts ; one two three (tba)

“Lyla, show me the nearest florist from here.”

“The nearest flower shop? That’s gonna be Business is Blooming on 27th Street—”

“27th Street?!” Miguel exclaims, his shock at the distance startling him and making his hands accidentally tighten the belt he was fixing much too tightly. He lets out a strangled choking sound and quickly loosens it before his legs lose oxygen, a feat that he’d hate to do just minutes prior to an event that could possibly change his life for the better. “That’s at least fifteen minutes away and on the opposite side of Clark! I’m already late, aren’t there any other ones closer?”

Lyla’s smaller holographic form pieces together on top of his full-body mirror that displays him in a formal-casual attire consisting of a cream turtleneck, black dress pants buckled with a coffee brown belt and topped altogether with a sepia overcoat that hadn’t seen the light of day since he bought it all those years ago. She puckers her grinning lips, a little amused at the rarity of Miguel in such an outfit and thinking he looks like a cup of coffee.

“Well, there’s always that crowded grocery store on Main?” she suggests as she examines her fingernails, instantly changing the pattern of them with a snap of her fingers. “But that’s gonna cost ya another twenty minutes and you’re already what—? Ten minutes late?”

Miguel fights off a groan at her teasing. “Lyla, I’m serious. Are there genuinely not any other ones around here? Any local ones? C’mon, this is Nueva York, there has to be at least one.”

“You could always try the marketplace. But then again, it’s Sunday so might not really be wise to take your chances,” Lyla shrugs.

Miguel even wonders if men these days still even have the dignity to give their partners flowers after realizing there is a significant lack of florists in today’s day and age. He wouldn’t be like them; flowers are a timeless gift everyone enjoys and he thinks if he can’t get it for you, he might as well not call himself a man at all. 

His eyes go to spot the window in the reflection of the mirror where the sun is beginning to finally set and the city’s nightlife is rising from the dead. Buildings of all heights buster from every corner and the open road that eradicates much of the land dissolves a weary pit in his stomach, obviously annoyed at the many obstacles that block his path. Miguel takes another glance at the clock, the minute hand inching closer and closer and closer to 6:00. The initial plans were to leave the apartment by 5:30, acquire some gifts for you and then travel to the restaurant by 6:00, but seeing as how he’s still trapped in his abode, Miguel thinks that he can only do so much.

But he realizes that’s for Miguel O’Hara, renowned Alchemax geneticist and full-time father. Miguel O’Hara, an everyday citizen, couldn’t possibly crunch so much in such little time.

For Spider-Man, however…

Lyla eyes him suspiciously and purses her lips when Miguel looks at his wrists and then at the window again. “I don’t think that’s wise, Miguel.”

“What’s wise?” he replies coyly, going to quickly shovel off his clothes to replace them with a familiar blue and red attire.

“I know whatcha gonna do,” Lyla says and glitches around him as he searches for his suit. “But it’s not gonna end well, I’m tellin’ ya right now, mister!”

Miguel shakes her caution off, too occupied with shuffling on his superhero suit onto his body before neatly tucking his other outfit into his hammerspaced pocket. “It’ll be quick, I swear. I just need to get her some flowers and then I’ll be on my way. Lock up the house for me, yeah?”

“You’re not gonna make it,” Lyla shakes her head. “Just ditch the flowers and get her something on the way instead.”

But the last of Lyla’s words don’t make it to Miguel’s ears, as he’s already slinging and gliding himself out of the window and toward the given address of the florist. Lyla can only watch in artificial disdain as Miguel’s figure grows smaller and smaller through the passing seconds. She sighs, rolling her eyes as she flickers off the apartment lights before disintegrating.

The roar of the city life grows louder and louder the more Miguel comes closer to the center of it where the flower shop lays. People gather in clusters bustling about all over, making him a little weary of himself as he stares at them from above a high tower. He’s not exactly an ordinary passerby that can easily maneuver their way through so easily—especially not with this getup. Spider-Man is also a name that rather became widespread across the city of Nueva York, meaning that even if one person were to see the flash of blue and red, he’s up for trouble. 

The evildoers tonight seem to be at cease, thankfully. He hasn’t heard of any malicious plotting or future events that will take place today by any of the supervillains that hunt him down like deer recently. Then again, there’s always smaller crimes still waiting to be stopped, but he’s sure the cops will come around for those. Miguel convinces himself it’ll just be a one time thing.

Yet when the familiar song of police sirens blare through the city, he twitches at the thought of leaving such miscreants in the hands of police when he’s sure he can take them down like an army of ten men.

But the police have ten men on them, so truly he can just leave it alone, right? He’s essentially in front of the flower shop that’s seated below an apartment building. All he has to do is just jump down, get the flowers, and leave in the nick of time. He doesn’t have time to dilly dally with low-rated criminals. 

Then again, when he spots the gang of robbers in two white vans speeding down the road at a blistering speed without any caution for pedestrians, Miguel grits his teeth. On their tail is a rally of five police cars that keep gaining and losing them by the second and Miguel isn’t sure whether the irritation was from his indecisiveness or the fact that if he didn’t do anything, there will be consequences.

Perhaps do both to ease his mind? No, he can’t do that. You’re most likely on your way to the restaurant, all dolled up and fresh-faced. He still would need the time to fix himself up in some dingy public bathroom. A cop car that’s been hiding in the corner joins the chase—that’s surely more than enough to take care of them?

Miguel’s eyes go back and forth... back and forth between the two sights. Anxiety is doing little to help his situation and a mist of sweat begins to form on his skin the more the seconds tick by, making the innermost part of his suit much more uncomfortable and moist. A clock hangs by an awning nearby that displays the haunting time of 6:03 PM, just twenty-seven minutes shy of the designated 6:30 meeting time.

He glances one more time at the chase, swallowing a thick lump in his throat when he sees the vans hurdle full speed toward an open street of walking pedestrians, all ignorant of the fact to what beholds them in just mere seconds.

Miguel curses under his breath.

It’ll only be this for today, no more after that.

Fatigued eyes go to watch as the last people leave the restaurant, leaving you isolated in your little corner both embarrassed and hungry due to the heavy lack of food served on your platter for tonight. The other waiters begin to scrub the tables and booths free of crumbs and topple the chairs onto them, indicating that tonight has drawn to its close. You think you’ve memorized the entirety of the menu at this point, considering it’s really all you’ve been averting your eyes towards to avoid the looks of others.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you can see the waiters and waitresses pitifully gossiping about you and a heat flashes onto your face by how incredibly desolate you’ve looked in the past three hours. Internally, you thank them for their patience and how they’ve tolerated your excuses for your date’s tardiness-turned-absence, knowing that it must be a pain to look after someone that hadn’t even ordered anything besides water for the time she had been here.

You don’t even wait for your waitress to come to your table for the nth time tonight, going by your own initiative to pack up your things. Your phone is still devoid of any notifications from Miguel, as well, even after the four calls, occasional text checkups, and last minute voicemailed question of a needed rescheduling if he so desired. 

What remains is just a grayed out Read, 7:47 PM underneath all the text bubbles.

“I… sincerely apologize if I loitered at all,” you murmur with your head half-down to the young host who shuffles the menus back into the lectern. “This was truly the last thing that I had expected from him…”

You instantly take back that statement the moment it leaves your lips. If anything, you should’ve known that this would’ve happened. Foolish you were—you’ve been with Miguel for the past three years, this was everyday behavior for him. You suppose this is how Gabriella must feel constantly and another heartache pits itself within you at the shared feeling.

The host shakes his head sympathetically. “You wouldn’t be our first case, I’m sure you didn’t have any ill intent. If anything, I’m the one sorry that he made you wait that long,” he replies with evident pity. “Whoever he is, he must be a dick for leaving such a pretty thing like you alone all night, ma’am.”

“Oh, he’s—” you fall short on your words, not even having the energy to sorely defend Miguel’s name. “Never mind…” you mutter.

“Do you need a cab?” asks the host, “Well actually, I’m about to clock out for tonight. I can drive you home, if you want. It’s the least I can do for you after tonight.”

You’re about to reply to him to turn down the offer, as you suspect he’s the type of guy to use women in these situations to his advantage, but the doors suddenly burst open to reveal the one and only in a hazy state and what seems to… flowers clutched in his hands? The petals, however, are corrugated and some have even completely drooped down from their stem. The paper that is supposed to guard them is wrinkled and torn at the corners. Almost all of the bouquet is wilted, much like your own composure for tonight. 

Miguel isn’t much better. Hair and clothes a little damp, he’s frazzled and evidently guilty, as his face pales when he sees your contrasting appearance. You’re adorned in an a-lined, half-sleeved royal blue dress that made you look so regal in comparison to your daily white blouse-black pants outfit that he's seen too much of. Not to mention additional details of your styled hair and accessories just brought out the best of your beauty that was wasted on essentially nothing this evening. 

“Mr. O’Hara…” you breathe when he passes through the door. The first thing that you notice automatically when his face properly comes into view is a sharply jagged, yet thin cut on the side of his cheek. “Did someth—”

“(Y/N), I’m so… so sorry,” he chokes out. “Something c-came up at work and they asked me to help them out… I’m sorry, I know I should’ve said no, but they were kind of on my ass about it and I got so caught up with it, so I wasn’t able to text you and—”

“She waited three hours,” the host drones and juts his thumb toward the dining area where all the chairs are laid atop the tables. Its lights flicker out, leaving only the foyer and smaller hallways lit so dismally in the night. “Until closing. She didn’t order anything in the meantime, so not only you left her alone tonight, you left her alone and hungry.”

“Hey listen, bud,” Miguel snaps at the host. He points a finger at him with irate in his eyes. “Not your business, so stay out of it.”

The host scoffs with a smirk on his face. “Not the first time I’ve heard that and certainly not the first time I’ve seen this happen. Guys like you always—”

You raise a hand to stop their bickering, afraid of what might happen if things escalate further as you really didn’t desire to do anything more than just sleep off your feelings. Both men stop and turn to look at you with concern on their faces.

“Do you still need that ride home?”

“Are you still hungry?”

A frustrated head shake finally silences the both of them. 

“I’m fine, thank you for the offer, though,” you say quietly to the host. You turn to Miguel, who swallows at the sight of your tired eyes. “May we talk outside? I’d hate to stay here any longer than I need to.”

Miguel attempts to excuse himself one more time, but when you begin to pace yourself toward the door without waiting for him, he realizes he can’t exactly make any more decisions of his own any more this evening. Not after choosing his heroic duties again and again for tonight instead of tending to you.

The moon and stars tonight have made their presence with the special guest of light rain coming in for a visit. The whisper of a drizzle ghosts itself on your goosebumps skin and the chill of a wind nips at your flesh. 

Miguel is quick to follow you. “I’m really sorry again, (Y/N),” he utters so softly that it makes your heart ache with familiarity. It’s the same tone of voice he’s used with Gabriella when at times, he wasn’t able to make it to her events or practices like he promised. “Are you still hungry by any chance? I know a good 24/7 diner that’s pretty close here.”

Without turning around, you politely shake your head and begin to search for any cabs coming your way. “I’ll be okay. I think I have some leftovers in the fridge that can suffice.”

The thought of you eating alone like he did on a night that you shouldn’t be sends shivers of guilt down Miguel’s spine. He curses himself at his past actions—deciding that it was stupid to catch those robbers who didn’t even put up much of a fight, to stop that gang brawl that was happening on the corner of 5th that was resolved the moment the elderly shopkeeper began to yell, to help that old lady that was certainly taking her sweet time to cross the street. They were such unbelievably mild crimes that he didn’t need to attend to, but did anyway even with the thought of you in mind.

Perhaps he should’ve had more faith in technology, because he’s sure Lyla was going to have much fun taunting him for the rest of the week. 

“You can keep the flowers, too,” you say softly when a cab begins to pull up. “I appreciate the gesture, but I don’t think I have a vase to store them in unfortunately.”

Miguel’s grip on the dismal bouquet tightens, not even trying to fight your refusal as you get into a cab. He stops the door from closing just as you’re about to, trying one last time to make up for his actions. 

“At least let me pay for your cab,” Miguel whispers.

You know he’s sorry. You can see in his eyes the familiar gleam of woe that he’s given to his daughter. Your eyes go to flicker at the cut again, but you know that if you ask, he’s sure to give one his many excuses because it isn’t the first time he’s shown up with an injury before. And you don’t want to put yourself through that wall of verbal familiarity. 

With sorrow gentleness, you pry his fingers off the edge of the car and shut it, putting a physical barrier between you and Miguel. The eyes of the driver goes to pitifully glance at your state before beginning to rev up the engine.

You don’t even have the courage to share a glance towards Miguel one last time before the cab begins to drive off—your wallow of disappointment is deep enough as it is.

The rest of the week is agonizingly slow; Miguel dares to say it’s torturous, even.

He’s thankful you’re still acknowledging his existence and talking with him, but your conversations lack the usual warmth and gentle playfulness they often had. It was already lonely enough dealing with the lack of a third person like him at home, but the feeling of isolation felt even more scarring this time because when he came home late after your babysitting session, you didn’t bother with small talk with him, the only thing that made him realize he didn't have to do everything by himself alone.

You didn’t ask how the late shift was, how were the bosses treating him, if he was getting enough rest… no, you only kept him updated on his daughter's schoolwork and any future events regarding her and her only. Your words never included him or you, only finishing off with a goodbye and have a nice night.

At least you were still kind enough to fix him the usual leftovers.

Work itself wasn’t much better. Conversations were brief and the lab in which you two worked privately was filled with silence that was only broken with the occasional demands and directions of lab work. Sometimes a forced cough would sneak its way through Miguel’s lips if the silence began to disturb him too much. He attempted to make some at the beginning, asking how your day was and whether your father was on your tail again, but he was met with short, sharp responses. 

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Perhaps.”

“I’m not sure.”

Never have such words been so agonizing before. Ironic that they are because Miguel often hated it when people rambled and preferred it when conversations got to the point. He supposes, though, you get to the point too fast for his liking nowadays.

When he tried bringing up an explanation for Sunday’s events, you’d quickly shut it down as tenderly as possible, saying things along the lines of “It’s alright, your schedule is hectic. I can understand.” or “I just hope your work didn’t give you too much trouble.” You’re so polite about it that it hurts him. Miguel would much rather have you lash out and insult him than have you soften the landing that does barely anything to ease him because it feels like you’ve put on that mask you put in front of others—professional and orderly—and Miguel didn’t want to be seen as just a mere coworker, let alone your boss, to you.

