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tropes-and-tales-archives · 7 days

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More Precious Than Rubies: Part 4b

This is an alternate timeline story that has a Rafael Barba track and a Sonny Carisi track. The two paths split off in part 3.

WC: 3390

TW: Angst; end of relationship drama.

AN: The prompt was "I miss her so damn much, and it’s killing me that she’s gone!"

Sonny wasn’t sure that there was anything more he could do, but he thought about you all the time. As a public defender, there was always a good chance that you’d drift through the precinct, your heels clicking on the tiled floor and your jaw set and ready to brawl with Barba. When it happened, Sonny could only watch in admiration at how relentless you were.

And if he enjoyed the way your various twill or Italian wool skirts fit you like a glove, no one needed to know about that other than god and the priest who heard his confession.

He didn’t have anyone to talk to, really. Amanda was a lost cause, too wrapped up in her own issues. And Sonny wondered if she’d ever really loved anyone or been in a real relationship. She seemed to go through men – no shame – but there was no common ground between that and a committed relationship.

The best support he had was Bella and, god help him, her fiancée Tommy. Sonny had never been much of a fan of Tommy’s, but the man had gotten his life in order after a stint in jail for drug charges. He worked hard and loved Bella, which was the best Sonny could hope for his sister. And now that she was pregnant, he hoped it would be enough.

Sonny went over to the couple’s place one Saturday night to cook for them. Tommy was a lost cause in the kitchen, and Bella was well into the third trimester – complete with swollen feet and a ravenous appetite for their ma’s chicken marsala recipe. Sonny was only too happy to oblige.

After dinner (said chicken marsala, a mixed green salad, and crusty rolls – all wolfed down by Bella with an appetite that made Sonny smile), the trio sat in the tiny living room and sipped the rest of the red wine that Sonny had brought. Bella helped herself to half a glass; Sonny had objected, but Bella had given him an earful about how her doctor said that half a glass of red had heart benefits that outweighed the negligible potential bad side effects, and furthermore, if he was such a fucking expert on pregnancy, he was more than welcome to carry the future Baby Sullivan for the next month and a half. Sonny had looked to Tommy for support halfway through her tirade, but the man wisely averted his eyes and carefully studied the label of the wine bottle until Bella was spent.

There was a heavy silence for a moment, then Sonny’s younger sister asked, as if she hadn’t just yelled at him, how Sonny was doing. Just like when they were kids: screaming and pinching each other one minute, friends the next.

“I’m fine,” he replied, but Bella saw right through it.

“Liar. You look tired. You sleeping?”

Sonny shrugged. “Usually. Some of the stuff I see at work makes it hard.”

Tommy made a sympathetic noise – he had been assaulted repeatedly by his own parole officer and was in therapy as a result, so he knew at least a taste of what SVU dealt with.

“You need someone to go home to,” Bella declared with authority.

Sonny winced and tried to hide it behind a sip of wine, but his sister caught it.

“You seeing anyone?” she asked. “It’s been a while since you got dumped.”

He ducked his head and considered not telling Bella about your recent reappearance in his life but decided to go ahead and tell her. She’d find out anyway, and maybe she could offer some insight from the female perspective. When you’d broken up with him over a year ago, Sonny had leaned heavily on his younger sister, crying to her about the loss of you.

So he told her all the news: how you marched into the precinct one day as a public defender, how you went to lunch with him and accused him of emotionally cheating with Amanda, how you made polite small talk with him and sometimes looked sad when you saw him. How he didn’t know what to do now.

“She probably still has my number blocked,” he finished. “And I doubt she’ll go to another lunch with me. I see her all the time now but can’t get through to her. I wish…I wish I could just let her know how I really feel.” He sighed and scrubbed his hands down across his face. “I miss her so damn much, and it’s killing me that she’s gone!”

Tommy made that sympathetic clucking again, and Bella looked sad too. You had only met Sonny’s entire family once, but you’d spent time with Bella a handful of times after the two of you clicked instantly. Sonny had pictured a future where the two of you were married, and Bella and Tommy were married, and your respective children could grow up together, cousins as close as siblings.

“Well, if you can’t talk to her or call her, you could always write her a letter,” Tommy offered. He rarely spoke up at Carisi gatherings, and both Sonny and Bella looked at him in surprise. Tommy shrugged. “You know, at least you can get your feelings out on paper. You don’t have to send the letter. But if you do….” He trailed off, uncomfortable.

Bella cocked her head at her fiancée. “That’s actually a good idea,” she said, and Tommy beamed. They both turned and looked at Sonny expectantly.

“Maybe,” he conceded.

“C’mon,” Bella wheedled. She punched him lightly in the arm. “Girls love romantic gestures like that. And who writes love letters anymore?”

“Maybe,” he repeated, but he was already composing the opening lines.

-----

He typed out all of the drafts on his personal laptop, revising and rewriting and sometimes deleting and starting over entirely. It took him a week to get a final version ready.

He thought about Bella’s line about romantic gestures and stopped at a stationary store. He bought some nice, heavy paper edged in a dark blue that reminded him of the sweater you were wearing when he first met you. He bought a nice pen too, and then he got to work.

If you hadn’t gone to that lunch with him and opened up a bit about where you had been when you broke up with him, Sonny would never even consider writing you a letter. But you had, and it had given him a slender bit of hope that you’d be open to hearing more from him.

It took a few tries. His cursive was out of practice, and the first few attempts resulted in misspellings and ink blots. He kept writing it out until it was perfect though, even if his hand was cramped and aching from writing so much. Bella was right – who wrote love letters anymore? If he couldn’t give you anything else, he could at least give you one, perfect love letter. You deserved that much, at least.

*******

You were feeling great – you had spent the morning at a sexual cybercrimes conference. You had seen Barba, implied that his coworker O’Dwyer was smarter than him, and then delighted at how offended he looked. Of all the ADAs you had to deal with on a regular basis, Barba was your favorite to wind up. You practically skipped back to your office, where a mountain of new cases waited for you.

You shut the door to your office and shed your suit jacket in the airless little room. You kicked off your heels and slipped into a pair of sandals and settled into your chair.

You started with the interoffice mail: standard memos and policy changes and an updated public defender contact list. There was a retirement card being passed around for an older paralegal who was ready to hang it all up and move to Boca Raton.

You moved on to your regular mail. There was the usual junk that slipped past your admin. A plea for a donation from Fordham. Some letters from past clients.

At the bottom of the stack was a manila envelope with your name printed carefully across the front. No return address – another client, probably. You opened it and slid out another envelope of heavy, creamy paper. Your name was written across the face in familiar handwriting. Your stomach dipped when you recognized it. Sonny.

You thought about tearing it open then and there, but you got a call to go to the 5th precinct, so you tucked it into your satchel. It was probably safer to read it at home anyway.

-----

The letter sat in your bag like unexploded ordinance, but you got through the day. You rushed home, skipped dinner, and poured yourself a tumbler of wine to the brim. You settled onto your couch, took a deep breath, and opened the letter.

The paper was heavy stock and gorgeous. The handwriting was careful – nicer than Sonny’s usual scrawled signature or block printed notes from college. He’d obviously put time and thought into whatever he wanted to say. So you took another breath, took a few deep swallows of wine, and read it. It said:

You probably think that we first met when we both went bowling with our mutual friends, but that wasn’t the first time I’d ever seen you. The first time I saw you, we were in the same class a semester earlier – Investigative Criminal Procedures. It was a huge lecture hall, and you always sat about five rows ahead of me. Of course I noticed you, because you are beautiful, but it was a fight you had with the professor that made me realize how much of that beauty came from deep within you. Maybe you remember? Professor Graham had some controversial thoughts about search and seizure, and you shot your hand up, didn’t bother to wait for him to call on you, and then you launched into an impassioned tirade that tore every one of his points apart.

My first thought after that class was that if I ever was in trouble with the law, I was going to hire you as my lawyer. My second thought was that I was certain that I loved you.

When I finally met you that night at bowling, you see, I already was in love with you. And you were so friendly and happy, laughing at your own terrible score – I only fell harder. When I went home that night, I made a vow that I’d make you mine, and for a blessed while, I had. But I lost my way, and I lost you in the process.

I don’t want to dwell on what I did wrong because I replay it every day of my life. I just want you to know that I regret, every day, how I neglected you. How I took you for granted. How I assumed that you’d wait around for me to get my act together. How I didn’t put you first or make you feel how special you are to me. I’ll always regret how I failed you.

But I want to say all the things now that I should have told you when we were together.

You are, as I said, beautiful, both inside and out. You always manage to make my heart stop every time I see you, whether you’re in your work suits or in your comfortable pajamas.

You have so many amazing things going for you. You’re easily the smartest person I know, and you have both book smarts and common sense. You’re always able to get to the easiest solution to a problem. You’re abilities in the courtroom as a public defender just proves this.

You have an amazing sense of humor. You always seem to be able to find the humor in the situation, and you always made me laugh. And you manage to tease people in a way that builds them up and doesn’t tear them down. It’s a gift.

You have an amazing heart. You always show care for your clients, and before that, care for your friends, for me, and even for the strangers who cross your path. You never seem to judge – you give the homeless man money with the same love you give to your friends when they need you. I love that about you. You don’t make people work for your love: you just give it freely, even when they don’t deserve it. You certainly gave it to me far longer than I deserved it.

If I had to describe you in a single word, it’d be “rock.” You were always my steady foundation, my touchstone for when things seemed too hard. You supported me when I wanted to give up on law school. You supported me when the NYPD was moving me from precinct to precinct and I wanted to give up on being a detective. You saw me at my worst moments and kept me grounded and gave me hope. Sometimes I felt my faith failing me, but I never stopped believing in you. And no matter what happens, I never will.

More than anything, I want to you know – really know – that I loved you then and I love you still. I know why you probably won’t believe that, but it is true. I know I didn’t give you enough proof of that fact, and I regret it. I know that you think there was another woman with a place in my heart, but that wasn’t the case and still isn’t the case. How could there be room for anyone else there, when you took it so utterly and completely? And when you have it still?

I hope this letter did not upset you. It was not my intention if it did. These are all things I should have said a long time ago, when I still had you, and it’s no one’s fault but my own that I have to write them down and send them to you now.

If nothing else, I want you to know that I loved you completely then, that I love you completely now, and for the rest of my life, I’ll love you just as much. And as such, I want you to be happy, no matter what that looks like.

It was signed, “love always, Sonny.” But you could barely read it through the tears streaming down your face.

You probably read it twelve more times before you went to bed, and since you were unable to sleep, you read it twelve times more.

-----

You saw Sonny across the courtroom a week later, but he just nodded at you and gave you a small smile that didn’t reach his bright blue eyes. You nodded back and smiled.

You were working on your own response, in letter form to keep it true to his own letter. You approached it a lot like your law work – you wrote out an outline and built it from there.

It took you a few weeks to craft the perfect response, and you carried it in your bag for another week. You didn’t want to mail it to him. You figured, after the way you’d dumped him, you owed him a hand-delivered letter. It was the least you could do, especially after he made the ballsy move of even reaching out at all. And you had to admit that there was something romantic about getting a love letter. It was a stark contrast to your last attempt at dating, when a guy you’d gone on a first date with texted you a week later with an unimpressive dick pic.

Then you got a call about a client in the 16th who was arrested and about to face arraignment in a day. You checked your bag and made sure the letter was there. If you saw Sonny, you vowed to hand it to him then and there.

********

Sonny was tortured by that stupid letter. You never responded. He knew deep-down that you might ignore it, but he had some stubborn hope that you’d reach out to him. He had a stupid, recurring fantasy where you rushed over to his apartment in the middle of the night after reading his letter, tearfully admitting that you still loved him too.

He saw you once in court, and you nodded at him in greeting but didn’t say anything. He resigned himself to finally admitting that it was over. But at least you knew how he felt. Maybe it gave you some comfort or closure.

-----

It was another grey day in Manhattan. Well, it was July and sunny, but Sonny didn’t feel particularly up to his nickname. Amanda was just starting to show in her surprise pregnancy, and she was an irritable, nauseous mess. Fin and Liv had collared a potential serial date rapist who was preying on Hudson University students, and he sat in the interrogation room after asking for a lawyer.

The elevator dinged, and Sonny heard the familiar click of heels. He felt his stomach drop while his heart soared, an uncomfortable feeling. The feeling of possibility that would probably just disappoint him.

You breezed past him and Amanda and strode into the interrogation room where Barba was waiting. Sonny heard first some low voices, then louder ones as you and Barba got warmed up and then traded snappy retorts as you tried to find a compromise. Everyone, including Sonny, knew how to read the situation now: if you marched out with your head tilted and Barba strolled out scowling, it was no deal. If you marched out with a smile and Barba strolled out scowling, there was a deal.

Today? You marched out with your head tilted in defiance, and Barba fell in step with you for a few strides, trying to salvage some deal. Sonny smiled to see it. Barba never seemed flustered by anything, but you had a way of making the ADA seem rattled. You just shook your head at him….until your eyes fell on Sonny.

You started to smile, but your eyes slid over to Amanda and Sonny saw it all in slow motion. He saw your smile falter as you took in his partner’s pregnant belly, and he saw you make a giant assumption about who made it that way.

“Shit,” he muttered, and he watched you practically sprint out of the bullpen. Barba, for his part, looked confused and started to follow but stopped. Sonny went after you and nearly caught up thanks to his long legs, and even though you kept jamming the elevator button, he managed to get his hand in and stop the doors.

He called your name, but you shot him an angry look through tears that were welling in your eyes.

“Let go of the door,” you said through gritted teeth. Your voice had a shaky quality as you fought the urge to cry. “Just let me go.”

“No,” he replied. “I know what you’re thinking….”

“You have no idea what I’m thinking,” you retorted. You punched the button on the elevator a few more times for good measure, then you reached into your bag. “I’m thinking that I’m a fucking idiot. That’s what I’m thinking.”

“It’s not like that,” he pleaded, and he felt his own eyes fill with tears. You were so distressed; he just wanted to reach out and hold you, but when he extended a hand, you visibly flinched from it.

“I don’t care what it’s like!” you wailed, and you pulled a folded piece of paper – no, pieces of paper – out of your bag. You tore them in half, and then again and again and again until you couldn’t tear anymore. Then you threw them at him, and Sonny realized that the confetti was your reply to him. Or had been. He knelt to pick up the pieces of torn paper, and the elevator, finally released, closed its doors and carried you out of the building.

He couldn’t chase after you. You were too hurt by what you saw – or thought you’d seen – and he was on such thin ice anyway. All he could do was gather up the tiny pieces of paper from the dirty precinct floor.

And take them back to his desk. And start to put them back together.

#sonny carisi #sonny carisi imagine #sonny carisi x reader #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfiction #tropes and tales

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 2 years

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Uneasy

https://www.patreon.com/empyreaniris?fan_landing=true

https://starr-fall-knight-rise.tumblr.com/post/182501791735/master-post

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1jzEIdDAB4omdO2JcQVMObfrhLJ5kX4ONmSsLypM1ks0/edit?usp=sharing.

Krill didn’t need a lunch hour, but the practice was standard for all employees at his hospital, barring there was some sort of emergency, Many of the people he worked with chose to eat in the cafeteria where they had plenty of options to choose from, weather it be a salad bar or a a number of chain restaurants.

Krill on the other hand preferred the quiet atmosphere of his office, which he could now admit was a shameless museum dedicated to his time and adventures with the humans. pictures lined the walls, all of him in various places meeting various people. The shelves that housed his medical textbooks also sported a myriad of souvenirs, but his favorite collectable pieces were all the different puzzles he had been gifted over the years.

He could put on some sllow, rhythmless music in the background and just relax.

And if he wasn’t busy, Riss would often joint him during thai lunch hour, coming to meet Krill from his office down the hallway, and usually he would bring with him a hypothetical scenario or topic about which they could argue shamelessly. Riss was already waiting for him, primed with a thermos of tea, and an expression krill recognized as someone gearing up for war.

However, he would never find out what Riss’s chosen topic was, as, at that moment, the door to his office burst open.

At this point he wasn’t even surprised to see who it was.

He was even less surprised to find that Adam had gone and disobeyed his direct instructions. The man was panting and leaning against the doorway fit to burst, by all rights he should have still been on bedrest gearing up to physical activity through weeks of gentle PT, but here he was panting and sweating like a man who had just run several miles at a dead sprint, missing his armor, and from what Krill could see, wasn’t even operating the SE exoskeleton.

Adam must have sensed his outrage, but clearly didn’t care in the slightest holding up a hand to stop krill in his tracks.

“Krill, its Sunny…..”

Adam didn’t have to hear the rest of the sentence to understand the loaded meaning behind those words. He stood abruptly, and so did Riss , the latter immediately pressing the call button, “Can I have someone bring a wheelchair to Dr. Krill’s office please.”

Krill made brief eye contact with Riss and thanked him before turning to Adam, “Where is she?”

“She’s almost here, I-”

“Ran ahead.” even as he spoke, krill could hear the sound of a nearby orderly making their way up the hall, as punctual as any one of krill’s employees ever was, and stopped behind Adam with the wheelchair.

Adam turned to look, “I don’t think she needs one, she’ll be-”

The orderly shook his head, “This is for you, sir.”

