#this sucks i can barely stomach the thought of food and THIS is what i start craving??

[arctic-hands]

Things I am craving while in the throws off food poisoning and also on my period:

Nacho cheese

Things I should absolutely not eat while in the throws of food poisoning, while on my period, and oh yeah I'm lactose intolerant

Nacho cheese

[felixknow]

Jeongin #70 tyy

70. "Can I take your virginity?"

f!reader. In a shocking turn of events, I decided to make this one a drabble. No smut, just discussion of sex and feelings. 1k. <3

A sharp knock disturbs your groove.

The groove of cooking, that is. You were deep in the pattern of chopping and adding, stirring and chopping, and adding and stirring when the knock reminded you that you aren’t in your own dreamland.

You wipe your hands on a kitchen towel and throw it over your shoulder before shuffling to the door and peeking through the peephole. A smile overtakes your face when you recognize your unexpected guest.

“Yang Jeongin!” you call out, opening the door and swinging it wide open. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Hi, noona. I wasn’t sure if you were home, but I wanted to come over.”

“I’m making dinner right now,” you tell him, stepping to the side and motioning for him to come in. “I’ll have plenty for two. Hungry?”

He hums to agree as he kicks off his shoes by the door.

“It smells good.”

“I’ve barely started. I’m just getting the aromatics going.”

You close and lock the door before going back to the stove and stirring once more, making sure nothing is sticking to your pan.

Jeongin follows you and leans against the counter, watching you get back to work.

“Can I help with anything, noona?” he asks after a few quiet minutes, finally remembering his manners.

“Get the tofu out for me, if you will.”

“Of course.”

He’s a good, if not timid, assistant in the kitchen. He waits patiently for requests and fulfills them dutifully, all while keeping a curious eye on the food as it starts to take shape.

“You’re not very talkative today,” you observe, stirring the stew for the last time before putting the lid on top of the pot to sit and simmer for a while.

“Mmm.”

“You okay?” You turn to look at him and he gives you a wobbly smile.

“Innie?”

“I wanna ask you something.”

“Okayyy.”

“It’s about what we were talking about the other day.” He wipes his palms on his shorts and slides his hands into his pockets.

“You’ll have to be more specific,” you say with a slight laugh. “I can barely remember what I ate for breakfast this morning, let alone all the random stuff we talk about.”

He nods and swallows hard, and it finally occurs to you that he seems… nervous.

“Let’s go sit down,” you suggest, leading him to the living room. He follows closely and when you sit on the couch, he sits right beside you, like always.

“Okay. What have you been thinking about?”

“So, remember how you told me that you’re a virgin…?” He doesn’t make eye contact with you when he asks. His makeup-free face tints pink, while your stomach instantly ties itself in a knot.

“Yeah,” you admit quietly. “I remember.”

“So, um… I was wondering…” His face twists uncomfortably, like he’s forcing himself to speak but not fully winning the inner battle he’s having with his own nerves.

“Innie?” 

He glances over you and meets your eyes, then glances down at your lips, then looks anywhere but you yet again.

“Sorry, I--” he sighs. “It’s just…” He sucks in a deep breath then turns to you, his knee knocking into the side of your thigh. His eyes finally bore into yours, and he says it.

“Can I take your virginity?”

If you were eating, you’d choke on it. If you were taking a drink, you’d spit it out. Instead all you can do is stare at him as your jaw drops open.

To his credit, he handles your stare well. He holds steady and waits for you to collect yourself instead of panicking and running off like you would do in his position.

“Noona?”

“I’m good,” you say, collecting yourself. You scrunch your eyes up and shake your head slightly, hard-resetting your expression. “I’m fine, I’m totally good. Um… so you…? Really? You want to do that?”

“Yes,” he says, nodding. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot. I hadn’t really thought about you like that before but something switched in my brain and I started getting so possessive,” he says, talking toward his lap. “Like, if I’m not the one who gets to see you like that but someone else is I’d probably lose my mind.”

“Are you just interested in virginity collecting, or is it me you’re concerned about? I’m kind of getting mixed signals here, Innie.”

“You,” he says quickly, once again meeting your eyes. “I want you and I don’t want anyone else to have you. I hadn’t thought about it before, but now that I have I can’t stop.”

You can’t help the smile that grows on your lips.

“Okay… Well, then why don’t we have dinner, and after we can have each other for dessert?”

His eyes widen, his lips slightly part in a picture of shock.

“Really?!”

“Well, yeah. Did you think I’d say no?” You rest your hand on his knee and he looks down at it and back up to you a couple of times.

“I wasn’t sure. I know you’ve said before that you don’t like to hook up with people.”

“And I know you’ve said the same, so you wouldn’t be asking me to have sex and telling me you’d be jealous if I saw other men unless you want something definable with me.”

If his cheeks were pink before, they’re red now.

“You’ve always been too good at reading me, noona,” he says, shyly looking down at your hand as it slides a few centimeters up his leg.

“You make it too easy.”

[moremaybank]

okay I still cannot stop thinking about best friend jj and reader. Its mentioned her parents have body shamed her in the past and her mom makes that comment about her hips. What if it really got to her at one point and JJ is the only one who noticed. Not like a full blown eating disorder thankfully but that he noticed her skipping meals and he had to sit her down on his lap and tell her she was perfect...sorry just me thinking lol

eeek! first in between au request! thank you for the continuous love ♡︎ warnings reader skipping meals, body shaming (r's parents), bsf!jj being a sweetheart as usual [1k]

At first, it wasn’t a big deal. 

JJ was well aware that sometimes, when you were stressed, you’d forget to eat. He’d urge you to at least steal a few pieces of food off his plate (okay, maybe more than a few), and his mind would be at peace knowing that you were now fed and taken care of. 

But soon, he noticed that it became a daily thing. You’d tell him you weren’t hungry, or that you’d already eaten earlier, but then, he’d hear your stomach growling and watch you blatantly ignore it. You looked exhausted all the time, your physical strength was depleting. He’d watch you grow snappy at the smallest things, watch the way you’d pick at your food and move it around on your plate mindlessly every time you two ate together. Then, you’d dismiss his concerns with a forced smile.

After a few weeks had gone by, and your actions had remained the same, he knew something was up. He couldn’t stand to see you become a shell of who you usually were. There was no spark of wonder in your eyes. It was like all your hope had been sucked out of you. 

He also knew that your family was hard on you when it came to your body. And it sucked to admit, but at the beginning, he hadn't thought too much of it. Now, though, something was going on with his favourite girl and he was determined to get to the bottom of it. 

“Hey, you feel like goin’ to the Wreck? I'm feelin’ a seafood boil right now.”

You simply shrugged him off, your gaze remaining on the work in front of you. You’d been consumed in it all day, barely even blinking an eye in JJ’s general direction. 

“Not really hungry. I can come with you, though?”

Approaching you at your seat in front of your desk, his hands pried the pen from your hand, and he placed it down on the wooden surface. Then, he crouched down to get a better look at you.

“What’s goin’ on with you?” 

You turned away from him, scared of looking into his eyes. His tone indicated that you’d been caught. You should’ve known that he would pick up on your change in demeanour sooner or later. 

It was JJ.

Getting things past him simply was not a thing. It never was. 

Still, though, you’d make the effort even if it proved to be pointless. You weren’t sure the honesty was worth seeing the disappointment on his face. 

“Nothing. Jus’ not hungry.” 

“Y/N, I haven’t seen you eat a proper meal in two weeks.” 

“I said I'm good, J.” Your voice was bitter and sharp as you picked your pen back up, breaking free of his hold and trying to continue with your work. “If you wanna eat, go eat.”

He took the pen from your hand again, stuffing it in his pocket so you couldn’t get to it as easily. 

“You really think that by now, I don’t know when you’re actin’ up?” He held your face in his hands, ensuring that you couldn’t look away from him again. “Jus’ tell me what’s goin’ on so I can fix it.” 

“You can’t fix this, J.” 

He sighed softly, his thumbs swiping over the apples of your cheeks. “Try me.” 

You stalled for a moment. You didn’t want the judgement, You knew what he would say. 

Y/N/N, don’t listen to him. He’s a piece of shit. He has no idea what he’s talking about. 

If this was about anything else, maybe you would’ve believed him. But after hearing comments from your parents about your body for almost two decades…maybe their words had some truth to them, right? 

But when you looked into those oceanic puppy-dog eyes, it was as if he was willing the truth out of you wordlessly. Sighing, you broke free of his grasp carefully. You strolled over to your dresser, pulling your phone off of the surface and opening your messages on your way back to him. You handed him the device, the glow of your screen illuminating his face as it showed him the texts you’d received from your father earlier last week. 

You think your mother and I haven’t noticed how you’ve gotten fuller? Everything you’ve worn to our events lately has only made you look worse. A girl your age should be slimmer. We should get you on a diet, up your physical activity.

If you don’t fix your appearance, you’re going to embarrass us in front of our colleagues. We can’t secure this deal if you’re looking plump.

I’ve had it. You shouldn’t accompany us anywhere for the next few months. Not until you get your weight under control. 

Rage bubbled deep in his core, threatening to swallow him whole. It had always puzzled him beyond belief — how your parents could look at you and see the complete opposite of what he had.

Perfection.

He tried to remain stoic. You’d never been happy when he got upset over things your parents had done in the past, and right now, when you were looking so pained, how could he make things worse?

“Y/N/N,” he said, hands bracing your shoulders. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself.” 

You couldn’t even find the courage to look up at him. You were too scared, too ashamed. You didn’t want his pity, you just wanted the voices to stop, and though you believed JJ could do anything, you weren’t sure if he could quiet that noise. 

It was too blaring. 

“You’re actin’ like there’s somethin’ to fix, but there isn’t. You’re perfect. I don’t care what your dress size is. You don’t need to be cuttin’ back. End of story.” 

“J, it’s just not that easy—”

His index finger found your lips, effectively shushing you and garnering your attention. “They’re wrong about everythin’ else, right?”

You nodded slowly. “…Yeah.” 

“So what makes ‘em right about this?” 

He got you good. He’d always had a certain way with you, and thank God he did. 

One of his hands abandoned your shoulder, finding your face instead. Blue eyes bore their soul into yours, trying to engrave how he viewed you into your brain. 

“Eat whatever the fuck you want. You’re beautiful, and you always will be.” 

[euphemiaamillais]

playing dangerous pt 2 - coriolanus snow 🎀

coriolanus snow has always wanted the perfect woman. he’s searched high and low, among the likes of heiresses and actresses, and even—though he’d never dare admit it—district girls. he’s given up hope, until he finds you. you’re perfect—innocent, beautiful and obedient. he’s been watching you for months, and one night, he just can’t resist taking you home and making you his.

cw: 18+//kidnapping//eventual stockholm syndrome//mentions of suicide/suicidal ideation//emotional manipulation//mentions of sex/sexual harassment

part 1 is here

you wake to the sunlight streaming through the french doors the next morning. your head is pounding, not doubt from the posca. while it had sent you into a dreamless sleep, you can feel a throbbing hangover coming on. there is little noise in the house, nothing but your breathing gracing your ears, and for a moment you forget where you were.

but when you feel the restraint around your wrist, you remember that you were in some strange man’s apartment, subject to his every whim. which, so far, you were thankful, had only been eating the food he’d brought you.

the door opens, and he comes in baring more food. this time, an assortment of spreads and toast. at least he has the decency to feed you well, though you can’t help but wonder if the food is laced with poison. you’re too starving to think too much about it though.

‘good morning,’ he grins, a positively psychopathic gaze in his eyes. he sets the tray down, and presses a kiss to your forehead. ‘did you sleep well, darling?’

you shudder at the pet name. ‘well, my wrist really hurts,’ you pout, wondering if he will be swayed by your wide eyes. ‘do you think you could loosen the restraint?’

you’re also aware of your bladder pressing against your stomach, full from last night’s posca, and you’re reminded of how desperately you need to go.

‘once you’ve eaten,’ he promises, and turns to start buttering the toast. the sweet aroma of jams and spreads fills your nose, your mouth watering. ‘what would you like, princess?’

you glance at the array, and decide on a thick pot of strawberry jam. you’d eat that every morning at home, with a cup of tea. alas, there only seems to be a very milky cup of coffee on the tray, but it’s better than nothing.

‘strawberry jam, please,’ you offer a smile, and he begins to spread the confiture across the golden toast. it does look delicious.

‘there you go,’ he hands you the toast. he’s even sliced it into little triangles, worried that you won’t be able to eat it in such big slices, seeing as you’re just so delicate.

he watches you eat it up like it’s your last meal, surprisingly ravenous for a girl your size. your tongue glides over some of the jam, and he feels his hands clench as you do so. it’s so seductive, even though you mean it with complete innocence. he can’t help but think of you doing that as you suck his cock, pink tongue gliding over the aching tip of his shaft…

‘thank you,’ you offer, seeing how he eyes you.

he hands you the cup of coffee, a little embarrassed that it’s so milky—he was distracted by the thought of you, waiting for him in that room, that he’d poured too much in. you accept it, a little disgusted by the bitter taste—you were never one for coffee—but down it with a forced smile on your face.

‘good girl,’ he coos, placing one hand on your thigh. ‘you’re so good to me, don’t you know that?’

he looks crazed, blue eyes glistening with insanity, praising you in spite of only knowing you for what, twenty-four hours? you wonder if your parents have thought to go looking for you. your mother is probably weeping. your stomach churns at the thought.

‘would i, uh, please be able to use the bathroom,’ you are clenching your legs together in desperation, bladder throbbing with need.

he tilts his head, but sees the way you gnaw at your lips. he can’t have you wetting yourself again, now that would just be humiliating.

‘alright. but you’ll have to let me in there with you,’ he admits, and you cast him an exasperated look.

‘no!’ your eyes swell up in mortification. ‘please, it’s so… embarrassing…’

he sighs, moving his hand further up your thigh, fiddling with the hem of your silky slip. ‘if you want to use the bathroom, i’ll need to watch you in case you try to hurt yourself. i can’t have you bleeding out on the tiles…’

he winces a little at the thought of you trying to slit your wrists with his razor, too distraught at the idea of having to be his that you’d rather be welcomed into the arms of death. no, you wouldn’t allow that to happen. you’re his girl.

‘oh..’ your voice trails off. you find it hard to rebut him, you’re so desperate to go. ‘okay.’

you cede all right to him, losing what seemed to be the last bit of your autonomy left. he loosens the restraint, and you clutch your wrist, nursing the nagging ache that has been bothering you all night. you see the french doors, and debate throwing yourself off the balcony. however, it’s foolish. falling that far would be terrifying—worse than a life spent with this man, whatever his name is—and so you follow him as he guides you to the bathroom.

the apartment is more gorgeous than the bedroom. high walled and of black marble, it stretches out across what appears to be the entire floor—and you come to realise that it’s the penthouse. whoever he is, he must have a lot of money. you’re not very interested in politics, but you know president ravenstill has many cronies—perhaps he’s one of them.

the bathroom is cold when you enter, but you’re so desperate to go that you rush to the toilet. you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror; you look awful. your hair is matted, and you’ve got a few fresh bruises trailing up your arm; pink and purple dots spoiling the skin. you don’t smell great either, and eye the beautiful shower in the corner.

he is watching you like a hawk, and if you weren’t in such a great need to go, you probably wouldn’t have been able to. you feel a wave of relief wash over you as you finish, and go to wash your hands with one of his fancy soaps. when you’re done, you turn to him, a tender look on your face.

‘would i be able to use your shower?’ you ask, biting at your lip. his heart pounds in his chest. his cock stirred a little at the thought of getting to see your naked form. not that he’d fuck you just yet, but the notion that he’d merely get to see you was too much.

‘of course, sweetheart,’ he nods, grabbing two towels from the cupboard by the sink.

you go to turn the faucet, getting splashed a little by the hot water. it feels delicious against your freezing skin, though. you turn back to glance at him, willing him away with your mind, but he remains.

‘would i be able to do it, alone?’ you ask softly, but he shakes his head. your heart drops.