His pride bites at his ankles. Lies coming out of his lips too regularly, he had to fib to Gabriella the morning after her sleepover when she asked about the date that you had fallen sick and weren’t able to make it. The disappointment on her face mimicked yours too eerily. She asked him if they were going to reschedule it. Miguel could only shrug his shoulders—he wasn’t even sure if you wanted anything to do with him after that event. 

At least nothing changed with you and his daughter. He’d still home to an apartment with you helping with homework or her helping with dinner or tucking her into bed. That’s all he could ask for right now.

Miguel still had the chance to redeem himself this week. There was the annual banquet held at a banquet hall to celebrate the yearly achievements Alchemax and those associated had accomplished, as well as discussing major plans for the future. It was a boring, yet formal event used for connections and idle chatter, something Miguel usually didn’t look forward to. Lyla suggested to him to convince you to go and that Gabriella would just have a one-time babysitter while you got to enjoy (or in your case, put up) with his company as he redeemed himself best as possible. You’re not one to talk with others you’ve never met, so he knew that you would most likely stick by his side for a sense of familiarity. 

It took a while, but you murmured you’d go under your breath to shake him off your tail. Miguel was elated, but it was quickly shut down halfheartedly by the reminder that you were still somewhat upset by Sunday’s incident, saying you’d take a cab to the banquet instead of driving with him like he offered.

No matter, as long as you were there by his side.

Miguel made sure that this time, he’d be out the door much earlier than the last, promising to never keep you waiting longer than a minute. A text on his phone pings that you’re near the back entrance, where the parking lot was so it’d be easier to find you. He swerves a little too harshly into the lot—either from nervousness or excitement or both—at the mention and had spotted you near the staircase adorned in a floor-length blushed, ivory pink halter gown with luminescent tulle, making you look like the human embodiment of an ocean pearl.

His eyes are so fixed on you that he didn’t realize he almost knocked himself straight into an oncoming BMW. The owner, a crabby old man he recognizes from human resources, swears and honks at him, making Miguel hide his face before hurriedly parking a little more safely. 

When he approaches you, he drinks you in your full glory. Everything about you is so fresh… so exhilarating. You’ve done your hair with a couple of clips this time, with more subtle jewelry this time. Your makeup looks tidy and perfect and Miguel enjoys the way it emphasizes your best features instead of morphing them. If only he was wiser on Sunday, he would’ve been able to savor a different version of you in blue. 

Nevertheless, you still manage to take his breath away with just a simple breath like you always have. It’s just that it was only recently had Miguel realized you had that ability and he’d be alright experiencing it again and again if it was with you.

“Mr. O’Hara?” you say and wave a soft wave in front of his face to break his trance. Somehow, you begin to grow self-conscious. Perhaps he didn’t like it? Maybe it was too revealing… the slit at the halter neckline did somewhat peek at your cleavage and you weren’t used to baring your shoulders out. “I-is everything okay?”

Miguel blinks a couple of times. His surroundings finally come into focus like your figure, making him realize how long he had been staring. “Apologies. I… never got to tell you this on Sunday, but I hope to do it now, (Y/N)... ” he clears his throat and straightens his posture, remembering to act everything out as practiced, before softly whispering with evident fondness that, “You look beautiful, tonight.”

A spark of surprise shocks your features for a brief moment, before your usual modesty is displayed again. Eye contact is broken, for you can’t fathom the thought of someone like Miguel O’Hara, favored in every possible way, would be complimenting you so casually. “Oh um. Thank you,” you choke out halfheartedly. 

Miguel leans over slightly over your figure and tucks a lock of stray hair behind your ear. If he wanted to truly make up for what happened, he was going to have to go all out tonight, even if that meant rocketing out of his comfort zone. He just barely catches you hitching a breath at the semi-intimate of physical contact as he tries his best to hide his own when he murmurs in your ear again. 

“I’m not saying it out of manners, I’m saying it factually,” he mumbles, eyeing the passersby that stare in wonder at you. Some ego swells inside of him at the jealous looks that are given to him. “You’ve bewitched me and many others already.”

You stray your gaze away at him with your hands fiddling at the skirt of your dress. “You didn’t have to, but thank you for the dress, by the way,” you murmur timidly. “I’ve never heard of a brand called Lyla, but I admit, this dress of theirs is rather nice.”

Miguel furrows his brows at the mention before Lyla briefly appears on your head, giving him an enthusiastic thumbs up before disappearing. It doesn’t take Miguel long to realize that Lyla had shipped something so pristine to you without his permission, though he supposes that she had done him and you a favor given how majestic you look tonight. 

He lets out a soft breath of a chuckle before shaking his head. Maybe he’ll give her some upgrades in return.

You turn your head behind you, not knowing what he was looking at. “Is something wrong? Is there something in my hair?”

“No, no. Sorry, I got lost in my thoughts…” Miguel interjects before offering his arm to you. “We should get going. I’d hate for a dress like this to go to waste for only my eyes.”

Internally, Miguel wanted to be selfish. He wanted to be greedy and have you all for himself, savor your every move tonight, have you and him be the only ones in this place. He didn’t want anyone to look towards your direction and have you look at anyone else besides him. A little venomous thought of people not realizing you had so much more potential than they realized embeds in himself, and that their awe for tonight was too artificial. He wanted more and to give you more, but then again, he’s still Spider-Man at the end of the day, the impossible man that somehow does it all and faces the consequences head on. He can only offer a regular day citizen like you so much.

But for now, he’ll make do with what he can. Not as Spider-Man this time, but as Miguel O’Hara.

a/n ; hi yeah don't panic, there'll be a part three lmfao i lied lolol. most likely it'll be the last part to this little series i've got going, too, since i think making it a fully fledged series would kind of lead some things astray for me. that doesn't mean the end of the miggy o'hare writings, however! still will most definitely attempt to write for him bc bro's GLORIOUS

thank you all for the patience for part ii, and i hope to see that part iii comes out asap! i'll give updates for it as always, but in the meantime, thank you for reading and likes/comments/reblogs are always noticed and infinitely appreciated ( ˘ ³˘) ♡ !

taglist ; @secretlyrexlapis @urbimom @p1nkliquor @julesclues @averagefloydlover @apurpletrashcan @toofsfairys @raeisthebae (for those with strikethroughs, i'm not able to tag you for some reason :(!)

[ladyinwriting18]

A Loyal Death Eater (Severus Snape x Reader)

Summary: Severus comes home to find he's been left a gift from The Dark Lord--you.

Words: 4901 Warnings: PIV, Human Given As A Gift, Master/Servant, Pet Names, Fingering, Oral Male Receiving, Dirty Talk. Author's Note: Hiiii if you know me then welcome back--WILL I EVER STICK TO ONE FANDOM TO WRITE FOR? The answer is no lol If this is your first time reading my writing then welcome! I hope you enjoy my first ever Snape one-shot!

Severus Snape is tired. So very tired. Tired of living this double life. Death Eater. The Order. Following Dumblerdor’s orders. Secretly protecting Harry. Funneling particular information to Voldemort for the sake of keeping up appearances. All while teaching potions. The vein in his temple throbs at the mere thought of his students. He doesn’t want to think about them now. He doesn't want to think about anything. All Severus Snape wants is to bury his face into a pillow. And that’s exactly his plan as he walks into his home and heads up the stairs towards his room... That is until he notices the piece of parchment stuck to the bedroom door. He’s immediately on high alert. Tension has his spine straight and his shoulders up by his ears. With his wand drawn, he creeps closer, ready to hex whatever intruder has managed to sneak into his home. But the signature at the bottom gives him pause. Why the hell was The Dark Lord leaving him handwritten notes? Dark eyes scan the entire letter. “To my most loyal Death Eater. I’ve left you a gift. A reward for all of your hard work. Use it however you wish and dispose of it when you’re done with it.”  Severus raises a brow. It? What exactly was waiting for him on the other side of the door?

There was only one way to find out. With a heavy sigh, he pushes open the door, but what he finds stops him dead in his tracks. A woman sits kneeling on the floor beside his bed. Your head is bowed with your hands placed palms up atop your thighs. But the most shocking thing is that you’re completely naked except for a black and green garter belt on your right thigh. “What is the meaning of this?” he commands, still in a mild state of shock at the scene before him. You, however, do not stir, keeping your body still. “Hello, Master. It is a pleasure to meet you. How may I serve you tonight?”  Your voice is warm…feminine…inviting. It draws Severus in and has him stepping into the room. But the closer he gets to you, the more your words sink in. “Forgive me…serve me?” You nod. “Yes, Master. I belong to you now. For as long as you want me.” The realization hits him like a bludger to the face. “You’re…my gift.” You nod again. “From the Dark Lord.” “And why would the Dark Lord send me a human as a gift?” The disgust in his voice isn’t directed at you, but you respond nonetheless. “To use as you see fit. I am yours and any desire my Master has is mine to fulfill.” He doesn’t know a single soul alive or dead who wouldn’t be tempted by such an offer. And though his heart had been lowered into the ground on the same day that Lily’s body was, he is still a man. A man with needs that he hasn’t even dreamt of allowing himself to feel. He’s standing directly in front of you now. “Look at me,” he commands You eagerly obey, and look up at him with large doe eyes. You stare at him with your gaze filled with willingness. He searches your eyes, attempting to find even an ounce of fear or disgust but finds nothing but devotion. As if you truly want nothing more than to serve.

His mouth goes dry and all of his body’s blood supply seems to be traveling south to his cock. This is wrong. Who knows what the Dark Lord had threatened you with…or where he had stolen you from. But everything about you screams submission. It awakens a darker side of himself. One that he hasn’t felt stirring since he was a young, newly appointed Death Eater. Back then Lucius Malfoy would hire girls and throw secret parties down in the dungeons below his estate. It was at these “parties” that Severus found his proclivity for knots…and magically binding girls to the ceiling so he could fuck them until they were begging to cum. It’s a time that he wishes he could scrub clean. Not only from his mind but from the history books of his life. Shame had accompanied him at those parties because he knew this was a part of him that he couldn’t share with Lilly. Even if James Potter had never been in the picture and Lilly had somehow been his. She was too lovely and sweet for that sort of depravity. She would have never enjoyed such things. And he would never— “Master?” Your voice pulls him from his thoughts, his eyes focusing back on you just as you reach out to take his hand. Your grip is so light, almost as if you’re worried your touch will offend him. “I want to please you. Want to give you whatever it is you need. Please? All I want is to be a good girl for you.” A good girl. His cock throbs. How you knew exactly what to say, baffles him. Perhaps you were a skilled Legilimens—allowing you a peek into his thoughts. Either way, you said the phrase that never failed to stop him in his tracks. He grips your hand more firmly and lets his other move to your cheek—to see if you’ll flinch at his touch. But, bloody hell, you lean into his palm and press your lips to the pad of his thumb. Never once averting your gaze. He lets out a breath that he wasn’t aware he was holding. You’re all his.  “You said you’ll fulfill any request?” His thumb grazes over your bottom lip, opening it to reveal the tiniest bit of the inside of your mouth. “Anything,” you concur. His mind races with endless possibilities. He hasn’t tapped into this part of himself in years. It makes him antsy to claim you. But Severus Snape is not a rash man. He does not allow his emotions to make him sloppy. He is cunning and calculating. And more importantly, he knows exactly how he’ll have you prove yourself. He slides his foot forward, placing his black leather dress shoe in front of you. “Kiss it.” Immediately, you obey, positioning yourself on all fours before leaning down to press your lips to the tip. But you don’t stop there. In fact, you cover the entire top of his shoe with kisses. With each kiss, you let out a soft, sweet noise–as if this act of obedience is actually bringing you pleasure. 

Severus lets out a rough command, “Don’t stop.” You don’t, lowering your upper body further onto the floor, but purposely keeping your hips in the air to showcase the curve of your ass. Your kisses turn to licks, making the top of his boot glisten with your spit. The sight of both almost makes him lose control. “Keep going,” he says through clenched teeth, feeling his cock pulsing within the constraints of his pants. You pull your torso off the floor, moving closer to him so you can start kissing and nuzzling your way up the length of his leg. Not once do you break eye contact. You look at him without fear, without disgust, without judgment. 

It's an unusual occurrence for him. He’s used to his students being intimidated by the mere mention of his name. Even in his school days, he had never been known as a looker. But this is different. You are different. You look at him with reverence and lust while you continue your path up his leg. However, once you reach his groin, you stop and sit back on your heels. You return to your earlier position, with your feet tucked under you and your hands resting palms up atop your knees. You’re so submissive. It’s perfection. “You’re waiting for my command, aren’t you?” he asks, moving his hand to hover over the bulge in his pants.

Your eyes dart at the movement of his hand that’s now slowly rubbing his erection through his pants. You seem transfixed but still manage to reply.

“Yes, Master. I’m your property. My sole purpose is to please you.”

“My property?” he breathes, freeing his aching cock from his trousers.  

He watches with satisfaction when your eyes widen at the sight of it. 

You only nod, too busy watching as he starts to slowly stroke the shaft of his cock. He does this more to tease you than for his own pleasure. It clearly works because you fidget ever so slightly. “You’re my property,” he repeats, louder to refocus you. “My beautiful…little good girl.” Severus pants between words, stroking himself with a firmer grip.

“Yes, Master,” you moan with a lick of your lips. “I’m your good girl.”

“Then prove it by sucking your Master’s cock.” 

You almost take him by surprise with how fast you rise onto your knees. Gently, you nudge his hand away before wrapping your own around the base of his cock. You hold eye contact with him while tracing your tongue over the veins in his shaft. “You taste so good,” you moan out and drag your tongue along the underside until you reach the tip. You clearly know what you’re doing. Severus swears his heart beats in time with the flicking of your tongue. Your hand and mouth work simultaneously—tugging firmly while playfully licking. That is until your hand falls away so you can swallow his cock whole. “Bloody hell,” he swears, involuntarily bucking his hips forward.  