Adam frowned and turned to look at Krill, “But I.”

“Sit in the damn chair. I will take care of Sunny, so this means I am going to have to leave you for the time being, and judging by the look of you, you’ve already overdone it, so sit down and shut up.”

To his pleasure, Adam didn’t protest, hesitating just for a moment as he took a step back and sat down in the waiting chair. He reached down to the wheels, ready to take over from the orderly, but the man didn’t budge. He knew his boss as well as anyone in the hospital did, and at this moment, Adam was going to have to rest weather he felt like it or not.

Krill on the other hand neatly wrangled his concern and scuttled out of the doorway.

The orderly followed with Adam in tow as they headed down towards the lobby. Krill might have appeared calm on the outside, but at this point everyone should have been aware he was just a functioning ball of anxiety and rage. Were it not for his focus on Sunny, he would have been eager to stand there and throw things at Adam.

They met her halfway down the hall.

Krill was surprised to find that she was on two feet, and looking no worse for ware. She had a few cuts on her exposed skin, but otherwise there was no sign of real trauma, however the look in her eyes was enough to read.

This wasn’t about her.

“Right this way.” He ordered, and she didn’t argue with him as he led her off down the hallway and into an exam room. Adam hesitated at the door, but Sunny, calmly took over from the orderly and pushed him inside.

Krill had already pulled up her medical file before she had time to sit.

It must have been an odd image for someone like Adam, seeing a Drev sitting neatly on an exam table while another alien half the size of the first presided over the room, but f there was any humor or irony in the scene, he did not bother to point it out.

Adam the goofball was gone, and even Adam the concerned husband had now faded.

Adam the Admiral sat straightacked in his chair eyes focused on Krill.

Krill might have said it was almost Creepy how much the man changed from moment to moment. In some ways, he almost seemed to subtly shapeshift. Adam the Amiral was taller, significantly older, with perfect posture, a raised chin,and a face that matched his prematurely white hair.

Cearly a coping mechanism, and something Riss would have been interested to observe were he here.

Krill turned his attention to Sunny, whose agitation was far more subtle, visible only in her mild regression towards more Drevlike behavior. In times of agitation she grew quieter, more calm, much more like the sunny she had been when she first joined the crew.

Riss might have said it was an artifact of trauma. When Sunny didn’t feel safe she had to close herself off, become more quiet, and more stern, which was probably the best way to respond to poor treatment from her mother. In some ways it probably wasn’t healthy, but in other ways it made her an ideal patient.

“Tell me.”

“We went to see Noctis, the visit didn’t go as planned, we were attacked, it was very very hot. There was this, creature, it grabbed me around the middle and squeezed hard, and all of that happened during a fight. I’m not sure if I am just making things up but something feels wrong.”

Nothing about that sentence was good, sure there were times that people overreacted. Expectant mothers could be prone to worrying, but krill never ignored someone who felt that something might be wrong. In fact, and impending sense of doom can be a signal of heart attack, so why couldn’t feelings of concern indicate other health conditions? Hopefully it was nothing, but there was always the chance….

“How hard would you say it squeezed you?’ he asked moving quickly to check her vitals.

“Hard enough I found it difficult to breathe.”

“How much of that was due to the hot air.”

She shrugged, “At least some I suppose. “I can’t be sure,”

“Do you feel any pain, or discomfort?” Sunny paused and shook her head, “I don’t think so…. I just feel…. weird .”

Still that wasn’t encouraging.

He finished taking her vitals, and then had her lay down, Hands back and above her head. Krill turned back to the computer and turned on their imaging equipment, which dropped it’s way down from the ceiling and stopped over where Sunny lay. Krill booted up the machine and walked over, gripping the imager by a handle and pulling it closer examining the nearby imaging screen as he moved.

“The imager was capable of giving a real time representation of what was going on inside someone’s body, without motion blur or artifact to ruin what was being seen. It was a piece of technology he had acquired from his own home planet when the revolution ended the Vrul council.

It was one of his favorite acquisitions.

The scanner was capable of penetration scans that could be calibrated to almost any distance within reason. If you wanted only a single centimeter slice at a specific location, you would get it, and if you wanted a larger picture, you could get that too. Krill went for a side angle at a few inches eager to see any and all damage that might have been done to the womb or fetuses.

The image resolved itself rapidly, the computer applying color to a false image. The interior was bathed in orange light, the color of Drev flesh when filled with blood. Human flesh might have been called pink or even red, but that was only due to the presence of iron in the blood. In this case drev innards tended towards various shades of orange or yellow.

And beyond that there were the the fetuses.

Two of them curled into tight balls, unlike the surrounding walls, they hovered somewhere in the orange pink spectrum, still not fully developed enough to have grown carapace . At least one of them was distinctly more Drev than human, already showing signs of the elongated skull.

Both had heartbeats.

He continued to observe, “The good news is I can see two heartbeats.”’

Adam took a deep breath that was audible around the room.

Sunny did the same.

Krill frowned as he watched the screen, “however, I may be detecting mild signs of fetal distress.”

What relief there was soon vanished.

Sunny shifted, and Adam looked between the two of them, “What does that mean?”

Krill would have answered, but it was Sunny who stepped in to explain, “Fetal distress means a higher likelihood of preterm labor, low birth rate….. Fetal death and…. Spontanious miscarriage.”

Adam went silent, and so did Sunny.

Krill held up a hand.

“Now before anyone here starts to panic, I will inform you that the signs I am seeing are borderline, and I don’t think, life threatening, but, and I say this with all the respect and love I have for the two of you, stop….. Fucking…. getting …. Into…. Trouble. Right now, the both of you absolutely need rest.” he jammed a finger at Sunny, “And you need oxygen. If we move o this now we can treat before thins become dire.”

He jammed a finger at Adam, “And YOU, I told you, your body was not ready for this, and here I learn that ou ended up in a combat scenario. Completely unacceptable. I am admitting you both overnight, and I will not be taking arguments.

***

Adam waited until Krill was out of the picture to make his move.

It was dark, and silent on the ward, a relatively slow week for the hospital. Sunny lay curled on her left side chest rising and falling as oxygen was provided through, a drev made cannula, right to the breathing holes at the base of her neck. Adam waited for krill to step out before throwing his covers off and slipping across to where Sunny lay.

“You shouldn’t be up,”She said

Despite the bed not nearly being big enough for the both of them, he somehow managed to squeeze himself in next to her wrapping one arm around her waist Generally speaking he spent most of his time as the little spoon for logistical purposes, but not tonight

“They’ll be alright.”

He seemed so sure, which was unlike him. With Adam his energy, and anxiety usually went hand in hand. But tonight it was Sunny’s turn. Her family already had a history of difficult pregnancy and viable offspring, so despite his comforting words, she still couldn't shake the uneasy feeling building up deep within her chest.

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kaiyonohime · 1 year

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Didn’t kill my husband.

Very near thing, but I didn’t.

So yesterday I told my husband to watch the baby while I baked the cranberry pie I have been wanting to bake for the last month (and in my exhaustion addled state I put raisins in it too, for some damn reason). This was an easy task. They are in the living room, the living room is next to the kitchen, and the baby is sleeping.

When the baby wakes up they’ll need a bottle. The bottle just needs to be warmed up.

I was wrong.

So the baby started screaming, as baby does when they wake up hungry. 0-world is ending screaming, I swear. Poor thing, they didn’t wake up full because they didn’t eat in their sleep (though they have fallen asleep eating plenty of times). Husband comes into the kitchen to pour the hot water for the bottle... and then stays.

He doesn’t take the bottle into the living room to warm up. He just stays in the kitchen while the baby screams alone in the living room. And then the baby goes silent.

I have to run out of the kitchen while halfway through chopping an apple to rub the baby’s chest because they were screaming so hard they couldn’t breathe in while screaming, and they had screamed themselves into a bloody nose.

All while my husband continues to still be in the kitchen.

The baby’s diaper has also exploded everywhere, meaning that baby had needed it changed at least once while I was in the kitchen.

My husband came into the living room a few minutes later with me rocking the baby and trying to soothe them, and just hands me the bottle and goes back to fucking around on his phone.

I lost it at him, and told him off, and his response? Well he didn’t know any better, and he didn’t notice the diaper being an issue.

So I can’t leave the baby alone with him because the baby won’t really be looked after. Their diaper won’t get changed, and they could die because of a screaming fit.

Fucking hell. I had wanted to start running again in the evenings, but now I can’t trust that I can take half an hour to myself while leaving the baby with him, so I’ll have to check my mother in laws schedule to see if she can watch the baby for half an hour in the evenings. Because clearly her son can’t.

Oh, and on top of everything the air con downstairs doesn’t heat (hasn’t for two years, but me trying to get my husband to have it fixed has gone nowhere), and the kerosene heater is failing and keeps shutting off after ten minutes. So I’ve pretty much abandoned the downstairs of the house because we’re getting snow this week. Thankfully my mother in law stepped in on that and a repair guy is coming tomorrow, and if they can’t fix it (it’s an older air con, it may just be cheaper to replace it to be honest, and more cost effective in the long run), we’ll go and get a new kerosene heater.

Because no heat in main areas of a Japanese house sucks. Japanese houses don’t have insulation and have single pane windows, it double sucks.

I’m so fucking tired. I was busy holding the baby all day (it was bath day, baby is especially needy after a bath), I didn’t get lunch. Or much of breakfast. I ate two pieces of candy and downed a CC Lemon Big. It’s been an entire fucking week and it’s only Monday.

And the hospital decided to schedule mine and the baby’s appointments on two different days rather than the same day, so I get to have that fun headache twice this week.

Things Japanese hospitals do not have: changing tables anywhere (literally, no changing tables, not even in the baby area), no water fountains, and a culture that views breastfeed as sexual and no way to heat up a bottle or a place to breastfeed in private.

It’s going to be the 2020 of weeks by the end this week, and I still have to bake a Christmas cake. Thank fuck it’s tradition to just buy KFC for Christmas dinner.

#I am very tired #and leaking everywhere #I cannot wear my favorite winter fuzzy pjs because they feel uncomfortable when wet and dry slow #baby is also a night owl #which I would not mind if I was not so tired #and it's hard to hold a baby and play Minecraft at the same time #and baby hates their playmat #so I cannot set baby down and just let them play #they want to be held #and not read to #I was reading them Earthsea not fanfiction at least

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howlingday · 2 years

Note

tragic backstory (tm) au) the grimm dragon awakes and atlas lacks the firepower to kill it. the cameras watch as the brave huntsmen under jaune do their best to hold it off till the refugees can make ti to the ship but when they finally ground the damn thing disaster strikes ruby and yang are stuck under the dragon their aura holds but for how long? jaune takes up a lance and charges his mount.

King's Rule

I can only think of me and you.

???: ... .p!

Jaune: (Feels his feet dragging) Mngh...

???: .et .p!

Jaune: Wha...

Yang: Come on, get up, Jaune!

Jaune: Yang?

Yang: Jaune! (Stops dragging him, Holds him up) You okay?

Jaune: (Leans against the wall) What happened?

Yang: Cave-in. You fell and konked your head. You good?

Jaune: Still woozy... How's everyone else?

Yang: Communications are down. I lost contact after I got down here. But it's just us here right now.

Jaune: Wait, the dragon-!

Yang: Is gone. It ran past us, causing the cave-in. We're trapped down here now.

Jaune: Any way out?

Yang: Not without risking another cave in.

Jaune: So we wait.

Yang: Yeah.

Jaune: ...That's not good enough.

Yang: Huh?

Jaune We need to think of a way out of here.

Yang: How?

Jaune: ...I don't know, but there's gotta be a way out.

Yang: Listen, Vomit Boy, the only way in and out was those stairs, and that Grimm tore his way up, closing it behind him because his fat, ugly butt couldn't fit in one go. We're trapped!

Jaune: Wait, it what? Say that again.

Yang: It's fat, ugly butt?

Jaune: Yes! Er, no. Kinda? Just- (Sighs) What do you mean it couldn't fit in one go?

Yang: Well, it got stuck halfway out, so it had to sort of wriggle and slam it's way through, causing the cave-in.

Jaune: ...That's it!

Yang: What is?

Jaune: There's another entrance in here!

Yang: How do you figure?

Jaune: Well, how did it get in here? Grimm aren't living creatures. They don't grow like humans or animals.

Yang: Oh! I get it!

Jaune: Yup!

Yang: So you know where to look?

Jaune: ...Nope.

Yang: (Sighs) I should have known. Well, let's get lookin'. No telling where it could have came in.

---------------------------------------------------

Touché: The end is nigh! The end is nigh! Take cover, for we meet death in the eye!

Cinder: No, we don't! (Huffs) Everyone, just calm down. The students reported the Beowolves outside the village have stopped coming in from the forest.

Baker: And what of the rats?

Cinder: The rats are still in the town square. It's like a black carpet with... Nevermind. The point is, no one is leaving this building until help arrives.

Emerald: Which is coming when exactly?

Cinder: Soon enough, I'm sure. (Looks to Ozpin) Right?

Ozpin: Yes. Beacon Academy is coordinating with Atlas as we speak to resolve the matter as soon as possible. Right now, I imagine Glynda is sending out students to positions in the surrounding area.

Mercury: And what about his royal highness?

Ozpin: I am certain Mr. Arc is already on top of the situation.

Cinder: He better be. He hasn't answered his scroll since this happened, and no one else has heard from him either. For his sake, he better have a plan to fix this!

---------------------------------------------------

Pyrrha: How many Grimm are left?

Ren: (Via comms) About twenty, maybe thirty.

Pyrrha: Keep track. They've stopped coming in from the forest, but the rats are chewing on anything they can around the town square. For now, everyone stay away from the town.

Ren: Understood. Blake and I will remain on the rooftops. Over and out.

Ruby: Weiss, any sign of Yang?

Weiss: (Via comms) Not since she left to find Jaune. Any sign on your end?

Ruby: No. But that dragon is making me super uncomfortable flying around us.

Weiss: Agreed. But the sun should rise soon, right? At least we'll have something brighter than moonlight.

Ruby: Yup. Just a few hours. Um, by the way, is it a dragon or a wyvern?

Weiss: What?

Ruby: Because a dragon has four legs, right? So wouldn't this be a wyvern, since it only has two legs?

Weiss: ...Over and out.

Ruby: Aw...

Pyrrha: I think you're right, Ruby.

Ruby: Thanks, Pyrrha.

---------------------------------------------------

Jaune: Can you see anything?

Yang: Nope. Just cave walls.

Jaune: (Sighs) This is starting to feel hopeless.

Yang: Hey, look on the brightside. We're still alive.

Jaune: For now. Who knows what's in here with us?

Yang: Well, did you see anything Grimm?

Jaune: No.

Yang: Well, neither did I, which means there's no Grimm. Or, at least, not on the walls.

Jaune: (Points his scroll up) Mm, the ceiling is too high up. The light can't reach.

Yang: Well, let's walk back to the entrance. Maybe we missed something.

Jaune: Maybe, but the way I see it, the solution isn't going drop out of the sky- AIIIE!!

Yang: Jaune! You okay?

Jaune: Y-Yeah. I just tripped on a rock, or something.

Yang: (Smiles) Oh, Vomit Boy, it was a rock.

Jaune: Huh? (Looks back) Is that... a chain?

Yang: Pretty big one, too.

Jaune: Shine the light up.

Yang: Okay, and... jackpot.

---------------------------------------------------

Ironwood: Any word from Oz yet?

Goodwitch: We've established contact, but it was difficult to recieve word from them. Messages typed out are sent out by us are recieved by them, but the same cannot said in reverse. Video contact is also difficult to establish. Wherever they are is dark, and the visuals are often frozen, as well as their words.

Ironwood: A jammer?

Goodwitch: I can't rule anything out. However, how a small hamlet like Mallet can have something so technological advanced only raises further questions.

Ironwood: I am sending one of battleships en route. Do you believe the reports? Is it really a dragon?

Goodwitch: I am praying it isn't, but preparing for the opposite.

Ironwood: As we all are, Glynda. As we all are.

---------------------------------------------------

Ren: I can't tell what's worse. The rats, the dragon, or the fact we were outsmarted by the Grimm.

Blake: It's more common than you think. The Grimm are most dangerous when we underestimate them.

Ren: Even the rats?

Blake: Especially the rats.

Ren: (Sighs) The Beowolves stopped coming. Only thing we can do now is destroy what's left. How much ammunition do you have?

Blake: Two clips, plus four dust cases.

Ren: I have three clips.

Blake: Make every shot count.

Ren: Don't I know it?

---------------------------------------------------

Jaune: I don't know about this.

Yang: Only way out other than here is blocked off.

Jaune: We don't even know for sure if it actually leads out. Not to mention who knows if it could hold us climbing up.

Yang: Well, how about this? Whoever is lighter climbs up first. Once they're up high enough, they'll let the other one know whether or not we can get out there.

Jaune: Okay, so who's lighter?

Yang: ...

Jaune: ...

Yang: Don't look at me, Vomit Boy. I'm not that much heavier than you.

Jaune: Well, let's see who can pick who up. The loser has to climb up.

Yang: Fine, but don't cry to me when I lift you over my head.

Jaune: Yeah, right. (Yang hugs him from behind) One, two-

Yang: Three! HNNNNNNGH! (Drops him) Hah! Hah! How was that?