‘i’m sorry princess, you know my rules. i’ve got to make sure you don’t hurt yourself. i couldn’t have that now, could i?’ he asks, tilting his head. you shake yours in response, and more than humiliated, you begin to strip yourself off.

he watches as you pull your slip off, revealing an elegant figure, a perfect ass, and long legs. you shiver, more out of embarrassment than cold, deeply ashamed to be exposing yourself to a man. nobody’s ever seen you this naked before, and you’re shy about the way you look. he’s begging you to turn around so he can see the front of you, but you attempt to manoeuvre yourself so that he can’t see your breasts or other parts.

the water warms your skin, and you toss your head back in delight, feeling it soak your hair and wash away the grimy feeling. you face away from him, and when you have to reach to grab the soap, do your best to move in a way that he can only see your back. it’s the least humiliating way. you’d never thought any man but your husband would see you like this, but clearly, he had other ideas.

coriolanus had to settle his breath in attempt to fight the growing erecetion in his trousers, seeing you so bare was too exciting. he wishes you’d turn around, wondering how pretty your breasts would look, how pink your nipples would be, and if your cunt was as lovely as he’d imagined. he wanted so badly to touch you, to slip his fingers inside of your tight pussy and watch you writhe beneath him. he wondered if you’d ever touched yourself—he doubted you had. you were too innocent for that.

you lather the shampoo in your hair, feeling great relief as you wash your scalp clean. you run your fingers through the mats, wincing a little as they tug. he’s got some lovely smelling soaps, you have to admit, and while you let the shampoo sit, you rub your skin with one that smells like roses. you take care of course to wash between your thighs, embarrassed that you’d supposedly wet yourself the day before, and freshen yourself up with the scent of the rose soap.

soon enough, you’re smelling lovely; it’s potent but in a clean way, the smell pleasant to your nose. you finish washing the shampoo out, and go to scramble for the conditioner when you realise that it’s not there.

‘excuse me,’ you attempt to shout with your back turned to the wall.

‘i can’t hear you, princess. turn around,’ he laughs a little, watching as you squirm, terrified of exposing yourself to him.

‘please, i just want the conditioner,’ you beg, feeling like a pathetic fool, having to plead for something as simple as hair conditioner.

‘you have to turn around for me to give it to you,’ he warns, holding the bottle in his hands.

you sigh, and remembering the knots in your hair, realising you have little choice in whether or not to turn around. you can’t have those clumps getting any worse. so, deeply ashamed, you surrender yourself to him, sliding the shower door open and stretching a hand out.

‘see, that wasn’t so hard now, was it?’ he inquires, and seeing the cruel look in his eyes, you shake your head, afeared of what he’ll do if you utter something that won’t please him.

‘you’ll learn,’ he warns as you grasp for the bottle, his other hand gripping your wrist before you can move away. ‘that i always get what i want. okay, princess? you can’t just hide yourself from me.’

he brushes your wet hair to one side, fingers trailing down to your bare breast. he doesn’t dare touch you too much, but ghosts his fingers over to remind you that this is his now. you belong to him, whether you decide to obey him or not. he knows you’ll learn to love him soon enough, and be a drooling mess, begging for his cock to fill you up.

‘so pretty,’ he murmurs, and you shudder, feeling cold droplets of water hit your back. the shower is still running, and you’re aching to get back in and finish washing your hair.

he lets you go, but watches you with scrutiny, admiring every footstep you take back to the shower. you’re so beautiful, and all his… how utterly perfect you are. after what had seemed like a lifetime of searching, he’d finally got what he wanted.

now all he had to do was make you his, in body and in heart.

—

you’d dried off after your shower, and he’d given you a robe to wear because your slip needed to be washed. you feel horribly naked, wishing there was something to wear other than a robe. it would be easy for him to take advantage of you, hands roaming up your robe to caress your thighs, and god knows what else. you’d never been touched by a man before, having only had a few stolen kisses with some of your classmates at the academy, but you were too shy to have let any of them take you.

and besides, your father was insistent that you had remained pure until he found you a suitable husband. preferably one of president ravenstill’s many sons. you got more for a virgin, as disgusting as the notion was. they were a rare commodity in the capitol these days.

once he had tied your restraint back—to your other wrist this time, he really was so kind—he pressed a kiss to your cheek and told you he was going out. you were upset, he hadn’t told you how long he would be, whether or not you were going to be alone for the rest of the day, but you didn’t press further. at least you wouldn’t have to worry about him assaulting you any further. god knows what he’d do if he sat with you, barely clothed, for more than a few minutes.

so, quite bored, you sit and run your mind across who he could possibly be. he’s got an almost familiar face; noble, an aquiline nose and the most piercing blue eyes you’ve ever seen. he can’t be that much older than you, twenty-two at most. perhaps he was a senior when you were a freshman at the academy? you remember that year well, that girl lucy gray had won, though it you were advised to forget about it, with the threat of dr. gaul turning you into one of her creations if you didn’t comply with the secret-keeping.

you’re sure you went to school together, but you can’t place his name. he’s probably from one of those old families, judging from the fact that he’s got connections with president ravenstill and how his apartment is carved out of fucking marble. your family is wealthy, sure, but you’ve never seen an apartment like this in your life. has he been watching you since your days at the academy? the thought sends a shiver down your spine.

you wonder why he even chose you, of all people? what kind of person would kidnap someone instead of talking to them? he’s obviously got psychopathic tendencies. and he’s mentioned he wants you all for himself—why could he not just have approached you and asked if you wanted to go to a restaurant in town? you would’ve accepted; he’s handsome and wealthy.

there is something brutal about him, you think. some notion of possessing you that makes his blood run hot. he can’t let anybody else have you, it seems, which is why he won’t even let you go free from the room. you’re too scared of death to try anything foolish like suicide, but perhaps if you managed to slit your wrists artfully enough you’d just end up in hospital. your parents would be able to come get you.

if he decides to touch you, you could always cry rape. that’s if the authorities would listen. but from the looks of things, the peacekeepers would do very little, and his connections that he’s mentioned would probably leave him with legal immunity. it’s a hopeless and dire situation.

you find that your face has been stained with tears—you’ve been crying, it seems. you were so caught up in your thoughts that you had hardly noticed how distraught it had made you. your lip trembles when you question whether or not you’ll ever go free. what if he keeps you here forever? what if you’re never able to go outside again, to feel the snow on your cheeks, the sun caressing your neck with its warm rays? it’s too awful to bear.

—

he returns home in a good mood, and when he opens the door to your room, there’s a smile playing upon his lips. he’s carrying an array of bags, looking almost like the women who spend their hours shopping at the ominous capitol mall. you eye him curiously, wondering if he’s come true on his promise and purchased you something more than a flimsy slip to wear.

he sets them down at the end of the bed, and undoes your restraint, which leaves you feeling more suspicious. it usually takes more convincing than a sad-eyed gaze. you crawl to the bags, your curiosity getting the better of you, and open the largest one.

there’s a lot of pink tissue paper, scented with the potent aroma of lavender, and you pull it out a little carelessly. he sees the joy light up on his face when you pull out the first dress. it’s simple, but you do have to admit, very pretty. it’s made of black satin and is quite short, but it will do—perhaps he intends to let you leave the house after all.

you dig through the rest of the bags, quite pleased with what he’s purchased you. clearly he had somebody help him; while he has good taste for a man, he obviously wouldn’t know much about what you liked in particular. you were grateful for the sweaters and tights, thinking about how frigid it was.

the last bag he pulls out from under his arm. it’s small, and the tissue paper has a familiar scent you recognise; not like the lavender of the other ones, but a more sensuous musky smell. you recall your friends going into that store to buy things to wear for their boyfriends. you shudder thinking of what he could’ve purchased for you.

he slips his hand inside the bag, and pulls out a tiny, silky thing that you’re sure will barely even cover your ass. at least it’s not as blatantly obvious as a lingerie set, but you’re still aware of his intentions.

‘i want you to put this on, now,’ he commands, handing the slip to you. it’s a soft pink, and the hem is edged with chantilly lace. if it wasn’t from him, you probably would’ve actually liked it.

‘do i have to?’ you ask, and are immediately met with a warning glare. you’ve stepped too far—and he hoists you up from the bed.

he grips at the sleeves of your robe, pulling you flush against him. his breath is heavy, and his eyes are brimming with anger. your heart pounds, and you’re certain he can hear it. hear your fear.

‘you will do as i say,’ he seethes, using one hand to undo the tie of the robe, aggressively shoving it off your shoulders.

you shiver, the robe falling to the ground, and you cling to grasp at your breasts, covering yourself up for shame. he grabs the slip, careful not to ruin it, and forces it over your head.

you were right about it being tiny. he stands back and admires you, the way it hardly covers the top of your breasts, leaving little to the eye, and how the hemline comes just under your ass.

‘turn around,’ he says, an awaiting gaze on his face.

you turn, and hear him groan a little, the soft curve of the bottom of your ass sticking out of the slip. he’s so blatant about his desire, dressing you up like a little doll and making you spin for him, showing yourself off to him. it feels unnatural, vain in fact.

‘god, you look so fucking perfect in that,’ he sighs, wrapping his arms around your waist. you feel something hard pressing against your ass, and try not to let yourself tremble with fear.

‘so pretty, baby,’ he presses a hot kiss to the nape of your neck, lips moving down your collarbone. ‘i could just eat you right up… you’d like that, wouldn’t you?’

you say nothing, too shocked for words. you feel his teeth graze against your shoulder skin, sucking a soft bruise—marking you as his own.

‘hm? why won’t you speak. i love it when i see your pretty lips tremble around the words. you’re scared, aren’t you?’ his breath is hot against your skin, but you feel so cold. his hands are like ice.

‘i’m sorry…’ you offer, but he gives your hip a pinch and you cry out.

‘you’re sorry? that’s not good enough. i need to know how thankful you are that i’ve bought you such pretty clothes,’ he scowls.

‘thank you,’ you realise you don’t know his name, and thus the words fall flat.

‘thank you? come on, that’s pathetic, sweetheart,’ he laughs, the sound ringing loud in your ears.

‘i don’t even know your name,’ you attempt to face him, but his hold is so tight that you’re locked in.

‘mhm…’ he sighs. ‘i’m sure if i tell me you’ll remember. we were at the academy together, but you were so small then. probably too afraid of the seniors to say a word.’

your mind flashes back to being fourteen—it’s not that long ago, and yet it feels like a lifetime has passed. his sandy hair and icy blue eyes—of course. he was the mentor of lucy gray… the one who had turned her into such a spectacle. coriolanus snow. you remember now. he disappeared for a few months, sent to 12. you paid little attention to politics, you were too young to care.

‘snow,’ you murmur, and he nods, a proud sound coming from his lips.

‘there you go,’ he coos, stroking your arm. ‘see, you’re not completely stupid? all that babbling and yet you were still able to recall my name.’

you’re so pathetic, he thinks. so stupid that you’ll probably be in love with him soon enough. he thinks about how desperate you’ll be for his cock, begging and whining like a little whore, mouth agape and waiting to receive him. he’s reminded of the hard bulge that’s pressing at your ass, and wonders if it’s too soon to satisfy himself with you.

‘i just can’t wait to have you,’ he whispers in your ear. you feel your stomach churn with terror. ‘can’t believe you’re not even wearing any panties… what a fucking whore. you didn’t even think to put them on.’

he’d bought you many pairs of lace underwear, but you’d left them at the bottom of the bag, too ashamed to even dare putting them on. in hindsight, you only left yourself more vulnerable. there was nothing keeping him from slipping his hand between your legs now.

‘please…’ your lip trembles. ‘i can’t do that.’

your legs shake a little, and he shoves you down on the bed. he stands above you, locking your legs between his thighs, and crosses his arms in disappointment.

‘but i’ve been so good to you,’ he clicks his tongue in displeasure. ‘i bought you all these pretty things… and you won’t even wear them for me!’

‘i’m sorry,’ you plead, tears welling in the corners of your eyes. ‘please—i’ve never done anything like that before. i wouldn’t even know what to do!’

a malicious grin plays at his lips. ‘oh, but that’s even better. i can teach you how to please me. you’d like that, wouldn’t you? getting on your knees for me and showing me how well you can take my cock? or perhaps i can take you from behind…’

you squirm, trying to scramble away across the bed, but he pulls you right back to where you’re sitting.

‘shhh, i won’t hurt you, i promise. you’re like a little doll. i couldn’t bear to break you,’ he coos, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. ‘you’ll be good for me, won’t you?’

‘yes,’ you force yourself to reply, the threat of his touches more than enough to get you to obey.

‘yes what?’ he quirks a brow, a warning gaze in his eyes.

‘yes sir,’ you reply, watching as a look of satisfaction crosses his face.

‘such a good girl, hm?’ he sticks a hand between your thighs, tracing the sensitive skin.

you can’t help but gasp—his cold hands make your skin dance with goosebumps. you hate that there’s a tingling coming from your core. your body is betraying you, signalling that you want him to touch you again.

‘look at you squirm, it’s pathetic,’ he laughs, gripping your thigh with his big hands. ‘i’ll leave you for now, sweetheart.’

he removes his touch, and begins to walk to the door. you notice he’s not tied your restraint this time, and choose not to say anything. a devious look draws upon his face.

‘don’t think you’ve escaped me yet. i’m still waiting for you to thank me properly,’ he warns, and you sink back into the bed, feeling utterly hopeless.

what are you supposed to do? surrender yourself to him willingly, or let him have you one way or another? there’s very little choice in the matter.

—

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[diremoone]

tlc, baby | g. satoru

w — periods, mentions of severe cramps, concerned bf ‘toru who doesn’t like seeing his gf in pain, an author who wanted toji to win the poll but is gonna do all the boys anyway bc toji, and the fact that this is too short and crummy omg (don’t write while hungry haha), hopefully toji’s is longer and better :D

[ divider cred @/firefly-graphics ]

5:14 am

The wake up is sudden, abrupt and extremely painful. You know what’s going on, but the second you try and do something about it, you find yourself sinking to the floor beside the bed in misery.

You really don’t want to walk downstairs, that’s gonna be misery. But if you don’t get and remedy this soon, you fear it’s just going to become worse.

It also sucks because your boyfriend isn’t home. You’d really, really like him to be home. But he isn’t. He’s out looking for an elusive Special Grade curse that nearly took out Mei Mei a few weeks ago on behalf of the stupid elders.

You’d curse them more if you didn’t feel like shit.

You burrow your head into the mattress and focus. Gathering up a little bit of energy, you stand and make your way to the kitchen, only to end up sitting down by the cabinets. You groan, knees up close to your chest to try and relieve some of the pain. You’re tempted to bang your head into the cabinets a few times, but the rationality of not adding more pain to the mix won over.

You can barely think straight; one second there’s the thought of running a bath and the next it’s waves of pain. You think about what’s in the fridge, then you’re overwhelmed by the intense need to barf.

“Fuck,” you mutter.

And then a loud voice echoes through the large home from your bedroom.

“Baaaaaabbbeeee!”

You snicker at your boyfriend who teleported into the bedroom that doesn’t have you in it. You hide your laughter behind your hand until another wave of agony rolls over your uterus and up your spine.

Satoru eventually finds you in the kitchen (after looking in the bathroom and under the bed). His smile disappears the second he sees you, but you don’t take notice since your forehead is burrowed into the wood of the cabinet door. He frowns, not liking the expression on your face.

“Baby?”

Satoru crouches and lowers the black mask you’d gotten him for his birthday. His heavenly blue eyes flicker up and down with worry.

“Monthly,” you manage to get out, and he instantly knows what you mean. Your entire body shakes with a shudder, so much so that the giant man is easily lifting you onto his lap to cuddle, his back now the one that presses against the wall of the kitchen.

Satoru is a heater, nothing short of the furnace that you’ve been in need of. One large, hot hand is pressed against your back, the other tucked against your lower abdomen in just the right spot. And the relief you feel makes you literally dizzy.

Your massive boyfriend however, is even more concerned than ever. The amount of stress he’d felt release from your body was nothing short of insane to him. You’d always relax and let go of all your stress in his hold, yes, but the amount of tension to how limp you were in his big arms was borderline upsetting.

You’ve never been this tense, this stressed. How long had you been like this before he was home?