Pleased by his reaction, you hum and tighten your lips around him as you pick up your pace, bobbing your head up and down while sucking him off. He watches you intently. His dark brown eyes burn almost black as you suck him off like your life depended on it. “The good girl is enjoying this, isn’t she?” he hotly whispers, cock stiffening in your mouth. You nod with a mischievous twinkle in your eye. The sounds of you slurping and sucking with such passion sends Severus into a frenzy. His fingers twitch with the need to touch you. Your mouth is warm and so fucking inviting, like his cock was always meant to be there. He wants…no—needs more. No longer able to keep his hands to himself, Severus’ hand grips the back of your head. Long, nimble fingers tangle within the locks of your hair and start to move you up and down at just the right pace. Obeying his physical commands, you allow him to fuck your mouth while you drool all over him. So much so that he can feel saliva dripping onto his balls. Fuck you were messy. He loves it. Almost too much. But you’re looking at him with an affectionate gaze and it only makes him want more. Both of his hands grip onto your head, thrusting his hips forward so he could slam his cock into your throat. Your hands grab his thighs to try to hold yourself steady and not gag. “That’s it,” he grunts, “choke on your Master’s cock.” You groan with brows knitting together while saliva drips from the corner of your mouth. Severus would have thought he was being too rough if it wasn’t for your crumpled, pleasure-stricken face. He allows himself a moment to take you all in, wanting to commit you to his memory. So that when you’re gone, he’ll still have this image of you prettily sucking his cock. That’s when he notices you pressing your thighs together. Fire pools within his rib cage. You’re actually getting off on this. On pleasing him. On gagging on him. On obeying him. Suddenly, having you down on your knees isn’t enough. “Stand up,” he commands and forcefully pulls away, slipping his cock from your mouth. You take a moment to catch your breath and wipe the spit from your chin. Wanting to give you time to compose yourself, he keeps himself busy by stripping fully out of his clothing and casting a quick protection and contraceptive spell with a few flicks of his wand. By the time you’re on your feet, he’s standing before you naked. Your eyes run over his form and take a step forward with hands outstretched as if you want to touch. He doesn’t give you the chance. Instead, he places his hands on your shoulders and pushes you backward until your knees hit the side of his bed and you fall back onto the mattress with a surprised yelp. Your gaze shifts, looking at him towering over you with large eyes. He steps forward, nudging your knees apart with his leg. “Be a good girl and open wider for me.” Your knees fall apart, giving him a full view of your cunt. 

“You’re so wet,” he breathes, in awe that you’re already dripping when he hasn’t so much as touched you. Calloused fingertips run up your inner thighs. The skin there is tender so you shiver until they make contact with your cunt and a chorus of sweet melodies leave your parted lips. You greedily grind into his touch, already wanting more. With a grin, he enjoys himself as he plays with you. He prods your opening and watches your eyelids flutter close. “What a needy cunt you have.” He means it as a compliment, but it’s laced with a snark that’s meant to embarrass you. It works, color flushing over your cheeks. “It’s your cunt now, Master. All of me is yours.” It’s clear that being owned is a massive turn-on for you. And if he’s honest, he’s more than happy to play this game. “That’s right,” he breathes, fingers tracing up towards your clit. “Every inch of you is mine. Including your clit.” He applies pressure to the sensitive bud, causing you to whine and twitch. You nearly come undone from how skillfully he draws circles on your clit. But every time you buck your hips forward, his fingers move away.  “More Master. Please, give me more.” You whine and twitch, pleading sweetly. So sweetly that it’s impossible for him to continue teasing you. His fingers move to your entrance, and he plunges them inside your tightness.  You cry out in surprise, both hands grabbing ahold of the arm pressed between your thighs. His fingers are long and thick, moving in and out in slick quick thrusts. He finger fucks you mercilessly and you love it. 

You toss your head back, mouth falling open wide as you moan towards the ceiling.

Severus leans in, caging you beneath his body, and nuzzles his nose along the side of your face. His body is pressed against yours now and you gasp at the feeling of his hard cock leaking precum on your thigh.  “Master…” you whimper, and he chuckles before whispering hotly into your ear. “This belongs to me as well. This tight dripping cunt is mine. Is that understood?” he asks while picking up the pace of his fingers. You struggle to respond, tripping over your words but he doesn’t relent—wanting you to work through the pleasure. “Y-Yes. Yes, Master! I-I understand.” He hums his praise, calling you a good girl before falling silent. For the next few minutes, the only sounds heard are the sounds of your desperate cries and the wet squelching sounds of your cunt. Your orgasm is drawing closer, threatening to take you over. “I…I’m going to–” But your words aren’t needed because Severus knows what a woman looks like before she’s about to cum. “I know, sweet thing,” he cuts you off, looking at you and holding eye contact. “But cumming for me is a privilege. One you must ask for.” You nod your head, gripping his arm tighter, “May I cum? Please let me cum for my Master?”  With a proud grin, he says the three most glorious words. “Cum for me.” The permission is all you need, the cord inside you snapping. 

Your body goes rigid and your ability to speak is replaced with breathy, unrestrained moans. Your orgasm hits you hard, but it’s only when you limply slump back onto the mattress that he carefully removes his fingers from you. They’re soaked in your juices. Severus suddenly finds himself very parched. You’re looking up at him with a flushed face and glossed-over eyes but are clearly too focused on catching your breath. So, he lets you watch as he brings his fingers to his mouth to suck them clean. You make a noise of surprise, mesmerized by his mouth. Satisfied with this small taste of you, he releases his fingers with a soft ‘pop’. “Mmmh, delicious.”  “I’m glad Master thinks so. Thank you for letting me cum,” you murmur politely.

And just when he thought you couldn’t be any more perfect. Sitting beside you on the bed, he grabs your upper arms and hauls you towards him. He crashes his lips onto yours, forcing his tongue inside of your mouth. You return the kiss in a flurry of passion as your hands begin to roam freely over his body. Starting from his shoulder, you trail your hands down his bare chest to his hip bones. He moans into your mouth, enjoying the feeling of your soft hands and the way you gently suck at his tongue. Your hands continue downward until your fingertips brush against his still very hard cock. He breaks the kiss with a smirk. “Is there something you want, Little One?” You brush your lips against his with a nod. “I want to help my Master to cum.” He can already guess what you’re about to say, but still, Severus tucks a lock of hair behind your ear and whispers, “And how do you plan to do that?” “However you’d like me to.” Your answer is immediate but something tells him it isn’t the entire truth. His fingers grip your jaw, tilting it so you’re forced to maintain eye contact with him. “Tell me how you want to make your Master cum.” With wide eyes, the truth pours from your mouth like uncorked wine. “My cunt. Please use my cunt.” Your plea is so desperate that he doesn’t waste any more time leaning in closer until you have to shift your position to lay back on the bed. With a nudge to your thighs, your legs part to accommodate him as he places a hand beside your head, trapping you beneath him. He’s settled between your thighs now with his cock pressed against your core. You moan in unison at the contact. As if it’s painful for both of you to not have him buried inside. 

Your hands run from his forearms, over his shoulders, and down his chest. “Take me, please. Let me feel my Master’s cock inside.”

He straightens his back and guides your legs to wrap around his waist fully. You continue to plead, but instead of giving you a verbal reply, he plunges balls deep inside of you. You both instantly tense. He, because of the tightness of your walls clinging around him, and you, because of the sudden intrusion of his cock demanding to be taken. “That’s it. Taking me so well,” he breathlessly praises, slowly moving out, then back in so you’d have time to adjust. Severus had always refused to inflict pain on his partners that they hadn’t consented to and begged for. And he isn’t about to start now. So he waits until he feels you relax.

Your head lulls to the side with a moan, feeling beyond stuffed full, but also whole.

You coo, arching into him. Severus knew he couldn’t keep his movements slow for much longer.

“Is this what you want? To be fucked until I own this cunt?” “Yes!” you whine, starting to grind your hips in an attempt to get his cock deeper. “I want my Master to ruin me for anyone else.” It’s the word ruin that does him in. Unable to wait any longer he slams into you. You yelp, grabbing ahold of his forearms and sinking your nails into his flesh. The slight bite of pain only spurs him on, his pace anything but slow. The rough and steady rhythm of his thrusts has you already clenching around him. 

He isn’t sure where to look. At your beautiful face scrunched up in pleasure, or at your cunt that’s currently swallowing him whole. You toss your head back, slightly obscuring you from his view. So he settles his gaze downward–watching how his cock glistens from your juices every time he pulls out. It’s an intoxicating sight.

One that threatens to force him to spill himself inside of you. But he won’t. Not yet. Not until he’s done enjoying you for a bit longer. Not until he can make you cum again. He grabs some of your hair and tugs so you’re forced to look back at him. “You love this, don’t you? Using your cunt to please me?” Your legs wrap even tighter around his waist, drawing closer…deeper. “Yes, Master! Feels so good pleasing you!” Pressure builds in your lower belly from the orgasm that’s steadily approaching. It feels like he’s everywhere. In you. On you. All over you. “M-Master I—so close. P-Please.” 

You’re struggling to form words but he already knows what you’re trying to say. He reaches between your bodies to your clit and rubs it, strokes it, and draws circles on it until he finds the touch that has you babbling in broken, indecipherable sentences.

“I want you to cum,” he speaks in labored breaths, teasing your clit while still spearing you on his length. “I want you to cum for me now.”

For a moment, you fall completely silent, but then it hits. The unfiltered, beautiful howls that accompany your climax. All the while, your inner walls close around him in the most delicious way. He curses, lurching forward as you gush and spasm around him. It’s too much, and he’s quickly following you over the edge, filling you with his cum. You both tremble through your aftershocks, unable to detangle from one another while coming down from your highs. He feels like a new man after cumming for the first time in God knows how long. But one look at you and your sleep-heavy eyes has him focusing on steadying his breathing faster. Memories from his past return to him, and words like aftercare play through his mind. It displeases him that he doesn’t know what you require right now—space or intimacy? Deciding it’s best to take the middle ground, he slowly slips out of you but sits on the edge of the bed beside you. He takes the utmost care not to jostle you but you don’t seem to notice because you’ve already turned onto your side facing him. You make yourself comfortable, curling up with your eyes closed and a relaxed smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. Relieved, he lets out a breath and runs his hand through his dark locks to move it off his face. “That felt amazing. Thank you, Master,” you mumble happily into his pillow. “Call me Severus.” “As you wish, Master Severus.” A spark of warmth emanates from his chest. He likes the way you say his name. It makes him feel things. He reaches for you, tugging you into his arms to help you sit up. At first, you whine, but relax when he pulls you to sit between his thighs and leans you against his chest. He holds you close and whispers, “Will you tell me your name?” You peek up at him with a smile and say it. He repeats it, liking the way your name rolls off his tongue. You nod, your smile widening across your face. He can’t stop himself from stroking your cheek. “I’ll be right back.” He stands, making his way over to his wardrobe. “Get yourself ready for bed, Little One.” He calls from over his shoulder as he uses his wand for a simple cleansing spell. Since you’ve managed to coat even his balls in your slick. 

Afterward, he slips on a pair of black silk pajama pants. He’s about to put a shirt on when he turns back to you, expecting to find you dressed, but instead, he finds you sitting on his bed and watching him. “Where are your night robes?” You fidget uncomfortably, looking away. Severus should have known this wouldn’t last. He tries to disguise his disappointment but fails. “If you don’t wish to stay, then just say so.” The ice in his voice is evident and you snap your head up in his direction. “I-It’s not that!” you protest. “I want to stay. I just…don’t have any clothes.” His frown deepens, “The Dark Lord didn’t leave your clothes here for you?” You shake your head ‘no’. This only confuses him further. To have you waiting for him nude was clearly meant to entice him, but to leave you with nothing to wear after doesn’t make sense. “No personal belongings at all? I don’t understand how he expected you to get home after this.” You flinch, once again looking away. “He said…” you trail off. “Never mind, Master.” He didn’t need spells or potions to see the discomfort radiating off of you. With the long-sleeved shirt he had intended for himself in hand, he makes his way over to you. Of course, he could have simply conjured you some clothing, but if he’s being honest with himself— He wants you wrapped up in him for a while longer. “Arms up.”

You lift your head and see the shirt in his hands. You obey, and he slips the shirt over your head to help you dress. “It’s a tad big on you, but it will do until morning.” You pull your knees to your chest while muttering a ‘thank you’. There’s still something bothering you and Severus is determined to figure out what it is. “Look at me,” he commands, knowing you’ll obey. When you do, he continues, “Tell your Master what’s bothering you.” Perhaps it isn’t right for him to pull the ‘dom’ card when you aren’t technically his submissive, but he needs the truth. You stall for a little longer, gnawing on your bottom lip until you finally respond, “The Dark Lord told me that I didn’t need to pack any of my things because he didn’t believe you’d want me after you were through with me.” “I see…What else did the Dark Lord tell you?”

“That I belong to whoever comes into the room, and that I was to serve them until they no longer had use for me. Which he predicted would be just for tonight…Then he–” You falter, bravery abandoning you. He lets out a breath, resisting the urge to scrub at his eyes. Of course, he had threatened you. Placing a finger underneath your chin, he gently raises it. Your eyes flutter, struggling to meet his gaze. “You’re afraid of him, aren’t you?” You only nod. “You have my word that you’re under my protection now. Do you understand?” You nod again and summon your bravery so you can continue. “Then he said that maybe he would pass me around to the other Death Eaters or maybe he’d use me himself.” Severus can’t explain the jealousy that boils within him. But it’s there. Hot and nauseating. Suddenly, he can’t bear the thought of another having you. Not Voldemort. Not anyone. “No one is allowed to touch what’s mine.” The threat of his words hangs in the air, but you look relieved. “You…You mean you’ll keep me here with you?” He hadn’t realized he had said that aloud. Honestly, he hadn’t thought that far ahead. All he knew was that the only hands he wanted on you were his. “Is that…something you’d want?” You smile bright, brighter than the summer’s sun. “Nothing would make me happier, Master.” As beautiful as you are, and as lovely as it sounds to have a warm cunt to bury himself in each night, the cold blade of reality cuts through. “Listen to me, there are still many things we’ll need to discuss—”But you aren’t listening because you’re too busy crawling into his lap. You straddle him and nuzzle your face into the side of his neck.

“Thank you, Severus,” you whisper against his skin, melting against his body as you make yourself comfortable.

No one has ever thanked him in his entire life. He isn’t sure how to handle it.

The longer you lay against him, the more a warmth blooms inside his breastbone.

He can’t deny how good it feels to have you close.

Things can’t be this simple can they?

Nothing in his life had ever been simple.

You let out a small sigh, seemingly starting to fall asleep while sitting up. It tears him from his thoughts and instead has him worried about your comfort. He shifts and lays down on the bed with you still tucked into his chest.

He had no way of knowing if this would work, but bloody hell did you fit perfectly against him.

Years of tension seemingly start to melt away as sleep threatens to take him over.

Voldemort had given you to him for being his most loyal Death Eater.

And while nothing could be further from the truth, Severus Snape can’t help but think.

This was the best damn present he’d ever received.

[heartchoi]

[7:08 pm] ㅡ c.sb

pairing: soobin x gn!reader

warnings: mild swearing, reader is shorter than soobin, established relationship, tooth rotting fluff

wc: 839

a/n: im back so i had to write about my boyfriend!!! also this is inspired by those tiktok slideshows of those random manhwas LMAOO

“Come on, why are you giving me the cold shoulder?” Soobin pouts, nudging your arm with his. You don’t give a reaction to his antics, walking away from him, almost speed walking away. Soobin shouts your name, desperate for your attention.