Jaune: Uh, my toes still touched the ground.

Yang: Oh... Well, I bet my heels don't leave the ground!

Jaune: What is- (Sighs) Whatever. (Wraps his arms around Yang, Looks cute anime boyish) Are you ready, hime-sama~?

Yang: (Blushing) W-What?

Jaune: (Normal) I asked if you were ready.

Yang: Oh, uh, y-yeah.

Jaune: One, two, three! Hup!

Yang: Whoa! (Lifted off the ground) Easy, strongman! (Set down) Fine, I guess you are heavier than me... Fatty.

Jaune: Yeah, yeah. We can worry about your pride after you climb up.

Yang: I'm going, I'm going. (Climbs up the chain) Here's hoping I don't get tetanus.

Jaune: Here's hoping.

Yang: (Climbs up) Just about up there. (Stops) Okay, (Turns on her scroll light, Hooks it to her) What am I looking for? (Pats around) Hm? This feels like a lip.

Jaune: (Via scroll) See anything?

Yang: I think I found how it came down, but I can't tell how we can go up.

Jaune: There's a way up?

Yang: Yeah. It looks like a door.

Jaune: Hm... What if I...?

Yang: Whoa! The door just moved!

Jaune: I found another hanging chain. If we pull on it, it could open the door.

Yang: Gotcha, little bro! Hold tight! (Swings upside down, Feet on ceiling) Here we go! (Launches herself while holding the chain, Rocketing with her shotgauntlets)

Jaune: Yang! (Cavern rumbles) Yang, be careful! You don't want cause another cave-in!

Yang: Well, we don't have a lot of options, do we ?

Jaune: No, but... just be careful. I do want to get out of here, but not at the cost of you being buried.

Yang: Oh... Um, right. Sure. So, uh, you've got a plan for this one?

Jaune: Pull it really hard.

Yang: I think I can do that.

Jaune: We'll do it together. (Grabs the chain) One.

Yang: (Grabs the chain) Two!

JY: THREE! (Both tug on the chain as hard as they can, Cavern rumbles more and more)

Yang: Almost! Keep! Going!

Jaune: RRRRGHAAAAAAAA!!! (Chains whips down, Shockwaves rumble throughout the cave)

Yang: (The door above opens) YES! WE DID IT! WE-! (Rats rain down from above)

Jaune: RATS!

#rwby #rwby au #tragic backstory (tm) au #jaune arc #yang xiao long #cinder fall #emerald sustrai #mercury black #ozpin #pyrrha nikos #lie ren #ruby rose #weiss schnee #glynda goodwitch #james ironwood

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countlesscrimes · 8 months

Text

Rabbit Hole

Tick tock goes the clock hanging on the schoolroom wall…I wonder if any other silly sucker has noticed that it’s both sideways & halfway hanging off its hinges completely.

Tick tock, it’s ten past two & if you fall too far behind, we will having nothing else but well wishes when we watch the train go by.

Than it wrecks. The train wrecks & women are throwing their babies into the bog below rather than smell their infant roast it’s little life away.

Adieu to you, farewell my fairest friend…who are you again? How was it that we met? Some summer spent swimming until our skin was made of sheer gold, then the nights turned long & lonely so I had to say goodbye to the best friend I have ever found; sweet slumber.

My mother was the type of woman than nuns would say was a “living saint”(the icing on my mother’s cake is that she remembers the name of all 7 men that she has ever slept with & can genuinely claim she loved each man then & she remains too)…therefore as her failure of a daughter, so often turned into the whore yet never made worthy of the title wife.

I have strategically swayed myself from simultaneously being both overly melodramatic & utterly melancholy….altogether manipulative. My own raw beauty is only on par with the the offensive images that rape your eyes of a train derailed into a shallow, stagnant, swamp. Yet the more you wish to turn away from the obscene, you become increasingly compelled.

It’s become a commitment, sitting safely across a field while simply watching the devastation unfold. To add about the water; not nearly so shallow that once her husband was inevitably killed in the crash, that she could lift her baby & petticoats, wading to firm ground. No, just shallow so that you don’t fully submerge within the initial crash & your head is above water…for now. You were witness to your husband’s passing but you poor baby just vanished as the coach sank deeper into the squalid depths of water not fit enough to put a fire out at a brothel.

Your cursed petticoats & corsets have you entangled to your doom. No one is going to come cut away the cloth that has me tied to some seat feet below, no no- NOT WHEN THAT SAME CLOTH COVERS MY CHASITY. All the good men were gone years ago, not one left alive willing to risk propriety for the prolonging of humanity.

So, tick tock, just wish on a clock

At least you can’t count the numbers on it

Quite unlike the many stars in the sky,

More unnamed than we have identified already.

As I lay me down to sleep, I hope it is only mere moments before my lungs are flooded with this filthy, wretched water. I hope infant baptism was well worth it, so that my baby is free of original sin & hasn’t another moments heartache. I know my husband has hardly been the head of house, good Christian man he should so I damn him to hell with his many whores (the writer of this poetic monstrosity a guaranteed guest.

Tick tick, wish upon a clock but it’s beyond a bit to late to save this wretched woman I am, but MY GOD loves for my wicked ways.

written by, yours truly!

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sirthisisa-wendys · 3 years

Text

One Wall Over: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: you’re new in the neighborhood, but that doesn’t mean you’ll get a warm welcome from your duplex buddy.

wc: 3k

tw: nsfw, smut, annoying noises at five am, the works

a/n: ahhhhhhhhh! I am so excited to be taking part in this collab with @suna-reversed reversed for a super sexy jjk collab! Please check out the masterlist for the collab here and the other authors! SO EXCITED TO READ THE OTHERS! (The other title I had for this work is “First of All, How Dare You” because that’s literally me every time I see my hubby Suguru, but anywho!).

Moving in was a bitch.

For the first time ever, you have no roommates, no parents, and no pets - just you and your meager belongings moving into the little, two-story duplex a friend allowed you to sublet. As you stare out of the window facing the sparse front lawn, you wonder what your neighbor is like. They hadn’t come to welcome you to the home, but you knew they existed by the sound of the bass through your shared wall at five am every morning.

You assume they’re male or a couple, but you’ve never gotten a chance to see them with your own two eyes. So you kept a lookout day after day. At exactly four p.m., you would sit across from the window with a book and keep watch, the sun streaming in and illuminating your figure and crossed legs anchored on the window sill. But day after day, you wouldn’t see anything. The neighbor’s car wouldn’t even move an inch from the previous day. Everything would remain the same until the next day when you took your perch by the window.

It isn’t until you’re out on your front lawn, slaving over the flowers you maintained for a whole month - a new record - that the sleek Range Rover drives up to the garage on your neighbor’s side of the house. At first, you don’t notice it, your eyes firmly planted on the soil at the root of your orchid tree. But then you hear a car door slam, and you look up, watching for the person who would be exiting the vehicle.

A tall, black haired man slides out of the truck and slams the door shut, his locks tucked into a half bun and a white towel resting around his rippling shoulders. He slides his keys into his gym shorts and turns to walk into the house, barely noticing you on the front lawn in an ill-fitting t-shirt and dirty yoga pants.

He’s halfway to his front door when you find your voice and yell out, “Hey, neighbor!” You wave your hand at him in hopes that he would return the gesture, but you’re sorely disappointed when he only looks your way with disinterest and walks into the house without speaking. You frown at the encounter, hoping that he would return a little while later and explain his lack of manners, but he doesn’t, and you retreat into the house once more.

______________________________________________________________________

“Unzzz, unzz, unzzzz…” Both eyes fly open at the sound of the bass on the other side of your bedroom wall, the sudden noise jarring you from your sleep.

“Ugh…” Your eyes slide to the white numbers on the clock face, which politely remind you that it’s five-fifteen AM. Don’t confront him, don’t confront him. You wrap the pillow around your ears, hoping the gentle cushion would block out the sound. But for some reason, it gets even louder, and a groan escapes your lips. There were only two more hours for you to rest, but at this rate, you’d be up until it was time for you to wake and get ready for work. That just wouldn’t do.

The grey sweatpants deposited on the floor the night before are quickly jerked on, and you pad to the front door, not caring about your appearance as you walk the length of the porch over to his front door. Inhaling, you find the will to bring your fist up and pound on the door, hoping the sound would be angrier than you actually felt. Fear ate at your nerves while you waited. A few agonizing moments later, the door is yanked open, music floods outside, and your neighbor stands before you in just a pair of black sweatpants. Nothing else.

“What?” he gripes, sweat rolling down his forehead. As your eyes take in the full sight of him, you wonder what kind of sculpted god you had for a neighbor. You could even faintly see the v that would culminate in the bulge near the crotch area of the pants, which apparently is quite--

“Uh…” You had entirely forgotten what you had come over to his side of the house for, but as he leans on the doorframe and gives you a withering stare, you suddenly remember your complaint. “Your wall is next to my bedroom. Can you turn your music down?” You place a hand on your hip, trying to seem more inconvenienced than you actually were in that moment.

“Yeah, sure.” He shuts the door in your face, and you trudge back over to your side of the house, hoping the music would soften.

But for some reason, you swear he turns it up even louder.

_______________________________________________________________________

“Why don’t you just call the landlord and make a noise complaint?” your friend wonders over the phone, the sound of a frying pan in the background slightly overshadowing her voice.

“But you said you didn’t have any problems with him, Mariela.”

“Yeah, Geto was nice enough and didn’t bother me much. Not sure why he’s being such an ass now.” You hear an oh, shit on the other end, and Mariela hisses into the receiver, “Hey, y/n, I have to go; the risotto is burning. Call me back if you have any other issues, okay?”

“Okay.” You hang up and toss your phone on your desk, trying to focus on the words in front of you but failing as the sound of the bass filters through the other side of the wall again. For the fourth day in a row, you’ve been subjected to the sound of pure noise coming through the other side. Tonight was absolutely not the night, mostly because you had a presentation that took you all night to finish, and the clamor was interrupting your prep work for the bright and early eight o’clock meeting. You feel like Squidward, subjecting yourself to the endless noises from the grunting to the bass to the sound of weights clanking back into place.

It’s the sound of Geto’s groaning that sets you on edge the most. If it weren’t for the added noise of weights, you’d be convinced he was fucking someone. There was no way he could make so much noise and not know that he was disturbing your peace. Hadn’t he ever heard of headphones?

You snatch up your set of earbuds on your desk, place them in your ears, and try to turn up lofi music as loud as it will go. But that doesn’t work. Even relocating to the living room didn’t seem to fare you well, and you wonder if he truly had cranked up the music higher than before just to annoy the hell out of you. Finally, you toss your earbuds down and slam your computer on your coffee table.

You’d had enough.

Stomping over to the front door, you fling it open and bang on Geto’s door, hoping he would answer it in a rage so you could let out your frustrations. But when the door flies open, he’s dressed in only a pair of gym shorts, this time the outline of his dick even more apparent. But you’re not focused on that. You point a finger at him and inhale to begin your tirade; sick and utterly over his shit.

“Hey! Can you fucking turn it down?” Geto stretches out a hand, and for a minute you think he’s going to grab you by the shirt, but he pulls you inside by the wrist, crushing you against his chest. “What the hell?” You push away from his sweaty chest, backing into the closed door harshly.

“Lower your damn voice; the neighbors will hear,” he chastises, and turns away from you to grab the water bottle on the counter. The muscled man takes a long swig, then wipes his face with the towel right next to it.

“I don’t know what the fuck your problem is, but I’ve never been so disrespected in my li--” As you talk, he’s advancing on you, pushing back his long black hair back behind his ears and getting too close for comfort. Once he’s right up on you, you gulp hard, fully intimidated by his size and stature. The music suddenly stops, and you’re left in silence.

“I’m listening,” he mutters, staring down at you. “Please, continue.”

“I was saying…” your throat dries up. “What I meant was…” Your eyes travel from his chest to his navel, and then to the hand pressed against the doorframe.

“Uh huh…” He nods, squinting his black eyes at you. “You said you’ve ‘never been more disrespected in your’… life, right?” You don’t reply. Rather, you can’t reply. All of the words you could have ever said are now gone from your skull. “I highly doubt that, y/n.”

“H-how…”

“You’re Mariela’s friend. I’ve seen you quite a few times before you moved in here. Never thought I’d be living so close to you, though. Mariela’s subletting, isn’t she?”

All of these questions. And you can’t reply to a single one because he’s practically squeezing you between the door and his rock-hard abs. Or are you pressing yourself against the door to get away from the heat emitting from his body - oh, fuck; you don’t know.

“But I had to get your attention somehow.” The admission startles you so bad that you accidentally knock the back of your head against the door, touching the point of contact in pain and hissing slightly. Geto hums at your blunder, then pushes off of the wall to turn away from you. As he rotates, you catch a glimpse of his erection, now fully apparent in the atrocity that is his shorts. “The yard work wasn’t effective, the trips to the gym and back barely worked; shit, by now I would’ve thought you would throw yourself at me the first chance you got. I guess I had to make you mad enough to confront me.”

“You literally looked at me and said nothing the first time I saw you!” you retort, throwing your hands up in the air. “Then you almost bit my head off the first time I came over to tell you the music was too loud.”

“I didn’t expect you to come over the first time. Besides, I couldn’t figure out anything smooth enough in that short amount of time.” Geto shrugs, his shoulder muscles moving like water in the dim lighting of the living room. You look around at the furnishings, noting his impeccable taste in wood and red suede in conjunction with his minimal exercise equipment. “Coffee? You look like you’ve been up for a while.” He leans over a coffee-maker - one of those fancy ones that you’ve seen on TV - and slides a plain coffee cup into the holder.

“Uh, no thanks.” You turn to the door and begin to open it, but Geto clicks his tongue thrice.

“You’re just going to leave without getting what you came for?”

You pause for a moment, then turn back to look him over once. “Don’t you mean what you brought me over here for?” A lazy smile spreads across his face, and that’s when you realize that he’s charming, but not necessarily as suave as you first imagined. You shut the door and walk over to him, examining his physique as if you hadn’t just helped yourself to his tall, statuesque figure already. He allows you to look him over, eyes dedicatedly following you.

“Like what you see, doll?” You don’t get a chance to answer as he pulls you into his chest with a smooth movement, then presses his lips against yours. You instantly open your mouth so he can slide his tongue inside, and he does so without hesitation. Hands grasp at your flimsy night shirt, pulling it over your shoulders as he backs you up against the wall, hiking one leg up and wrapping the other around his waist.

As both of your hands tangle in hair, fabric, sweat, you wonder how long - just how long - he’s wanted to do this. But your train of thought is rudely interrupted by his lips trailing kiss down your neck and to your collarbone, where he pauses for a second, catching his breath. Fingers dance through his locks and he peers up at you for a second, drinking in your flushed expression and breathy exhales.

“Geto, please, I--” You’re silenced again by his lips, his thick fingers rolling past the waistband of your night shorts and right to your core, where he nestles them into your heat with ease.

“Goddamn…” The rumbling of his voice vibrates against your chest, and you gasp, feeling every stroke of his fingers inside of you. “So fucking wet… just for me.” Your vision narrows in on the black eyes watching your every move, the angle of your face, the way you tilt your chin to the side and shakily exhale. Everything is perfect. Maybe even better than he imagined at first. But you don’t know that, and you really don’t care to know. All you want is release and for that release to be at Geto’s hands. When he removes his fingers and hoists you onto the suede couch, your first reaction is to cry out in shock.

His hands roll your shorts down to your knees and then press your legs open, spreading you for him to examine.

“You’re a mess down there… perhaps I should help you clean up.”

“Huh?” The double entendre is completely lost on you in the heat of the moment. You watch as he leans down, then moves to lick your core with a flat tongue, stroking up before he goes down again and repeats his action twice. Your head finds the soft cushion of the pillow in ecstasy, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding.

Geto hums down below, fully appreciating your taste before sucking on your clit, hard. You yelp, shooting up, but his hand presses you back down, eyes still closed. Fingers make their way up to your breasts, tugging at your nipples leisurely before tightening and pulling with more tension. “Oh, god, please…” Your hands find his head, and at the sudden application of pressure, he grunts again. And you’re left there in agonizing pleasure, dangling between an orgasm and a build-up of pressure, one stroke away from tumbling into the cavern of blissful unawareness.

Geto stops without warning, pulling back to watch you as he still tweaks your nipples with varying degrees of firmness. You tug at his shorts in a silent plea for him to discard them, and he waits a minute before sliding them off wordlessly. His length is impressive, you note, his cock springing free from his shorts and angled upwards a little. A condom is produced just as quickly, and he rolls it over himself before spreading you a little wider to accommodate his length. When he nudges his cock at your slit, you realise he’s a little breathless and shaking, but that all goes to the back of your mind when he slides inside of you with little resistance.

“Fuck, doll, that’s--” He groans just as you moan, both of you relishing the expanding feeling. “God, that’s perfect.” You whimper at his praise and bring your hands to his shoulders, holding on for dear life as he begins to pump into you. Geto’s lips find your neck and he sucks a hickey on your left side, placing another one neatly below it while his hands cup your ass.

“Does that feel good?” He whispers and you nod, completely at a loss for words. But soon, it’s not enough, and your fingers dig into his back. He’s fucking you slowly… too slowly.