“I’ll be okay,” you speak to him breathlessly. “I just need something for the pain and something to eat.”

Satoru lists off some things in the pantry and fridge, all of which makes your stomach turn and just burrow your head into his shoulder more. It isn’t until he gets to the sweeter side of the food you do have does the nausea fade away.

He reluctantly pulls away and grabs a familiar looking container on top of the fridge with a mischievous smile, one of his hands still holding yours as he stretches his massive 6’3 body across the kitchen to nab the period painkillers you need.

You don’t see him shove them and a small water bottle in his pocket, but you see him wrap his giant hand around the white container right before he fucking lifts you up off of the counter with one fucking arm and carries you back to bed.

But you don’t complain. You’re way too lethargic and fatigued. And why would you anyway?

He places you back on your side of the bed and gently plops the white container on your lap before kicking off his shoes and whips off his jacket so dramatically that you laugh. You scream as he jumps on the bed, almost on top of you. Satoru does nothing but laugh like a lunatic in return while he turns on the TV across from the bed.

Like magnets, you two end up snuggled deep into the big, thick pillows your boyfriend has propped up behind you in an instant. One of his arms is wrapped around you as you nestle into his side. But the fun doesn’t last. Your brows furrow as another wave of searing pain washes over you from your uterus. You groan and dip your nose into his collar, sharply inhaling and shakily exhaling.

“Here’s the magic pills, baby. Take ‘em.” Satoru’s voice is not the same, high-pitched excitable one he normally has. It’s the deep voice, the one he uses when he’s diving into his emotions. It’s the voice that he uses when he’s sharing his love with you in bed, or when he’s simply just loving you and taking care of you. Just like he is now. The tone of his voice is calming, relaxing, reassuring; all of the above makes your brain go fuzzy.

You pop the pill-shaped-relief in and chug it down with water and ‘toru wraps his arm around you, tugging you to him sweetly. He pops open the large white container, revealing all the chocolate chip cookies inside of it.

You laugh. “Oh my god, Satoru! This is what this is?”

“What else could it possibly be?” he jokes.

Not even a few minutes later though, the agony returns. The tearing feeling from your uterus is almost too much, lasting almost all the way through the Disney castle intro and the first couple minutes of Big Hero 6 with your head tucked into your boyfriend’s collar.

Satoru presses a kiss to your head and puts his hands in the same spots from earlier, with just as much tension leaving your body. He exhales silently.

“Go to sleep, baby,” he tells you. “It’s not worth it.”

“Want to…” you mumble, then let out a heavy sigh as heavy cramps roll over you again. “You’ve been gone a week.” You aim for a cookie and eat it in two bites.

Just like the cookies, you’re sweet — too sweet and too good for him, and he swears by it. He presses another kiss to the top of your head and replies, “Spend time with me by getting some sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up. And I’ll take care of you tomorrow, too. Whatever my girl wants.”

“…. Sure?”

“Positive.”

“…..Mmmmm’kay.”

Satoru knows you’re still awake and working through the pain even half an hour later. You may not be watching the movie, but you’re still listening, giggling when Fred screams, “CAR!” to Wasabi as the villain tries to kill them.

It’s not too long after that though, he feels your cursed energy finally relax. Your body is clearly slack against his own. He chuckles at feeling a little bit of drool soak through his shirt. You’re in a deep sleep, thank goodness. And he hopes it stays that way. The medicine worked. He wasn’t sure if his eyes could take the sight of your cursed energy bearing that much sufferance much longer before cracking himself.

Satoru closes his own heavenly blue eyes to sleep. Yeah, he’ll definitely be here tomorrow. Taking care of his woman was going to be his first priority. Mission be damned.

”G’night sweets. See you in the morning.”

@vagabond-umlaut — @heresan — @dellalyra — @torusmochi — @nayrring — @out-of-reach22

[junkissed]

better than breakfast

member — jun x f reader genre — smut word count — 1.1k synopsis — what's the best thing to eat to start the morning off right? hint: it's not food. warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, oral (reader receiving), fingering, not quite somnophilia (reader is already awake but very sleepy), soft dom!jun and he is a menace notes — requested by @jaemlonfz — jun drives me so fucking insane and crazy and senile i could not help it. this is one thousand consecutive words about jun eating pussy and nothing else! thanks to @onlymingyus & @highvern for helping me decide on the banner. enjoy

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the first thing you see when you open your eyes the next morning is jun laying on top of you.

he's a little more awake than you are, smiling at you with a soft mischief in his eyes as he leans down to kiss your cheek.

you don't try to move, too sleepy and still tangled in each other from the night before to make an effort, until jun starts to slide down your body wordlessly.

he stops with his chin resting gently below your collarbone as he waits for a signal to continue or not, and he takes it as a sign when you whine his name, so softly that it's barely audible.

your brain doesn't process the warm glow of sunlight filtering through the curtains, nor does it notice the faint chirping of birds outside. at this hour of the morning, all you can focus on is how soft jun's hands are, his touch so delicate yet so deliberate, grazing over your skin with purpose.

you sigh lazily, eyes still closed as his hands wander down your body. he leaves a trail of slow kisses down your neck, making his way down past your breasts. he pauses there for a moment, hands sliding over your sides and taking your nipple into his mouth when you arch your back towards him.

he looks up at you with a mischievous look in his eyes, watching in satisfaction as you lean your head back against the pillows, mouth hanging open in a quiet moan.

his fingers trace over your soft skin, traveling lower down your stomach before he finally slides down all the way and disappears under the covers.

he settles between your legs, gently pushing your thighs apart as he presses his face against your cunt, feeling the heat radiating from your body.

his tongue darts out to lick up through your folds slowly, moaning softly at the taste of your arousal already dripping from you. 

he tilts his head to kiss your pussy, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking lightly. you gasp and whine under his touch as he grips your thighs, spreading them further apart to give himself more room.

as loud and talkative as you usually are in bed, this morning you can't get a single word out, breath sticking in your throat and brain still cloudy with sleep. jun consumes your thoughts the same way he consumes your pussy; the only thought racing through your mind is his name, over and over again, and how fucking divine it feels to wake up to his warm mouth all over your body.

he flattens his tongue against your entrance, taking his time to savor you as you continue to squirm against his hold. no matter how much you wriggle in pleasure in his grasp, he's too dedicated to his cause to let you escape, keeping his lips firmly and eagerly connected to your cunt.

his mouth works languidly, yet even with the slow pace he still manages to send you into a frenzy, the gentle stimulation making your body shiver. you're still barely awake, your vision blurry as you try to focus on what's happening beneath the sheets.

you push the covers down desperately, revealing the top half of jun's head peeking out from between your legs. he glances up at you, and you can tell just by the crinkles around his eyes that he's smiling, clearly enjoying every second of this. you can't help but let out another low whine, your muscles clenching at the sight of him, messy hair sticking up from his head at odd angles as he devours you.

he looks like a dream as he shifts his position, kneeling between your legs and bowing his head like he's worshipping you. he moves his face so that the tip of his nose is pressed against your clit, the light pressure sending your already haywire brain into overdrive at the feeling.

you moan again as he slips two fingers inside your hole, relishing in the sweet whimpers you let out and the way your legs try to close around his head, thighs squeezing him with all your might. 

he finally pulls his mouth away and angles his hand into you, pressing his palm against your clit as he curls his fingers inside you. you pry open your eyes at the loss and see the way his face is drenched in you, glistening in the light.

he presses his lips against your skin, leaving slow kisses below your belly button and along the inside of your thighs as he continues to bend his fingers upwards. he grins at the way you clench around his fingers, coating him in your slick as you cry out his name in a weak voice.

he repositions his hand again, making space for him to lean down and flick at your clit with his tongue. both your hands shoot down to grip his hair, pulling on it so tightly you figure it's gotta hurt his scalp, but you know he likes that and he doesn't ask you to stop so you don't hold back. you squeeze your legs even tighter around him, shamelessly pushing his face deeper into your pussy as you grind your hips up against his face.

he lets out a little groan at the feeling and it sends vibrations through you, your whole body tensing up. and suddenly all the air leaves your throat as you cum, his tongue never letting up as you fall off the edge. his warm lips wrap around your clit and he sucks roughly, determined to keep going until you have to physically pry his face away from your pussy, gasping for air.

he shuffles back up the bed to lay next to you, wrapping his arms around your trembling body and pulling you close to his chest with a satisfied smirk. you let out a shaky sigh and bury your face in neck, your orgasm finally beginning to wake you up.

he grins, holding you with one arm and wiping his mouth against the back of his other. “much better than breakfast.”

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[oracle-of-dream]

Sweetness #2

Minors DNI

A continuation of Sweetness; Anton caught Sungchan taking advantage of your hypnosis and wants a piece.

Warnings: Male Reader, Big Cocks Riize, Creampie, Standing fuck, Forced entry, Hypnosis, Slight Dubcon, Rough sex

Wordcount: 2.2k

The morning was tense and quiet. You slept the longest, which kept the members shifting between rooms as they avoided the living room.

One by one, they filed into Sungchan's room.

"So now what?" Seunghan asked.

"We just act normal. Nothing happened last night. We just played games, got drunk, and went to bed. That's our story," Sungchan's calmness put order among the chaos in the others.

All except Anton, "Yeah. Nothing happened."

Sungchan raised his eyebrow, "You wanna talk to me about something?"

Anton shook his head, "No, it's nothing."

The members awkwardly left the room, trying to go about their morning. The only one who was brave enough to go into the living room was Wonbin. He walked right past you while you slept on the couch, giving the others the courage to do the same. Eventually, everyone started getting brave enough to move around and make noise.

As Sungchan went to his room from the kitchen, Anton pulled him into the bathroom.

"Anton, what the hell?"

"Don't give me that! What the fuck is with you?" Anton whispered.

Sungchan's face morphed into confusion, "What is it?"

"I saw you last night. I know what you did to y/n."

Sungchan's eyes widened, "You can't tell anyone about that." He thought about how you were faking the hypnosis. "How much did you hear?"

"I heard you tell him to suck your cock," Anton whispered even more when saying the last part of the sentence. "It's not fair that you can have free reign over him after preaching that we need to respect him."

"So I should tell everyone to go crazy on him?"

"No… I've got a proposal."

Sungchan raised an eyebrow, "Spit it out."

"I won't tell the others and Y/n what you did if you can buy me some alone time with him," Anton stuck his hand out for a handshake.

"What do you want from him?"

"You know what– We can never bring girls home, and we've barely had time to get around. So if I see my window, why shouldn't I take it?

Sungchan hated the thought of giving you away for Anton, but he had no choice. The members would tear him apart for being such a hypocrite.

"Fine. I'll buy you time," Sungchan shook Anton's hand, sealing the forbidden deal.

The two exit the bathroom just as you stir from your slumber.

Wonbin was watching the news on the TV near you, "Weather says a bad snowstorm is coming. We'll be snowed in together for the next few days."

"Yay! More time with my boys!" You cheered.

Some cheered, but Sungchan felt a knot in his stomach. Something was going to go wrong.

Anton was tingling from the news– More days with you. He couldn't admit it to Sungchan, but he'd always wanted to sleep with you. Even go for something more if you'd let him, but he never had the chance to ask you out before becoming a part of Riize.

You cooked breakfast for the others. You'd brought food since you knew their fridge would be empty, but there was no way it would last the snowstorm. You were going through your ingredients when you heard someone behind you.

The voice whispered, "Sweetie, can we talk in private?" It was Anton. Trying to command you into another room.

You stood, leaving your ingredients on the counter, and followed him as the rest of the boys watched you closely.

Wonbin spoke up, "Where ya headed, y/n?"

"I need to shower. Anton wanted to help me find the towels," You replied with a smile.

Anton was amazed at how fast you lied. Hypnosis was a scary beast.

Sungchan walked into the living room as You and Anton left it. They exchanged looks, and Sungchan started a conversation loud enough to grab everyone's attention. He was planning a trip into the cold before things got too bad.

Anton led you into his room and locked the door behind you. You could see his cock already bulging in his sweatpants.

"O-Okay, now, Sweetness, I want you to undress for me," Anton shifted his weight back and forth nervously.

You had to swallow a smile as you turned away from him to unbutton your shirt and slide your pants off as slowly as possible.

"You can go faster," He said impatiently.

You ignored him, teasing him as your underwear slid down your legs.

As soon as you were naked enough for him, Anton took your hand, guided you to his bed, and sat you down. He handled you rather clumsily, but you tried to Anton’s wants.

"You're like a doll… I wish you were more like you. I like you more that way," He muttered as he sized you up and slid his pants off.

Anton always wore baggy clothes, but he was an athlete through and through. His back was large, with broad shoulders and biceps that made you instantly smile.

"Sweetness. Lay down."

You did.

"How did he cum like this? Did he say something specific?" Anton muttered as he climbed on you, his hand sweeping your neck. He studied your face closely with tenderness, "God, you're beautiful… And for now, you're all mine. I've got it so bad for you, and I'm too much of a coward to tell you." He kissed your lips, "You still love me anyways, even if I'm a coward, right?"

You finally broke character with a big smile, "A coward?"

Anton flinched, "Y-You–" He climbed off you and covered his cock that was shaking in his boxers.

"Me," You smiled as you sat up. You slipped on a button-up shirt on Anton’s bed but left it open. "This is the part where you apologize for trying to take advantage of me," You raised an eyebrow.

"Right. I'm sorry. I wasn't going to do it– It wasn't you…" Anton hung his head with shame.

"Then, how about this? We keep up the illusion for a little longer. Let everyone think I'm under the spell. Everyone is in trouble, but how much depends on them."

Anton nodded, "And if we do that?"

"Well, you came in here to fuck me, right? We have to keep up the game. Or the others will catch on," You laid back down and put your arms out for him. "Tell me what you want, and I'll give it to you. Don't forget the magic word."

"Sweetness?" Anton questioned.

You raised your eyebrows as you waited for his order.

"We're fucking. Right now. But you have to stay quiet. Any noises from you should be you calling me, Daddy," Anton's chest swelled at Daddy.

"Yes, Daddy," You cooed to him.

He took that as his go-ahead, diving into you. His large frame overtook you as he planted himself between your legs. He was excited, holding you down as his mouth crashed into your lips. Anton forgets how big he is as he watches you strain your neck to meet his lips.

"S-Sorry," He whispered as he lowered himself more.

Now his weight was crushing you, his hands tightly wrapped around your wrists as he threw you around without a care in the world.

"Anton, you're being too rough," You moaned.

"Don't be like that. I know you can handle it. You're Daddy's boy, right?" He lifted your leg onto his shoulder, stretching you as he pushed your leg toward your head. "Oh, so flexible~" He kissed your inner thigh as he lifted your other leg to match.

The stretch of your leg muscles burned, but nothing compared to feeling Anton pushing into you, as was rushing to get to the good part. He fumbled, missing your hole twice before slamming into you fully.

"Oh, holy– Fuck!" You covered your mouth to contain your noises. Your body recoiled as you tried to crawl away from Anton, sliding on your back as his cock slipped out of you.

"Don't run."

"It's too much! You're too big–"

Anton grabbed you by your hips and pulled you back into him, pushing his cock back into you. "You can take it," He rubbed your stomach and squeezed your size to encourage you. "Just breathe."

Anton breathed with you, caressing you as you looked into his eyes. "Sweetness. Stay quiet," He commanded as he lifted you onto him. He looked up at you, your nipples poking at his face, as he smiled, "You look beautiful on me, more than I imagined."

Your hands found their way to land on his shoulders. Anton's still were perched on your hips, pulling you down. Somehow he kept having more dick to shove into you. By the end of it, at least nine inches were inside of you. It was shorter than Sungchan's by two whole inches, but inside you, it didn't make a difference as you felt your brain melting.

"I'm all in. Can you bounce, Sweetness?" Anton asked.

You slithered your fingers into his hair and tugged on it, earning a girlish moan from him. "You shove all that in me and expect me to do the work?"

"N-No, of course not… I was kidding," Anton whinced at the pain of your tugging. But when you let him go, he put your hand back on his head, "Again, please."