“Hey! Just tell me~” He drawls, catching up to you. Once more, you ignore him, scoffing a little.

The scoff was not appreciated.

Soobin gently grabs your shoulders before spinning you around, forcing you to look at him. He even bends down a little for the eye contact. (Is this embarrassing? He’s tall, everyone knows that, but damn, he didn’t have to bend down. Makes you truly realize the height difference here.)

“My love. My life. Sweetheart. Honey. Baby. Please, just tell me what I did wrong. I don’t deserve to be ignored by the love of my life like this.” He accentuates his pout further, his bottom lip fully jutted out. “Pretty please?” Soobin adds, sweetening his tone.

You sigh. You can’t escape him forever, it seems. “I didn’t appreciate how you almost let that girl make cat whiskers on your face.”

Soobin’s confusion is evident on his face — His brows furrow, lips pucker. It’s almost comical how confused he looks. “What?” He says, almost in disbelief.

You quickly rush to defend yourself (It’s kind of embarrassing now that you say it out loud. You can’t go back now, though. You have to stick to it.) “Listen! I just don’t think you should be letting other people touch your face. I mean, we’re dating right? I was right next to you, too! Also, you have a skincare routine, foreign germs would have made you break out.” You ramble. You’re starting to pull random reasons out of your ass to defend yourself. Perhaps you should look into becoming a lawyer.

Soobin giggles a little. “You’re so cute. But, don’t you kiss me all over my face all the time? What about that?” He counters. You’re starting to become really frustrated with him.

“That doesn’t count! Your face germs are probably used to me by now, so I wouldn’t be a foreign invader. Also, you’re basically invalidating my feelings right now. That’s so rude.” You cross your arms around your chest. It’s getting serious now.

Soobin is visibly trying to hold it together and not laugh. He lets go of your shoulders as he takes a deep breath. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry, baby. But… I’m not close to that girl. You shouldn’t have to worry.” You hum in reply, happy by his answer.

“What about you, though?”

What?

Soobin begins to elaborate. “You’re close with Yeonjun-hyung and Taehyunie… does that mean I should worry about them?” One of his fingers tap his chin in thought.

You stutter. “N-no! Aren’t you close with Choi Yewon?” Soobin nods. “Yeah.” “Then you too! Besides, Yeonjun and Taehyun don’t like me like that.” You look away, suddenly your shoes are more interesting than the boy basically hovering over you.

Soobin doesn’t take his eyes off you. “But I like you.” He says, voice smooth and flirty. You can tell he’s grinning at you right now. You can also feel your face heat up at his words. Damn, are you really that easy?

“Oh my god, shut up.” You mutter. You don’t dare to look up at him. Soobin would tease you to no end if he saw how warm your face was right now. “Mmmh, why? I love seeing my baby so flustered.” He coos, brushing a strand of hair out of your face.

You can’t take it anymore.

“That’s enough from you.” You say, covering his mouth with your palm. Soobin stares at the hand covering his mouth quizzically.

“Are you… are you really silencing your boyfriend right now?” His words are muffled, but the shock in his tone is unmistakable. You nod proudly, extremely pleased with yourself.

The gears turn in his head as he thinks about what he should do next.

You might have done it. You might have finally stopped Soobin from being a flirt. “Ha! You’ve finally shut up. God, if I knew it was this easy—“

“Then… can you block this?” Soobin takes your palm off his mouth before he swoops in, tilting his head perfectly so he can slot his lips in yours. It takes you by surprise, slapping your hand over his mouth moments before his lips meet yours.

You don’t even realize your eyes are closed until Soobin’s muffled voice filters through the air.

“You must really like me too if your eyes are closed.” Your eyes quickly shoot open to see him staring at you. Even with his mouth covered you can tell he’s sporting a shit-eating grin right now. Warmth has now covered every inch of your face and you hate it.

“You… you are so fucking annoy-“

Soobin licks your palm, causing you to reel your arm back in disgust. Soobin laughs before sprinting away, leaving you alone with saliva on your palm and a shocked expression on your face.

[mochinomnoms]

Gremlin ass yuu who has one of those realistic ass dreams that them and jade actually got together and they still believe when they wake up, so naturally, like a normal person, they see jade and go up to hug him and give him a little kiss on the neck only to get body slammed with J-Brain and everyone else around them is horrified as they realize that they and jade are not in fact, dating

🦩

(screaming and pounding on the floor THAT'S CUTE)

You woke up with a dry mouth and a sore back. Trying to stretch your legs out made a sharp pain run up your leg and lower back.

Ugh, Jade. You were too rough last night…

Turning around to confront said man, you were surprised to see the empty bedside next to you. Like no one had slept there in the first place.

Even more surprising, you were in your room at Ramshackle instead of Jade's dorm room in Octavinelle. He'd been having you stay over more often since he didn't need to share a room with Floyd anymore.

“What the fu…Did he take me back?” You groaned, getting up and out of bed, wincing at the ache in your legs and lower waist. “Why the hell? Ugh, Jaaaade.”

You were still weary eyed as you finally made your way down the steps into the main hallway, turning into the kitchen to get something to drink.

Mmm, maybe an energy drink, that tastes good with lavender right?

You blinked in surprise at Azul, Jade, and Floyd, along with a few other Octavinelle students, were in the hallway entrance and kitchen area. They were carrying some bags of food and paperwork.

It was then you remembered that you agreed to let Azul sell snacks and drink from Mostro Lounge for your carvinal themed haunted house. They were bringing the items to have them ready to go before the gates open this week for the Halloween festivities.

Oh yeah, that must be why Jade brought me back. He's always thoughtful, isn't he.

You were still half asleep when the trio noticed you, waving politely. Though Jade was having his usual excitable thoughts. Something about your pajamas and sleepy face being cute.

Don't you see me in pjs all the time? Silly.

“Good morning, Prefect, how are you?” Azul starting gesturing to the students putting the food products away. “As you see, we've come to help you and your dorm get set up, as agreed.”

“Mm, Shrimpy looks real tired, don't they Jade?” Floyd nudged his brother with his elbow, watching as you walked up to them.

“They do, perhaps they went to bed rather la—”

Jade stopped mid-sentence, shocked into silence as you wrapped your arms around his back, nuzzling into his neck.

“Mmh, sounds good…just put the stuff…wherever.” You tilted your head up to press a kiss against his neck, feeling the way he swallowed as you did.

“Mornin' Jade…you left me…” You tightened your hold on him, though he didn't return your embrace. “…Jade?”

You were just now noticing just how quiet everything had gotten. There was no movement, no sounds, you couldn't even hear anyone's thoughts.

You moved a bit away from Jade to look at everyone with confusion. They were all staring at you, some with mild horror, some with confusion like yours, and Floyd in particular looked ecstatic, eyes darting between you and Jade like he was waiting for sometime to happen.

Azul just gave you a questioning stare as he raised his eyebrow.

“Should we...know something?”

“Whaddya mean?” you mumbled, resting your head against Jade's chest. His heartbeat was going fast, like it was trying to burst out his case.

“When did you two become a thing?” Floyd cooed, giggling as he rocked on his heels.

“You rubbed your eyes again, more alert now as you started answering, We've been together for a ye—”

The sudden feeling of Jade's arms tightly wrapping around your back, and the sudden influx of his thoughts hitting you like a train, brought you back to reality.

DARLING! MY SWEET PEARL! I JUST KNEW THAT YOU LOVED ME BACK!

His grip on you tightened as the sleep suddenly vanished from your body.

“We're together? News to me, my dear.”

Kiss me again, my pearl! You'll let me, won't you? After all, you did it first~

The feeling of Jade's body moving, leaning down to return the favor you gave him, sent the dear of God in you.

“Wait, wait WAIT WAIT!” You shrieked as you shoved Jade away, collapsing backwards as you crawled away. “DREAM! IT WAS A DREAM I HAD A DREAM!”

You felt your entire body go hot, as Floyd started cackling his lungs out. Azul was still in the kitchen, holding his hand to his mouth, hiding his own laughter.

Even Jade looked mildly amused, though you could hear the disappointment in his thoughts.

Ah, I see. How tragic. Though…

Jade's smile grew slightly, as he gave you a sly wink.

Might as well make use of this.

“A dream? Was it a pleasant one?” Jade tilted his head as he watched you grow more flustered with glee. “It must have been, if you were so ready to be affectionate with me. Would you like to recall it for me?”

The contents of your dream were coming back to you like a tidal wave, hot breaths and clothes flying off flashing through your mind as you remembered just how pleasant that dream was.

“NO!” You scrambled up the staircase again on your hands and knees, like a spooked cat, ignoring the cackles coming from behind you.

Oh goood, I'm never living this down.

[ozzgin]

Also I love your blogs sorry I’ve been spamming 🩷Hii Author, could you do another part for the small prehistoric reader, where she is actually really strong even though she’s small and innocent looking like stronger than Yujiro and Baki but she’s only really like that when she’s in heat. I wonder how the would react Yk 🤔

Sure! It’s been suggested in the comments as well and it does have a fun twist to it. Female characters stronger than the main cast is the one uncanonical construct that I deeply enjoy.

Baki Characters x Prehistoric! Small Reader Headcanons (II)

Featuring the Baki characters and a prehistoric but small sized reader that turns out to be unexpectedly strong.

[Baki Masterlist] [Part I]

The fighters keep a respectable distance from you in order to assure Pickle of your safety. They’d rather not pose as a threat to his mate, especially after seeing how protective he can get. He always keeps you under his watchful gaze, ready to interfere if you need to make use of his strength. At times he’s particularly anxious around you. Professor Payne has explained in more scientifically appropriate terms that you might be dealing with female specific issues. No one pressed it further.

This peaceful resolve does not sit well with Yuujirou. How very pathetic and boring that everyone concomitantly agreed to mind their own business. He itches for a little bit of action and what better way to rile up the prehistoric warrior than messing with his little protégé? He doesn’t want to risk fighting a half-assed Pickle, he wants the wrath, the readiness to kill. So with arrogant mockery he decides to give you a little nudge in front of everyone. Just a mere push, he does show mercy to weaklings like you. Baki is enraged and the other men join him. Everyone is waiting for Pickle to make his move, though bizarrely enough he just stands there, eyes wise in shock. Yuujirou didn’t expect this lack of reaction.

The Ogre is a man with battle experience and nothing can take him by surprise. It is to be noted, however, that sometimes a trade off for the sake of efficiency has to be made. A rational agent in artificial intelligence may have to take millions of variables into consideration in order to compute the most optimal solution and react to the environment. Realistically speaking, therefore, some less probable events are taken entirely out of the equation. So, for example, the idea that you would attack Yuujirou was not something his body expected to react against. The impact of your small fist was doubled by this element of surprise. His eyes roll back and his large body is thrown at quite the distance, leaving significant damage behind.

There’s a deafening silence that lingers for what seems an eternity. Baki feels a mild discomfort on the walls of his throat and he realizes his mouth has been hanging open for long enough that it almost dried up. Did you…did you just knock his father out with one single hit? He slowly turns his head to the other witnesses, wondering if this is a dream and the others will confirm it. Judging by the equally dumbfounded expressions surrounding him, he suspects fearfully that it is, in fact, something that just happened. Jack feels like he’s been kicked in the crotch. Katsumi is overwhelmed by a certain nostalgia, the nervousness he felt when he was a little child attending the Dojo for the very first time. Retsu purses his lips as a solemn frown creases his features. Tokugawa can feel the beads of sweat gathering in the folds of his wrinkled forehead.

The least impressed of the group is Pickle. Almost as if he expected it to happen, he walks up to you and grabs your shoulders before you can approach Yuujirou’s passed out body. Your face relaxes once again and you look up to him with a genuine smile, as if soothing his worries. You’ll stop here, no worries. You pat his large hands and turn around, prepared to leave the scene.

The frightful question now plagues the fighters within the arena: was Pickle protecting you from them, or has it been the other way round all along?

[navstuffs]

BratTamer!Leon Kennedy with a SpoiledRichGN!Reader (warning: mild dubcon, SMUT SO MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)

author's notes: yes, i know i normally don't write about this, but really been in the mood lately for something like this. enjoy!

BratTamer!Leon Kennedy, who gets hired by your rich dad to be your bodyguard, but only on paper. The truth? Your dad is tired of your spoiled attitude and decided to hire someone to teach you some manners, though he was the one to spoil you in the first place.

BratTamer!Leon is hated by you at first sight. You don't like having someone around you as you try to spend your afternoons spending money and going to luxurious parties, especially when your friends are more attracted to hitting on him, always being stared at by his watchful blue eyes (when he isn't wearing those stupid sunglasses). Sure, he is attractive, but they can't see he is a pain in the ass, standing behind you with those dumb sunglasses and incredibly sexy blue suit?

BratTamer!Leon gets tired of your superior attitude toward everyone and is close to his limit. The last straw is when he sees you screaming at a poor young lady worker from a high-end store for simply bumping into you on accident, though she tried to apologize in a tearful tone. You don't notice Leon's eyes fill with rage as you scream about how incompetent the seller is, so the whole store hears as you humiliate her. This behavior from you ends today.

"You think you are better than everyone, don't you? Just because you are rich? Just because daddy gives everything to you? It is time someone teaches you some manners." BratTamer!Leon growls before shoving your mouth down his cock when you are back in the expensive car. You realize there is no resistance on your part, a little anger inside your belly, though Leon isn't forcing you down. You are doing it because you want it. "Look how well your lips are taking me. How long have you wanted this?" Fucking bastard.

BratTamer!Leon who vows to fuck you as you need if you behave nicely but punish you badly if you don't. At first, you roll your eyes, ignoring the desperate sensation of being with Leon again. But when a maid from your house breaks a glass cup accidentally, you start screaming at her, not because you care about the cup but because you want to know what kind of trouble Leon is talking about.

The sounds of the slaps on your ass probably echo to the house, but you don't care. At least your dad isn't home. BratTamer!Leon has you on his lap, your ass exposed. He makes you count every single one of the slaps and tears in the corner of your eyes, and he warns, "Do not lose count," you lose it "on accident" a couple of times. BratTamer!Leon is still nice enough to rub your ass when he thinks you've had enough, impressed by how much you took it.

But he keeps his promise. When you apologize to the worker for screaming at her (attracting many surprised stares from everyone), BratTamer!Leon returns late at night to your room and gives you exactly what he promised.