“M-more,” you whine, and he delivers his thrusts faster, pumping into you and moaning loudly. Your fingers find his face and angles it towards your raised head so you can kiss him on the lips. He offers you that mercy - a deep, languid kiss - while he plows into you with abandon. Pleasure is the only thing on your minds - you just so happen to have found it in each other’s arms - and your orgasm is just within reach.

“Geto, I’m close…” His response to your words is to lift your left leg a little higher so it practically hung off the couch and in the air, deeping his strokes until they settled against your cervix, like someone tapping a soft rhythm into your stomach. “Shit, like that.”

“Yeah?” he exhales, looking at your face with a blissed-out expression, his cheeks reddening. You raise your hips to meet his with each thrust, hoping your orgasm would arrive before Geto came. There isn’t much you can do though, besides writhe beneath him and pull him closer to you, thereby making you and him almost inseparable. He’s merely rocking into your hips now, cock barely rolling out of you as before. And you can’t deny that it feels like heaven, not when you’ve been so frustrated for so long.

“I’m gonna cum,” Geto hisses into your mouth, and you nod, constricting a little to urge him on. What you fail to realize is that the constriction was just what you need to tumble over into the abyss of thoughtlessness, and your mouth opens to let loose a guttural moan as Geto fucks you faster and faster, chasing his own orgasm on the heels of yours. “Oh, shit,” Your neighbor sinks into you one final time, shooting his cum into the condom, but pumping in stuttered strokes as if he were really letting loose inside of you.

When you both fall from the heights of your sex-induced high, shoulders and heads are draped where there is comfort and space, little exhales from his mouth fanning across your breasts. Geto lifts off of your sweaty chest and looks you in the eyes before breathing:

“Maybe I should start my days with this instead of a workout.”

#geto x reader #jjk geto #geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen getou #getou x reader #jujutsu kaisen geto #getou suguru #geto smut #getou smut #jjk smut #jujutsuhub collab

2K notes · View notes

kingdaddydaichi · 3 years

Note

can i request consensual hate sex between bakugou and f!reader

Oooooh yassssss! This idea got better and better the more I thought about it, Nonny. Love it! I hope you enjoy this naughty little slice of grudge fuck pie. 💖

Riding The Fine Line 💥 Katsuki Bakugou x f!reader 💥 NSFW

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT or I'll have my Big Scary BoomBoom Man blow your little ass up!

Word Count: 2k

"Oi! Who picked this shitty restaurant anyway?", Bakugou sneered as he walked towards the table.

You rolled your eyes and mumbled, "Oh look, Gorilla Man is here".

"Watch it, shitty girl. M'not in the mood for your shit tonight".

You'd made plans earlier in the week to meet Kiri and Mina for dinner. You knew Bakugou had been invited too, but after having suffered through it so many times over the past year or so of having some friends in common, you somehow managed to tolerate his presence. It helped that the drink you'd been sipping on made him somewhat less intolerable than usual.

It was like nails down a chalkboard every time Bakugou reared his big dumb head. His only redeeming quality was that he was quite easy on the eyes. Shame that such a hot guy is also such a huge asshole.

He's always given everyone a hard time, but unlike most people, you just wave a dismissive hand at him. And it makes him crazy. He doesn’t understand why he doesn’t get under your skin like he so easily does others. Oh, he annoys the piss out of you to be sure, but he doesn't hurt your feelings per se.

"Y'know, for such a massive ego yours sure is delicate, you meat head".

"Oh yeah? Well, for such a massive ass yours s-"

"God, Bakugou, do you ever just shut up?", you snipped.

Kiri and Mina both jumped in, laughing nervously and smoothing things over to lower the tension. He growled at you. You flipped him a subtle bird before looking away and trying to ignore him.

💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥

Kiri's birthday was approaching and several of his friends decided to throw him a surprise birthday party. You, Denki, Mina, and ugh, as luck would have it, Bakugou, were are all put in charge of decorating his house while some other friends took him out for dinner. Midway through, Mina whined while sorting through various sacks, "Oh no! We forgot the disposable rainbow shot glasses!" Mina had a way of putting a cute touch on everything she had her hands in. Denki offered to go with Mina to procure the missing miniature party cups, leaving you and Bakugou alone to hang streamers in Kiri's living room. Probably not the wisest of decisions, but consider the source. 👀

It didn't take long after they were gone for Bakugou to start in on you with his bullshit. Only this time no one was around to referee. You groaned. This was going to be a free for all. You'd already both cut eyes at each other a couple of times.

"You're not doing it right, dumbass!"

"That's a matter of opinion and you can shove yours up your ass, dumbass".

He flipped you off saying, "You can shove this up your ass!", then turned back to his task.

You were so done. Without thinking, you reared back and hurled the roll of streamers as hard as you could, nailing him right in the back of the head. Damn, it felt good.

He whipped around, a vein popping out of his forehead, clenching his teeth. You were quite proud of your aim until he made little explosions in his free hand and said, "You're really pushing your luck with me, woman! If we weren't in Kiri's house right now I'd blast you right through that fucking wall!"

"Pfft, whatever! You wouldn't do shit. You're all bark and no bite, you fucking douche canoe!"

"You ever stop to think that maybe if you weren't such a bitch guys might actually want to talk to you?"

That did it. He'd finally found one of your hot buttons and you couldn't take his shit anymore. You marched right up to him and got right up in his face, height difference be damned.

"You know what, fuck you, Bakugou! I'm not normally like this! You're the only person who…drives me to this madness!", you spat with tears in your eyes.

A second later, his hands were on either side of your face, crashing his lips down onto yours. You were so shocked you froze before pulling away from him, staring at him in astonishment. He just stood there, huffing, glaring back at you, waiting.

You stepped forward and pushed him, his back hitting the wall, hard. But before he could protest, your lips were on his again. He grabbed you by your arms and spun you around, pinning you against the wall. You slipped your tongue past your open mouth, his meeting yours halfway as he pushed his knee between your legs. He pressed his thigh against your sex, shoving his growing cock against your thigh in the process.

Taking the bottom of his shirt into two fistfuls, you eagerly pushed it up to his chest, exposing his washboard abs and god-like pecs. He quickly pulled it over his head and threw it to the floor while your shaky hands got busy with his belt and zipper, urgently, like you couldn't get to him soon enough. But his will took over when he grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head so he could peel your shirt off. He dipped down to take a mouthful of your tit, cupping what he couldn't fit in his rough hand, swirling his tongue around your nipple, sucking, then releasing you from the inside of his mouth to flick the tip of his tongue over your pink nub. You grabbed two handfuls of his ash blond locks and arched your back off the wall as he gave your other breast the same treatment.

You impatiently tugged on his hair, hungry for the taste of his sweet lips again. Your tongues once again fought for dominance and you gasped when he picked you up in one swift movement. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you to Kiri's bedroom, swinging the door shut behind him before slamming your back against it.

"Put me down", you said forcefully.

He stopped sucking on your neck long enough to rasp, "And why the fuck should I?"

"Because I want to get into your fucking pants, asshole".

For once you two agreed on something and with your feet back on the floor, you got back to work on his pants before reaching in and wrapping your hand around his hot dick. Shit, you could barely get your fingers all the way around it, it was so thick. You stroked him a couple of times before pulling him out, exposing his manhood in all of its mouth-watering glory.

He ran his hand down his sculpted stomach, spreading his fingers to either side of his girth. "Like what you see?" You realized you were staring at his dick and the pre that dripped from it.

"Wouldn't you like to know?", you sassed.

He growled and spun you around, pushing your front against the wall and swiftly closing in behind you. Wisps of your (color) hair fluttered around his hot breath as he breathed down your neck. "You keep on tryin' to hide it, but you want me just as much as I want you, princess, and I'm gonna make an honest girl outta ya".

His battle-hardened hands found their way down your back, around your waist and all the way to your belly before he slid them down, his fingers reaching below your waistband. You willed him to push his hands further down, pressing your backside against his erection. He used one deft hand to unbutton your pants and work your zipper down, granting himself better access. When he mercifully slipped his middle finger between your folds, you couldn't choke back the moan that emerged from the back of your throat.

"Damn", he growled behind your ear, "for someone who can't stand me, your pussy sure is wet for me".

"Shut up", you gritted through your teeth.

The feeling of the rough pad of his finger teasing your swollen clit nearly sent you over the edge. But it was short-lived and you whined when he pulled his hand away to shove your pants down around your ankles, accompanied by your damp panties. Your hands slid down the wall as he yanked your ass back towards him. You hung your head and watched the head of his cock as Bakugou fucked your thighs, back and forth over your slit, coating his fat cock with your slick, readying himself.

When he began pushing into you, your legs shook from the sheer pressure as he slowly filled you up. When he bottomed out, he held himself still, at least considerate enough to give you time to adjust to his size. He waited until you started grinding against him before grabbing your hips, and slowly withdrawing.

"Now let's see if I can fuck all that hate for me out of you". Before you could retort, he slammed his cock back into you, your pitiful cry mixed with his loud groan echoing off the walls of Kiri's bedroom. He set his pace, steady and hard, the cold buckle of his open belt pressing into your skin with every crash of his hips.

"Yeah, who knows? Maybe if you'd get your dick wet every once in a while you wouldn't act like one", you quipped, voice faltering as he pounded into you.

He slowed his pace to bend over you, pushing your hair out of the way before biting down on the nape of your neck.

"Oww!! What the fuck?!"

He stood up straight again, laughing and said, "All bark and no bite, hah? You just hadn't pushed me far enough yet!" The sweet and salty mixture of his sweat and your need could be heard with every loud slap of his skin against yours.

"Fuck! Bakugou-", you whined in spite of yourself.

He grabbed a fistful of your hair and gave it a firm tug. "When're ya gonna stop callin' me by m'last name and call me Katsuki instead?"

"When you stop acting like a raging asshole towards me", you managed as he fucked the breath out of you.

"Brave words for someone in such a compromising position. Now - say - my - fucking - name!". Each word came with its very own plunge of his cock into your mess of a cunt.

Your legs started to give out. "Katsuki!" You hadn't meant to obey him, but he'd kept his word and made you honest.

"That's better". You could hear the smirk in his voice after hearing his first name fall from your quivering lips.

You turned to face him when he pulled out, kissing him hard, his fingers going into your hair. You inched backwards onto the bed, Katsuki crawling in towards you with a primal look in his crimson eyes before nestling his thighs between yours and sheathing himself deep inside you again. Your head rolled back as you arched your back off the bed. Gods, the feeling of him filling you up was quickly becoming your new favorite sensation.

He nuzzled his face against your neck as he rutted into you, pulling your thigh up to his hip bone, raking his teeth against your skin. His breathing had become more labored and he started thrusting faster, your pleasure mounting with the increased friction of his pubic bone against your clit until rays of bliss shot out from every pore of your skin at the speed of light.

"K-ka-tsuki, I'm c-cumming hahh oh goddd!" The pulsating grip that you had on him finally sent him to his end as well, growling your name and cursing between clenched teeth, burying himself deep inside you as he unloaded rope after thick rope of his white hot cum into your snug, soft warmth.

"Seems Shitty Hair’s gonna get more than one surprise tonight", Katsuki said, catching his breath.

You laughed so hard that Katsuki hissed at the feeling of your walls squeezing his sensitive cock so soon after his orgasm.

"You still hate me?", he asked, brushing his lips against yours, supporting his weight with his elbows.

"Hmm...that depends", you said thoughtfully, tracing the cut of his back muscles with your fingertips.

"On what?"

"On whether or not you'd still fuck me if I don't hate you".

He smirked. "I'd still hit it even if you love me", he whispered, showing his softer side as he kissed you, smiling.

#grudge f*ck #katsuki bakugou #i want him to hate me this much #ugh #that man #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo #katsuki #bakugou #bakugo #katsuki smut #katsuki bakugo headcanons #katsuki bakugo imagine #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki x y/n #king explosion murder #lord explosion murder #dynamight

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criminalmindzjunkie · 3 years

Text

Love Sick

Masterlist

Summary: A story about how Spencer’s worst decision ever somehow ends up being his best.

A/N: Happy Valentine’s Day, my loves! This fic is loosely based on a request I got about Spencer faking an illness to keep the reader from going on a date.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content Warning: swearing

Word Count: 4k

Spencer has done a terrible, awful thing.

He wants to argue that he doesn’t know what came over him, but that would be untrue and he’s already met today’s quota on little white lies. Spencer knows exactly what possessed him to call you up at seven thirty on a Saturday night, and it wasn’t so that the two of you could discuss the weather or the recent upward trend in the stock market. Spencer’s spontaneous (panicked) phone call to you was a brazen attempt to abate the green-eyed monster that had been whispering dreadful things in his ear for the better part of a week.

To put it simply; Spencer is jealous, and he’s dealing with it rather poorly.

So poorly that he’s resorted to sabotage.

As he sits on his couch and worries at a hole in the bottom of his designated lounging sweatshirt, Spencer attempts to justify his actions. His tiny fib won’t hurt anyone . . . except, perhaps, one annoyingly perfect and stupidly handsome veterinarian. But Spencer can live with that. Potentially scorning an animal care specialist isn’t the thing that has his stomach in knots. That, he can live with. Spencer doesn’t even have pets, so there’s no longterm consequences as far as the vet is concerned. The notion of lying to you, on the other hand?

Spencer is positively sick with nerves.

He’s not sure why. Spencer’s gotten rather good at lying to you. Several months of pining for you from across the hallway of your shared apartment complex has turned him into quite the master of deceit, after all. He was a sucker from the moment he opened his door and lay his eyes on you, arms outstretched and wielding a plate of homemade sweets. The cookies were lovely, but the breathtaking smile on your face is what really did him in.

Since that first day, Spencer’s gone out of his way to ensure that he’s on the receiving end of that smile as often as possible. His efforts are never in vain; for reasons unbeknownst to him, you seem to enjoy spending time with him just as much as he did you. This mutual fondness results in most of Spencer’s off days being spent in your company. Spencer was certain that, with time, he would work up the nerve to ask you out on a date. He’s halfway to convincing himself that you might even say yes when your cat makes the unfortunate decision to steal a brownie from your plate and gulp the whole thing down.

Enter, aforementioned veterinarian.

The sound of your door opening from across the hall has Spencer breaking out into a cold sweat. His hand is halfway to his forehead, ready to wipe away the perspiration when he pauses. His body’s anxious reaction might just help him sell his story. Yes, Spencer thinks, this is a good thing. Authenticity, and all that.

Several soft footsteps are muffled by the door that separates him from you, and then his doorknob jiggles as you struggle to fit your key into the lock. A jolt of adrenaline surges through Spencer and in the blink of an eye he’s on his feet and sprinting to his bathroom in the name of authenticity. If he wants to keep up this ridiculous façade, and he really, really does, Spencer is prepared to fake it until he makes it. The alternative is far too mortifying. Failure is not an option.

Spencer cringes when he lifts his eyes to meet his reflection. He’s been told more than once that he’s an absolutely terrible liar, and the wide, guilty eyes that stare back at him confirm this. All it will take is one look at him and you’ll know something’s amiss. Perhaps it isn’t too late for Spencer to come clean. It would be embarrassing, yeah, but no less embarrassing than it would be an hour from now when you call him on his shit. But then again, there is always the possibility that you will get angry with him and leave, and Spencer isn’t willing to risk you walking away from him. Not tonight.

Spencer barely has the time to splash some cold water on his face and dive to the bathroom floor before you’re pushing open the door to his apartment and calling out his name. His brain, the part that isn’t rendered useless in his panicked state, reminds him of just how many germs can be found on the average bathroom floor. It’s enough to make him pause, but only for a moment. He takes a deep breath before slumping over against the toilet.

Showtime.

“M’ in here,” Spencer calls out in his croakiest voice. It comes out exactly as he intended, all rough and pitiful. Maybe he can pull this off, after all.

The soft pitter patter of your bare feet makes his heart rate increase exponentially. Spencer steels himself, recites a reassuring mantra in his head. I can do this; I can do this.

Spencer’s poor, overworked heart gets a much-needed rest when you step into the doorway. In fact, he’s almost certain it stops completely at the sight of you in a tiny red dress. A tiny red dress that leaves very little to the imagination. Spencer can’t even see past his mounting panic to enjoy the way you look. That damn red dress serves as a brutal reminder of why he’s sitting in his bathroom floor, clutching his toilet bowl and damn near drowning in a nervous sweat.

The thing is, Spencer hadn’t intended on sabotaging your date with the vet. He had every intention of staying in, wallowing in his sorrows and waiting up for you. Spencer even said this to Derek, who was kind enough to call him and remind him of how big of a jackass he was. Spencer didn’t need the reminder. He was well aware.

But then Derek said something that made Spencer’s blood run cold.

“And what exactly do you plan to do if she doesn’t come home?”

So, really, it’s Derek’s fault that Spencer promptly ended the call and dialed your number. It’s also Derek’s fault that Spencer is about to give the most convincing performance of his entire fucking life.

“I’m sorry I called you, but I didn’t know what else to do. I just feel so awful.” And he does feel awful, just not in the way you think.