You pulled on his hair again, and a more manly groan came out since he was ready this time. He lifted your hips and slammed you down onto him, knocking the air right out of you. The sensation shot up your spine as you saw stars on the ceiling. You couldn't bring your neck to relax enough to look down at Anton, and you pulled harder as he picked up the pace.

Anton told you to be quiet, but he was making more noise than you were. The moans, whimpers, the bed creaking, and the sound of your skin slapping together filled the room.

It was only three hits before you were cumming on Anton's stomach. Your fingers dug into his shoulder, and your voice was barely audible, "Wait, please– I need a second."

"No more waiting, I need to cum too!" Anton stood and carried you as he thrust into you, getting even deeper than earlier. Tears ran down your face from the overstimulation. You couldn't stop moaning and didn't stop as Anton lost his mind, pounding into you fiercely until one hard thrust made him spill into you. His cock shot out so much cum.

You twitched, reeling from every motion as Anton came down from his high. His chest heaved, "Did you survive?"

You couldn't answer– your jaw tightened shut.

"Sweetness? You okay?" Anton's voice was concerned when he realized how much he'd fucked you up.

Your hair was a mess, tear stains on your face, and your ass was spilling cum on the floor. You have bite marks on your neck and bruises on your hips.

"Oh god. Um– Y/n, please don't kill me. Let's get you down," Anton gently laid you on the bed, his cock still inside you. "I'm gonna pull out now, try and bare it." Anton pulled out in one quick motion, earning moans from you and turning you into a shuddering mess as you came again. He bit down his pride as he covered you under his sheet, "You lay here. I'll get towels and more clothes for you."

Anton left the room, turning the light off behind him as he slipped his shirt over his head. He fixed his hair and pants and straightened his back before entering the living room.

Seunghan and Eunseok were sitting at the table, staring at him.

"Really?" Seunghan spat.

"What?"

Eunseok jumped in, "Don't you think we could hear that? You weren't even trying to be quiet."

"You're lucky Sungchan convinced the others to try and run to the store with him to get more ingredients. We stayed back," Seunghan looked at Anton fiercely. "Let's talk, Anton."

Anton sat down at the table, "You can't tell the others!"

"You're not in the position to tell us that! You broke the agreement. We all said we'd respect y/n, not fuck him."

"Sungchan broke it first!" Anton wanted to take it back as soon as he said it, but it was too late.

"Explain."

Anton explained what he'd seen the night before between you and Sungchan. Eunseok and Seunghan could hardly believe that he was such a hypocrite.

"Well, if you two can get a pass. Then we're getting on too," Seunghan laughed. "And I know we won't get caught like you two idiots. And you’ll help us, Anton."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then we'll tell y/n and the others. Sungchan will kill you for ratting him out. The others will kill you for fucking y/n. And y/n will kill us all for hypnotizing him, but you more because you took advantage of him."

Anton held in his smirk, knowing that you were testing everyone else. He didn't like the thought that everyone might make an attempt on you, but he couldn't ruin your plan. Especially if that meant he'd get to fuck you again.

"Okay, I'll help. But help me clean y/n up before the others get here."

Eunseok and Seunghan looked at each other and nodded in agreement.

Eunseok leaned in, "We'll handle that. Just get towels. We're going to take a shower."

Anton ran off to get the towels, trying not to get hard again as he thought about the both of them fucking you.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

A chance encounter

Words: 1,732 [also on AO3]

Rated: E

Tags: No UD AU; Future fic; Record label owner Eddie; Waiter Steve; Eddie Munson has a crush on Steve Harrington; Blood and violence; Prostitution (implied); Attempted non-con; Homophobic language; Steve Harrington whump; Eddie Munson whump; Protective Eddie Munson; Protective Steve Harrington

Notes: Happy birthday, @house-of-the-moving-image! I hope you have the most wonderful of days. I'm so happy to have found you as a friend and partner in crime. Hope you enjoy your extra long chunk of Upside Diner, even though it turned out quite gritty for a birthday fic. 😅💕🛼

Eddie grumbles under his breath as he locks the office door and steps out into the dark street. 

Don’t get him wrong, he loves his job. Hellfire Records is his baby. Making music, working with all sorts of different artists and bands, helping them make a name for themselves - it’s everything he ever wanted and never thought he could have growing up in the smalltown hell of Hawkins, Indiana. 

What he doesn’t love is the meetings and the paperwork and the phone calls, especially on days like this, when it all drags on until well into the night. 

The echoes of his boots bounce off the empty streets as he makes his way towards the little diner at the corner. Checking his wristwatch, he swears again. Fuck, it’s even later than he thought. What if Steve’s shift is already over? The thought makes his stomach clench with an unpleasant feeling that distinctly feels like disappointment. The realization makes him pause and furrow his brow. 

Maybe it’s a little bit pathetic, how quickly his visits to the diner have become the highlight of his day. Maybe it’s a little bit weird that he hasn’t had dinner anywhere else in literal weeks. Maybe it’s a little bit creepy, this obsession with a boy he knew fleetingly in highschool. An obsession that makes him come by every single day after work, without fail, just to chew on soggy fries and greasy burgers and watch said boy waiting tables, gliding around like an angel in chunky roller skates and stupidly short shorts. 

Maybe he has a problem. 

And maybe he doesn’t care. 

Because for all his initial reluctance and bite, Steve has actually started coming around. Has been accepting Eddie’s money and attempts at conversation with barely a complaint. Has even stopped asking why Eddie keeps ordering way too much food for one person alone, taking the leftovers behind his counter to munch on. Hell, last week when Eddie came in, he even looked up from the order he was taking and flashed him a wave and smile. Eddie rode that high all night and well into the next day. 

It’s the memory of that smile that makes him pick up his steps. Maybe, if he’s lucky, he’ll catch Steve at the tail end of his shift and convince him to stay around for a little longer. 

The diner is empty, except for a lone person in uniform wiping down tables behind the neon-lit window pane. It isn’t Steve. Eddie spares one glance at the bored-looking girl and turns away with an annoyed groan. That’s it, he thinks, pulling his headphones from his pocket and slamming them on with a little more force than strictly necessary. Tonight officially sucks. Time to go home and fix himself some SpaghettiOs, turn on a late night show and fall asleep in front of the- 

For the rest of his life, he’ll thank fate for making him fumble with his discman. Because if he’d hit the play button a second earlier, he would never have heard the voices. But this way, he does, and this way, he halts his steps, peering into the narrow side alley with a wrinkled brow. The light of the streetlamps only reaches so far, and everything he can see are the dumpsters and old cardboard boxes at its entrance. Beyond them, everything is dark. 

“Dude, get your hands off me, I said no.” 

Steve.

Eddie is halfway around the dumpsters before he even knows it, heart beating in his ribcage like a jackhammer. The alley reeks of piss and rotting garbage. At its far end, almost hidden behind another dumpster, are two figures. Eddie can’t make out their faces, but he also doesn’t need to. The colorful uniform is unmistakable, even in the murky half-light, even though it’s paired with a pair of sneakers rather than roller skates. And besides, he’d know that ridiculously floofy hairdo anywhere. 

He doesn’t know the other man. Only knows that the guy's hands are grabbing Steve’s arms and shoulders hard enough to leave marks as he attempts to wrestle him to his knees. 

“C’mon, don’t be like that,” the man hisses just as Eddie rounds the dumpster. “I’ll make it quick.” 

“Are you deaf or stupid?” Steve sneers, trying to struggle out of his hold. “I said get your fucking hands off me.” 

The man slaps him across the face. Steve makes a pained noise and loses his balance, going down on his knees on the dirty ground. 

The man laughs, curt and mean.

“There you go,” he coos. One of his hands grabs a fist full of chestnut hair while the other reaches for the half-undone fly of his pants. “Now be a good little slut and-” 

The force of the impact sends the discman tumbling from Eddie’s pocket. It shatters on the ground somewhere, parts flying in all directions, but he doesn’t have eyes for it. Instead, he grabs the asshole by the lapels of his cheap suit and hauls him against the nearest wall. The back of the asshole’s head hits the bricks, and Eddie thinks he hears something crack. Good. 

“Eddie?” 

While the man sags against the wall, groaning and cradling his head, Eddie whirls on Steve. Steve, who's just swaying to his feet, eyes wide and shocked. His cheek is flushed and starting to bruise. 

“Shit,” Eddie swears. “Are you-” 

Pain explodes inside his skull, sudden and all consuming. He stumbles, trying to keep his footing and cracks his head on the hard metal edge of the dumpster in the process. He manages to blink the stars from his vision just in time to see the man's fist flying at him. The blow makes his ears ring and copper flood his mouth, and when he regains his senses, he's on the ground with two hands closing around his throat. 

“Thought you'd play the hero, huh?” The man's grin is a manic grimace. A glob of spit hits Eddie’s cheek. “Well, how'd that work out for you, you stupid little-” 

“Hey, shitface!” 

The man snarls and turns. Eddie doesn’t see what happens, just knows that something goes crunch and suddenly the hands pressing down on his windpipe are gone. The man's voice turns into a high-pitched wail of pain. 

Eddie rolls around, coughing and gasping for air, and props himself up on his elbows. The man has shrunk against the next wall, clutching at his face. Crimson blood is bubbling out from between his fingers, hitting the alley floor in a steady pattern of drips. 

“Fuck off,” Steve says and lowers the hand holding the roller skate. His voice is deadly calm, his face steely. “Remember to put away your dick first.” 

The guy stares at him. Steve raises the roller skate again, just a little. The asshole whimpers and scrambles upright, mumbling something to himself. Eddie thinks he catches something about fucking lunatic fags, but he can't be sure, what with the way his voice comes out all wet and garbled. And then he's gone, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to get away.

Steve drops the roller skate. 

“Fuck,” be whispers, crouching down next to Eddie and brushing hesitant fingers over his split lip. Ten minutes ago, Eddie would’ve given anything to feel those hands on his face, but now he winces and recoils at the sting of pain. 

Steve retracts his hand, flopping down on the ground with a heavy sigh. The shorts ride up with the movement, exposing strong, muscled thighs. His knees are scraped from hitting the asphalt, little droplets of blood beading on the torn skin. 

“What’d you go and do that for?” Steve asks, scrubbing a hand down his face. All of the steel is gone from his voice. He sounds tired instead, infinitely tired. “I had it under control.” 

Eddie can’t help it, he barks a laugh. “Oh, did you, big boy? When was that, exactly? When he backhanded you? Or when he had you by the hair and was about to shove his cock down your-”

“Yeah, well, I’m not the one who got punched and choked half to death!” Steve snaps. 

Eddie opens his mouth to argue, then shuts it again. The boy has a point, sort of. He doesn’t need a mirror to tell which one of them is looking the worse for wear right now, not with the white-hot pain still throbbing through his face with every heartbeat. 

“He didn’t choke me half to death,” he mutters lamely. Steve huffs a humorless laugh. 

“Thanks, anyway,” he then says. It comes out so quietly that Eddie nearly misses it, and when he looks up, Steve has averted his eyes. Eddie has an acute flashback to their first meeting at the diner, when Steve reluctantly accepted his tip money. “Could’ve gone a lot worse if you hadn’t shown up.” 

Eddie feels his mouth tug into a grin, even though his lip stings like an entire beehive. 

“Anytime, Stevie. Now c’mon, let’s get outtaaaaah, shit.” 

Trying to stand is a bad idea. The moment he’s upright, another firework of pain goes off behind his temples and the ground tilts out from under him. The only thing that saves him from going right down again is Steve jumping to his feet and looping one of Eddie’s arms around his shoulders. 

“Shit, he got you good,” he mutters. Eddie can only hum in agreement, too preoccupied with keeping the meager contents of his stomach down. “We should probably get you somewhere with a first aid kit at least.” 

“‘s okay,” Eddie slurs, inadvertently leaning closer into Steve’s warmth. He smells of shampoo and frying fat and blood. “I’ll be fine, I live nearby.” 

Steve’s eyes flit over his face, then off to the side, then back to his face again. He licks his lips and even in his dazed state, Eddie can clearly see how he wars with himself. Finally, he gulps and straightens his spine. 

“Okay,” he says, adjusting Eddie’s weight on his shoulders. “Let’s go then.” 

It’s weird, Eddie thinks as they start to hobble their way down the dark street. He must’ve fantasized a thousand times about taking Steve Harrington home, but never once did he think it’d play out like this. Then again, things in his life rarely go as he imagines, so he supposes he’s just gonna roll with it.

Part 4 Tag list: @grtwdsmwhr @p0lybl4nkk @fairytalesreality @colidamae @dissociatingdemon

@steddhie @formosusiniquis @steddiehasmywholeheart @ellaelsinore @rozzieroos

[neos127]

sim jaeyun x gn!reader | wanderlust

genre. fluff + established relationship wc. 1.1k cw. slightly suggestive notes. title rlly has nothing to do with the fic but the song is what i was listening to on repeat writing this so !

the cold blast of the air conditioner made goosebumps arise on your skin— or maybe it was due to the touch of jake who kept his warm hand on the inside of your thigh. you couldn’t really tell which of those two factors was making you shiver, but the inside of the car suddenly felt chillier despite the heat outside.

jake had parked at a nearly empty fast food parking lot, settled under a light that seemed to flicker every couple of minutes. the stereo played some song you had recommended to jake earlier that day, explaining how it had captured the ‘vibe’ of your late night drives very well. jake decided to test out that theory, having nothing to do that night so he decided to pick you up around eleven.

after finishing you greasy fries and burger the two of you sat in the car in silence, watching cars zoom by on a highway in the distance, basking in each others presence. you had been lost in thought until your boyfriend decided to light every single nerve in your body on fire by resting the palm of his hand on your upper thigh.

“the song is perfect for that late night vibe. you were right.” jake finally spoke, turning to look at you with a glint in his eye. you snapped out of your daze, almost forgetting the words that had just come from his mouth. the man in front of you was so mesmerizing, sometimes he made it difficult to focus.

“yeah…yeah. of course i’m right.” you mumbled, reaching a hand up to push back a strand of hair that fell against jake’s eyes. his hair had grown so long, and you were fond of the way it framed his perfect face and highlighted his features.

“are you okay, pretty? he asked before taking your hand in his free one, placing a lingering kiss on your palm. you sucked in a breath, all of the hairs on your body standing up once again.

“it’s hard to be mentally sane when you’re looking at me like that.” you sighed, the honesty of your statement made jake chuckle to himself.

he then decided to tease you a bit, leaning against the center console of the car, his face inching closer to yours. you backed up slightly, your head lightly hitting the window and you realized that it was impossible to avoid him in the small space. not that you actually wanted to, but boy did jake make you nervous.

“can i tell you a secret?” jake asked, a small smirk creeping up on his face. you shivered (not from the air conditioning) and nodded. jake leaned over the console even more, practically on top of you as his lips ghosted over yours. you sucked in a breath, closing your eyes as you waited for his next words.

“you make me feel even more insane. you’re so fuckin’ gorgeous, i can’t believe your mine.” he mumbled, his thick accent making your stomach flip.

“i love you.” you replied, barely getting the sentence out before jake pulled you into a rough kiss. he poured out all of his feelings into it, moving his mouth against yours as if he had been starved of your affection for months. he definitely hadn’t, considering the fact that jake always had to have his hands on you somehow. but whenever he kissed you, he became more desperate and that ignited a fire in your stomach.

you let out a low whine against jake’s mouth which only spurred him on. his grip on the back of your head became tighter, not enough to hurt you but enough to make you see how needy he was.

“i need you so bad.” jake groaned against your lips, barely pulling away before he leaned back in for another long kiss. you began to smile, breaking away from your boyfriend shyly.

“someone’s eager.” you teased, tracing his jawline before doing the same to his plump lips. he let out a sound similar to a whimper, his eyes widening once the clarity sunk in. you began to laugh at him, finding it kind of adorable how desperate your boyfriend was for you. only you could make him feel like that— it was nice to have that affect on him like he had on you.

“um, ignore that. i was possessed or something…” jake spoke up, all traces of his ‘alter ego’ gone as a blush spread across his face. you cooed at his sudden shyness, finding it amusing how jake could be an insane tease only to turn around and become a giggly blushing mess.