"Haven't been fucked like this in ages, haven't you? See what happens if you behave? I can give you much more than this." BratTamer!Leon grunts as he takes you from behind, grabbing your waist, not giving you time to breathe, every single pound hitting deeper inside of you. You want to tell him to go fuck himself, but he is taking you so good, so good, you can only sob a miserable no, begging to not stop.

Your whole demeanor changes. You become more polite, greeting those you always considered lower than you. Your dad is shocked, simply asking BratTamer!Leon, what it took. Leon smiles as he answers, "Just be firm, that is all."

But no one can change like that, and your brat personality comes out when you see a friend of your dad's hitting on your bodyguard during your birthday party. You honestly don't know half of those people, used to your dad using you for fame, but as you see those long red nails in BratTamer!Leon's dark suit, you bump into them with your wine glass before leaving.

He finds you on the balcony, his white shirt wet with wine, his suit jacket long forgotten. He is pissed, you are furious, and when he asks what that was all about, you tell him to go back and find someone else who he can have fun. And now you sound fucking stupid, with tears in your voice, turning around. You are hoping for him to punish you when you turn away, but when BratTamer!Leon's hand grabs your arm and turns you gently, his hand holding your face.

"Why would I want someone else if I only want you, bratty?"

BratTamer!Leon decides to give your birthday gift earlier. By bending you over the balcony, he suggests you stay quiet so no one looks up and sees how slutty you are. His face goes between your legs as he pushes his fingers inside of you. You hold back your moans, your legs trembling, and it doesn't take long until you whimper for him to stop teasing you and fuck in front of all those people to show everyone who you belong to. Not once does a single head rise despite Leon's grunts, occasional slaps in your ass, and the apparent noise of sex from the balcony. You still manage to keep quiet, even when he raises your leg so his dick can go even more deeper.

When you are done, BratTamer!Leon doesn't leave you like the other times. No, he helps you get to bed, helps clean your body's sweat, and cuddles with you. Leon simply shrugs when you ask him what your dad would think about him on your bed, replying maybe a little of your stubbornness rubbed on him.

"Really? You would blame this on me?" You wonder, pretending to be shocked.

"Why not? Everyone knows you are a bad influence. I might as well be the victim in all of this. Or he would thank me for giving you some manners."

"You really think really you have straightened me up, didn't you, Kennedy??" You tease, and he jokingly gives you a warning slap in your ass.

"We shall see this, brat."

[dazed-and-confused23]

Opportunities 2

A part 2 of one of my requests a while ago.

Summary: After listening to you and Hancock fuck in the room beside his, Cooper takes your care into his own hands and puts his little daydream into reality.

Pairings: The Ghoul | Cooper Howard x Female Reader

Warnings. Smut. Rough sex. Cooper isn't very nice. He was jelly. Rope play. Lil sneak peek at the end.

Masterlist

Cooper doesn't see you until the next evening when you come loping down the stairwell with,who must be, John trailing behind you. The other ghoul is handsome for their standards, and Coop already feels a mild dislike for the man. You are talking animatedly, hands gesturing this way and that, and John is all ears, listening to the smoothskin with a tiny grin on his withered lips.

Jealousy immediately surrounds him, and Cooper gnashes his teeth when you pass him by without a word, not even noticing the bounty hunter sat near the entrance. You only had eyes for the other ghoul, and Coop was not a fan.

He watches the two of you for a while, noticing the way the Mayor of Goodneighbor keeps you close to his side, one hand usually pressed to the small of your back as you laugh at some joke he spits. Cooper glares at the Ghoul dressed in red. He needed to get you away from the other man.

Cooper stands up and lopes to the bar, ordering a beer, and it's only then that you notice your traveling companion.

"Oh, Coop! This is John, I've been telling him about our adventures, " you say excitedly, and Coop grunts, gold gaze intentionally uninterested. It stings when he watches the excitement fade, and your lips turn down in a soft frown, but he isn't very happy with you at the moment.

He catches your eyes, mouth pulled into a sneer, "That's not what I heard last night."

You look at him in shock, and Coop feels even more like a dick, but it's not like he can take the words back. The mayor narrows his black eyes, and the hand on your waist tightens.

"Woah now, no need for that. We're all friends here," John drawls and gets a withering glare in return. He's about to pop off with something else when the smoothskin speaks up.

"It's okay, John. Cooper and I should probably talk anyway."

You had thought a lot about what happened last night and realized that if Cooper didn't want you like you wanted him, then you would apologize for the constant jabbering you had put him through. John gives your waist a gentle squeeze as you stand up.

"Alright, Sunshine. Don't leave me hangin'."

You grace Hancock with a kind smile and then slip out of your stool. Cooper leaves his beer behind as he follows you back up the stairs of the Third Rail and over to Hotel Rexford. Once inside the bounty hunter's room, you wring your hands in front of you as you stand before him.

"I'm sorry for bothering you so much about the - uhum- sex stuff. I won't do it anymore."

Cooper watches you, face impassive as you apologize, even though it should be him instead. He says nothing, and you stare at him with growing nerves and wonder why he wasn't saying anything. You laugh, the sound high pitched and wrong.

"Anyway~ I just wanted to say sorry, so I'll leave you alone now. We, uhm, we don't even have to travel together anymore if you don't wanna."

The ghoul finally reacts, and it's not in the way you expect. Cooper grabs you by the arm and spins you around, turning you towards the bed and shoving your face first against the mattress. He slots himself behind you, kicking your legs open and leaning over you to snarl in your ear.

"I don't want your fuckin' apologies, girl," He spits, tone dripping in jealous arousal, "I want you to scream my name like you did his last night."

Your breath comes in quick pants, and you angle your face up to peek at Cooper. The ghoul looks furious with arousal, and you can feel the hard length of his cock pressed between against the cheeks of your ass. A bolt of pleasure zings up your spine, but you can't help the sting of resentment.

"You only want to fuck me cause you over heard John and I the other night. Why the change?" You demand, but Cooper doesn't answer you. Instead, the bounty hunter has grabbed both of your wrists, pulling them up to sit in the middle of your back as he ties them together with a length of rope pulled from his belt.

Cooper isn't about to admit to his jealousy the other night and instead tightens the rope around your wrists, hips pressing into the thickness of your thighs and ass.

"You want me to fuck you or not, sweet thing?" He demands and slips a hand between your legs, pads of his fingers rubbing harshly against your clothed clit. You hiss, and dig your face into the mattress even as your body falls open for the ghoul as if it was made for him.

"Consent is important, sweetheart," Cooper snarls and flicks the button of your jeans open. His cock aches in his pants, and he wants to see you stuffed full of his cum. He wants to hear you say his name like that you had John's last night.

"Please fuck me, Coop," you plead, broken as easily as a two hundred year old light bulb. You've wanted your traveling companion for too long to be stubborn about it. You wiggle your hips to try and get your pants off quicker, desperate for him.

Cooper laughs and curls his fingers under the waistband, then jerks them down to bunch up around your boots. He pulls his belt open and hisses when his cock meets the humid air of the hotel room. He strokes his dick, squeezing at the base as he smooths up. Cooper leans forward and rubs the head of his cocks across your wet folds, and you push back.

"I should make you wait. Make you beg for it after goin' to someone else like you did," Cooper snarls hotly, and presses forward, just enough to split you.

"What was his cock like, sweetheart? I can promise mine will be fuckin' better."

Your eyes roll up and back into your head when the ghoul suddenly slams home. You huff and puff, hands flexing and wrist chaffing from the rope around your wrist. His pace is brutal, and his length drags along the fluttering walls of your pussy.

Cooper snarls behind you, hands digging into the meat of your hips as he pulls you back into his thrusts. You are tight, vice like and fucking perfect. The sounds the two of you make are sloppy, and your cheek heat up at the thought of someone else over hearing the two of you.

Behind the door, Hancock listens to the other ghoul fuck you until he has you howling his name, the sounds of sex loud and obscene as Cooper fills you up and keeps going until he's hard again, teeth bared as you whine and slobber into the sheet. John finds himself envious, but he isn't sure who of.

The major leaves with a smirk and a pep in his step. There would be other opportunities to speak with the bounty hunter.

[writingoddess1125]

Hope you guys enjoy! Support on Ko-Fi

Part 1 <<<

They find out you had their Child pt. 2🐊 🚬🫧

Sanji, Crocodile and Law

⚠️ Warning: ⚠️ Tsundare Themes, mild Angst in one story and obsession in another. General Drama tho

Crocodile

"Crocodile you can't do that. It is not your place to keep me here and just have me as your house wife" You said offended, angry as Crocodile looked back at you with a amused smirk-

"Ssshh I got you I got you" You whispered softly. Gently rocking your son in your arms, fussy from his feeding and clearly wanting the world to hear about it.

It had been a few months since you'd given birth to your son, Kibo as Crocodile had named him. He was the light of your light and brought you more happiness then you could imagine.

Almost immediately after you'd given birth, Crocodile had taken you to his base having what was equivalent to a luxury pent house apartment set you for you.

And you'd been there since-

He would leave for a while, you assumed to whatever pirates do. But he'd return to you and Kibo always, finding it important to spend time with the two of you.

As you stood there, deep in your thoughts you didn't hear the sound of the door opening. Only falling from your daydream when a large hand hit the small of your back, snapping to see Crocodile peering down at you and the now quieting child.

"Oh hi Crocodile, Didn't exact you back already" You said softly, not wanting to get too loud and wake the baby.

"Of course- Dinner should be done soon as well and sent up. Is the lad alright?" He asked calmly, looking over his sons pink face and twisted pout.

"He's fine, Just fussy. Actually speaking of Kibo, I wanted to talk to you about something" You said rather cheerfully as Crocodile escorting you from the nursery and out to the lounge.

"I want to start working again soon anyway so a Nanny for Kibo may be nee-"

"Work? What Work?" He mused, you raising a brow at his words. His hand leaving your back as he had you take a seat.

"My Job- I have to return to work eventually"

"No you don't and no you're not" He stated calmly, you looking at him confused.

"And do tell, what are you going to do about it my love? Do you know where you are? Or even how you got here? I set everything up so you could never leave me again" He said, and it felt like ice had been injected in your veins. The Sinking feeling of realization hitting you.. this was once of the most dangerous pirates currently living, you we're without a home or income as well-

"So You are either going to stay here, play house with our son. Or I hire someone to watch over him till you come back to your senses and as you know, Im very persuasive~" He said calmly, staring down at you as you held Kibo close to your chest. The realization hitting you like a tsunami- he was going to drag you back here no matter what, When he came to your apartment that day it wasn't to just check on you.. it was the bring you back-

This wasn't love was it?..

This was obsession...

Gazing in his eyes you could see it now- Like he had found a treasure that he never intended to let go or have others risk finding. His Possessions-

Sanji

"Do you understand now mh flower?" He asked you calmly, seeing the way your eyes shifted as you thought through your options and finding non of them satisfying what your thoughts were.

A look of horror stretching over your face and Crocodile chuckled at this- Stepping towards you and kissing your forehead gently the smell of the tobacco making your eyes water a bit, or it was just tears welling.

"Sees like you do Darling" Your skin crawling at the feeling of his kiss as he stepped back and began to leave the room.

"I will return"

He said calmly, leaving you in the room as you heard Kibo start to cry in your arms as you stood there in shock-

This was your prison...

Sanji had been on cloud nine since he had found you and Sunaki. His Darling Girls- The loves of his life!

Law

The Chef of the Strawhats had been staying on your island for well over a month now. The new father wanting to soak in the joy of having his daughter- That and also spending time with you.

You weren't sure what he was trying to do, assuming you had just been a fling for him and nothing more- But you never expected to see the man trying so hard to woo you. Cooking dinners, gifts you knew he couldn't afford, the works.

That evening he invited you onto the ship, cooking you and Sunaki dinner and then helping you when the toddler inevitably got it all over herself.

The two of you sharing in the domestic bliss of bathing the squirming blonde toddler who was more interested in splashing the two of you then getting clean.

"Darling you gotta stop splashing Mommy" You giggled, Sunaki giving a loud squeal. Sanji who had his sleeves rolled up taking a cup of the warm water and carefully rinsing her blonde locks with a chuckle.

"I think that's all we're gonna get done (Y/N) without getting soaked ourselves- I'll grab a towel" He said calmly and went to steal the fluffiest towel on the ship to take the now mostly clean toddler. You grabbing some spare baby clothes Sanji kept for his time with her and a diaper.

Like a well oiled machine both of you worked to get Sunaki dressed, baby powdered, lotion on her face and ready to settle down for the night. Sanji holding her since she settled down faster in his arms-

"Thank you for dinner tonight Sanji"

Sanji smiled, a twinkle in his eyes as he held Sunaki who was hell bent on trying to use Sanji as a jungle gym.

"Of course (Y/N)"

Sanji sat before you, his eyes filled with a mix of determination and adoration as he held Sunaki in hid arms. He took a deep breath, gathering his nerves.

"So ive been thinking and Please hear me out (Y/N), but come with me. Join the Strawhats on the Thousand Sunny. I adore you, and I want you and Sunaki by my side, always-."

His words made your face warm and your heart swell at this. You searched his eyes for any hints of doubt or hesitation, but all you found was sincerity. Sunaki seeing the tension between her parents and squealing as she reached a hand up to grab some of her father's hair which she managed to dodge.

"I can't imagine having to wait two years out at sea and leave you and Sunaki behind- but it would be safer if you joined us! I swear it would be great" He insisted as he sat closer to you, Setting your daughter between the two of you.

"B-But Sanji I don't know.. I could be invading your ship and having me and some toddler on a pirate ship could be bad- Besides we aren't even together so they may not be up for-" Sanji stopped you dead in your tracks and kissed you suddently. Your face flushing as red as a tomato as you stared at him wide eyed.

"Then I'd marry you-! Your the only one I'd want to marry anyway! You gave me our daughter afterall!"

You felt tears welling up in your eyes, the weight of Sanji's words sinking deep into your being. To know that you were adored by someone as incredible.

"Really?-" You whisper out. Sanji smiking as he stood up then, Pulling you up to your feet and handing you Sunaki who was babbling randomly and excitedly at the world. Sanji rushing to Nami's room and you hear crashing and the sound of the red head screaming which drew a giggle from you-

Soon Sanji came back, a fresh black eye forming on him as he fell to his knee before you- His eyes no better then hearts at this point as he held out a beautiful gold ring out to you.

"Marry me (Y/N)- Please do me the honor of officially making me the happiest man on earth"

"We are having this talk. Now-" Law said evenly, you sighing heavily at realizing their really wasn't a way out now and didnt think arguing with him while in his little prison was in your best interest.