You’re quick to close the distance between the two of you, dropping to your knees and brushing stray pieces of hair away from Spencer’s clammy forehead. His skin sings where your hand grazes it. If he didn’t have a fever before, he will if you don’t stop touching him.

“Don’t ever apologize, Spence. I wish you’d have called me sooner,” you murmur. Warm, concerned eyes drag across Spencer’s bedraggled appearance. “How long have you been feeling sick?”

Spencer gulps. “A few hours, I guess. I ate my leftovers from last night for lunch. Maybe that’s what’s wrong.”Lies, lies, lies!

Your brow furrows. “That’s strange. I ate mine, too, and I feel fine.”

Spencer doesn’t really have an argument for that, so he fakes a pained groan and rests his head against his arm. He closes his eyes and prays the intro to theater class he took in high school will pay off.

You must deem his act convincing enough because you press a soft kiss to the top of his hair and stand. Spencer hears the sound of a cabinet opening, followed by the sound of running water.

The tender touch of your hand on his shoulder has him raising his head and looking up at you, inquisitive. You place a cold washrag to his forehead, and Spencer melts into the touch. It feels heavenly against his hot skin.

“Do you think you could manage to take a shower?” you prompt, earning a feeble nod from Spencer. He doesn’t even have to fake the way he trembles as you run the damp cloth down his neck. “I think I have some broccoli and cheddar soup at my apartment. I’ll go change and grab it while you shower.”

Elation spreads through Spencer, pouring from his heart until it reaches the very tips of his extremities. He can’t believe his scheme hasn’t blown up in his face already.

With the help of your outstretched hand, Spencer rises to his feet and braces himself against the shower door. You make no move to remove your hand from his, and that gives him the courage to ask his next question.

“What about your date?”

You shrug and an easy smile spreads across your face. Spencer feels faint. He blames it on his imaginary illness.

“Don’t worry about that. The only thing I’m concerned with right now is taking care of you.”

Spencer bites down hard on the flesh of his cheek to keep a smug grin at bay. This is a victory he’ll have to celebrate at a later date.

Spencer enters his living room, freshly showered and donned in clean pajamas, to the sound of your voice speaking quietly into your cellphone. He halts just before he enters his kitchen, straining to catch a snippet of your conversation. As he leans closer to the sound of your voice, Spencer halfheartedly chastises himself. First, he deceives you, now he’s resorting to eavesdropping. Rock, meet bottom.

He’s just about to wrench himself away and retreat to the couch, when:

“I really am sorry about cancelling, especially on such short notice.” A short stretch of silence follows. “Next Saturday? Oh. Um, yeah, I’ll let you know, okay?”

Spencer is very much like a popped balloon; the earlier feelings of elation leave him in a harsh gust. Next Saturday? He barely managed to derail this Saturday’s date! No way he could get away with it a second time.

In the midst of his inner turmoil, Spencer misses you exchanging goodbyes with the vet before collecting Spencer’s bowl of soup. He’s still standing there, absolutely crestfallen, when you round the corner. You nearly collide with his chest, narrowly avoiding it by skidding to a halt in front of him. Your eyes run up his frame, assessing him, until they rest on his face.

“You scared me, Spence,” you chuckle. You cock your head to the side. Spencer imagines his expression is none dissimilar to that of a disgruntled frog. “You feeling okay? You’re not going to puke again, are you?”

Honestly, he might. The idea of you rescheduling your date with the vet is about as vomit inducing as it gets.

“I’m fine,” Spencer says on an exhale. Funnily, it’s probably the biggest lie he’s told all day. “The shower helped.”

His delivery is flat, but you don’t seem to mind. You smile up at him, relieved, and Spencer’s chest aches.

“I was thinking you and I could watch a movie?” you offer, and Spencer nods his assent. He can’t fathom turning you down. Not when you’re wearing an old sweatshirt you stole from his closet and a pair of fuzzy socks with little hearts on them. The ache intensifies.

“What are we watching?”

You plop down on the couch and look at him expectantly. He follows in suit, settling in beside you.

“I was thinking that you could choose,” you murmur as you place the bowl in his hands. Spencer shoots a teasing smile your way as he raises the spoon to his mouth.

“You mean, you’re actually going to let me pick the movie? I should get sick more often.”

His cheek earns him an exaggerated roll of your eyes.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mutter. “You always pick the movie.”

He can count on one hand the amount of times he’s gotten to pick the movie.

Spencer is about to launch into an impassioned rebuttal when the feeling of your fingers scratching against his scalp renders him speechless. His eyes dart to your face as you concentrate on scrolling through the TV guide, seemingly unaware of the effect the simple act has on him. Meanwhile, Spencer’s brain is short-circuiting.

You begin to read off a list of potential movies to him, but Spencer barely hears you. He’s practically purring as you twirl his curls around lithe fingers, his eyes threatening to flutter closed as an intense feeling of euphoria washes over him. Maybe it’s because he’s touch starved, or maybe it’s because it’s been so long since someone just looked after him. Whatever it is, Spencer embraces it wholeheartedly.

“-heard it’s pretty good. So, what do you say, Spence?”

Spencer pulls himself back to the present, blinking lazily at you. You’re looking at him, expectant, and Spencer’s eyes flit to the TV. His eyes skim its contents, reading briefly about a movie in which some family moves into a haunted house.

His face breaks out into a grin and he nods, because Spencer’s known you long enough to recognize that watching a horror movie usually results in you pressed tightly to his side and clinging to his hand. He also knows that nine times out of ten, you choose to watch a horror movie over anything else. No wonder he always lets you choose.

And sure enough, not even ten minutes in, Spencer is ditching his bowl of soup and pulling you into his arms. Once you’ve draped a blanket around the two of you settled in, you glance up at him.

“How are you feeling, Spence?”

Spencer responds by saying that he’s suddenly feeling much better.

Spencer Reid - 1, Veterinarian – 0

Spencer’s not sure at which point he fell asleep. All he knows is that he certainly does not remember sprawling out across your body, nor does he remember tucking his head into the crook of your neck. But this is how he finds himself when the sun begins to pour in through his windows the next morning, and Spencer can’t bring himself to care about how he came to be there.

Spencer guesstimates that it’s no later than seven in the morning. You’re still fast asleep underneath him, your chest rising and falling rhythmically with every breath. It’s early, and it’s Sunday, and Spencer can’t think of a single reason to wake you. Instead, he snuggles in closer, because he’d be a fool not to enjoy this while it lasts.

Unfortunately, the shrill sound of Spencer’s ringing phone shatters the serenity. He prays that it won’t disturb you, that you’ll remain oblivious and continue to sleep, but that hope is shattered when you begin to shift underneath him. Spencer makes quick work of peeling himself off of you before dashing to his kitchen and snatching his phone off the table.

He’s prepared to verbally assault whoever has the audacity to defile the sanctity of lazy Sunday mornings when a quick peek into the living room finds you still fast asleep on his sofa. He smiles, soft and fond, before pressing the accept button and bringing the phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

“I was beginning to wonder if you were still alive.” Spencer’s smile transforms into a grimace. Apparently, Derek Morgan doesn’t believe in lie-ins. “I was preparing myself for a rescue mission.”

“It’s seven in the morning. I was asleep.”

Derek lets out a low whistle. “Who pissed in your Cheerios, Pretty Boy?”

“You, when you decided that it was acceptable to ring me before eight,” Spencer whisper shouts. He knows that he’s being touchy, to say the least, but who can blame him? Five minutes ago, he was cuddling with the most beautiful girl he’s ever had the privilege to lay eyes on. Now, he’s shooting the breeze with a colleague. Obviously, Spencer would prefer the former to the latter.

“Jesus, kid. I’m going to take a wild guess and say that girl of yours didn’t make it home, after all. You okay?”

The guilty feeling returns and Spencer cringes. “Uh, define ‘okay.’”

Derek curses on the other end of the line. “I’m sorry, kid. Try not to beat yourself up about it, okay? There’s plenty of fish in the sea, you’ve just gotta put yourself out there. How’s this; you and me will go out next weekend and bar hop. I’ll teach you some Derek Morgan tricks of the trade. Soon enough, you’ll have forgotten all about her.”

“I don’t know, that might be hard.” Spencer scratches the back of his neck. “She’s asleep on my couch right now.”

A long stretch of silence comes from the other end of the line, and Spencer thinks for a moment that the call dropped. Unfortunately, he isn’t that lucky. A booming laugh erupts from the speaker and makes him jump out of his skin.

“My man!” Derek laughs, incredulous. “I didn’t think you had it in you, I’ll be honest.”

“It’s not what you think-”

“How did you manage that? Did the Good Doctor make a grand romantic gesture? Damn, I really hate that I missed that.”

“No, there were no gestures. And it’s not-”

Derek cuts him off. Again. “How’d she take the news? I’m assuming she took it well, if she stayed the night.”

“I didn’t tell her anything!” Spencer spits out, frustrated. “I… I told her I was sick. She came over to take care of me, and we fell asleep on the couch.”

Spencer’s proclamation is met with another long silence.

“So, you sabotaged the date?”

Spencer winces. “I did not sabotage it. I just… manipulated the situation a little.”

“Oh, you certainly did,” Derek chuckles. “How did you pull that off? I’ve seen you try to lie. That shit is laughable.”

Spencer opens his mouth to defend himself, but the pitter patter of socked feet approaching him from behind has his mouth running dry.

“Yeah, Spencer. How did you pull that off?”

Spencer had been correct in his earlier assumptions. The inevitable moment in which you called him out on his shit has arrived, and it’s every bit as mortifying as he expected. So mortifying that he can practically feel the blood drain from his face. And the thing is that he knows he deserves whatever you’re about to throw his way… it’s just that the thought of you being angry with him kind of makes him want to cry. And that would only add to the mortification.

He turns around slowly, his body rigid, until he’s met with the adorably rumpled vision of you with your arms crossed and your hair sticking up in all directions.

Spencer’s never seen anything quite so mesmerizing, and it hurts because he knows he’s ruined everything. He’ll never get to watch another scary movie with you tucked neatly against his side, or wake up in your arms again. He’ll never get to kiss you.

And the worst of all; Spencer will never get to tell you how he really feels. It’s a crying shame, because he thinks he could have been really good at loving you.

“Hey, Derek, I gotta go.”

Spencer presses the end call button and immerses himself in what has to be the most awkward stand-off of all time. You stand there, arms crossed, head cocked to the side with one hip jutted out. Spencer isn’t sure how you manage to look intimidating and endearing at the same time. He supposes the fuzzy socks are to blame.

Minutes pass, but they feel like hours. Spencer is approximately three seconds away from dropping to his knees and groveling when you finally speak.

“You sabotaged my date.”

Spencer lets out a strangled laugh. Perhaps humor is the way to go? It couldn’t hurt to try. In his opinion, the situation couldn’t possibly get any worse. “I think sabotage is a strong word. I prefer the term obstruct.”

You let loose a laugh of your own, but this one holds no humor. “And I prefer keeping the company of people who don’t lie to me.” Okay, maybe it can get worse.

Spencer visibly deflates. It was a stupid idea. He’s never been a funny guy.

“I am so, so, so incredibly sorry.” Sorry for lying to you, that is. Spencer isn’t in the least bit apologetic for ruining your date. Given the chance, he’d do it again - in a more tactful way, of course. Preferably, in such a way that didn’t involve him laying in his bathroom floor.

Spencer attempts to take a step forward, only to be rooted to the spot when you fix him with a look. He’s not funny but he is smart – smart enough to know better than to push it.

“Why did you do it?”

Spencer was really hoping you wouldn’t ask that.

“I-I…”

Apparently, an eidetic memory doesn’t stand a chance when it comes to confrontations involving pretty girls. One quirk of an immaculately plucked eyebrow and Spencer loses the ability to recall a single word of the English language. It’s tragic, really.

“Spit it out, Spencer.”

“I didn’t want you to go on the date.” It’s like ripping off a band aid, the way the words tumble from his lips. It’s painless at first, but then the sting sets in when he realizes what he’s done.

Your lack of reaction doesn’t help. Your face remains passive, as if he didn’t just offer himself to you on a silver platter. Spencer squirms uncomfortably.

“Why didn’t you want me to go on the date?”

God, this is excruciating. You’re clearly out for blood, and the twinkle in your eye shows just how much you’re enjoying this. Spencer would have never taken you for a sadist.

“Because…” Spencer trails off and allows his eyes to drift closed. If he’s going to do this, he’s going to do it his way. With his eyes closed, because he can’t bear the thought of looking you in the eye when you reject him. “B-Because I like you. A lot.”

Spencer hasn’t had a lot of practice at being wrong. In fact, he’s spent the majority of his life being right. It seems the universe is making up for that now, because he can’t seem to get a single goddamn thing right today.

You laugh at him. You actually laugh in his face. Mortified doesn’t even begin to cover it.

“You like me.” It isn’t a question.

Spencer keeps his eyes shut tight.

“Y-Yeah.”

You know how they say if you take away one of a person’s senses, all of the others are heightened? Spencer couldn’t disagree more. In the midst of his despair, he’s completely unaware that you’ve crossed the room and are now standing directly in front of him until you speak again.

“Well, that’s rather unfortunate,” you sigh. Spencer inhales a sharp breath when he realizes you’re close enough to touch. Still, he keeps his eyes closed.

“Uh, why is that?”

Spencer nearly jumps out of his skin when your hand reaches up and caresses the side of his jaw.

“Because, Spencer,” you murmur, silky and sweet. “I was hoping you just might love me.”

Spencer’s eyes fly open and he’s greeted by a lazy, contented smile. It’s similar to the one that greeted him when he opened his front door on that very first day, but it’s better somehow. Later reflection will determine that it’s better because it’s the kind of smile reserved just for him. And that’s all he’s ever wanted, really.

“W-What?”

“You heard me.” You tilt your head up and rest your palm on Spencer’s chest. His heartbeat is erratic, thundering hard against his ribcage. He’d surely be embarrassed if he wasn’t about to faint from shock. “Do you love me, Spencer Reid?”

Spencer doesn’t even have to think twice.

“More than anything.”

“Good.” Your thumb brushes across the apple of his cheek, eliciting a full body shudder. “I was beginning to think you would never catch up.”

Spencer must be hallucinating. That, or this is all a dream and any second now his alarm is going to go off. He subtly pinches himself on the thigh to test the theory. You can imagine his surprise when nothing changes. He doesn’t wake up in a pile of his own drool, and now the skin on his thigh stings.

“You . . . You like me, too?”

You shake your head. “No, Spencer. I love you, too. Why do you think I bake you cookies and spend all of my free time in your apartment?”

“Because my couch is better than yours?” Spencer deadpans.

“I mean, that certainly doesn’t hurt. But it’s not the only reason.”

“What about the vet?” It must be his guilty conscious talking, because Spencer cannot conjure up any other reason he has for asking such a moronic question. He, personally, could not care less about the vet. Full offense intended.

“Cameron is a nice guy, sure,” you trail off. Spencer doesn’t miss the way your eyes drift down to his lips before returning to his eyes. “But he’s not really my type.”

“And what is your type, exactly?” A giddy grin finds its way to Spencer’s face. He’s notorious for being chronically clueless, but even the master of imperception himself can see where this is going.

You snort, and it’s adorable. “Liars, apparently.”

It’s impossible to determine who moves first, but that doesn’t really matter. What does matter is the end result of Spencer’s lips colliding with yours. It’s earth-shatteringly lovely; slow and sweet and tentative. There’s no rushing, no frantic fumbling of hands. Just the reverent drag of your lips against his, warm and intoxicating.

Spencer eventually regains the use of his limbs and when he does, he’s snaking one arm around your waist as the other entangles itself in your wonderfully unruly hair.

You sigh a happy sigh against his lips and Spencer’s heart soars. In a completely unforeseen turn of events, the possibility of more lazy Sunday mornings is now back on the table. Thank God he’s better at lying than he gave himself credit for.

God, and Derek Morgan’s meddling ass.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer x reader #spencer reid fluff

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bonny-kookoo · 4 years

Text

Rabid (JJK x Reader) 🐾☁️💜🔞

🐺Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

🐺Genre: A/B/O AU!, Werewolf AU!, Angst, romance, smut

🐺Warnings: alpha!kookers and his omega!reader, impreg kink, shifting, hybrid Au, werewolf Au, bangtan pack!, primal sex, biting, scratching, scenting, marking, knotting, size kink, strength kink, praise kink oh yes, protective boi kook, Jungkook asserting dominance smh, omega being the cute ball of soft cotton candy she is, fighting, blood, violence, injuries, best alpha doggo boi Jungkook, heart to heart convos, degrading names and not the kinky ones sadly, puppies, I repeat, puppies 🐶, omega!Jin, Omega!Taehyung, Beta Yoongi, Alpha Namjoon, alpha Hoseok, Beta Jimin, don’t worry Omega doesn’t automatically mean submissive oh boy Nop Nop, just read the damn thing it’ll make sense okay, Dead Dove Do Not Eat

🐺Summary: Jeon Jungkook and his Omega are a mates couple of Bangtan Pack. Recently, the sweet bubble they’ve created seems to grow weaker and weaker, as a feral pack attacks and kills wolfs left and right. Things take a dark turn, and for once, the big bad wolf is actually terrified. Terrified of loosing you.