“don’t get all shy now. you said you needed me? i’m right here for you.” you shrugged, trying to seem seductive but internally cringing at your words. you and jake often made fun of each other for trying to be ‘hot’, but jake seemed too turned on to really care about that at the moment.

“i love you so much.” he groaned before kissing you once more, pulling you into his lap so he could be closer to you. jake slipped his hands under (his) your hoodie, his warm hands on your cold body made you sigh into his mouth and pull him impossibly closer. the song that had been playing on a loop in the background had drowned out in your ears, the only sound coming to your ears was your rapid heartbeat.

even though you were wrapped up in the feeling of jake’s touch and how his soft lips felt on yours, the sharp beep of a car in the distance made you jump slightly and remember where the two of you were parked. you had definitely seen emptier parking lots in your life, and the one behind a popular fast food restaurant still had a few cars lingering.

“you seriously wanna fuck me in this very well lit parking lot?” you asked teasingly once jake began to leave a trail of kisses against your neck, not wanting to stop his assault on your skin. he pulled away and pouted slightly before looking out the rear view mirror and taking note of the fact that there was an active line at the drive through only a few meters behind the car.

“you’re a mood killer.” he grumbled.

“no— i’m realistic.”

“still a mood killer.”

“jake.”

“y/n.”

the man below you pouted like a child, and you couldn’t help but pinch his cheek and ruffle his hair a bit. he really could get anything he wanted from you— but you’d rather not have your intimate time with your boyfriend discovered in public.

“another time?” you suggested, wiggling your eyebrows as you looked at jake. he smirked slightly as he watched you roll back into your seat, eagerly nodding his head in agreement.

“definitely.”

[hemipenal-system]

aww, what’s the matter? why are you crying?

you’re scared? what of, morsel?

me? why are you scared of me? you asked me to hold you in my mouth until we got somewhere warmer, and my mouth is plenty warm…

don’t worry about me, morsel… i’m your friend, i would never eat you… at least not permanently.

hey, hey, no, don’t worry! i said i wouldn't hurt you and i meant it!

come out? i'm sorry, morsel, i can't let you out yet! it's so cold out here you'd practically freeze to death if i let you out! besides, all that saliva you're soaked with now... it'd just make you colder. i think it's best if i just hold on to you for now.

besides, i think you're enjoying this more than you want to admit to me.

oh, come on. you think i can't feel how you squirm when i curl my tongue along your back? how you grab onto my teeth desperately when i curl it over you and scrape the rough side against your bare legs?

you know, my tongue was designed with a purpose. every part of a creature as beautiful as me is. those hard keratin spikes you enjoy so much? they’re meant to grind against bigger creatures than you, shearing flesh from bone and slathering what’s left in enzyme-loaded saliva that begins to melt you down to bone shadows even before you’re swallowed…

oh, no, not for you. you’re very small, small enough i could swallow you whole. you’d like it more that way, wouldn’t you? alive and conscious for the whole thing?

yes, morsel, i know why you were so eager to climb into my mouth- and i know it’s not fear of heights like you claimed. we may be a mile above the ground with only my wings and internal fire to sustain us, but my blood runs through me everywhere and my claws would have been more than warm enough to keep you safe from the biting cold at this altitude.

don’t worry, this is what you’re supposed to want. you’re from a prey species. sure, we have peace treaties now and you have enough weapons to fend us off now, but for millennia that’s how it went! you ran, you got pinned down, you struggled, and then we tore you limb from limb, reveling in the blood and adrenaline of a meal well hunted…

you don’t have to be embarrassed, morsel! you’re allowed to want me to devour you! i know you find me attractive – in the same way a mouse finds a cat attractive, of course. you’ve always had an affinity for dragons. i’ve seen how you look at the other riders who’re more… open about what they do with their mounts. you can tell me those things, you know.

i told you, i’m not going to let you out! it’s not safe for you at this height or temperature!

yes, obviously i've thought about doing this to you. never seriously, but... enough. humans make wonderful prey... your gentle struggling because you're intelligent enough to trust us and know we won't really hurt you even if we draw a bit of blood... it's very different than tearing the horns off a deer and swallowing it whole, you know.

i've eaten your kind before, you know. i wasn't always so... docile. your nomad convoys made such wonderful buffets: chicken, beef, pork, human – and you always had such wonderful fruits and spices in those little covered wagons of yours! i enjoyed cracking them open like nuts, devouring everything inside.

no, you're not nutritious at all. your meat is really stringy. the terrified shaking and pleading is tantalizing, though...

what do you mean, "what are you doing?" all this talk about food is making me hungry. i'm just savoring your taste is all. you're like one of those hard candies you humans buy from the market to suck on, except warm and salty and savory and-

i could swallow you. it'd be so easy.

no, no, not digest you. stop writhing like that – or continue if you want. it feels nice. i'd just swallow you and hold you in my first stomach for a while. think of it as a warm, damp, dark hug from me. no pain, no flesh itching and melting off, just a gentle squeeze.

hold still, morsel. i need to reposition you a bit is all. that's right, legs like that, arms go that way - yes, exactly! now don't move.

yes, i know it's a bit tight. my prey is a bit more chewed, usually. stop complaining about it or i'll pull you back up and bite you into small pieces so you'll fit better. is that what you want?

there. is that comfortable? i can adjust a bit if you want. hey, no, stop squirming. you're not going to die. that is not stomach acid. if you don't stop panicking i'm going to have to squeeze to hold you still.

i told you. i'm very much stronger than you. stop trying to push out. you're going to sit in there whether you like it or not, morsel.

stop calling you that? why should i? you're literally in my stomach. are you not food, at least for the moment?

don't even tempt me. i am hungry.

just go to sleep or something. we're going to be in the air for a while. if you stop wiggling around in there i'll let you out when i land. i know how soothing it is to be in there. i was a hatchling once too, you know.

i can literally feel you relaxing as my crop massages you. you're yawning. don't even lie to me.

good night, morsel...

[achilles-rage]

NSFW Alphabet

evan buckley x plus size!reader

A/N: hi besties<333 this is my first time writing so pls don’t absolutely tear me to shreds (just a little bit is acceptable though). i’m planning on making a SFW alphabet for buck soon as well but some of the letters had me drawing a blank lol. also, although there’s not really much mention of it, this is with a plus size reader in mind. as a plus size girly myself, it sucks to read x reader stories and knowing in the back of your mind that it wasn’t written with your body type in mind (although there’s nothing wrong with writers that do that of course). i just thought i would add to the plus size reader community because there are barely any buck fics and i believe in my heart that he loves plus size women. anyway, enjoy <3

MDNI- 18+ Only

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

When y’all finish he’ll wait a few minutes before pulling out, head buried in your neck as his breathing gets back to normal. He’ll kiss your neck and tell you how good you were for him, before finally getting up to clean you up. After that he wants to lay with you and talk, just enjoying each other’s company, maybe y’all will make some food if you feel like it.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His: Probably his arms. He’s worked hard to be as fit as he is and he enjoys using his arms to move you/lift you while you’re having sex. He takes pride in his appearance, he knows he’s hot, but it’s an added bonus that he can lift you up and do whatever he (or you) wants.

Yours: I am of the firm belief that Evan Buckley is a thigh man. He loves how they feel in his hands, he loves how they look when you straddle him, he can’t get enough. He loves to see them jiggle when you move, or when he playfully smacks them. He loves thick thighs and I will die on this hill

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

This man has a BREEDING KINK OKAY!!! He loves to cum inside you, fucking deep into you and feeling his cum fill you up. He loves watching it slowly dripping out, so he can finger it back in. If that’s not your thing I think the next best place would be on your stomach, watching your face as he lets go, seeing the way he marks you up. He loves your little tummy, how it moves as he ruts into you, so he loves it when you let him cum all over it.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

I only call this a dirty secret because he would never tell anyone about this after the last time it happened and he got fired. He wants to fuck you in the fire engine SO BAD. He can’t help but think of the way you would look as he fucked into you quickly, trying not to get caught with your dress up around your waist. He knows it’s not gonna happen, he’d never hear the end of it from anyone in his life if it did, but god he wants to so bad.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Girl have we watched the same show?? This man FUCKS!!! We all know (and love) Buck 1.0, and we know he knows what to do. Buck 3.0 might mean him changing into, well, not a sex addict, but that doesn’t mean he forgot his training (🫡). I think he understands that every woman is different, and while he might not get it exactly right the first time, he’s a fast and eager learner, watching what exactly makes you squirm and moan the most for him.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Canonically, Buck LOVES when you ride him, and I agree. He loves to watch you move yourself on him, able to grab at your thighs, and your hips, and your chest. He also loves to move you on him, squeezing your hips tightly as he sets the pace if you start getting tired or if he just feels like it.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

I mean, he’s Buck, he’s truly a golden retriever of a man and cannot stay serious for long. I think he’s a bit of a mix, he can be serious in the moment, but at the end of the day, he’s still Buck, and Buck is silly goofy.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He keeps it nicely trimmed, carpets match the drapes. In terms of his partner, he really doesn’t give a fuck. He’s seen it all and could not care less as long as he feels the way you wrap around him so perfectly.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Buck 3.0 is a man of TASTE, but that being said, I think he only really pulls out the romance during special occasions. Most of the time this man wants to freak nasty, but sometimes when he’s tired, or just feels especially in cuddly/clingy, he’ll be more romantic.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He does it pretty often, of course not when he has the option to fuck you instead (and you’re willing, of course), but if you’re not with him and he needs a quick release, he getting right to it.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding: I will scream this till the day that I die, this man wants a family more than anything. Whenever he’s inside of you, he can’t help but think about how pretty you’d look with your belly all round with his babies.

Praise: Look at this pathetic little guy, he needs to be praised, he thrives on it. He loves to hear how good he feels, how good he’s making you feel. This goes both ways. He’s in your ear immediately telling you how good you feel, how well you’re taking him, how pretty you look.

Spanking: HEAR ME OUT!! While I’m not sure he would actually bend you over his knee (but honestly the more I think about it he might) he would LOVE to give your ass a nice little swat as you’re riding him. He loves the sound it makes, and the sound you make because you’re not expecting it. I don’t think he’d ever do it hard enough to hurt too much, but I think enough to make your ass a little red would definitely be something he could get behind (lol).

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He doesn’t have a ring cutter in the kitchen for nothing<3

I think he likes to have sex at home the most, on the bed, on the couch, on the kitchen counter. You name it, he wants to fuck you there. His favourite is the counter because he loves seeing you being so domestic in the kitchen. Making dinner, cleaning up, whatever, he wants you right then and there and cannot wait. He’ll come up behind you, wrapping his arms around you as he kisses your neck before slowly turning you around to face him and lift you onto the counter to have his way with you.

While he’s moved on from having sex in public places that could (will) get him fired, he’s still into it, but in less obvious places. If y’all are in his car and you’re looking a little too good in his passenger seat, he loves an empty parking lot quickie. Front seat, back seat, whatever you want, he’d be pulling you onto him as soon as he puts the jeep in park.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Girl ANYTHING gets him going, it would take one look, one touch, one word and this man would be ready to go. I think what really gets him going though is seeing you with kids or getting along so well with the 118. This man truly just wants a silly little family and someone that can get along with the 118fam, so seeing you like that has him making up a stupid excuse to leave a little early so he can take you home and have his hands all over you.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Like I said before, I don’t think he would do anything to hurt you too much, other than the occasional light spanking or biting. He would also not be into any kind of age play or pet play, he’s pro kink but it’s just not for him.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

This man is a giver and I stand by this. Dear god he loves nothing more than having you spread open for him, hands tangled in his hair as he makes himself at home between your thighs. He loves having his hands gripping your thick thighs, feeling them on either side of his head. When you start to get squirmy from the overstimulation he’ll place a large hand over your lower stomach, holding you still as he pushes you over the edge again.

With all that said, he will definitely not say no to getting head. He loves seeing you look up at him while you’re on your knees, trying to take all of him. He’ll keep a hand in your hair, pulling it softly every now and then, and he can’t help but moan and whine as he gets closer and closer, eventually cumming down your throat as he squeezes his eyes shut.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It depends on the day, but most of the time he likes it rough and fast. He loves a good quickie, meaning it kinda has to be more fast paced and rough, and he’s pretty easy to get riled up, so when you drop any sort of hint, he’s on you immediately and ready. On other days where he’s feeling extra clingy and lovey, he’ll be more of a slow and sensual guy, but I think for the most part he loves to fuck you deep and rough.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Like I said, he loves a good quickie. A lot of the time he craves a quickie before work, needing to feel you before his long shift. I think they happen pretty often, but he’d much rather take his time with you, using his fingers and mouth before he fucks you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

As long as there’s clear communication he’s down to try pretty much anything, he’ll do anything to make you happy (within reason). I think he’s also a risk taker (also within reason, he has to think about not getting fired again, of course). Buck 1.0 is still inside him somewhere when it comes to sex so he definitely loves a little risk, but he’s grown enough to know where the line is.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

While he would love to go as many rounds as possible, I think it would realistically be 2-3, lasting about 10-15 minutes each round. I think he would be the type to like having some time between rounds, tension still high as you talk and lay around before he's back on you again.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Once again, he doesn’t have a ring cutter in his kitchen for nothing<3

He likes them, he definitely owns a few toys of his own. Vibrators, cock rings, some handcuffs or restraints, he’s very open to anything that increases y’alls pleasure.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He does it sometimes not really meaning to, like he does something and you’re like….dear god…and maybe he doesn’t notice the first time but the second time he does and WILL keep going until you snap. He loves the way you get all squirmy and whiny and desperate for him, knowing you want him as much as he wants you.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

So vocal!!!! Literally that meme thats like “y’all afraid to make noise in the bedroom?? i be in my girls ear like…” He loves dirty talk (on both ends) and he can’t help but let out low moans when you’re clenching around him. He also loves hearing your breathless whimpers, making him feel like he’s doing a good job, and encouraging him to pull more sounds from your lips.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

If he was in a relationship during the whole sperm donor thing, it would be the longest few weeks for both of y’all. I imagine the first time he has an appointment, you make sure you’re waiting for him in a cute little matching set, knowing how excited he was to finally be buried inside you again, hearing you whine as he fills you up. He’s so frustrated when his appointment doesn’t work out that he doesn’t let you know how it went, instead being unpleasantly surprised when he sees you sprawled out on his bed when you get home and unable to do anything about it. He wants nothing more than to rip your pretty little set off your body and run his hands up and down your soft curves, but he can’t, and it’s torture. You apologize (but he will hear none of it because it was a lovely surprise, just shitty circumstances), and instead you change into an oversized shirt and sweatpants to enjoy a completely normal (and not sexual at all) night on the couch.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

8 inches, thick, no complaints <3

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

HIGH!!! This man is thinking about sex 24/7, and if he could, his hands would be on you at all times.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Most of the time I think he stays up for a while, just hanging out and talking to you. But if he comes home after a long shift he’s fucking GONE in 5 minutes tops.

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[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part five —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 3.5k tags: death. blood. zombies of course. lowkey cannibalism implication. reader menstruates. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn. enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: I’m really going for the slow burn sorry

The days are difficult to keep track of.

You don’t have a calendar. Instead, you begin making mental markers of events in your head. 29 days since you left your old camp. 22 days since Ghost nearly killed you. 10 days since your face became the potential meal for another human. 

10 days since Blue disobeyed her skull-faced father. 

He hasn’t sent you away yet. You figure the two of you are in the clear. Still, you have found yourself avoiding his dark stare even more than before. 

“Don’t worry,” Blue had told you the second night she came to gently anoint your arm. “I was careful about it. I memorized the way the tube was in the kit, and I’m putting it back exaaaactly the same. I used to sneak some extra Nutella from our storage and Ghost only caught me in the beginning. I’ve gotten better at sneaking past him, okay?”

All you could do was cling to the little piece of trust you shared with her. Ten days later, the memory of it has now congealed into a thick, baby-pink scar, just like the one beneath your ribs. The pain has softened to tenderness. You used your knife to clip off the stitches. 

This morning, the usual soft-tailed alarm wakes you up. A bright grin hovers above your head. 

“Special day today,” Blue announces. Lazily, you rub your eyes. Yesterday was the first day you managed to kill a deer. You hung the meat up over a fire to smoke it for preservation. For once, the feeling of a stuffed stomach sang you into a deep sleep.