"Fine..." You said as you patted your hands on your clean scrubs before pushing him away from you to create some space- anxiety building in your chest. "What do you want to know?"

"Why didnt you tell me? You should have told me (Y/N)! I could have helped. Looked out for him- for all you know he"

"I am a medical physician just like you Law- I can watch for signs of the genetic illness just like you and on top of that it's not like your exactly an easy person to get ahold of" you said calmly, clearly taking some of the wind from his sails as he awkwardly stared at you for a moment.

"You're a RN not a doc-" The harsh glare shut him up quickly from saying that mistake and he backpeddled "It's just.. A boy should have his father at least and I would have helped you"

You impatiently crossed your arms over your chest as you waited for Law to figure out what to say.

"In that it may be good for him to come with me its far better fo-"

"Over my Dead Body-" You said sharply, His eyes locking onto yours as he clearly thought of your words. Carefully.

"There isn't a reason for-" You cut him off again with a harsh glare.

"Just because you have regret in not being in our child's life doesn't mean you get the right to take him away from me or push your own agenda onto him and this relationship" You hiss angrily making the Doctor sigh in annoyance.

"Why are you making this so difficult? I wish to be in the child's life in my way and make sure he isn't ill. I care about you as well-"

"Dont. You. Dare! You Gave that up- So don't you DARE act like it's me who is the problem here Law. You never wanted this do you remeber?" You hissed gesturing to yourself, your anger bleeding through which made Law blink at you in surprise.

Marching forward you jabbed your finger to his chest.

"I don't do well with things long term- Those were your exact words to me, we dated for less then a month just so you could get the edge off wothout having to pay for it" His face twisted in something that could only be guilt, seeing the anger in your eyes.

"So why in hell would you think I would tell you or bother to find your ass? Hm?"

Law was silent at this, staring at your face and seeing the rage painted on it.

Tag List-

"Now release me- This conversation is done. If you want to see our kid then you have to go through the proper channels like every other deadbeat dad" You said still reeling from your anger. Law snapped his fingers and the room disapeared around the two of you- The man taking a step away from you.

"Fine... At least tell me his name (Y/N) and give me the chance. You forced me to he a so called 'deadbeat' by not telling me about him and despite what happened between us it shouldn't affect him" Law reasoned "Don't let your hatred of me deprive him of a father-"

You flinched at his words, rubbing your face as you knew this was on you- your anger making you slightly unreasonable.

"A-Ame.. His name Is Ame... and fine. You get one chance however- if you fuck up you leave us understand?" You clarify and the man gives a soft smile and nods.

@princessrabi @jisungswifie @mugiwarasoul19 @mothmomjay

@hyeon-yi @facelessfionna @stellasloth @yuriwk @ddotsie @imhenritz @natakina @zzbloody-animezz @unsuretater-simp @kenkenmaaa @mrs--imperfect @jcrml

[angelicyoongie]

Abundance (XIX)

— summary: You never expected that you would end up adopting a hybrid, and if someone had told you that you would end up with seven? Well, you would have thought they were crazy. But here you are, with three different packs of hybrids that don't get along – but all want to stay with you. Yeah, it turns out crazy is an understatement.

— pairing: hybrid bts x human f!reader — genre: fluff, angst, smut — warnings/content: explicit sexual content! handjob (lol), mild sub!tae vibes — word count: 8.3k Part: I / II / III / IV / V / VI / VII / VIII / IX / X / XI / Find more chapters here!

Early access to chapter 20 and 21 can be found in the author’s note at the end!

You squirm, grumbling in your sleep, as a hot puff of air hits your throat. Twisting your head to the side does little to deter the ticklish sensation, something soft brushing along the slope of your neck.

The comfortable weight resting over your hips won’t allow you to flip over on your side to escape, but you’re too warm and cosy to bother opening your eyes to find out who’s keeping you trapped.

You’re being scented gently, almost timidly, and it slowly begins to lull you back to sleep.

The tender motion of someone nosing at your throat and nuzzling against your skin in the morning has become familiar to you by now, as it’s a certain bunny hybrid’s favourite way of waking you up.

The weight on your middle shifts, and you reach blindly for long soft ears as you mutter out a slurred, "-Jeongguk?" 

You get a short, petulant whine in response, a set of sharp canines nipping at your throat. 

"I’m not a bunny." 

The bite isn’t hard enough to break skin but it startles you all the same, any chance of falling back asleep washed away as you blearily open your eyes. You blink once, twice, as the halo of deep orange blocking your vision begins to shift into focus.

Taehyung’s messy hair is falling into his face from where he’s perched over your hips, his hands resting besides your shoulders, caging you in. He peers down at you with dark, unreadable eyes, fox ears flattened to his head. 

"Tae?" You murmur, drowsy and confused.

You stifle a yawn behind your hand, tiredly rubbing your eyes. It feels like you’ve awoken from a long coma, your body heavy with exhaustion.

The last week has been intense to say the least, all the work you missed by helping Seokjin and Jeongguk with their ruts practically being shoved down your throat the moment you stepped back inside your office. 

You’ve been pulling sixteen hour days for a week to catch up, only coming home to sleep and wash up before hurrying back to the firm. It’s been miserable and you’ve missed the boys terribly, but the hard work has thankfully paid off. All of your less important cases have been dealt with and now you have the entire weekend off to spend time with them. 

Taehyung's face twists at the sound of his name. His voice is meek, little more than a whimper, as he asks, "Are you disappointed that it’s me? If you’d rather have Jeongguk here, I can go get him."

The look Taehyung gives you makes your heart ache something fierce, the little distance between the two of you suddenly feeling much too far. 

"What? No, Taehyung, of course not!" You scramble to push yourself up on your elbows, shocked that he would ever think so.

You reach up to gently cup his face in your hand, smoothing your thumb across his cheek as you try to catch his gaze. Taehyung leans into your touch, a sad pout pulling on his lips as he noses against your wrist, breathing in your scent.

His eyes flicker up to meet yours before he looks away, his shoulders hunching with hesitation as he quietly asks, "Show me?"

It hits you then, just how inattentive you’ve been to the other boys after Seokjin and Jeongguk’s rut passed. You were intimate with one pack and then practically disappeared for a week. It’s no wonder Taehyung feels insecure, you haven’t been able to reassure him or his instincts that you want him just as much as the rest.

The realization feels like a punch to the gut.

You should’ve seeked him out sooner to make sure he was okay, to make sure he felt wanted, especially when the incident with Jeongguk and the weasel hybrids is still such a fresh wound.

"Oh, Tae," You let out a quiet breath, covering the guilt simmering under your skin with a tender smile. "I’ll show you as many times as you need me to."

You slowly guide his face towards your own, your fingers following the curve of his jaw until you have your thumb pressed against the mole on his lower lip.

Taehyung's ears do a curious twitch as you gently pull on the flesh, parting his mouth to make room for your own. His breath hitches as you lean in, a sweet little eager sound leaving his lips as you press a chaste peck against them. 

Taehyung’s eyes flutter closed as you kiss him again, his cheeks flushing pink as you murmur a soft handsome into his skin. The fox hybrid’s tail swishes happily back and forth behind his back as you pepper light kisses everywhere you can reach, from his jaw to the tip of his nose.

Taehyung chases after your mouth when you draw back, capturing it in another kiss. He immediately tries to deepen it, tongue brushing against your lips in hopes that you’ll let him in. You willingly part them, licking into his mouth as the fox hybrid melts against your body, his stomach vibrating with low content purrs. 

You curl one hand around Taehyung’s neck, cupping the back of his head as the other settles on his shoulder, pulling him closer.

Taehyung lets out a soft moan as you kiss him with a little more intent, more passion, too distracted by your lips to notice how your eyes flutter open. He doesn’t seem to mind that you awkwardly throw a leg over his back, the duvet impeding your full range of motion.

The wet smack of your lips disconnecting as you pull back makes the simmering heat in your belly flare up. Taehyung’s eyebrows furrow as he loses your touch, his rosy lips puckering subconsciously as he blindly seeks you out.

You can hear the telltale signs of a whine building in his throat but before he can get too upset, you tighten your hold around his body, using the leg you have over his hip as leverage to flip him over.

Taehyung stares up at you with big eyes as he finds himself pressed against the bed. His orange hair is splayed around him on your pillow, looking messy and wild after your wandering hands.

The pure surprise on his face makes you giggle.

You peck his cheek, pulling back just in time as your hands settle on his waist, fingertips lightly tickling his sides. Taehyung jerks forward, a burst of laughter leaving his mouth as his brain catches up with what your unrelenting hands are doing.

"Y/n, ah–!" He wheezes, squirming on the bed as he tries to escape from the light touches fluttering all over his torso. A mischievous grin settles on your mouth as you realize the leg around Taehyung’s waist is keeping him trapped, the fox hybrid having no other option but to endure your tickling.

Taehyung’s bright laughter fills your bedroom, the infectious sound making you join in as you watch him attempt to shimmy away from your wiggling fingers.

He squeaks as you find a particularly sensitive spot on his stomach, his tail whipping wildly against the bed. The array of snorts and cackles that Taehyung lets out is like music to your ears, the insecure and vulnerable look in his eye nowhere to be found as they scrunch up with laughter. 

There’s a new glow to the fox hybrid’s golden skin when he manages to capture one of your hands, trapping it against his chest. He flashes you a bright grin as you futilely try to yank it back, using the moment to catch his breath after your intense onslaught.

You pout, zeroing in on his exposed neck. As you shift your weight, ready to lean forward in hopes that tickling his neck will free your trapped fingers – Taehyung seems to read your mind. Something wild flickers in his gaze before he surges up, the sudden burst of energy throwing you off balance. In a flash, you find yourself back where you started, Taehyung once again hovering over you. 

Your attempts to wrestle him back down are useless, his limbs rooted in place even as you try with all of your might to flip him back over. Your struggling does little but get rid of the duvet, the thick blanket kicked aside as you squirm and huff under Taehyung’s body. His bare legs are flush against yours, warm, as the heat from his skin seeps into yours. 

"Tae," You whine, finally flopping down with an exhausted sigh as you realize you have no chance of overpowering him. 

"What?" Taehyung tilts his head, blinking down at you with faux innocence. His ears are standing straight with attention, twitching with every little sound you release. 

You give him an unimpressed look, eyeing how his tail lazily swishes behind his back in victory. 

Taehyung snickers, his expression melting into something a bit more smug – pleased, as he takes in your ruffled appearance. "You’re the one that wanted to play. It’s not my fault you’re a sore loser." 

You roll your eyes, suppressing the smile tugging at your lips.

"Well … You’re too strong! Frankly, it’s a little–" You raise your hips up in an attempt to flip him again, your brain stuttering as the movement causes you to bump against something hard, "–unfair?"  

Taehyung lets out a soft moan at the contact, eyelashes fluttering as he ducks his head. 

"Are you…?" You trail off. Your cheeks grow warm at Taehyung’s weak nod. 

"It’s my instincts," He admits in a low whine, arms flexing as he digs his fingers into the mattress. "I can’t help it. You were acting like prey, uh, squirming around like that. " 

You hum under your breath, taking a moment to collect your thoughts as you rub your hands up Taehyung’s arms, feeling his muscles strain under your touch.

You have to admit that Taehyung getting turned on by your little wrestling match is, well, hot. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with him being affected by his instincts but the fox hybrid seems to think otherwise, his ears pulled back in shame. 

You simply refuse to allow him to think so lowly of himself.

"Can I touch you?" You ask. You slowly drag your hands up from Taehyung's arms to his chest, resting your palm above the harsh thud of his heart.

"Do you really want to?" Taehyung’s dark eyes shine with uncertainty as they meet yours. 

"Yes."

You keep your gaze locked on his, making sure your intent is clear as you raise your hips just enough to brush against his hard cock.

Taehyung’s arms wobble at the contact. A low keen leaves his mouth as his hips jerk automatically, chasing your body for more friction. 

Your circle one arm around his back, pushing between his shoulder blades to bring him closer. Taehyung scrambles to comply, making room for himself between your legs as you pull him into another kiss. He moans as your hand trails from his chest to his stomach, the light scrape of your nails making him shiver. 

The short second you pause as you reach the waistband of Taehyung’s shorts has him breaking away from the kiss, panting against your mouth as he whines out a desperate please. 

You steal a peek at his face, just to make sure he’s still okay as your hand slides under the elastic and the sight that greets you almost knocks the breath out of your chest.

Taehyung looks wrecked. His skin is flushed, burning hot, eyes glossy with want as he rasps out another plea for you to do more. 

His mouth falls open as you lightly rub the head of his leaking cock, hips buckling as you reach down to grasp him properly. The cramped angle is a little awkward but Taehyung doesn’t seem to mind it, whines and moans filling the air between you as you pump his length.

The slide of your hand is loud, lewd, in the otherwise quiet room. You thumb at his leaking tip with every upstroke, collecting the steady dribbles of precome in your hand to make the glide easier.

Taehyung moves against your fist, whimpering, as your slick palm forms a hot and wet hole for him to thrust into. 

"S-so good, fuck," Taehyung growls as you tighten your hand, squeezing around his throbbing cock. He dives down to recapture your mouth, the kiss sloppy and hungry as he nibbles at your lips. 

You’re hot and flustered, dizzy almost, from having Taehyung so close. You can’t see his cock but you can feel it – how sensitive it is, how well it responds to every little thing you do. You swallow thickly at the steady stream of whimpers leaving Taehyung’s mouth, the fox hybrid following your lead so well it drives you a little crazy.  

When you stroke faster, Taehyung snaps his hips quicker. When you tighten your hold to massage the base of his cock, he slows down, whimpering but complying. He’s just so eager to please.

It makes your mind stray places it shouldn’t, heat pooling in your belly as you wonder just how obedient he can be for you. Lost in thought, your grip grows a little slack, and the steady pressure around Taehyung’s frantic thrusts disappears with it. 

The fox hybrid’s body stutters, a distressed chirp leaving his lips as he mouths over your cheek.

"Y-n, please, please–" 

"Sorry, Tae, I got you," You whisper.

You slide the hand on his shoulder to the nape of his neck, burying your fingers into the soft orange locks there. You tug lightly at his hair, increasing the speed and pressure around his cock.

Taehyung’s stomach tenses with every brush of your knuckles against his skin, his release so so close. 

Taehyung nudges your head back, biting into the delicate skin on your throat with more force than normal. He soothes it immediately with his tongue, the wet drag leaving a delicious sting behind. 

"You’re doing so well for me, Tae," You breathe, choking on a moan as he repeats the action with even more fervour. You can see his tail swishing madly behind his back, high keens filling the back of his throat with every stroke of your slicked fist.