A pack's life wasn't always sunshine and rainbows, or comfort and protection.

Bangtan pack had learned that the hard way months ago, when Namjoons ex Mate had been violently attacked and killed. He'd mourned quite a bit, even though she'd been unfaithful and had refused to accept her own pups, leaving them with him and his pack as she'd continued her unbound lifestyle. It had still hurt him deeply- yet it was a thing that happened.

He got over it.

And he was happy again these days, as he watched Taehyung and Jin play with his two pups, who still weren't old enough to shift into their human forms. They would stay like that for a while longer, and sometimes Namjoon caught himself wishing that they could just stay like that forever- without having to worry too much about their human sides like he and his pack had to. But it would happen eventually, and he hoped they would grow up to be just as respectful and caring as the rest of his pack was.

Taehyung and Jin were, together with Jungkooks Mate, the only omegas of the pack. While you were the only one who would bear her own pups in the future, Taehyung and Jin took on the roles of caring for his children. He was glad he had them with him- he was not fit to be an only-father due to his alpha side. "What're you thinking about?" Yoongi, the pack's Beta asked from the sidelines, coffee in hand as he watched Taehyung and Jin play with the youngest of the pack, letting the young pups claw and bite their fur without much resistance.

"I'm glad things are returning to normal." He explained, and Yoongi nodded, when Jungkook and you stepped in from your recent grocery shopping trip. Namjoon laughed as the two excited pups immediately yapped and stumbled towards you, making you kneel down to greet them properly. He caught Jungkooks soft gaze on you immediately, already knowing that he would turn out to be a great father and alpha for his own litter in the future. "Everything okay out there?" The Alpha asked Jungkook, who nodded, although not too confident.

"We caught some scents near the borders when we returned, but it wasn't too evident. They probably only want to provoke again." He sighed out as he took the other plastic bags you had discarded next to you, placing them on the kitchen counter and sitting on the couch, next to yoongi. "Do you want me to patrol again?" He asked his leader, as he'd turned quiet and a bit thoughtful at his comment.

"No." He said, and Yoongi furrowed his brows. "If they want to provoke, let them. I'm not biting the bait." He explained, and Jungkook nodded, before he turned his head, having heard you shift. Namjoons mind eased up a little as he watched you, Tae and Jin groom the pups, motherly instincts growing more and more these days. "She'll be a great mother." He hummed, and Jungkook grinned, as if the praise was sent towards him. In a sense it was, because even though Namjoon had talked about his mate, he could hear his alpha inside his head.

ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ. ᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇsᴛ. ᴘᴇʀғᴇᴄᴛ ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ. ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴄʜᴏɪᴄᴇ.

You slowly detached yourself from them after a moment, walking over to Jungkook as you placed your head onto his thigh, careful not to interrupt the discussion he currently held with Yoongi. Almost as if on instinct his hand placed itself onto your head, large palm running over your soft fur, making your ears droop to the side a little to give him more room for his affection.

ᴀʟᴘʜᴀ ʟᴏᴠᴇs ᴜs.

Even though you sometimes disagreed with your omega, she was right on most occasions. You've had some small trust issues before you'd met Jungkook, being raised with the warning that Omegas were easily taken advantage of, you were wary of anyone around you. He'd slowly brought you out of your shell however, with promises you knew he'd keep and lots of understanding, communication, and affection. Nowadays, he could kick you around like he wanted, if he wanted to- you would still wag your tail and seek his praise straight after.

It should scare you, but you knew he would never let you down like that. He'd never betray your trust like that. Your whole pack would keep you safe.

ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴘᴀᴄᴋ. ᴘᴀᴄᴋ ᴋᴇᴇᴘs ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀs sᴀғᴇ. ᴘᴀᴄᴋ ʟᴏᴠᴇs ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ.

Your head slipped from his thigh for a second as you'd almost fallen asleep, making Jungkook chuckle and Namjoon snort. You shyly laid down at Jungkooks feet, before he patted the space next to him on the couch. "Come up baby, you don't have to lay on the ground." He said, and you jumped up on the couch, halfway laying on his lap as he continued his talk, his voice lulling you to sleep.

"Hmm.. so sweet." He humms against your neck, as you slowly wake up. His hands are already running over your naked stomach, upwards to cup your chest in his palm, enjoying the feeling of your soft skin underneath his fingers. His eyes are still closed, and he only rumbles out something that almost sounds like a purr every now and then as his lips curl into a lazy but content smile, his nose burying itself into your neck where your scent is strongest. He opens his mouth to run his canines along the skin, before leaving an open mouthed kiss there, making you squirm around a bit in his hold. He moves his legs to cage yours in, as he chuckles when you whine against him. "So soft.. so warm.." He muses, still not quite awake yet you notice as your own body still fights the clouds of sleep as well.

sᴜᴄʜ ᴀ sᴡᴇᴇᴛ ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ. ᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ.

His alpha humms pleased inside his head, happy to have you close to him, satisfied to know you're in his arms. This is where he knows you're safe, where he knows nothing could happen to you.

He squeezes your breast a bit harder, before his thumb moves over your nipple, his deep brown eyes opening a crack to see your form next to him, relaxed and comfortable in his hold, and he feels proud. You're letting him see you so vulnerable, so bare of any form of guard up, you let him guide you however he feels fit for you, and his heart swells as your hands reach for his skin, desperate to feel him close, even though you already are. The times you felt self-conscious and shy at the mere fact you were naked were long gone by now. You felt comfortable around him, enough to know your bond is one without judgement. His eyes lock onto the bite mark still present on your neck, a prominent sign he carried as well, like a wedding band for humans, but way more final than that. It was as if he could see his future with you in the scar on your skin, and he loved every bit of it.

You suddenly playfully bite after his hand which tried to move some hair out of your face, and his eyes widen a bit at the gesture, making you open yours as well. The teasing glint awakes something inside him as you suddenly wiggle your legs around, trying to get on top of him as he grins, locking your legs with his as you whine, pushing at his chest as he chuckles. He grabs your wrist and tries to pin it down as you suddenly move your face to the side, nipping at his fingers without the intention to bite. "Hm, you wanna play?" He asks amused when you duck out of his grasp, only getting as far as laying your stomach over his side, legs still tightly interlocked with his. You claw at his back and he hisses for a moment, yet he doesnt seem mad about it at all as he moves his leg, giving you freedom. For a moment.

Before you can make it out of the bed he grabs your upper arm, pulling you against his chest as you hit his shoulder with the back of your head, now genuinely whining in frustration as he simply laughs. You struggle in his hold, uncaring of both of your nudeness and the way his prominent erection was poking against your lower back. You reach your arms over your head, trying to catch his skin with your fingers to claw at it, yet it only turns into your own demise as he simply raises his arm as well, palm easily catching your wrists and holding them above your head as his nose nuzzles against your neck teasingly.

You grin as he kisses and licks at your bonding mark, happily giving up your fight at this display of affection.

He finally moved around after throwing you backwards on the bed again, towering over your form as he roughly manhandles you around so you are placed on your stomach, before pulling your hips up, making you mewl as you instinctively present to him, making him groan as he leans down, his chest against your back as you could feel his erection between your legs. His hand reaches for your center, chest vibrating against your back as he humms approvingly when his fingers find you already wet and ready for him.

ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs sᴏ ᴘʀᴇᴛᴛʏ ғᴏʀ ᴜs. His alpha cooes. ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs sᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴅʏ. ᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴇʀғᴇᴄᴛ ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ.

Jungkook lets his hand move a bit over your lower lips until he deems you prepared enough. His hand pumps his waiting length for a second, before he enters you quite roughly, sighing at the feeling of your warm walls around him. You felt like home, like comfort, like a safe space that only belonged to him.

ʙɪᴛᴇ. ʙɪᴛᴇ. ʙɪᴛᴇ.

He leans down his head, takes the skin of your neck between his teeth as he bites, before letting go, and repeating that action over and over again until he huffs against your skin in hot breaths. His one arm is hooked underneath your lower belly to keep you snug against him and positioned properly, while his other grabs at your chest roughly, making you mewl as he grunts, every thrust of his hips shaking your body a bit. You try to get up on your arms in front of him, as he suddenly leaves your breasts alone, instead grabbing the back of your neck before he pushes you into the pillows below, careful to let you breathe as you move your face to the side, blissed out expression showing him to keep going. His alpha slowly takes over, moves more to the surface as his voice is rough, low. You're not scared of him, however. You know, just like Jungkook, his alpha would never hurt you. Your Omega bathes in the praise he gives you, making you whine and gasp out when he suddenly slows down his pace, instead thrusting with more force and deeper into you as the sound of skin against skin echoes in the room.

"So warm.. So sweet.. So submissive.." He rumbles out as he mouthes at your shoulder, hot breath making your skin tingle as you grasp the sheets below you, your high slowly reaching its peak as he cooes. "Are you gonna cum little omega? Cum for your alpha?" He asks, and you simply not, drowsy mind having a hard time answering as he suddenly yanks at your hair, stopping everything for a moment as he keeps your head up, his face close to yours as he growls out. "I asked you a question Omega." He grits out. "You wanna play more little one?" He asks amused as you simply rut against his hips, making him growl as he picks up where he left off, his pace relentless as he chases his end, noticing the way you start to clench around him, needing him, wanting him, craving him just as much as he does.

"A-Alpha!" You groan out as you cum, and he bites down hard where your bonding mark lays, grunting out as he still thrusts without much rhythm, until you feel his warmth flood your walls. He sighes out, slowly growing lip against your back as his knot swells up, making you whine while he hushes you, moving a bit, careful not to pull too much as he spoons you, mouthing, licking, and kissing your neck and shoulder as your breathing calms down slowly. This is how you know Jungkook is back, the way he carefully moves the covers back over your bodies since he knows you get cold easily after sex, and the way he just.. doesnt say anything. He doesn't need to.

"Hm.. I can't wait for you to be filled with my pups." He humms out dreamily, drowsy and close to sleep. "All round and glowing. M' gonna protect you so well baby, gonna keep you safe and sound." He muses, and you nod, happily humming as your omega inside you rolls around in satisfaction.

ᴀʟᴘʜᴀ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴄᴀʀᴇ ᴏғ ᴜs. ᴀʟᴘʜᴀ ᴡᴀɴᴛs ᴜs ᴛᴏ ᴄᴀʀʀʏ ʜɪs ᴘᴜᴘs. ᴀʟᴘʜᴀ ᴡᴀɴᴛs ᴜs.

He kisses the back of your neck one last time before he settles for another round of sleep.

"I don't feel good." You said at dinner once, and Jungkook immediately perked up at that.

"What do you mean? Are you sick?" He stressed, his overprotective nature coming to the surface as you scratched your neck, sheepishly shaking your head.

"No no, its not that!" You reassured him, before looking at Namjoon. "I mean, the entire situation. I know it's calm these days, but I don't know.." You admitted, and Jin placed a reassuring hand on your back.

"I get it. I guess it is a little weird." He said, and looked at Namjoon, who seemed in thought about the entire situation. Things have calmed down over the last few days, however, that was no reason to breathe out in relief. Things just calmed down so sudden and without any cause, that it made you feel as if something was off. It wasn't just you who felt like that but the entire pack, you knew this.

"We'll keep you safe either way." Jungkook promised from across you, and you nodded, continuing your dinner.

Things did not turn out well.

When you smelled the intruders, Jungkook had already gotten up from his spot in the front yard of your home in the woods, together with Namjoon and Hoseok already looking out for anyone getting close. It happened suddenly, when Yoongi shouted, shifting immediately as a wolf attacked from the sides.

The rest was utter chaos.

Everyone, you included, shifted into wolf forms, biting and clawing away at the strangers who seemed to snicker and laugh at everything going on. It was as if it was a game to them, as if they were playing- yet there was nothing playful in their nature, as they bit hard on Hoseoks leg, making him yelp as Taehyung jumped to help him. You were no fighter, so you did the only thing rational to you.

You immediately went inside, grabbing the first pup by his neck before you carried him underneath the stairs, rushing into the living room to get the other.

ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ᴘᴜᴘs sᴀғᴇ. ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛ ᴘᴜᴘs. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʟᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ɢᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴜᴘs.

Your omega was just as shaken as you were as you curled up around them, trying to soothe them the best you could as something crashed in the living room, heavy paws making its way towards you. You immediately positioned yourself in front of the terrified kids, which have scrambled into the smallest corner of the storage space under the stairs. Growling menacingly you tried to appear fearless in front of the dark grey wolf in front of you, who simply snapped its jaws at you. You ducked away from him, before you snapped at his leg, biting down hard before he managed to get a grip on your neck. You yelped as his teeth broke skin, but couldn't utter a sound as he pulled and pulled on your scruff, loosing grip before he bit again, another wound forming as you tried to desperately get out of his hold.

Another wolf joined in through the broken window in the kitchen, yapping like an excited hyena at the view of your fighting as he joined in, nipping and pushing you around with amusement as you tried to get them off of you, or at least keep their attention on you for as long as possible, so they wouldn't hurt the youngest.

The first wolf simply threw you down as you again bit his leg, tasting iron on your tongue as the stranger clawed at your backleg, biting and bruising skin as his teeth pulled mouthsfull of fur away from your body. The tufts of softness flew around in the air around you like feathers in a mere pillowfight, yet there was nothing sweet and innocent about this. You yelped out again, loudly, as you felt the skin around your backleg rip between the jaws of the stranger, making you immobile as the strangers suddenly decided to let you be, loosing their fun in you. You took this chance to scramble back to the terrified puppies, hiding them as you weakly curled up around them, your back facing away from them as they shivered, hiding underneath your bloody fur in desperate need of warmth and comfort. You wished you could soothe them, but you couldn't lift your head, blood sticky underneath your body as you tried to stay awake.

They snarl something along the lines of 'leaving the alphas bitch' alone, as they snicker outside, making you feel even worse than you did before.

You knew that Jungkook saw you as more than a mere Omega meant to please him and raise his offspring. You knew that he wasn't blinded by his instincts, and even if he was, his alpha was such a sweet existence which fit your own omega so well that it sometimes made you cry. You fall into a slumber, a vision of your past consuming you whole, as if to comfort your broken body.

"..y. Baby?" He asks you, as your head snaps up from where it rested on your palm. He smiles at you with slight worry, as he points at your pancakes in front of you. "Your food's getting cold baby." He says, and you blush as you look down at your plate, barely touched at all.

sᴛᴜᴘɪᴅ ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ. ʏᴏᴜ sʜᴏᴜʟᴅɴ'ᴛ ʟᴇᴛ ғᴏᴏᴅ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀʟᴘʜᴀ ɢᴏ ᴛᴏ ᴡᴀsᴛᴇ!

He sighed in front of you, moving the plate towards him as he cuts a piece, holding the fork towards you with an almost teasing grin. "Looks like I'm gonna have to feed you the old fashioned way." He says, and you take the bite as he grins his signature bunny smile. It makes him look so soft and happy, the way his eyes crinkle at the sides and his nose scrunches up. "Can't have my baby starve." He continues, as he cuts another piece. His alpha is weirdly happy about the situation.

ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ ᴍᴜsᴛ ʙᴇ ᴡᴇʟʟ ғᴇᴅ. ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ ᴍᴜsᴛ ʙᴇ ʜᴇᴀʟᴛʜʏ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ.

He hates to do it, but he knows its necessary. "Whats on your mind?" He asks, and he visibly sees your shoulders slump down, as if he'd just taken your favorite book away. "I can see something is troubling you. Please talk to me." He asks. I want to help you, he wants to say, but he keeps it at his words as you slowly take a deep breath.

"They're saying things about me." You start, as he frowns.

"What things?" He asks, voice now a bit more serious. He knows who 'they' are- he knows that you talk about your classmates. He hates to see you being bullied, yet it happens, and you had told him again and again that he can't interfere, not so close to your graduation. You just want things to be done with.

"You're not gonna like 'em." You start, and he nods.

"Probably not. I promise I'm not gonna set your school on fire. But you need to talk to someone about it, and if not me than maybe Jin or Tae-" He continues, until you cut him off.

"Whore." You start, as his eyes widen. It seems as if he's frozen in time for a moment, before his gaze is on you again. "They.. they say I'm.. that you only keep me around because-" You try not to get too riled up as you recall their words. "-because I'm an omega thats good to fuck. Because I'm brainless, and the brainless ones are the best because they don't talk back and just choke on-" Jungkook cuts you off as he holds your hand.

"Stop." He mutters, and you simply look at the wooden table of the small restaurant you both are sitting in, as he sighes. "You're so much more to me than your body." He explains, and you melt under his gaze. "You're my mate, my partner for life, you're the part of my soul I didn't even knew I was missing." He continues, as he holds out another piece of sweetness in front of your lips, as your teary eyes gaze at him. "Their words mean nothing, okay? I love you. And only you." He says, as you take the bite from him. "You could ban me from your vagina for the next years to come and I'd still love you." He mutters playfully, as your cheeks redden.

You really do feel loved.

Jungkook had heard your first yelp loud and clear, and it threw him so off guard that he lost focus for a moment, giving a wolf opportunity to jump up on him. He fought him off with a bit of effort, trying to get inside the house as he became more and more desperate as your cries reached his sensitive ears, making him grown more and more feral in his state of mind.

ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ ɪs ʙᴇɪɴɢ ʜᴜʀᴛ! ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ ɪs ɪɴ ᴅᴀɴɢᴇʀ! ᴡᴇ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛ ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ!

His alpha is restless, pretty much yells into his ears and he swore he would, he swore he would get to you but he couldn't. There were too many.

After a moment of seemingly endless fighting, Namjoon snaps the neck of another alphawolf, successfully ending the attack as the rest of the rogue pack leaves with whines and tails between their legs. Jungkook breathes for a moment, before a certain smell reaches his nose. He locks eyes with Namjoon, who had seemingly noticed it as well, before the big black wolf dashed into the house, stopping dead in his tracks at the scene of the trashed living room and open kitchen, blood and fur scattered around as the irony smell gets almost too much for his sensitive nose.

He can't see you, however.

Your blood and fur show him that you didn't hide successfully, and his heart races as he walks through the mess that is the main space of the house, before his ears catch the whimpering of pups.

There, underneath the stairs in the corner you're laying down. Your back is facing him, blood and saliva staining your fur, as you barely breathe. The pups, smelling the familiar pack, scramble out from underneath your paws, crawling over your body as they rush towards their father, who eagerly inspects them immediately. Jungkook has absolute tunnel vision in that moment however, as he noticed your lack of movement.

He's moving on pure instinct at this point, delicately grabbing your scruff as he carefully pulls you out of your hiding space, but not fully out in the open. He whines and whimpers at your form, limply laying on the ground as you barely breathe, making him restless as he walks from one side to the other, unsure what to do. His mind is in a frenzy, alpha going crazy, as he nudges you every now and then with his snout, silently begging you to get up. He gets pulled away from this however, when he noticed Jin walking towards him. He knows he's no threat. He knows he's pack. But he's not himself in that moment.

ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛ. ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛ. ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛ.

His alpha growls at him, and he does the same, as he scrambles to stand above your form, tail standing diagonal being him as his ears tall as he growls out low and dangerously, for the first time actually showing intention to attack his own brothers. Jin stays still as everyone watches from their spots, witnessing for the first time how their pack member turns against them.

'Jungkook-' Jin tries to communicate, but the younger alpha continues to growl, feet never standing still as he seems restless. As if he doesn't know what to do. He looks like a young wolf in that moment, scared, confused, and painfully upset. His smell is bitter and strong, sending of a warning to everyone in the room as his ears start to slowly droop.

'Protect. I have to protect. Don't- don't come here-!' he sends off, tail slowly moving downwards as he starts to feel the exhaustion in his bones. He slowly but surely moves around again on weak legs, laying down close to you as he leans his front legs over your body, licking your fur as if that would magically heal you.

'Wake up. Wake up. Wake up!' He chants over and over again, every word growing more and more high pitched and choked up as Taehyung lays down in sadness, feeling his brothers emotions full force, as well as everyone else who can't do anything but watch the young alpha fall apart. 'wake up..' he begs, burying his face into your bloody fur as he finally gives in. 'Please.. don't leave me.' are his last words, as his mind fades.

Jin is quick to shift, as well as Namjoon and Yoongi, who immediately move the larger and heavier wolf off of you, before Taehyung can take you away with Hoseok. Jungkook slowly shifts back unconsciously as they lay him on the couch, no one having enough energy to bring him upstairs. Jin tends to his wounds as Taehyung and Hoseok bring you up the stairs into yours and Jungkooks room, as you slowly shift, making Taehyung gasp as he now sees the extend of your injuries.

There are cuts and puncture wounds all over your skin, scratches and bruises already blossoming. Your leg is the worst, open flesh gaping as he has to swallow, telling Hoseok what he needs in order to tend to your injuries.

Moments later, Jin steps into the room as well, helping his younger omega brother to care for you the best that they could before an actual doctor could take a look at you tomorrow.

"She'd told us something was off." Namjoon said with his head hanging low, arms scratched and bleeding as he watches from the doorway. "I should've listened to her." He continues, before Jin cuts in, not looking at his alpha as he continues to wash you gently.

"Self-pity won't help anyone in this situation now, Namjoon." He says, no real bite in his tone as he keeps his voice gentle, exhaustion evident however. Taehyung helps him wring out the wet cloth he's using to clean your skin, as he continues. "Things happened, and now we have to deal with the aftermath. We'll get through this, but only if we don't loose our heads over this." He explaines, the image of the youngest alpha not leaving his mind. "It's bad enough we have two of us down- her and Jungkook." He explains, as Taehyung voices his worries as well.

"Do you think he'll snap out of it?" He asks, as Namjoon chimes in.

"He has to." He says, and Jin turns around for the first time, lower lip bruised from a cut he'd received.

"Namjoon, don't be so harsh on the kid-" He starts, but gets cut off by his leader.

"He's not a kid anymore Jin. He's a full grown alpha that needs to get himself together." He argues, as Taehyung starts to defend his brother.

"No, he's a boy who almost lost his girl tonight, have some common sense!" He whines out, a low growl hinting in his tone that catches Namjoon off guard. Even Jin seems surprised. "We all accepted it when you grieved. So let him heal as well- you can't expect something like this to just go past him." He explains, as the alpha sighs.

"I'm a horrible leader, am I not?" He asks, and Jin smiles along with Tae as he answers.

"No." He answers, with a comforting gaze. "Because you listen to your pack. And the best leaders do exactly that. They listen to their pack, learn from their mistakes, and admit them if they happen." He humms, before opening his small kit to get out some cotton balls and desinfectant.

Namjoon simply nods, hoping that his oldest Omega is right.

Jungkook awakes rudely from his dreamless sleep as he finds himself on the living room couch, dressed in comfortable clothes. For a moment he hopes everything had been a dream, but his aching bones and the mild smell in the air tell differently. He sits up, noticing the now cleaned living room, and the window that had been fixed with wooden planes for now. He can smell the rain outside as Jin steps down the stairs, locking eyes with Jungkook who immediately scrambles up, rushing towards him. "Where is she? Is she okay? She's okay right? She's fine right?" He rushes out, and watches past the eldest as Jimin thanks a stranger in a white coat and familiar hospital clothing. He doesnt listen to anybody as he moves past them upstairs, almost tripping as he opens the door to see you asleep underneath your covers, a butterfly stitch above your eyebrow. His eyes glaze over as his mind begins to fog, his feet moving him as if on autopilot as he walks towards you, unconsciously shifting.

Jimin wants to scold him to leave you alone, but the doctor shakes his head. Jungkook is so careful that even Yoongi who has joined the scene seems surprised. He moves as if you're made out of eggshells as thin as paper, carefully placing himself next to you above the covers Head resting on your stomach as he simply relishes in the mere fact that you're breathing. He barely fits on the bed made for two humans, but everyone lets him.

Jimin softly closes the door, before everyone walks downstairs.

"Is there anything we can do to help him?" He asks the doctor as he puts on his shoes. He sighes.

"Not much, I'd say, let him be close to her. It would only make them both more anxious if you keep them apart from one another." He explains, as Jimin and Yoongi bid the man goodbye and a safe trip home. Closing the door, Jin sighs, sitting down in the living room after folding the blanket Jungkook had slept under. Namjoon walks into the room, his arm still bandaged as he asks about the mated couple.

"Is he okay?" He asks, knowing about your condition already. "I've never seen him like that." He humms out, and Jimin shrugs.

"I don't think anyone ever has." He exclaims, and Namjoon nods, before taking the blanket from jin.

He carefully walks upstairs, opening the door of their room as Jungkooks ears perk up, the rest of him unmoving. The older alpha smiles sympathetically at his younger brother, closing the door behind him as he slowly walks towards them both. "Is that okay?" He asks carefully, as Jungkook simply closes his eyes again, a silent way of agreeing him this close. He drapes the blanket over the large black wolf, careful to tuck you underneath it as well as he sits down on the mattress, close to your hip. "She's gonna be okay." He said, as he looked at your sleeping form, Jungkooks head lifting itself to reposition. He sighed out a breath as the alpha chuckled. "Don't get huffy now pup. She's a strong one." Jungkooks eyes move to look at the elder one, and he sees something in it that Namjoon has not seen many times. Fear.

Namjoons eyes turn gentle as he looks at you for a moment, before he humms out. "You did well."

When you walk downstairs, the entire kitchen grows silent, and you look up to see them all looking at you. Jungkook starts to choke on his food as he coughs, legs of the chair he is sitting on scraping on the tiles as he rushes towards you, carefully taking you into his arms as he holds you close. He breathes in your scent as he suddenly chokes up, violent sobs shaking his shoulders as he cries against your neck, tearfully kissing your bonding mark as you simply pet his head, smoothing out his hair as you try to calm him down. The rest of the pack has a similar expression on their faces, as Jin stands up to get another set of dishes and cutlery for you. Jungkook helps you down the last two steps as he leads you towards the kitchen table, uncaring of his still tear stained face. He sniffles, and Taehyung gives him a napkin with a teasing grin. He simply takes it, wiping his nose before he grabs at your hip, setting you onto his lap as you try to sit down on your chair.

He doesn't continue eating as he simple rests the side of his head against your shoulder, holding you close as he breathes in your scent. His alpha slowly calms down as you eat and move around, proving to him that you were actually there, that you were alive and well enough for now.

ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ ɪs sᴀғᴇ.

You thank jin as he pours you a cup of tea, when you turn towards Namjoon. "How are the pups?" You ask, wondering where they are as Namjoon smiles proudly.

"They're safe, and asleep upstairs." He says, and you nod, taking a sip of the warm beverage. "Thank you, by the way." He says, and you raise your eyebrows. "You did very well Omega. They're only safe thanks to you, and I owe you everything for it." He grows serious as you chuckle.

"It's my part of the pack Namjoon." You explain as you pick up your cutlery to stuff some rice into your mouth that Jungkook didn't finish. "I did what I had to." He humms in appreciation, as Jungkook silently rubs his cheek against the fabric of your sweater, the scent sending him into a mindset of pure comfort. He doesn't listen to anything being said, and you simply rest a hand on his arms that held you close to him. He noticed how cold they are, and immediately scrambles a bit to remove his zip hoodie, uncaring that he's only wearing a T-Shirt underneath as he placed the warm fabric over your shoulders.

ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ ɪs ᴄᴏʟᴅ. ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ ɴᴇᴇᴅs ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴡᴀʀᴍ. ᴡᴀʀᴍ ᴀɴᴅ sᴀғᴇ.

You chuckle a bit at the gesture, and Taehyung does the same. "He's gonna be like that for quite a while I guess." Yoongi comments, eyes holding a soft look as he watches the young alpha with you.

Jimin smiles as well as he places some meat onto yours- or more like Jungkooks abandoned- plate which you thank him for. "Let him be. I can't imagine what he must've felt like." He says, as you nod, before taking another bite.

"Let's see how long it takes for Y/N to grow tired of that man-pup." Hoseok comments, making everyone snort but Jungkook, who lowly growls, without much seriousness behind him. It sounds more like.. he's offended. He looks over your shoulder at his pack, as they all start to laugh, you included.

The night is warm and cozy as Jungkook notices how you grow restless. You slowly gather pillows and sheets, blankets and clothing into the bed as he watches you tiredly. He wonders what you're doing for a moment, until he sniffs the air for a moment, eyes widening.

ᴘᴜᴘs. ᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴜᴘs. ᴡᴇ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ɪᴛ.

His alpha is proud, and his soul swells as well as he helps you nest, holds you close as he can't stop his smile. His palm rests protectively over your stomach during this night, as his alpha howls in happiness.

ᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ. ᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴜᴘs. ᴏᴜʀ ғᴀᴍɪʟʏ.

And Jungkook couldn't agree more with his alpha in that moment. He couldn't wait to complete his family.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts #bts fic #bts smut #jungkook imagine #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts reactions #alpha jungkook #abo dynamics #omega reader

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

Note

Hello i would kill for some awkward Connor attempting to comfort Chris during training please and thank you

Follow-up to this piece from yesterday

CW: Pet whump, implied whump of a minor, bruising, some dehumanizing language, BBU, facility whump, creepy comfort, The Moral Standards of Monsters, some implied conditioning due to ableism (blink-and-you’ll-miss-it)

“Hey, Manning.”

Connor looks up from his lunch - he’s at his desk in his training room, a sandwich, bag of chips, and bottle of his iced coffee set out in front of him while he finishes up paperwork from the last trainee’s fitness reports - and sighs. Fucking Luke goddamn Petrus. “Yeah?”

For a second, his stomach flips. Linda swore up and down that the complaint would be anonymous, and Connor isn’t the only person in the hallway who has brought up the screaming being… irritating… but still.

Luke is Director Renford’s favorite in a big way, her loyal henchman, and he can make a handler’s life a living hell if he wants to.

Luke leans against the open doorway, giving him a bright smile. Above the expression, though, Luke’s blue eyes stay cold as ice. Like the Director, Connor thinks sometimes. Two fucking peas in a pod, and Connor’s always a little bit on the outside.

Lately, though, he’s been feeling kind of grateful he’s on the outskirts. The Director’s approval is something everyone works for, but having her focus on you too long and too thoroughly sounds as terrifying as her anger.

“I just got called up to a meeting with Renford.”

Renford. Like they’re buddies. Like he’s equals with her. Connor keeps his mouth shut, but he wonders how the Director would react if she knew he calls her Renford when she’s not right in front of him. “Good for you. I don’t see why that should affect my lunch break.”

“The meeting could last a few hours. I know you’ve got the afternoon off from trainee work. Would you mind keeping an eye on one of mine? He’s just out of a week in solitary, so he’s needy as fuck.”

Connor perks up a little at that. Needy trainee and unscheduled afternoon sounds like just the pick-me-up he needs today. “He need any training work?”

“Nah. Do whatever you want with him.” Luke gives Connor a wink. “He’s got some top notch fucking flexibility. Just saying. You can twist him into pretzels. Tell him he’s being good and he’ll do it all himself. Kid’s eager as fuck now that we’re past the halfway point.”

Kid?

Connor swears internally but keeps his expression carefully the same. “What do you mean, kid, Luke? Wait a sec-”

“I’ll bring him in, hold on!” Luke’s already gone from the doorway.

Connor has a sinking feeling of realization that Luke didn’t just randomly decide to leave a trainee with him. He must’ve figured out who put the fucking complaint in. And he knows that Connor hates the screaming, if he knows that.

Which means…

Luke reappears, and sure enough, the little redheaded trainee who is the cause of all the wailing and sobbing is right beside him.

No weights hanging from his hands this time, but there are deep red marks around his wrists and bruises at his upper arms just below his sleeves that suggest he’s done plenty of training work this morning, whatever Luke says.

Jesus, this kid is eerily beautiful. Pale skin, flushed in the aftermath of tears, with a smattering of freckles all over like constellations of stars. His hair’s that rare shining strawberry blond, with eyebrows pale enough to make him seem faintly inhuman. Connor wonders exactly which piece of shit with a thing for teenagers put the order in.

He wants to make sure he doesn’t vote for the guy.

Not that Connor Manning votes.

But maybe he’ll start, and then start purposefully voting for someone else. That's probably way more effort than he'll ever put in to anything that isn't work or Socks, but it feels kind of nice to think about it.

The trainee keeps his eyes carefully down on the floor. Connor notes he’s not even wearing the shock collar any longer - just your average band of black leather, buckled at the side, no padlock. Not only not being shocked, or not needing it, but already far enough along not to try and remove his own collar.

“Luke. I’ve told you how I feel about the underagers-”

“Yeah, and I’ve told you that you can judge me when you're an angel, numbnuts. You’re not better than me. You just have different victims.”

“Oh, the Director would have a shit-fit hearing you call the trainees victims.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I’m the only one who really grasps exactly what it is we do here, Manning. I just also happen to enjoy it. Do what you love and you'll never work a day in your life, right?"

“Go fuck yourself, Petrus. I enjoy my job just fine.” Why is he defensive about this? Connor doesn’t quite understand the surge of irritation within him. Why does he give a fuck what Luke goddamn Petrus has to say about anything, anyway?

“Yeah, for now you do. We’ll see how it goes. I’ve been at this gig for a long time, I see the ones who flame out, and you’re one of them. Anyway, I’ve got to go meet with Renford, I’ll be back by three. If you get tired of him, just put him on the mat and I’ll pick him up when I’m done.”

“Yeah, okay.” Connor frowns, pushing himself to his feet. “I do like my job, Petrus.”

“For now. Bet I’ll be the only person here totally unsurprised when you quit one day.”

“I’m not going to quit.”

“I’ll bet you a thousand damn dollars you do, and I’ll raise the bet to fifteen hundred that it’s over your fucking conscience making a reappearance.”

“Don’t have one."

Luke just sighs, and gives Connor a patronizing little smirk before he turns and leaves. The trainee looks over his shoulder to watch Luke go, pleading with his eyes but not saying a word. The door shuts, and Connor and the trainee are alone.

Connor clears his throat, picking up the sandwich but finding he doesn’t really want it any longer. “What’s your number, trainee?”

The boy’s eyes snap back to him, briefly, before they drop to the floor. Connor notes with vague professional detachment that they’re red-rimmed. He’s been crying again, but then, when isn’t this fucking trainee crying?

When he’s screaming instead, Connor’s thoughts answer him.