“What?” you ask, blinking away your slumber as you touch a hand over your abdomen. You can still feel where last night’s dinner is nestled.  

“It’s my birthday,” she says. Grim flutters over your arm as she sits down beside you. Naturally, your legs move over to allow just the right amount of space for her. You’ve grown used to this guest in your shed. 

“Your birthday?” You sit up. “What day is it today?” 

“February 19th,” she recites. Of course. Ghost probably keeps track. 

Then, her hand slips something into your palm. Something small, hard, and wrapped in plastic. You flicker your gaze to the smuggled good— a little sweet. When you look back at her, she sheepishly reveals to you the other three she has in her pocket. 

“I’m only allowed to have four on my birthday,” she explains. “Thought you would want one to celebrate.” 

“Thanks.” Your lips etch up at the corner. “Happy birthday.” 

Even tiny offerings like this can make you nervous. They aren’t nearly as lucrative or important as antiseptic. In the hall where their bedroom doors and the bathroom are, you’ve spotted a fourth door at the end where they dip in and out for stored food. They have nonperishables. Their rabbits will always breed. Ghost can always hunt. But pharmacies won’t restock their shelves. 

Still, you instinctively crane your head forward to peek out the door of your shed, searching for her father’s shadow.

Blue notices. 

“He’s making breakfast. Don’t worry.” Then, under her breath, she adds: “Besides... it is mine to give if I want to."

You pop it in your mouth. 

“Fuck— wow,” you sputter, and Blue giggles. The sugary taste is even stranger than the fullness in your gut. You can’t remember the last time you ate anything that wasn’t stale, foraged, or killed. 

Here in the small shed, the two of you suck on your candies for a quiet moment before breakfast. The pretty snow outside has melted, but the Northern air remains cold and bleak. Bare soil and scattered twigs lay under your boots when you finally head to the cabin. 

Despite your fat dinner from the night before, you indulge in an equally heavy breakfast of smoked venison. Your body still has some catching up to do. Ghost and Blue’s breakfast consists of Grim’s sister, apparently. She gives at least three apologies to him for it.

You’re not sure what Ghost manages for Blue’s birthday. You can’t recall how you celebrated that last birthday of yours - the one before the world ended. You never bothered celebrating anymore of them after that even though Paul used to keep his own calendar going. It seemed pointless. When your nephew was still alive, you tried putting effort into his. You’d find a twig for each of his years and stick them in the ground for him to blow the flames off of. You would make a little crown for him out of flowers. It was enough to make his eyes light up, even if only for a day.

But he died at age seven. Then, there were no more birthdays celebrated. 

To your surprise, Ghost fishes something out of his pocket after breakfast. Metal that clanks and sings. Car keys.

So it really is a vehicle back there?

“C’mon, kid. Get your coat.” 

“She’s coming, too, right?” Blue’s eyes flicker to you as she stands from the table. 

Come where? 

The masked joints of Ghost’s jaw clench with a spark of irritation. Avoiding him has been easy. He usually doesn’t talk to you, anyway. Your interactions have been kept to asking him for rags and soap to bathe with and him watching you braid Blue’s hair.

But now he gives you a brief stare and mumbles plainly, “Thought we might just put her in the trench while we’re gone.”

An audible, sharp breath floods your ribs.

“He doesn’t mean that,” Blue is quick to assure you with an uneasy smile before she gives him a pointed look. “It is my birthday and I am inviting her, okay?”

This is one where Ghost doesn’t put up a fight. 

So it is today that you see what resides under the tarp behind their cabin. Ghost lifts it back to reveal a faded-black pickup truck. Your irritation from the sight only swells when you see that there is a kayak in the truck bed. Another part of his emergency plan, maybe? What doesn't he have?

Ghost opens the door, lowers the front seat, and sends you to the back. Blue gets the passenger side. 

As her father wraps around the hood to get in, Blue looks over the seat and chimes, “Cool, huh?” You nod. “It’s only for emergencies, you know. But we go for little drives sometimes so it doesn’t stop working. Right, Ghost?” 

He hums a low response as he sits in front of the wheel. 

You touch your hands over the cracked leather seat beneath you. The inside smells like faded bourbon and ash. You notice an old cigarette tray in the front. This feels like a snapshot of Ghost’s old life, perhaps the one outside of the military. Maybe whatever version of him used to drive this car actually used his real name and wore an exposed face. Maybe he used to put an infant-version of Blue in a carseat in the back. For the first time, a small wonder of who else could have sat in here with the two of them - the parent that is missing - touches your brain, but you are quick to swallow it. That history isn’t worth the risk that could come from asking about it.

The engine awakens with a few coughs and you notice that the reader on the dash indicates that the fuel is just below full. What you are finally willing to pry about forms as a question under your breath.

“How did you get all this?”

Dark eyes flick to meet your gaze in the rear-view mirror. Swallowing, you hold his stare for only a moment before Blue is the one to answer you. 

“Ghost knew about everything before the rest of the world,” she explains, furrowing her brows. “I thought I told you that already.” 

“What?”

“You know,” she waves a hand around, “Military? Special Air Service? He knew.”

You didn’t even think of that. The rest of you knew nothing and suffered. Ghost knew ahead of time and could prepare. 

He stops her from continuing by giving a gentle nudge to her shoulder. “Gonna pick out the music or am I doing it?” 

You shake away the thoughts. Your ears perk up. Music?

“No.” Blue instantly flies her hands to the glove compartment where a small stash of CDs slips out. “I’m picking! It’s my birthday.” 

It is almost dizzying, how unfamiliar this is to you. Adrenaline, hunger, grief— you understand these well. Listening to the CD that Blue pops in the tray as Ghost starts driving? This is weird. You don’t know what it is you feel. Loud drums and sharp guitars fill your ears along with the hum of the truck. The tires slowly snap over twigs on the ground. Blue merrily sings - screams, even - along to the song. Can you remember it? You search through the crevices of your brain. Of course. Nirvana.

It is a short drive. 

Ghost’s gloved hand lazily steers the wheel through a routine path in the trees. He must follow the same one every time they do this. Blue rolls down the window and sticks her head out so the light wind can dance with her hair.

She feels safer to look at. She always does. She is the one who wants you here; he probably brought you only because he doesn’t trust you alone at their camp. So your eyes settle on Blue. Your fingers thoughtlessly slip under the sleeve of your shirt and pick at the healed scar on your arm. You watch her beam and act like the child she is. You listen to the music. You don’t know when you will ever get the chance to again.

The drive only lasts two songs. Ghost may have to get the car going a bit, but he is not willing to waste precious fuel. He goes in a few circles before driving to the pond. He helps Blue out. He almost forgets to lower the seat for you. Blue has to remind him with a hissed "Dad" and a tug on his hand. 

The pond is quiet and all liquid now. There hasn’t been another growling visitor here since the one Ghost killed. You’re not sure what he did with the corpse of the man, but it was gone shortly after that day. 

Ghost lifts Blue up into the truck bed, right next to the kayak. You find a tree stump to sit on a few paces away. He slips out two cans from his pockets— you squint and make out tuna and peaches. They must be favorites of hers saved for her birthday because she eats them all by herself. 

“Eleven, huh?” Ghost leans against the side of the truck as she snacks. He pretends you aren’t there. He ruffles her hair. “Big year, kid. Feel different?”

“Not yet,” she says with her mouth full. Her porcelain cheeks flush as she looks at him. “Did you feel different at eleven?”

“Can’t remember,” Ghost mutters lowly, but you can hear him. You try not to look. “Long time ago.”

"Soooo long ago, huh?" she smirks. "Old man."

"Come off it," he says, but amusement hides under the gravel of his voice. "Don't call me that."

"Why?" she pokes further. There is room for it here. He is not scolding. Her voice turns hushed. "Do I have to respect my elders?"

"Bloody fuckin' hell," he groans.

He makes a move to take away her canned peaches. Blue holds it up and scoots away. Ghost could still get it if he wanted. He's not really trying.

You decide to look at the dirt before either of them catches your staring, but when their bickering ceases, Blue points a question in your direction.

“Hey... Do you remember being eleven?”

You lift your head up, suddenly thrown off. You feel two sets of eyes on you now as your brain searches for some answer, knowing well that it is one Ghost will hear.

You can barely remember what Nirvana sounds like. Age eleven? The memories are stored in fragments under all the mud. Your old school. Your sister. Your friends. That house in Norbury. The yard where you stopped playing in the dirt because you suddenly grew interested in boys, instead. You try to fit all the pieces together, but it doesn't feel like you who lived through it all.

“I remember…” you rub one hand over the dry knuckles of the other and fight the brief moisture that threatens your eyes. You are not willing for Ghost to see a tear slip.

“I do remember feeling different.”

That is all you say.

After some more of their banter and the quick drive back to camp, Blue stands up against the tree she likes to play in. You never noticed until now, but there are little knife marks in the bark— five of them. Ghost adds another. It is quite a bit higher than the previous year’s. 

Along with her dinner that night, she sucks on the last two of her candies. You try to be present as she talks about the memories from her past five birthdays— all basically the same as today. She doesn’t mention any of the ones from her previous life.

But your mind drifts as you listen.

You keep thinking about Ghost’s truck. You think of all he has— their medicine, changes of clothes, guns and ammo. You don’t have these things. At your old camp, you had the bare necessities. Paul managed to get the most commonly-used antibiotics and some alcohol to clean wounds. But you didn’t have time to grab any of it during your escape.

You don’t know how long you will be here and you don’t know what the future looks like for you, but you know you can’t risk Blue sneaking you more medicine. Ghost might not notice a little ointment missing from a tube, but too much and he will. God forbid you ever need antibiotics. Taking pills from a bottle? He definitely has the exact numbers memorized. 

It is not until his cockney accent rumbles low that you are grounded back in the present.  

“Want your gift now?”

When Blue eagerly nods, he stands from the table and leaves, only to return with something in his hand covered in a scrap of cloth. Another bout of curiosity finds you.  What could he possibly gift her? You watch Blue lift up the cloth to reveal a handmade, wooden figurine.

She exhales a smile. She doesn’t seem too surprised by it but is still elated, taking the gift in her hands and smoothing her finger over the whittled shape.

It’s a squirrel. You can see it better as she looks over it. A squirrel with two circles carved around the eyes. A pair of glasses?

“He’s perfect,” she tells her behemoth of a father, who bends down to her level and strokes her hair. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she says. “Just how I imagined him.”

This is the final tradition you learn about today. The wooden squirrel is part of a collection, she explains. You’ve never been inside Blue’s bedroom. You are not allowed, of course. But she shyly admits that she has her own village going on in there and that more wooden residents are added on each birthday and holiday. She seems hesitant to tell you too much about them in the same way she was hesitant for you to hear Ghost call her Baby Blue.

The eleven-year-old brave enough to rebel nibbles her lip as she speaks, clutching her gift.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you find yourself quietly saying, looking between her and Ghost. “We all have things we like to keep to ourselves. You don't have to tell me, you know."

You feel his thick presence, the way he seems to stifle the room even in the lull of these moments where the reality of your stay here can be ignored. You give a small smile, just for her, anyway.

“It sounds cool, though," you add.

She blushes and slips away to put the squirrel in her room.

And then the last piece of Blue’s birthday is not a tradition. Instead, it is all you have to offer to this girl who has your back. 

You do her hair.

You try for something a little different this time. 

Half-up with two smaller braids that join together.

As usual, dark eyes watch from the couch.

That whole deer feeds you for more than just a week.

Despite this, you decide to go out into the forest and practice your aim. You recall how your failed shot at that man’s head resulted in snarling teeth snapping at your flesh - you want to get better. Each day, a new tree stands victim to your practicing arrows. You have to carve some more of them with the knife Ghost gave you to replace the ones that break from penetrating the tough bark. 

You feel like you own more strength now.

A pillow to sleep on, bountiful protein, and properly healed wounds have offered some back to you. You don’t feel so fatigued. Your thoughts seem easier to find. You have a new marker to make the days feel less blurred together— Blue's birthday.

It must be March 1st today, then.

When you decide your practice is done for the afternoon, you make it back to camp. You ask Ghost for a wash rag to clear your skin of the cold sweat that has collected. He is preoccupied with a game of Monopoly with Blue but begrudgingly retrieves one for you. Though, it is thoughtlessly tossed to your face. Blue apologizes on his behalf. 

You don’t have it in you to care.

Because today is the first day your gaze doesn't pry away when it finds your reflection in the mirror. The face that stares back at you - the one he threw the rag at - is one you think you can recognize. The cheekbones do not stand as angular and lean. Your lips have some color and fat to them. Not as much as Blue’s rosy pink ones, but some. 

It is also the first day that an old friend returns to you. When you glide the damp rag between your thighs, blood collects. Except for this time, it is not incited by a caltrop or knife. You don’t panic with the thought of how it will be patched up and stitched and kept clean. Rather, you almost groan with the realization of what you need to ask of Ghost. 

The hunger and stress of fleeing led you to almost forget about it. Your period is definitely weeks late, but now it is here again. Perhaps, another piece of health your body has been given back. 

With wet hair and your dirty clothes shucked back on, you find the two of them still on the rug. They have moved on to Battleship. 

“Ghost.”

Both of them look at you. Shifting your weight from foot to foot, you dig your nails into your palms. 

“I need another rag.”

“What for?” His voice arrives in an edged drawl. “Just bathed, didn’t you?”

“Are you okay?” chimes Blue, frowning. She sits up. 

“I’m fine,” you say slowly. “I just need another one.” You meet the clouded eyes you prefer to renounce, set behind the more frightening skull this time. “A dry one.”

Although Blue’s nose remains scrunched in confusion, he seems to understand.

Wordlessly, Ghost finds you another. This rag is not offered to your face. Instead, he murmurs a “here” under his breath and gives it to your hands. In this brief exchange, you detect the familiar heat that is emitted from his brawny form. It is so different from the bucket of cold water you just bathed with.

Despite the enigma and tension, there is some of Ghost you understand. He is willing to give you small things. A rag for your period. A little bit of thread for your stitches. An outdoor shed to sleep in. A pillow and blanket they don’t even use.

What he is not willing to give is anything that he deems too valuable, and anything he decides poses a risk. His trust included. 

This is why you must find a way to take care of yourself. So it is today, with your body showing you signs of its regained health, that you decide you finally need to figure out the journey to get supplies of your own.

taglist: @savagemistresss @morganvoorhees @dinsverdika @cated18 @lolszass @jeswiii @all-good-things-have-an-ending @alternatealt @uvoiid @underatreedrinkingtea @ramadiiiisme @crissteetee67 @lexi-zsy09 @spikespiegell @littlezarp @rebel-soldat @4headkissess @mckenzieriley69 @moxxiestar @palomaxaxaxa @msjaeger @galacticstxrdust @anubiseqq @l-0-v-3-r-z @kakashiislut @a-queen-blr @random0lover @hehatesmati @ghost-with-a-teacup @konigbabe

[callsign-rogueone]

by your side - b.d.

Bodhi Durran x girlfriend!reader Your friends suggest that your recent bouts of nausea might be something more, and it sends you into a spiral, but Bodhi is there for you, as always. [requested] wc: 1.1k 🏷: no spoilers this time? set toward the beginning of Iron Flame (his third year and yours). descriptions of vomit / nausea, anxiety, one (1) reference to sex. healthy established relationship between reader and Bodhi :) writing this one was fun because I know exactly how it feels (it sucks lmao)

“Don’t shoot the messenger,” Imogen says rather indelicately, patting your back as you heave into the grass at afternoon formation for the third time in three days, “but is there any way you could be…”

You blink once, twice, realizing what she’s implying, and the mere idea has your stomach turning again, but there’s nothing left in your system - you haven’t been able to keep food down for days.

“Imogen,” Sloane scolds from your other side, still holding your hair back from your face, “we agreed that now was not the time.”

You take measured sips from your waterskin, trying to rinse the acid from your throat, but the burning feeling doesn’t subside.

You look to Violet, who remains quiet as the grave.

“I agree that it’s a possibility,” she says carefully. “But either way, we’re here for you, and I know he will be too.”