Taehyung is trembling, his whole body taut as he strains to keep up with your hand.

You suck your bottom lip between your teeth, confused, as another flurry of choked pleads suddenly falls from his mouth. There’s nothing stopping him from coming, and yet he’s holding back – waiting – for something. 

Taking a leap of faith, you use the grip on his hair to angle his head up, bringing his ear close to your mouth. You press a sweet kiss to his earlobe, tightening your fist around his cock before you murmur out a quiet, "Good boy." 

Taehyung’s head snaps back with a gravelly, desperate moan as his body tips over the edge. His hips stutter as he grinds into your palm, shuddering as ropes of come spill from his cock. 

You relax your grip, gently stroking him through his release as another spurt drips past your fist, pooling on your stomach. The sensation makes your core throb.

You tamp down the urge to grind against the leg Taehyung has pressed against you, forcing your gaze to wander from his blissed out expression to the dull colour of your wall instead. This was about making Taehyung feel good, wanted – your own needs can wait. 

Taehyung’s head lolls back down as you release his cock, lightly trailing your fingertips along his shaft one last time before you let your hand fall away. His breaths are heavy, chest heaving as he tries to recover from his intense orgasm. 

You tuck Taehyung's face back into your neck, smoothing your fingers through his hair and scratching at the base of his ears as you wait for his breathing to slow down. He nuzzles into your skin, happy rumbles trickling from his chest as he noses against the marks he left there. 

"How do you feel?" You hum. 

"‘m feeling good," Taehyung mumbles against your throat, his bushy tail giving a few lazy flicks against your leg. 

Your smile quickly morphs into a grimace as you shift a little to your side, noticing how the wetness on your stomach has started to cool. You gently nudge at Taehyung’s waist, pressing a peck to the side of his head as you say, "Let me clean us up a little." 

Taehyung lets out a small whine in protest, but another nudge has him tipping sideways, rolling on to his side. You reach out for the tissues on your bedside table while Taehyung curls an arm over your chest, pulling himself flush against your body. 

Making quick work of the sticky substance on your skin, you turn to Taehyung, gently cleaning him up as best you can while he happily scents your shoulder. 

You bunch the tissues up, throwing them in what you hope was the thud of your trash bin.

Turning back to the fox hybrid plastered against your side, you bring a hand up to frame his face, kissing him softly. Taehyung melts pliantly into it, letting you keep the rhythm unhurried and tender as you both wind down. 

A few minutes pass of Taehyung being putty under your lips before he suddenly jerks back, eyes big as his ear twitches in the direction of your door. 

He listens to the footsteps coming up the stairs, a sheepish smile blooming on his red-bitten lips as he confesses, "I was supposed to come and wake you up for breakfast." 

You snort, shaking your head as Taehyung grabs your hands to haul you up. 

"You can blame it on me," You grin, smoothing out Taehyung’s sleepwear to the best of your abilities. You both really need to get cleaned up and changed before you see the rest of the boys for breakfast. 

Taehyung leans closer, his dark eyes sparkling with sincerity as he murmurs, "Thank you, Y/n." 

"Always," You smile.

Taehyung surges forward to plant a wet smack against your cheek, giggling at the startled sound you make as he scoots off the bed. He hurries to the door, throwing a bright grin your way and a rushed "hurry downstairs!" before the door clicks shut behind him. 

You throw a fond look at the closed door as you get out of bed, happy that you accomplished your goal. You know it'll take more to make sure Taehyung feels confident in your relationship, but you hope it’s a start on the path to make him feel secure and loved. 

Letting out a small sigh, you grab a change of clothes from your dresser. You have a lot to make up for, with both him and the rest of the guys.

You shuffle across the room, twisting the door open as you bend your neck, satisfying little pops cracking in your ears as you try to loosen up the tightness there. Your head is nearly touching your shoulder when you find yourself face to face with Yoongi, the cat hybrid tilting his own accordingly until he meets your eyes.

"What are you doing?" Yoongi raises his eyebrows, amused. 

You straighten your neck, rolling your shoulder back as you ignore the heat creeping up your cheeks.

"Stretching," You pout. 

"Why? Are you tense?" Yoongi steps closer, curling a slender hand behind your neck. He frowns as he gently digs his fingertips into your muscles, eyeing your expression as he skillfully massages the sore area.

You feel your eyes flutter as he reaches a particularly sore spot.

Maybe you strained your neck a little too much with Taehyung, but how could you not devour those pretty pink lips when they were right in front of you? 

"Ah," Yoongi muses, tilting your head, "I guess this is why." 

You suck in a breath as he presses his thumb against one of the fresh marks on your throat.

Yoongi lets out a displeased rumble as he studies the faint bruising blooming on your skin, tail flicking with annoyance behind his back. The grip around your neck tightens just a smidge, just enough to lock you in place as he leans in.

Yoongi regards you with narrowed eyes, pupils pulled into thin slits as he takes in your dishevelled appearance. It almost makes you feel like a scruffed kitten, like he caught you doing something naughty.

"I wanted to see what was taking the fox so long, but–" Yoongi’s nostrils flare as he sniffs around your neck, a low hiss sounding under his breath as he moves lower, a particularly potent smell lingering near your stomach.

"Mystery solved, I suppose." 

Yoongi’s lip curls as he draws back, ears falling flat against his head. He looks miffed at the discovery of what you and Taehyung were up to, but you can tell that’s not all there is to it. There’s a layer of hurt there too, a hint of sadness in the heavy breath he lets out. 

You twist a hand into the soft knit Yoongi’s wearing, tugging at it.

Yoongi’s tail swishes at the contact, his mouth forming a soft pout. The fingers on the back of your neck twitch, like he isn’t sure he should keep holding on to you or not.

"Talk to me?" You ask softly, dragging him a step closer.

Yoongi grumbles something under his breath, his posture slumping as he instinctively leans towards your warmth. 

"What?" You whisper.

Yoongi looks away, words a little jumbled as he mumbles, "I missed you." 

"Yoongi..." You breathe, reaching out to cradle his face.

You really didn’t expect to have your heart crushed twice in one morning.

You pull him into a gentle kiss, smiling against Yoongi’s lips as he holds you still, the steady grip on your neck not letting you move an inch. It’s slow and sweet, the way he parts your lips, slotting them perfectly against his own. 

You let your hand explore the strong curve of his jaw, the softness of his pale cheeks, everything you didn’t have time to map out the first time you kissed.

When you eventually have to lean back to breathe, you ghost your lips over Yoongi’s, hoping he can feel the sincerity in your words as you say, "I missed you too, I really did."

"I’m sorry I haven’t been around much this week. Work has been rough, but I shouldn’t have let that come in the way of us spending time together. I can’t promise I’ll be perfect right away, but I am going to try my best to balance everything a little better." 

"Y/n," Yoongi shakes his head with a small sigh, "You’re doing good." 

He presses a quick peck to your lips, levelling you with a look as your mouth purses in silent protest. 

"You’re working hard to house and feed us, and yeah, sure, it sucks that you can’t be at home as much as we’d like, but we understand. No one else has ever put as much effort as you are into making sure we’re happy and comfortable, so don’t worry too much about us, okay? Just, focus on yourself first. That’s all we ask." 

You melt into Yoongi’s embrace as he wraps his arms around you, muttering out a wobbly okay.

He holds you securely against his chest, tucking his nose into your hair to breathe in your calming scent. Yoongi never thought he would experience a scent that soothes him as much as Jimin’s, that smells like home – but yours do. The thought alone is enough to calm down the jittery edge that’s been clinging to his instincts for the past week, low purrs rumbling in his chest.

You rub your face into Yoongi’s sweater, discreetly trying to wipe away the tears prickling in your eyes. You will do better, you’re going to stand by your promise – but still, it’s comforting to hear that they don’t hate you for spending so much time away from home recently.

"You feeling okay?" Yoongi slowly releases his hold, stepping back to look you in the eye. 

"I’m fine," You murmur, clearing your throat of the thickness lingering there.

Yoongi hums, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. 

"Go get ready then, I’m sure the others are dying to see you." 

"Y/n, where should I put this?"

You glance up, squinting against the sun to make out Namjoon’s outline through the rays of light.

"Anywhere will do, Joon. Thanks for grabbing it for me," You nod in the direction of the other garden tools, brushing the dirt off your hands as you flash him a grateful smile. 

"My pleasure," Namjoon grins, tail swinging happily behind his back. 

You watch as he turns, blocking the light momentarily as he hefts the bag of soil more securely over his shoulder, biceps straining under the black t-shirt he’s wearing. Judging by how buff Namjoon looks, it seems that the workouts they’ve been trying to rope you into doing with them have been paying off, the sight of a particularly prominent vein in his arm causing your mouth to run dry. 

You swallow thickly as the wolf hybrid places the bag on the ground with a soft grunt, the flowers in front of you long forgotten.

"Be careful, Y/n-ie, otherwise you’ll catch flies." 

Blinking, you quickly avert your gaze from Namjoon’s bulging muscles, whipping around to stare at Hoseok. 

"W-what?" 

The dog hybrid gives you a knowing look from where he’s kneeling on the ground next to you. There’s a teasing smirk adorning his lips, his golden tail wagging with newfound interest.

"Shut up," You murmur, nudging his shoulder with your own. You fumble for the handheld shovel on the ground as Namjoon walks over, flustered that Hoseok caught you ogling his pack alpha. 

The wolf hybrid plops down on your other side, ears perked as Hoseok lets out a low snort.

"What’s up?" 

You pointedly do not look at the sculpted, tanned arm that reaches out for the hand rake in front of you, throwing Hoseok a narrowed gaze as he cheerfully says, "Nothing much. Y/n was just really enjoying the view." 

Namjoon makes a confused sound, the empty flower bed you’re sitting in front of not offering much besides the large bay windows looking into the living room. He tilts his head back, watching the sparse fluffy clouds drift by, the sun on his back wrapping around him like a warm hug.

"The sky does look pretty today," Namjoon agrees, oblivious to the death glare you’re giving his packmate.

"Sure does!" Hoseok chirps. 

His tail hits the grass with quick thuds, clearly enjoying the flustered state he’s put you in. Hoseok’s eyes sparkle with mischief as he continues, "Y/n, I’m sure Joonie would love to hear what–" 

"Wow, look at these pretty flowers!" You interrupt him, face growing warm under the smug smile you get in return. You busy yourself with dragging the cluster of nursery plants closer, avoiding Hoseok’s gaze as you push the small shovel to his chest.

"We should get them settled into their new home while the sun is still out, don’t you think?" 

The reminder seems to snap Namjoon out of his cloud watching, the wolf hybrid letting out a startled, "Oh, right!" as he turns back to the plants. He’s too busy trying to figure out how to use the garden rake to notice the fond looks you and Hoseok send his way.

You bite your lip, stifling a giggle, as you wonder how you ever could’ve thought of Namjoon as intimidating. It’s hard to picture the calculating gaze and imposing presence you felt at the shelter when the hybrid in front of you is just so – cute.

Namjoon is hunched over the bed, making himself small in front of the delicate flowers as he attempts to crumble the soil for them. A wrinkle appears between his brows as the tool only grazes over the surface, his grey ears twisting back in confusion when it doesn’t work.

Gently, you reach out to take Namjoon’s hand in yours, turning the rake over in his grip. The wolf hybrid perks up when he once again tries to drag it over the hard soil, the tines actually digging into the ground this time. Namjoon’s tail begins to wag as he rakes the soil, a soft look of wonder on his face as old, buried roots come to the surface. 

You know the boys haven’t had it easy in the past, but you really hope that the new experiences they make with you can lessen that hurt over time. You really haven’t met anyone – human or hybrid – who are as good as they are, and you’ll be damned if you don’t try your best to make them happy. And if gardening can do that for Namjoon, then you’re willing to convert your bedroom into a greenhouse if that’s what it takes. 

Your heart skips a beat as you take in the pure joy shining on Namjoon’s face as he fluffs up the soil, his fingertips stained with dirt. You can’t help but lean in, chest tight with love as you plant a kiss on his cheek. 

"Thank you for helping me," You smile, heart fluttering as he sends you a bright grin in return, dimples on full display. 

"Of course," Namjoon preens, chest puffing out as he digs into the soil with even more energy than before. 

A low whine has you glancing to your left, Hoseok giving you his best pout as he tilts his head, angling his cheek in your direction.

The intense scenting and kissing session you received before breakfast honestly left you in a bit of a drunken daze, your mind scrambled after trying to keep up with five needy hybrids. You know that’s why Hoseok refused to let up on his teasing before, it isn’t often he can do so without you returning the favour, but that doesn’t mean you’ll let him get away with it now that the spring air has started to clear your head. 

You send him a puzzled look, feigning ignorance as you mouth a confused 'what?'

Hoseok stares at you, dumbfounded by the sudden turn of events, as you turn back to the flowerbed with a small shrug.

You have to tamper down a smug smile of your own when Hoseok seems to catch up to what you’re doing, whiney grumbles being muttered under his breath as he realizes you’re ignoring him in retaliation for earlier. You’re not cruel, it’s not like you can deny them kisses for very long, you’re just, hm, saving it, as reward for when he finishes digging up his part of the bed.

You watch him begin to shovel out of the corner of your eye, tuning out his weak complaints as you focus on your own patch. Namjoon’s excitement is infectious and you honestly can’t wait to see how the garden is going to look once you’re done with it. The old owners didn’t care for it much, letting most of the plants rot and wilt away, but you don’t mind that too much. The new garden is going to be something you’ve created together with the boys, and it’s going to be so much more satisfying seeing the space blossom and thrive the more love you collectively pour into it. 

"This is such a mess," Hoseok sighs. He eyes the flowerbed distastefully as he flips over another spot of old dirt. 

"Hmm," You lean back, tapping your shovel against the soil as you pretend to think, "I wonder what made it so messy? Surely it couldn’t have been because of two grown hybrids stomping around in it, trying to spy–" 

"Tae!" Namjoon suddenly calls out, neck splotched pink with embarrassment. 

A few slow seconds pass with no reply, Taehyung nowhere to be seen. Just as you’re about to nudge Namjoon to tease him for trying to divert your attention, you hear the sound of pattering feet rushing over the grass, a series of high pitched barks calling out from the other side of the garden.

You watch, stunned, as a copper fox runs straight into Namjoon’s arms, squirming around in his lap until the wolf hybrid gently hugs it to his chest. It yips as if asking him to play, giving his jaw a few quick licks while it rubs his snout all over Namjoon’s neck.

"Not right now," The wolf hybrid shakes his head, amused, as he lovingly pets the thick, orange fur. 