Oh, gods. You hadn’t even considered having this conversation with Bodhi yet. What would you even say to him? Hey, I know we’re in military school and doing this whole double-agent-arms-dealing thing on the weekends and there’s a very real chance that neither of us will make it to next month, but I think I'm pregnant with your child?

The women you’ve come to regard as younger sisters can sense that you’re spiraling.

“He’s a good man,” Sloane says, rare praise from her, “and he loves you. You’ll find a way to get through this together, whatever it is.”

You’re too drained to argue, but that doesn’t stop the swirl of thoughts in your head. 

You, Bodhi, and a child.

Maybe in another life, where the both of you hadn’t been conscripted to Basgiath, and you weren’t in mortal danger all the time… but even then, you’re barely adults yourselves, and your parents won’t be able to help you from the grave. You’d be doing this entirely on your own.

You shake the feeling off. Today is a Saturday, one that you have free. You’ve completed your assignments already. You’ll try to sleep this off, you decide, and if that still doesn’t kick it, you’ll see a healer. 

Sleep comes easily with how exhausted you are, but it does not show you mercy.

Muscled arms cradle a bundle of blankets. You recognize the swirling pattern of Bodhi’s relic easily, having spent many nights tracing the black ink with your fingertips as you lay beside him in the afterglow.

There’s a soft sound of discomfort from the baby. “Shh, darling,” he soothes, rocking them gently. “We don’t want to wake your mama.”

A hand rests on his shoulder; Xaden’s. “She looks just like you,” he says quietly, a soft smile on his face. 

A tiny hand peeks from the blanket, stretching to grasp Bodhi’s finger, which now bears a silver wedding ring.

You shake yourself awake, heart pounding as you move to sit up.

There’s a knock at your door. “It’s me.” Bodhi.

“Come in,” you reply weakly, and you hear the lock click — the day you had moved in, Xaden helped you ward it so that only you and Bodhi could open the door, doing the same for Bodhi’s room down the hall.

“Vi said you weren’t feeling good, so I brought you dinner,” he says gently, sitting on the side of your bed and touching a hand to your cheeks. “No fever,” he observes, kissing your forehead, and continuing to check you over for injury.

You’re going to cry. “Bo,” you say quietly, “I need to talk to you.”

“Anything, darling.” He says, ready to listen, and your heart twists hearing the same petname he’d called your daughter.

“I don’t know if it was a vision or just a dream, but…” you swallow, the words getting stuck in your throat.

Bodhi stills beside you, fearing the worst. 

Your signet gives you clouded images of the future, but they usually aren’t happy sights. You’ve come to talk to him about your visions in the middle of the night many times, as distressed as you are now. 

“What did you see?” He asks gently, taking your hands in his.

“You, holding a baby girl. Xaden was there, too, but I woke up before I could see anything else.”

He doesn’t follow.

“I’ve been throwing up for days, and I think… I think I might be pregnant,” you whisper, eyes brimming with tears. “I’m so sorry.” 

“Oh, darling, don’t apologize.“ He pulls you close, pressing a kiss to your hairline. “I love you, and I will be by your side every step of the way in either case.”

His words of reassurance are the last straw, and you finally start to cry, your tears dampening his collar.

“I’m going to stay right here, for as long as you want me to, and then we can go see the healers, together.”

You nod against his shoulder, too exhausted to respond.

Every step of the way.

He holds your hand all the way across the bridge to the other side of the college, only letting go when a kind older woman in pale blue healer’s robes comes to take you into an exam room.

You stay quiet as she takes your pulse, listens to your heart, and goes through the motions of a physical.

“You appear to be reacting to something you’ve been eating or drinking.” She diagnoses, handing you a small paper bag with medicine to take. “This should help.”

“So I’m not…,” you trail off, and she knows exactly what you mean. She’d seen how terrified you were walking in here, hand in hand with your boyfriend, and instantly realized what you were concerned about.

“Not with child,” she confirms with a knowing smile, and a weight is lifted from your shoulders. Thank Zhinal. 

Bodhi is still waiting outside. He stands as soon as he sees you, ready to draw you into a warm embrace.

“It was those damn berries,” you say, shaking your head, and he laughs, no doubt feeling the same relief as you. The rich sound soothes every nerve in your body.

He tugs you closer, wrapping you in his arms. The paper bag crinkles between you. “The moment we graduate, I’m marrying you.”

“What?” You ask, stunned.

He pulls back so he can look you in the eye.

“I thought about it while you were with the healer,” he says, as if it’s that simple, “and I decided that I want to be there for you for the rest of my life. Through all the visions, good and bad.” 

You smile up at him, pure happiness flowing through you. “I love you, Bodhi Durran.”

“I love you more, darling,” he says, tucking the bag into a pocket of his flight jacket and taking your hand. “Now, I snuck you an extra piece of cake from dinner, and if you aren’t going to eat it, I will.”

You burst into laughter. Yeah, you decide. This is the man you want by your side forever.

[ro-is-struggling]

First Impressions || Johnny Storm x Reader

Summary: the story of how you and Johnny met the morning after he slept with your roommate

THIS IS PART 1 OF MY MINI-SERIES FIREPROOF! Masterlist + info HERE

Warnings: Johnny is a bit of an ass (but that’s kinda like his thing in this lol)

English is not my first language

Word count: 1200

Notes: this is a lot shorter than the rest of the parts will be bucause originally it was only going to be a flashback, but I hope you guys like it!!

Johnny was being careful this time, tiptoeing down the hallway as he got dressed. He had learned the hard way that shoes were best left for last, they made a lot of noise when he stepped on the wooden boards that creaked under his feet and alerted the girl sleeping on the bed to his intentions. That wasn't a mistake he would make again —not after the scene Kate made when she discovered him trying to flee the morning after he met her—, so now he always made sure to put his shoes on once he was out of his latest conquest's apartment.

He thought he was in the clear. The front door was in his vision and he could still hear the subtle sound of Allie's? —he wanted to say that was her name, but wasn't sure— snoring coming from the room. However, the sound of someone clearing their throat made him stop in his tracks. Turning around, Johnny found you sitting at the kitchen island eating breakfast.

“Sneaking out, huh?” your eyes didn't lift from your phone as you spoke to him. But you didn't need to do so to know he had an uncomfortable expression on his face at having been caught in the act.

“No.” Johnny lied. “I just...”

“I have commitment issues that won't let me stay to say goodbye to the girl who sucked my dick the night before?” You answered for him, finally looking up to look at him. “I figured.”

“I was going to say I have an early class... but I guess that works too.”

“Oh, an early class, sure.” Your unimpressed tone let Johnny know you didn't believe him one bit.

As he awkwardly put on his shoes he took a moment to get a better look at you. He remembered that Allie —let's go with that— had told him she had a roommate and now that he got a better look at you, your face looked familiar. He had definitely seen you around campus and probably had taken some classes together, but he couldn't think of your name if his life depended on it. He wasn't very good at it, apparently.

“Are those pancakes?” Johnny asked curiously, his stomach growling at the smell of food. It made sense given that the night before he'd barely eaten before going straight to business.

“Yes... You want some?” You looked at him with an arched eyebrow and he nodded enthusiastically.

“Please!” He didn't wait for your response before approaching the kitchen and taking a seat next to you. He helped himself to a plate as if he were in his own home, groaning with pleasure as he put a bite of food in his mouth.

“What about your early class?”

“Oh, my buddy can cover for me.” Johnny spoke with a mouthful of food and you let out a giggle.

It was honestly surreal to have Johnny Storm, the womanizer everyone on campus swooned over, having breakfast in your apartment. Your friend had been trying to get his attention for a long time —and somehow you always ended up in the middle of it—, but when she asked you to disappear for a night from the apartment you didn't think it was because of him. You were happy for her, but at the same time you hoped she hadn't gotten her hopes up for him. Johnny wasn't a complete asshole, but from the way he tried to sneak away without being discovered you couldn't imagine that anything good would come of it. And from the way your friend talked about him, you doubted she'd settle for a one-night stand. So it was your job to protect her from her own heart and the antics of the biggest player on campus.

“You want some coffee?” You asked him after a moment of silence. Your voice seemed to snap him out of a trance, forcing him to stop thinking about how delicious those pancakes were and bring his attention back to reality.

“Sure!” He nodded with a smile and you got up to get a clean cup.

You poured him a cup of hot coffee fresh from the pot. The scent flooded the room and you could see in Johnny's tired eyes how much he wanted to savor the steaming liquid. When you placed the cup on the counter he reached out for it. However, you pulled it away before his fingers could close around the handle.

“What are your intentions with my friend?”

Johnny's confused expression turned to an amused one as he realized he had fallen into your trap. “Oh, it was a trick coffee. I see.”

“Yes, coffee is for talkers. Now talk.”

He laughed at your accusatory tone, but when he noticed your stern expression he realized you were serious. “I don't know, we're just getting to know each other.” Johnny said, scratching the back of his head. Actually he did know the answer to your question. He wasn't a fan of serious relationships, but he never ruled out the possibility of a casual second meeting with anyone.

“Well, you better figure it out! And you better tell Ellie about it!”

Oh, so that was her name!

“I mean it, she is a sweet girl and she's been trying to get your attention for a long time. She doesn't deserve to have you messing with her.”

“I wasn't going to!” Johnny threw his hands up in the air in a defensive manner. “If anything I was trying to let her know my stance on the relationship by sneaking out but you kinda ruined it. So if anything, it's your fault.”

“Please tell me you're joking.” You huffed, unable to believe what you were hearing. Although from the reputation he had on campus, you shouldn't be surprised. “Sneaking out is not communication! It only creates more confusion. You have to use your words, like the rest of us grown ups.”

“But talking about it makes everything more... messy and complicated.”

“Well, you better make it less complicated real fast or I will.” You threatened him, finally passing him the cup of coffee you had held hostage to make sure Johnny heard you. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, ma'am!” he assured you with an amused smile before raising the cup to his lips.

Johnny couldn't describe exactly what it was, but there was something about you that he really liked. The way you snapped at him, using that tone of voice that was at times serious and at times sarcastic, was refreshing. He was used to women reacting in the opposite way to his presence —always watching what they said and acting flirtatious to get his attention. Most of the time it took him ages to understand what they wanted or expected from him because they refused to be direct. He was not a mind reader and had no time to waste, so he appreciated your honesty, even if it was a bit brutal. He knew at that moment that he wanted to get to know you better. There was something that told him that your story wasn't over, even if his relationship with Ellie was.

And he wasn't wrong.

[shellbilee]

Hey There Darlin' - Chapter 4

A Glen Powell RPF Series

Comment if you'd like to be tagged! x

Glen feels like he's buzzing.

Like the kind of buzzing you feel when you've had one too many cups of coffee, or a hit of pre workout just before a big gym session.

Except this time, he knows it has nothing to do with caffeine.

It's Billie.

He’s known her for less than twenty-four hours, but already he feels like he can’t get enough of her. Of her voice, her eyes, her lips, of her smile. Her fucking gorgeous smile.

Glen looks over when he sees a black Ford pick up pulling up a few spaces away, his eyes widening in surprise when he sees Billie step out of the car. He sucks in a breath as he looks her over, feeling his muscles clench as his eyes run over her body. Her thick legs, her round ass, her toned abdomen peeking out from beneath the cropped shirt she’s wearing. It’s enough to send him spinning.

Fuck.

He looks back at his reflection in his rearview mirror, running his fingers through his hair and putting his cap back on. He bares his teeth, checking for any missed pieces of food, before letting out a heavy breath and getting out of his car.

“Billie!”

Glen sees her look up at his call, a happy smile parting her lips when she sees him. He jogs the short distance over to her, watching as she puts her phone away and reaches up to shield her face from the afternoon sun. 

“Nice wheels” he says, gesturing to her pick up behind her, Billie’s smile widening.

“Thanks. I like yours too”.

Glen grins, glancing back over at his own Chevy Silverado, his big silver truck standing out like a shining beacon in the Ikea parking lot.

“Can I ask you a question?” Billie asks as they start walking towards the entrance, Glen watching the way her long ponytail bobs as she walks. 

The colour reminds him of roasted espresso beans, with ribbons of warm chocolate rippling through.

“Shoot”.

“It must be really hard for you to just, go out shopping? I mean everywhere you go, you kind of risk being stampeded by fans” Billie says, looking at the building entrance and back at Glen, “It didn’t even occur to me what this might be like for you, and now I feel a bit stupid that I asked you to come along. To Ikea of all places”.

Glen laughs and shakes his head. “Billie, I’d have said yes to anything you said if it meant that I got to spend more time with you”.

Glen loves the way her smile grows then, the soft blush that creeps into her golden skin from his words.

She has no idea how fucking gorgeous she is.

“But to answer your question, yes, it can be hard. It’s not something I really thought about though, at least until Top Gun. That kind of changed everything”.

Billie laughs, and Glen immediately decides that her laugh is one of his new favourite sounds.

“I mean, not to go all fan girl on you, but I can see why that happened. You were pretty memorable in that movie” Billie says, offering a soft, sheepish smile and pulling her ponytail forward so that it tumbles down her shoulder.

“Yeah, as the asshole character” Glen replies, teasing another chuckle from Billie that makes his stomach flip.

“Well you did sort of save the day at the end, so perhaps that’s more the reason?” Billie reasons, her shoulders lifting in an adorable shrug, “Or you know, there’s the whole beach scene too, you were kind of gorg---, I mean, hard to forget in that”.

Glen turns to Billie with a raised eyebrow, willing her to continue talking. Instead he sees her mash her lips together, her eyes squeezing shut and her brow furrowing for a moment. She looks up at Glen a second later, her eyes big and beautiful, flashing with what Glen can only describe as embarrassment. 

“I’m going to shut up now, because I’ve said too much and I’m making an idiot of myself”.

Glen drops his head back and laughs, clapping his hands together.

“You know, I’d be quite happy to recreate that scene for you if you really wanted to see it again. Private screening, just for you”

Billie laughs and shoves him playfully. 

“You’re trouble, you know that?”

Glen doesn’t answer, instead flashing Billie his most charming grin.

“Alright so tell me, what kind of couch are we looking for?” Glen asks when they reach the entrance, cold, air-conditioned air blasting them as they walk through, “How many seats? Fold out? Material? Where is it going in your house?”

Billie bites her bottom lip again, and Glen has to put his hands on his hips to stop himself from grabbing her face and kissing her.

“I can’t answer any of those questions except that it’s going in my living room” Billie says, lifting her hands up in an I-don't-know-gesture’, the two walking through to the first of the showrooms.

“Okay so do you have any ideas of what you’re after then?” he asks, pausing when Billie leans over to run her hand over a navy throw blanket.

“A colour that Nugget’s fur won’t be so noticeable on. That’s about it so far”.

Glen laughs. 

“Okay so no dark colours then” he says as they browse the concept bedroom, the theme an earthy mix of whites, browns and deep greens. 

They move onto the next room - another bedroom, this one decorated in an urban, industrial theme. It’s all exposed brick walls and black fixtures, the bed linen a tangle of moody greys and dark navy. It reminds Glen of his own style at home, making him think of the dark charcoal sheets that are currently on his bed.

Sheets, he thinks, that would look great under Billie’s naked body.

Fuck.

His mind wanders for the tenth time since he’s been here, looking over to find Billie bending over to pick up and inspect a large terracotta coloured cushion. All of a sudden, his eyes are glued to her ass, her round, peachy ass in her bright blue, skin tight shorts. 

He imagines it in just a pair of panties and nothing else, a deep wine colour, a tiny, lace and silk number that covers next to nothing. He imagines her bent over in front of him, a cheek in each of his hands, her skin soft and buttery smooth as he kneads her supple flesh.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

Glen exhales deeply, squeezing his eyes shut and forcing himself to get his thoughts in check. He looks up a moment later to see Billie taking a photo of the tag on the cushion she's holding, before dropping it back onto the bed and making her way into the next room.

“Maybe suede?” Billie asks, running her hand over the back of a grey suede loveseat she's just stopped in front of, Glen following close behind. 

“Probably not the best for fur though” Glen counters, Billie nodding in agreement and leaning her hip against the couch as she looks around the new room.