The fox – Taehyung, your mind unhelpfully supplies a little late – gives a low snort, clearly unhappy that his alpha won’t indulge him right away.

His fox form is just as pretty as you remember. Taehyung has a long rich orange fur that fades into white near his stomach, his bushy tail sprinkled with black hairs that make the copper look even more vibrant. His pointed ears and small legs are dipped in black, his body agile and nimble as he somehow manages to slip out of Namjoon’s strong hold like it’s nothing. 

You hold your breath Taehyung as immediately scurries over to you, tail swishing as he flops down on the available patch of grass between your knees and the flower bed. He rolls to his back, looking more like a dog than a fox as he gives you a little wiggle, waiting to be pet. 

"Like this?" You ask, carefully burying your hand in the soft fur on his belly. Taehyung seems pleased as you begin to run your fingers through the silky hairs, low purrs vibrating in his stomach as you marvel at his pretty fur. 

"Look at our handsome boy," Hoseok coos. He reaches out to rub the narrow space between Taehyung’s fox ears, laughing as one of his hind-legs twitches in response. 

Taehyung looks blissed out from the attention, panting happily as you rub his stomach. You haven’t seen this side of the fox hybrid since the first time at the shelter, and it warms your heart that he finally feels comfortable enough to shift and let go even with the other packs around. 

You scratch Taehyung’s chin, grinning as you playfully say, "Do you know your hyungs are trying to use your cute little face as a distraction for ruining our flowerbed?"

Namjoon smiles sheepishly as the fox gives you a high, confirming yip in return. 

"It’s working, so I guess I can’t be too mad about it," You sigh, shaking your head in amused exasperation. 

You keep petting Taehyung for another minute until he seems to grow bored of it, his attention span a bit more fleeting in his shifted form. He rolls back over on his stomach, clambering up on his legs before he shakes his fur out. You’re not even sure if that’s something foxes do, or if he’s just picked it up from Hoseok and Namjoon over time. 

The fox walks a few laps back and forth, following the paved border along the bed as he sniffs at the freshly turned dirt. Hoseok notices the longing glances his packmate sends the disturbed soil, aware of his own instincts begging him to shift to dig around in it. 

He pats the ground to make Taehyung rush over to him, running a soothing hand over his spine as he gestures to the spot he abandoned his shovel. "There’s this root I can’t get up, it’s buried pretty deep, do you think you can get it for me?" 

You can practically see Taehyung’s entire body immediately honing in on the patch Hoseok pointed to, his tail swishing behind him in unbridled excitement. His ears are perked, focused, as he crouches low, belly to the ground.

His body tenses before he suddenly rushes forward, pouncing on the spot of dirt. He starts eagerly digging at the ground, scraping away the layers of soil surrounding the root in a few seconds. Taehyung has the entire thing uncovered in no time, his pointed snout shooting down to gnaw at what must’ve been roots from an old tree. His sharp teeth glint in the sun as he excitedly attacks the wood. A cracking sound fills the air as he chomps down on it, Taehyung's body going taut as he leans back, using his weight to pull it up. 

For a second the fox hybrid looks frozen, the root giving him more resistance than anticipated, but then it just gives – and Taehyung stumbles back, pulling out a root as thick as your arm from the dirt. 

"Well done, Tae," Namjoon beams, his chest rumbling with pride.

You cheer alongside his packmates, amazed that Taehyung managed to get rid of it that quickly. You shudder to think how many hours you would’ve been hacking away at it if you had to remove it yourself. 

Taehyung drops the root, yipping excitedly as he jumps around in the soil. He lets you all get in a few pets and a smooch between his furry ears as thanks before he shoots off, impatient to explore the rest of the garden. 

Smiling, you watch him scurry off, a streak of orange disappearing across the garden and into the thicker foliage near the back fence. Taehyung saved you all a lot of work, so now that the flowerbed is tended to and clear of anything that might impede the growth of the new plants, you can finally add in the fresh soil.

"Hobi?" The dog hybrid’s head whips around as you call his name, eyes hopeful.

"Can you help me with that bag of soil? I can’t lift it on my own."

You dust your hands, ready to rise up on your feet when Hoseok jumps up, gently pressing on your shoulder to make you stay seated on the ground.

"I’ll get it!" 

"Wait, it’s heavy–"  You turn around, warning tapering off as you watch the dog hybrid effortlessly heft the bag up in his arms.

Stunned, you watch as Hoseok carries it over without problem, no trace of a struggle visible on his face. He doesn’t make a sound as he picks up Namjoon’s rake, slashing the bag open before he spreads the soil as evenly as possible over the bed. 

Not even Namjoon, with his prominent muscles, looked this unbothered when he carried the bag for you earlier. You could tell he at least felt the weight of it on his shoulder, but it doesn’t seem like Hoseok registers it at all. You know that hybrids, regardless of their species, are genetically modified to be stronger than humans – but even so, the sight of Hoseok lifting a fifty litre bag of soil like it’s as light as a feather leaves you dumbstruck. There’s clearly a lot you still don’t know about the boys, and you have no clue how Hoseok has managed to hide that amount of strength away in his lithe build. 

"That’s, um, thank you," You stare up at Hoseok, a little lost, as he crumples up the empty plastic. 

"No problem!" He grins, ears perked as he resumes his spot. "Can I have a kiss now, too?" 

"Hmm, well, you did help, so …" You kiss the cheek that Hoseok keenly presents to you with a soft giggle, making sure to add another peck to the corner of his mouth in apology for teasing him earlier. 

Hoseok’s small dimples are carved into his cheeks when you pull back, the heart shaped smile turning your insides to mush.

He reaches out to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, subtly brushing his wrist against your neck as he pulls back, making sure his happy scent lingers on your skin. Hoseok knows all too well that you can’t smell it or find comfort in it like the others, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to stop trying. 

"Y/n, where does this go?" Namjoon holds up a budding flower, the faintest hints of purple showing through the closed petals. 

"Anywhere you think it’ll look nice," You smile. "I picked out plants and flowers that all thrive in the shade, so the placement shouldn't matter too much." 

Namjoon lights up at that, his grey tail beating up a storm behind his back as he launches into describing where he thinks each plant would look best. He must’ve been thinking deeply about it while he was turning over the old soil. Seeing how enthused he looks as he places them all out, you wonder if he would enjoy learning more about it - maybe it would be possible to sign him up for a flower arranging course in town? Or a few lessons online? You’re definitely going to mention a few options to him later. 

"That looks pretty, Joonie," Hoseok compliments as his pack alpha finishes his positioning, small clusters of colourful flowers divided up between a variety of green plants. 

You echo his sentiment, already picturing just how lush and beautiful the flowerbed is going to look once everything sprouts and grows. 

"Thank you," Namjoon’s shy gratitude is filled to the brim with pride, the wolf hybrid beaming as he begins to dig the spot where the first flower will go. 

You hunker down in front of your own designated area, digging up the patches Namjoon marked for each new plant. There’s something tranquil about the fresh soil slipping through your fingers as you carefully pat down the dirt around the new flowers, a gentle calm settling over you as you listen to the welcoming tune of a faint birdsong in the distance.

You joke around with Namjoon and Hoseok as you plant the new flowers, happily listening to the boys retell what they’ve been up to for the past week. Namjoon in particular has taken to exploring the neighbourhood and the surrounding areas more, though you can’t quite figure out why he seems so bashful to admit it.

Before you can even think to ask, you’re interrupted by Taehyung running back over for more pets, the fox hybrid looking like he’s been rolling around in any available patches of dirt he’s come across. You can only watch, amused, as he’s gently scolded by Hoseok for getting so dirty, his whines only growing when Namjoon joins in too. 

"Hey!" Namjoon sputters as Taehyung sneezes him in the face, showing off his displeasure before he scampers off in the direction of the backdoor. 

Hoseok barks out a laugh at Taehyung’s cheeky retort and you have to cover your face as your snort, muffling the sound to the best of your abilities. You pretend you don’t see the narrowed look Namjoon gives you as he wipes his face, humming as you let your attention drift to the other boys hanging around the garden. 

Seokjin and Jeongguk are huddled near some bushes by the fence at the back, arguing loudly about what the correct type is. You just wanted to know if it would flower, but based on how long they’ve been slapping each other’s necks, you don’t think you’ll get a definite answer to that today.

You roll your eyes as Jeongguk wrestles Seokjin into a headlock, the bunny hybrid grinning victoriously as Seokjin lightly punches his stomach in retaliation.

Jeongguk’s smile falters as he glances up, meeting Jimin’s gaze from beneath the big tree in the middle of the garden. You watch as the hand Jimin was carding through his tail jerks, a small hiss carrying over the grass as he accidentally tugs on the delicate hairs.

Blushing, Jeongguk averts his eyes, loosening his hold on Seokjin in order to make the alpha jump back up, blocking Jimin from view as he squeaks about his packmate being a brat. 

This new thing between Jeongguk and Jimin is certainly interesting, to say the least. It doesn’t seem like the others have caught on to the strange tension that’s been growing between them ever since that night you found them huddled up on the couch together, limbs and tails intertwined. It has clearly left things between them awkward though, even if you’re not sure why. They seemed cosy enough when you stumbled across them and the friendships between the packs have been improving, but perhaps they need a bit more time to accept the sudden shift between them. 

Your gaze falls to Yoongi as he yawns, his dark eyes squinting disapprovingly up at the shade that has fallen over his resting spot. You were surprised when you first came outside to find the cat hybrid in his shifted form, a purring Yoongi wrapping himself between your legs for some pets before he eventually went off to take a nap somewhere hidden from view. He’s been steadily moving his way around the yard as you’ve been working, finding new spots to rest undisturbed.

Now though, you hold back a coo as the fluffy black cat slowly gets to his feet, stretching out his long body before he moves a little further into the garden, plopping down in the first patch of sunlight he finds. He curls into a little ball, delicately tucking his tail under his chin to bask in the pleasant spring warmth. 

You watch as one of Yoongi’s ears twitches, twisting towards the house, before you even manage to notice Taehyung yourself; the fox hybrid back in his human form as he quietly moves across the garden.

Taehyung approaches Yoongi’s resting figure carefully, eyes wide with wonder as he takes in his shifted form for the first time. He stops in front of Yoongi, orange tail swishing with interest behind his back as he slowly sinks to his knees.

You can barely make out one of Yoongi’s eyes cracking open to watch him, tail flicking with what you can only assume is annoyance at having his fifth nap interrupted.

Taehyung’s hands are folded in his lap, voice soft as he reverently says, "Hyung, your fur is so pretty." 

Yoongi watches Taehyung silently, pinning the younger hybrid under his gaze. He looks at him without blinking and you find yourself holding your breath, mirroring Taehyung subconsciously as the cat hybrid thinks - considers something. 

You’re not sure what you were expecting – for Yoongi to hiss maybe, definitely for him to just get up and leave – but he does, well, neither.

After a few tense seconds that feel horribly long, Yoongi simply just slides his eye shut, his tail stilling under his chin as he lets a gentle mrrp fill the silence between them.

"Are you sure?" Taehyung gasps, eyes lighting up as he reaches out, hand hovering over Yoongi’s back for a final confirmation. 

"Oh," You whisper, just as Hoseok sucks in a low breath behind your back. The scene in front of you has captured the attention of everyone in the garden, five pairs of curious eyes watching the unusual interaction unfold. 

Yoongi lets out another soft sound, something you can only describe as akin to a stuttered purr, to let Taehyung know it’s okay to touch him. To pet him. 

Taehyung looks enthralled as he lightly strokes Yoongi’s silky fur, fingertips barely even grazing the cat hybrid at the first few touches. He grows bolder when Yoongi repositions his head to get more comfortable, petting the alpha with a little more intent as he drags his fingers from the top of Yoongi’s head down to his lower back.

He just looks so happy, so content, as he continues to pet Yoongi to his heart’s desire. 

The sight truly makes you a little emotional. With how the boys acted when they got to the house, there was a point where something like this seemed more like a distant, unattainable dream than a possible future. Even though they eventually agreed to get along, there was never a promise of friendship, or closeness. There was never anything that alluded to this. 

You can hear Hoseok’s tail wagging at the sight, matching the grey blur of his pack alpha's in front of you. Seokjin and Jeongguk have calmed down too, the bunny hybrid resting his chin over Seokjin’s shoulder as he watches Taehyung and Yoongi with wide eyes.

They all seem pleased, at ease, to watch Taehyung take another step towards befriending Yoongi. Like it was just a matter of time before someone took the leap to start bonding between packs. 

Well, almost everyone. 

Jimin is silently seething beneath the tree, his dark eyes glued to Taehyung’s hand as it touches Yoongi over and over, and over again.

It's his expression that trips you up the most, the intensity there all too reminiscent of the look you saw him sporting earlier. You noticed it as they all rushed to greet you after you came down for breakfast – the way Jimin's face soured as he picked up traces of both Yoongi and Taehyung's scent on your body. He kept throwing odd looks their way, a permanent scowl on his face as he bit into his toast.

His displeasure was clear as day when Taehyung had reached for something across Yoongi's plate, their arms brushing together. The thing was though, Jimin wasn't watching Yoongi. During breakfast, he kept staring Taehyung down, lip curling whenever the fox hybrid touched someone.

You didn't recognize it then, but you do now. You can see it in the way Jimin’s tabby ears are pulled flat against his hair, strained hands clutching on to his fluffed up tail in what looks to be a painful manner. His eyes keep tracking Taehyung as he touches Yoongi, never wavering anywhere else.

It's jealousy, and it's practically rolling off him in waves.

The thing that confuses you the most however, is that while Jimin looks green with envy, you can't quite tell what's actually upsetting him more – the fact that Yoongi is allowing Taehyung to pet him, or that perhaps a tiny part of him wishes that he was the one getting touched by Taehyung.

a/n: Chapters 20 & 21 of "Abundance" are available on ko-fi! You can find them here: https://ko-fi.com/s/e95005a91d

so uhm ... hiii? i know it’s been a very long time since the last abundance update (18 months to be exact *cough*) but better late than never, right? it felt really weird returning to abundance after this long. even though i tried my best to recapture the old ‘feel’ of abundance, i still think i have some ways to go before i get fully used to writing this story again! i hope you guys can excuse any scenes that may feel a bit stilted or off while i get to know my characters again. but all of that aside – i’m so happy to be back. i really missed this story and my hybrid boys, and i missed you guys as well. 

how have you all been? did you enjoy the new chapter? please come talk to me in the comments (& remember to reblog, that helps me out a lot)!!

the next chapter will be posted in around three weeks time, but if you can’t wait then you can always read it early on my ko-fi! i would really appreciate the support!! 💖

see you all soon, stay safe! <3