Glen hears laughter up ahead and he turns to see a group of girls walking towards the room they're in. There's four of them, all eighteen or so, laughing and chatting away at each other as they walk. 

He exhales heavily through his nose. Young girls were always tough to deal with when he was out - they made the most noise. They also posted everything on social media. 

The last thing he wants is fan attention when he's out with Billie, or worse, paparazzi following him in Ikea of all places. He knows from past experience it’s one of the quickest ways to freak out a girl he likes, particularly one that isn’t in the spotlight like Billie. 

He has a split second to make a decision. 

And so, he does.

“I think I like grey or ta--”

Billie’s words are abruptly cut short when Glen grabs her hand, pulling her into a nearby alcove behind the bedroom's wardrobe.

“Are we hiding?” Billie whispers after a moment, confusion evident on her face as she looks up at Glen in front of her.

He nods.

For a second he can’t think of anything except Billie, about how fucking gorgeous she is, about how right at this current moment she’s pressed up against him against a wardrobe, her fingers still wrapped in his.

Billie frowns, an amused, but confused expression on her face, Glen watching as she leans back to poke her head out of the alcove.

Glen sees her face transform with understanding when she sees what Glen is hiding from, the sound of the girls laughing and talking now evident inside the room. She leans back in towards Glen, a soft smile on her face, and it takes everything Glen has not to lean in and kiss her right there and then.

They both still when they hear the voices come closer, Glen's grip on Billie's hand tightening. He feels a momentary sting of alarm, all manner of potential scenarios now playing out in his head.

His chest tightens as he sucks in a deep breath, panic suddenly taking over his brain.

Fuck. Here we go.

He hears footsteps walk into the alcove and Glen isn't sure what to do, his thoughts immediately silenced when Billie reaches for his jaw and pulls his mouth to hers.

Oh, Billie.

In an instant every part of him relaxes, concerns from just a moment ago seemingly forgotten. Her lips are soft against his, moving against his in a tender kiss, her free hand cupping his jaw and holding his face to hers. He releases her other hand and searches for her waist, his fingers finding the bare skin beneath her short shirt and gripping at her warm flesh.

She's everywhere, all at once, the sweet taste of her mouth, the softness of her lips, the intoxicating scent of her skin, every single one of his senses suddenly drowning in her. Glen's heart races in his chest, his brain unable to think of anything else except Billie.

He hears the awkward stammering of the intruding girl, but it's barely audible above his heart beat in his ears. Just when Glen thinks he could die right here and now, Billie breaks away and turns her head, her hand still holding his face to her neck. He realises she’s shielding him, hiding his face from the unknown girl, his chest all but heaving as his mouth hangs less than an inch from her neck.

“Oh um, sorry” Billie says with a mischievous exaggerated giggle, the other girl muttering her own apology.

Glen barely listens as the girl backs away out of the alcove, unable to concentrate on anything except Billie's neck. He breathes in her scent, delicious and warm, forcing himself to stay still. It takes everything he has not to close that one inch gap and press his lips to Billie’s throat, every single fibre in his body screaming at him to drag his tongue along her skin.

Some part of him hears the girl return to her friends, the group giggling and quickly scurrying out of the showroom moments later. Reluctantly he pulls away when Billie releases his face, a heavy breath leaving his mouth as he does. Billie looks back at him with bright, wide eyes, Glen hyper aware that her chest is still pressed to his and his fingers are still gripping the warm skin of her waist. His thoughts are all but blank, except for how much he wants to do that all over again. 

He's buzzing again, stronger now, the feel of Billie's lips against his seemingly burnt into his brain. He drops his head back against the wall behind him and looks down at her with an incredulous smile, words struggling to form in his mind.

“Th---that was---”.

“Some quick thinking?” Billie interrupts, finishing his sentence for him and flashing a gentle grin.

He opens his mouth to speak but no words come out, Billie laughing and grabbing his hand from her waist. He says nothing as she wraps her fingers in his and steps away from him, pulling on his hand so that his body peels away from the wall and follows her back out into the bedroom.

“C'mon you, we've gotta find me a couch”.

---

Billie

“Are you sure you’re okay with those? I can carry one if you need”.

Glen looks down at her and shakes his head, two furniture flat packs nestled firmly under each of his arms. Billie forces herself to keep her eyes trained on his face, fighting the urge to stare at his thick biceps.

“No need darlin’, I got this”.

Billie exhales silently. 

How is his voice so damn attractive?

How does he make that ONE WORD sound so damn attractive?

How is ALL of him so damn attractive?

She swallows thickly.

She still can’t believe how bold she’d been earlier, still not quite believing that she’d kissed Glen. It was a split second idea that needed a split second decision. And she’d done it without a second thought.

She’d kissed Glen Powell.

The look on his face when she’d pulled away had made it all worth it though, and it had taken everything she had not to lean back in and kiss him up against the wall of the Ikea wardrobe. 

God.

To say she was attracted to him was an understatement, now even more so if that was even possible. To his gorgeous green eyes, his devastatingly sexy smile, his broad, muscled chest. If she were a cartoon, she was pretty certain she’d be drawn with permanent heart shaped eyes every time she looked at him. 

Billie pulls out her keys when they reach her car, unlocking the tailgate and stepping back to allow Glen to unload the flat packs into her tray. 

After much searching she’d ended up finding a couch she liked - an ‘L’ shaped three seater with a chaise extension, in a rich caramel coloured leather. There hadn’t been any left in stock though, so she’d instead ordered it, with delivery expected early next week.

She’d also found a new wooden end table and a small oak bookshelf that she loved, both of which Glen was currently hauling into her car.

Billie opens the front door of her pick up and throws the bag of assorted cream and grey cushions she'd also bought onto the passenger seat, closing the door and turning around in time to see Glen shutting her tailgate. He reaches up to readjust his hat, his sandy blonde hair peaking out from beneath it, an effortlessly handsome smile on his chiselled face. 

Billie wonders idly if he has any idea of the effect he has on her. Or on women in general for that matter.

“So I know we’ve spent the better part of the afternoon together, and at the risk of sounding needy, can I ask what you’re doing for dinner?”.

Billie can’t help the smile that tugs at her lips then, her face falling a second later when she remembers she actually does have plans.

“I've actually got a dinner to go to, a house-warming barbecue up in the hills”.

She feels her heart fall when his face drops, and in an instant she wishes she hadn't RSVP'd to her Saturday night plans.

“My boss just bought a new place” Billie explains looking down at her hands and then back up at Glen again, “but---, I’m free all day tomorrow?”.

His face instantly lights up at her words and suddenly her heart is soaring again, his gorgeous grin returning.

“It’s a date”.

Billie laughs and tilts her head, raising an eyebrow. “Does that mean today counts as our first date then?”.

Glen shrugs adorably. “That depends”.

“On?”

“Whether or not you liked it. If you didn’t, then no, it doesn’t count and tomorrow can be our real first date”.

Billie laughs out loud, shaking her head so that her ponytail swishes along her shoulder.

“I like unconventional dates” she says lifting up her hands in a shrug, “There isn’t so much pressure”.

Glen nods in agreement.

“Unconventional” he says repeating her word as if he’s thinking of ideas, his grin suddenly growing even wider.

Billie laughs again, but she can't help the frown that suddenly bends her brow.

“All of a sudden I’m scared to ask about what you’ve now got planned for tomorrow”.

Glen winks conspiratorially. 

“I’ll message you with the time”.

“Can I at least have a hint?”

Glen shakes his head.  

“Nope” he says, making the ‘p’ sound pop, “You said you like surprises”.

Bille laughs and rolls her eyes, immediately cursing herself for telling him that earlier.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?” Glen says, pushing himself off her car and stepping towards her.

Billie only nods, a school-girl smile threatening to split her face.

She sucks in a breath when he leans in towards her, his lips grazing her cheek with a gentle kiss. She closes her eyes momentarily, opening them back up when he steps away, seeing him look down at her with a smile that makes her knees weak.

“Have a good night Billie”

Billie lets out a shaky, silent breath and smiles.

“You too Glen”.

He winks at her and suddenly Billie seriously considers cancelling her dinner plans, watching as he walks off towards his truck. He turns to look back at her when he reaches his car, that same damn gorgeous smile etched on his face as he waves at her. She stays frozen by her car, her mind reeling as she mentally goes over the afternoon she's just had, reaching up to wave back at him.

Moments later he's in his truck and driving away, leaving Billie standing alone in the Ikea parking lot with nothing but a stomach full of nerves and a mind full of excitement for tomorrow.

---

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[yeonzzzn]

🌹straight to me: sim jaeyun

a you complete me series: five / seven

pairing: jake x afab!reader

word count: 1.3k

synopsis: every dead end street lead you straight to him, and all jake wants to do is show you how thankful he is for you…

genre: established relationship, vampire!jake, half-vampire!reader

warnings: mentions of blood, cutie patooie jakey ♡

p1: vampires bleeding mlist

☾ sunghoon(1) | niki(2) | heeseung(3) | jungwon(4) | jake(5) | jay(6) | sunoo(7) ☽

You opened the fridge, a soft sigh escaping your lips at seeing the empty shelves. 

“You okay, baby?” Jake called from your shared living room. The echoes of his fingers button smashing the PS5 controller in his hands at the game displayed on the TV. 

You closed the fridge, “Yeah, there’s just nothing in the fridge. We need to go grocery shopping.” 

Jake paused the game, turning around on the couch to face you, “Or you can let me take you out.” 

You leaned against the countertop, shaking your head, “Jake we don’t need to do that,” his smile on his face quickly frowning. You cleared your throat, “You wouldn’t be able to eat.” 

Jake quickly stood up and was at your side in a second, “I can drink some bags before we go. Baby, you need to eat. We can go to the grocery shop after dinner.”

Your mate pulled you into his arms, the sound of your stomach growling loudly. 

“Baby, please.” Jake rubs your back, “My sweet Luna Nova needs to eat.” 

You finally gave in, nodding your head. 

Jake kissed your head, “Let me go shower, then we can head out.”

“What about you eating?” You asked, worried about your mate getting his own meal in. 

“I’ll drink the bags on the way to a restaurant, don’t worry.”

He kissed you softly on the lips before leaving your side. 

You sat on the couch, hearing your phone text tone go off. It was a message from your twin brother.

You put your phone down into your lap. You were grateful that Archer was keeping an eye out for the stragglers from Dorian’s army, but at the same time, you wished he’d let it go. 

But unfortunately for Archer, he can’t. Not after they captured you. 

Your stomach growled again, putting your thoughts back on your hunger. 

One thing that sucked being a dhampir is having your thirst for blood, but also craving of food. 

It also made you feel bad for Jake. He was always grocery shopping for and with you. Having to deal with the smells of cooking the food and even sometimes cooking for you. 

You knew he didn’t mind, but you still can’t help but feel bad. 

Having to always stay stocked up on not just blood bags, but every food as well. 

You couldn’t help but think and wonder how Jay does it. He knew he cooked all the time in his human life and cooked for __ all the time as well. Jungwon used to say how he didn’t mind it either, but now that __ is a vampire they tossed all their food out. 

Maybe you were just overthinking it. 

The sound of the shower turned off, and Jake was back at your side on the couch, his wet hair dripping onto his bare chest. 

“Baby, what’s wrong?” He took your chin between his fingers, “You forget we are bonded, I can tell you’re upset.” 

You shook your head, watching a small drop of water drip from his hair and land onto his sweatpants, “Jaeyun, I am fine.” 

“My Luna Nova…”

“I’m just…I feel bad.” 

Jake tilted his head, confused, furrowing his eyes at you, “Y/N,” oops. He only will call you by your name when he’s serious, “Talk to me.” 

You went into explaining, telling him how you feel bad for always having to deal with food all because he’s paired with you for life. 

“Baby,” he softly said, pressing his lips to yours, “Being bonded to you is the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me. I’ve spent my whole life waiting for you, so you having to eat human food on top of drinking blood doesn’t bother me. You’re half-blooded, and I wouldn’t change any part of it.��

Jake pulled you into his lap, gently laying you back against the couch, kissing your neck, “Let me take you out, go grocery shopping then come back so I can worship every part of you.” 

You giggle into his shoulder, pushing him back, “Okay, that requires you to get dressed first, Jaeyun.” 

He pressed one more kiss to your neck before leaving to change. Coming back out in his favorite black ripped jeans and a gray sweatshirt. 

Jake grabbed a couple of blood bags from the fridge and then rushed you out the door. 

You watched your soulmate as he drove you two to the nearest burger joint, watching as he sipped on his blood bags before pulling into the parking lot. 

Jake had the biggest smile on his face the entire time, even while he was ordering your dinner for you. His arm wrapped around your waist and you were pulled close to him. 

All Jake ever wanted to do was show how thankful he is for you every single day. He worshiped the ground you walked on. 

After Dorian took you from him and used every ounce of magic he had to mask your scent so he couldn’t find you, tore him to pieces. The sleepless nights he got, the days of not drinking any blood, and even the days he and Sunghoon would spend sitting with each other side by side staring off into the distance because they didn’t trust the other to be alone. Jake hated seeing Sunghoon hurting like that but knew he was feeling the same. 

The moment Jake had you back in his arms, he vowed to never let you go so easily again and spend every waking moment possible showing you how thankful and appreciative he was of you. 

You were his main reason for living after all, even if he is the undead. 

Jake also didn’t want to put you through anything you had to deal with before, losing your first mate was bad enough, and he didn’t want to find out what it would feel like to lose you or put you through losing another mate. 

You took a bite of your burger, looking up at your goofy boy, seeing him deep in thought, “Jake?” you called his name, waving a hand in his face. 

Jake focused his attention back on you, giving you the beautiful smile that you loved so much, “Yes, baby?” 

“You okay?” you asked, giving him a small smile, “You looked lost in thought there for a second.” 

Jake took your free hand in his, “Just thinking about how much I love you, and how lucky I am to have you.” 

You couldn’t help but smile wider at him, rubbing your thumb over the top of his hand. 

Every dead-end street, lead you straight to him. Every moment from the time you met him and the pack, to the moment you finally let yourself have that second chance of having a mate, every wrong turn, and every terrible moment, brought you to him. He’s all you need.

Jake watched as you finished eating, taking you by the hand, leading you back to the car, and helping you inside. 

“Next stop is the grocery store!” 

Jake followed behind you pushing the cart as you placed everything you wanted and needed into the cart. 

Jake couldn’t wrap his head around why you would even think grocery shopping and even cooking for you would be any kind of nuisance. You’re a dhampir, you need both substances of humans and vampires to survive and that’s something Jake understood. He even got lessons from Jay on cooking so he could cook for you so you don’t have to always do it. 

But he also saw your side and why it would bother you, you’re a bit different than normal vampires, and dhampirs are rare. 

Jake started thinking about the percentages of dhampirs, curious what would happen if you and himself…conceived. 

Jake leaned against the cart, mindlessly following behind you as he was stuck in this thought. 

You stopped walking, seeing a bag of chips you’d want for a snack later, feeling the cart run into you, a quick “Oh shit,” slipping from Jake’s mouth. 

You softly glared at your mate, raising a brow, “You’re deep in thought again.” 

Jake nervously smiled, “Yeah, I had a random thought.” 

You grabbed the bag of chips and placed them in the cart, “And what is that?” 

Jake made eye contact with you, tucking his lip between his teeth before releasing it and speaking, “What if we created life?” 

You chuckled, thinking he was joking, before seeing he was being serious, “Like actually?” 

Jake nodded, dropping his head into his hands, “My Luna Nova, think about it. Think of our little moons we get to raise.” 

You had to admit, Jake would be a great parent. 

You smiled at him, “We can talk more about it once we finish grocery shopping.”

Jake and you barely walked into the front door before the groceries were dropped to the floor and his hands were on you, lips to your neck. 

“Jake,” you softly whispered, “We need to put the groceries up.”

“Shhh,” he said between the pecks on your skin, “Let’s create life together, my sweet Luna Nova,” Jake ran his hands under your sweater, squeezing your hips, “Let’s create our own moons.” 

You couldn’t say no to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. Creating your own little family didn’t sound so bad.