God, he wishes these trainees didn’t get to him so much. He can’t talk to anyone about it, either, word will get out Connor Manning has regrets. Questioning the company is a good way to find yourself on the wrong end of a shock collar.

“223499, sir,” The boy says. His voice is low and soft, and each number and word is deliberately placed, as if he’s carefully pacing himself as he speaks. “Designation… Romantic-”

“Yeah, I knew that already. That’s all Luke does.” Connor leans his chin on his hand, looking the kid over. There’s solid muscle in that kid, he thinks, legacy of whatever life he lived before. It’s wasting away under the carefully calibrated malnourishment they’re all subjected to, but the memory of strength is in there, still. An easy, unconscious grace that didn’t have to be taught. “You’ve already done training work today?”

Those green eyes flash up at him again, nervous. Frightened. The boy shifts from foot to foot, then goes still. His fingers twitch before he pauses that, too. Connor watches it all with a kind of slightly repulsed interest. “Yes, sir. But… Handler Petrus said that… that if you want, you can-... can test me-”

“I don’t want,” Connor says heavily, cutting him off with a gesture. The boy’s mouth snaps shut instantly. “Not in the mood.”

There’s an expression of genuine confusion - when is a handler not in the mood? - that flits across the boy’s face. It’s a look of such comedic bafflement that Connor ends up laughing, shaking his head. He doesn’t even put his sexy, dark laugh on, but just snort-laughs naturally, before he walks over to the kid, watching him pull into himself, shoulders hunched.

“Relax, kid. I’m not going to hurt you.”

The kid’s nose wrinkles. It’s adorable. “But… all you do… is hurt us.”

Luke’s fucking technique, Connor thinks. Luke’s trainees don’t forget anything he’s taught them, to be sure, but they never quite learn how to act like they’re in love with it, either. Connor can turn out a trainee who genuinely thinks he’s in love. Luke turns out trainees who hate everything they can’t stop themselves from doing.

Some perspectives are into that, he supposes. Connor thinks he’d rather have the act.

“Yeah, well, I’m not going to do that today. Come on,” Connor says, and his voice gentles a little. “I’ve got plenty to keep myself busy with. Why don’t you lay down on the mat and get some sleep while I work?” He puts a hand on the boy’s shoulder, feeling him trembling slightly through the thin cloth of his white trainee t-shirt. The boy moves when he’s nudged, carefully stepping across the room, tense as a wire about to snap.

“Are you-... are you going to, to, to, to, um-” The boy flinches back from an expected punishment when he stammers. "Silence is, is better than stammering, try again, silence is better than-... try again." The kid mutters to himself, takes a deep breath, tries again. "Are you... going to... give me a pill?"

Connor pulls his hand back, frowning. Now it’s his turn to look confused.

What the fuck is even going on with this kid?

“Nah. I don't even keep them in my training room. No worries, kid.” He pitches his voice low, soothing, reassuring. “The only thing I intend to do is finish up some papers, go take a smoke break outside, and then come back and get set up for my next rounds at seven before I head out. This is a real break. Okay? I’m not even interested in whatever it is Handler Petrus is doing with you. I just want to do my job.”

The kid looks at him. He’s almost always seen him drugged out of his gourd, barely able to focus on anything not right in front of his face. Right now, though, there’s a sense that the boy is considering his words, actually able to think about them. “Yes, sir. I can-... I, I can lay down?”

“Yeah, go for it.” Connor waves his hand again, moving back to his desk.

“Thank you, sir.” The kid’s gratitude is pathetic. Connor has to give Luke that, he does know how to make a trainee say thank you for just about anything. Connor’s method takes more work to get to that than Luke’s.

But Connor doesn’t have to drug his trainees to do it. And he doesn’t work with kids.

Shit. Maybe I am going to wind up with a conscience. Handlers get fired over that.

Or worse.

After a pause, watching him go, the kid kneels down, then lays down on his stomach, making as much contact with the heated mat as he can. There’s a soft exhale, something almost like contentment. Connor watches those tensed, probably painful muscles slowly relax. His bare feet start to rub against each other, back and forth, back and forth.

There’s a blanket nearby, and the boy hesitantly grabs at it, pulls it over himself. Breathes out, eyes fluttering shut as warmth surrounds him utterly for what’s probably the first time in a while. Or at least warmth that doesn’t come with certain conditions.

Connor’s eyes trace the line of the boy’s jaw - there’s a bruise there, too, like a thumb pressed too hard into delicate skin. Coppery eyelashes lay flat, long enough to just brush his cheek. His hair falls over his forehead and eyes.

It’s like looking at a fucking painting.

“Jesus, you’re pretty as hell, aren’t you?”

The boy’s eyebrows furrow, briefly, but he doesn’t open his eyes or pull back from the mat. He curls up tighter under the blanket, disappearing up to his chin.

Connor turns back to his work, filling out a questionnaire. He’s still working at it when he hears, just barely, the boy’s soft reply to his question.

“I, I, I wish I wasn’t.”

@burtlederp @finder-of-rings @endless-whump @astrobly @newandfiguringitout @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @eatyourdamnpears

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sohin-ace · 3 years

Text

Jolyne - No Ordinary Girl

Mermaid Y/N x Surfer Jolyne

Today was a particularly fitting day to go to the beach. Jotaro had taken Jolyne, Hermes and Foo Fighters to the shore. He mostly went for some observation and the girls decided they would take advantage of the nice weather for some surfing.

It was not long after they arrived and started installing themselves that Jolyne and Hermes' eyes fell into very familiar faces.

Annasui, upon seeing the group, walked towards the girls with a confident stance, making sure his long hair was flowing in the wind.

"Oh look who we have here. The ladies victory." Annasui exclaimed, before completely falling heart-eyed, his voice and tone softening, dreamy even, at the sight of his object of worship. "Hi Jolyne~"

"Oh! Weather Report's there! Hi Weas!" Jolyne called out to the older man arranging a parasol a few feet behind, her completely ignoring the pink haired-male that seemed to have come with him. He waved shortly at Jolyne in response.

"Anyways, what are you guys up to?" Hermes asked, sipping on some lime flavored granita.

"Well, as you can see..." He pointed at the ocean, "We just wanted to take a day to work out a bit, but the waves are real nice today."

He leaned in not so subtly towards Jolyne, despite Hermes' evident judging gaze.

"But you know what else is real nice today?" He brought his hand up to cup Jolyne's chin, but before he could even say or do anything, Jolyne leaned away and pointed behind him.

"Oh wow! My dad's coming back with drinks!" She called nonchalantly, looking behind Annasui like he was more transparent than air itself.

"...! DRINKS?! DRINKS!!" Foo Fighter gasped, pushing the feminine man off to the side with such force, he fell and slid against the sand.

"Hey, Jojo," Hermes tapped her friend's shoulder, "Let's show these pendejos how girls ride waves."

The Asian American smirked, eager to show who's boss and always ready to follow on her best friend's mischief. "I'm racing you then."

"Pfft, I won't go easy girlfriend." The Mexican cracked her knuckles and grabbed her plank.

After surfing for long enough and being outran by Jolyne's stamina, Hermes decided to go back and sunbathe next to F.F's who was playing cutely with sand.

Jolyne glided full speed over the water, the wind and droplets of salty water refreshing her skin. More than competition, Jolyne loved the acceleration, the adrenaline, the sweet fresh air through her long hair. When she was surfing, Jolyne's heart lightened up and her mind purged of any negative thoughts, anxiety, fears.

She was at peace.

Before she could enjoy the sweet taste of her peace of mind though, she caught up to a blond surfer in front of her who she recognized as she got closer. Oh god, not him of all people.

"Oh, hey! Isn't that the sexiest surfer in all Miami?" Romeo teased, admiring the girl who gained up on him, "Not bad, look at you go! Who knew my little Jojo would be so talented, hot damn!"

Jolyne frowned and clicked her tongue. She swore if she wasn't so focused on staying in balance, she would drown him on the spot. He laughed obnoxiously, satisfied with being a disgusting excuse of a human.

"Romeo, I swear to fuckin-"

Before she could even finish her sentence, something, a gigantic fish tail appeared out of the wave and flicked itself right accross the blonde, slapping him off of his plank with a painful sound.

"HUAARGHH-" He screamed before crashing into the water with the splash and disappearing behind Jolyne.

"O-OH MY GOD!" She gasped, both surprised by the sudden turn of events, and incredibly scared for her life, thinking some kind of hostile shark was in the shore currently, which was to report immediately.

The moment she decided to take a turn and leave as fast as she could, warning the others to get the hell out of here, a shadowy form within the water followed her along the wave.

Foolishly curious, Jolyne looked at it, not without her heart hammering in her chest at the potential danger she was facing.

What she saw was not a sight she'd have ever expected to ever see in all her 19 years. Her legs shook at the shock and she almost completely fell over her board.

Gliding along the water right next to her, right inside the tall wave, was the figure of... a girl.

Or was it a girl? It couldn't be. She looked human at first glance, but the more Jolyne's gaze moved sideways she noticed the long and impressive fish tail replacing what were supposed to be legs.

Jolyne's jaw felt slack. She felt like she was hallucinating. Believe it or not, she had not smoked or taken any recreative substances beforehand, but she truly wished she had because that would have at least explained what her eyes were showing her.

The girl swimming and following her only smiled, waving cutely with webbed hands, as if amused by Jolyne's disbelieving reaction and wide eyes.

"W-w-w.... What the fuck..???" Jolyne finally spoke after rebooting her entire brain, "No fucking way-...! A mermaid??!! A real one??!"

Like a bad trick from fate, the wave Jolyne was trying her hardest to not get swallowed by, seemed to grow weaker and weaker, shortening in size.

Jolyne saw the mermaid slowly retreat away in an elegant swim, her form vanishing into the deep blue.

"Wait, no!" The surfer called, almost desperate to have such a mystical meeting and ethereal moment be so short lived.

She reached her hand out to the creature, unsure of what she was even trying to do, but the force of the current got the best of her, and Jolyne lost balance, falling forward with nothing to hang onto for purchase.

Jolyne splashed onto the water and the wave died with her hope of ever living such a dream again.

"Ooohh dang it! You were almost there!" Hermes called out from the shore, her voice booming enough for Jolyne to hear as she broke into the surface.

"Fuck...." Jolyne cursed, hanging onto her board.

She felt defeated. Not because she couldn't ride that wave to the very end as she was expected to with her skill level, but rather because she couldn't immortalize that beautiful moment.

She blankly climbed onto her board again and barely even paddled her way back to land, too out of it to do so.

Was that even real? That had to be, right? She saw the mermaid. She saw her hair, her skin tone shined-on by the sun. She saw the scales over her skin, the fins along her arms and tail.

She saw her attack Romeo, he must have seen her too, Jolyne pondered.

"Aaah the champion is back!" F.F cheered as Jolyne finally walked back, drenched and with her plank under one arm. "I made a sandcastle for our ocean queen!"

"Thanks Foo..." Jolyne's small smile didn't not match her quiet tone.

"Hey, what's up, chula ? You look like you've seen a ghost, or something? You did great back there, so why the long face?" Hermes fixed the straps of Jolyne's bikini top and removed some seaweeds from her hair.

"It's just... I saw something weird it the water and I don't know..." Jolyne hesitated, "Maybe I was dreaming or something."

"Hum..." Hermes hummed in thought. "What do you think Féfé?"

"Maybe Mr. Jotaro can answer if you saw an animal? Damn, I'm thirsty." F.F stuck her tongue out, clearly expressing her thirst.

"Dude, there's water litterally everywhere here." The mexican grimaced before turning back to Jolyne. "But yeah, maybe you should ask your dad if that worries you so much."

"Uhh..."

Jolyne looked towards her father who was crouching somewhere next to some rocks, taking notes about mollusks, or so Jolyne guessed.

"Yeah, maybe not. It's fine though, no big deal." She smiled, waving her hand in dismissal.

Shrugging it all off, the girls decided to join Weather Report and Jotaro who brought food to finish the day at the beach with a relaxing touch.

And so, the day ended with an uncanny normalcy for Jolyne, who kept thinking more and more as the sun set, that it all had been in her mind. Mermaids didn't exist. It was probably a Stand user playing tricks on her.

That what she wanted to believe. When she thought of all the events that would follow, she truly wished she had spoken to her father about it. After all, if he had fought a very real vampire, then there would be no doubt that something as crazy as a mermaid could exist in her bizarre adventure.

Jolyne came back to the beach that same week. Alone, this time. She was careful to come by the time the sun started to lower in the sky and the temperature of the water and air dropped, knowing tourists and athletes would be gone by this time.

'What now?' She thought. Coming back out of sheer curiosity was a thing, but making sure she could attract the creature back to her was something else.

"Should I bring food? What do mermaids even eat? Does she like hot dogs...?" Jolyne thought out loud, looking around, secretly glad no one was here to hear her talk mad nonsense to herself like some insane crackhead.

She approached the water and drenched her feet in the small rocking waves, coming and going her way and gently splashing her. She hesitated for a moment, remembering that along with the legend of mermaids came the fact that these creatures were known to attract and enchant humans by their beauty, leading them to their inevitable death.

So maybe, Jolyne accepted, she was destined to die in the ocean.

Just as she came hip-deep into the sea, she felt a strange current shaking her legs, almost knocking her out of balance.

Before she could even process how strange it felt, she looked down into the clear water and saw no less than the same huge colorful fish tail she had seen that very day.

She gasped in realization and soon enough screamed as she felt calloused hands grab her thighs, the creature pushing herself out of the water to be met face to face with the human who had been, unbeknownst to Jolyne, her newfound fixation.

"Y-WHAAAAAHH!!!" Jolyne hollered, not expecting such a strong and surprising appearance.

The mermaid still halfway into the water, climbed and gripped up the girl's hips for leverage. She looked up at Jolyne's face, smiling wide and eyes glinting in both adoration and mischief.

"Greetings."

"HOLY CRAP-" Jolyne's voice cracked, "I mean- fuck yes! I mean-..."

Poor Jojo was completely out of it. But who could blame her, though? It was not everyday that one got to meet a real mermaid in the flesh. And certainly not such a handsy one.

She cleared her throat and mustered her most suave voice, pretending she wasn't completely flustered by the sheer beauty before her.

"Hi."

"I knew you'd come back..." The mermaid spoke, her voice almost ethereal and distant, "They always do."

Jolyne's heart wanted to stop. God, she felt burning hot and was sweating everywhere. Her voice stilled Jolyne to place in a way she couldn't explain. The legendary creature was so impossibly close to her, bodies almost touching.

She noticed she couldn't stay up overwater any other way than using Jolyne's lean body for leverage, her heavy tail anchoring her down. But the warm proximity between them and the sight of such a beautiful, rare and mystical creature right under her chest felt unreal and exciting.

Jolyne wanted to look her over for hours. Her hair texture, drenched and flowy, her skin tone glowing like gold, her holographic scales and fins shining like crazy diamonds.

"Why... Why did you...? Of all people...?" Jolyne questionned, now wondering if their first meeting in that wave was really a trick of fate, or if she was chosen in any way. "You attacked Romeo, yet you showed up to me... Why me?"

"I like beautiful humans." The mermaid smiled, her radiant features and smooth voice making Jolyne's legs weak, "You're beautiful."

The young surfer couldn't help her heart shaking and the wave of warmth spreading through her chest. If it was anyone else, she would boast her obvious beauty or maybe flip them off. But now she couldn't. Being complimented by a mythical being that was already the most gorgeous thing Jolyne had ever witnessed was truly something else

"What's your name?" Jolyne started.

"Call me Y/N."

Y/N, Jolyne's mind echoed. Cute. Even mermaids had names, she thought before realising that may be a very stupid thought to have. She didn't really know what else to expect.

"I uh, I'm Jolyne..." She looked down into the water, somewhat not daring to look at Y/N's adorable curious and sensual gaze. Oh god that was bad, she was entrancing.

"Not to be gay but...You look cute. Hot even. Can I say that? That's not weird, right? Since ya know... You're not exactly human, but you're not an animal either, like... I'm not gonna get arrested for this... I hope..."

"I'm not too familiar with human tongue, but I think Ms.Jolyne looks really pretty as well." Y/N moved to wrap an arm around Jolyne's waist, gripping her for better leverage and pointing at her chest, right in her reach. "Healthy mammals, great for feeding the young."

"Mammals...? Oh! You mean my boobs?" Jolyne glanced at her modest chest before grinning at the creature, "Aw thanks! Finally someone who likes them who's not some degenerate creep!"

Jolyne's chuckle died down and she finally took the time to look over Y/N's face. She ran a cold hand over her much warmer cheek, gliding it down to her gilled neck, mesmerized by her anatomy.

It truly was a one-in-a-lifetime meeting. Jolyne was slowly comprehending her luck to be met with a legendary sea creature like her. And a friendly one, at that.

How could this be even real? Our human knew that even though she was feeling relatively serene at the moment, the adrenaline would come down later and she would most likely cry herself to sleep.

"Hey uhm..." Jolyne was at a loss for words. There were so many things to say, but at the same time, she couldn't speak a word.

"Hm?" Y/N hummed and closed her eyes, enjoying the human's gentle touches.

Merfolks would express themselves via physical ministrations the most in the ocean, but she knew well a lot of humans did not share intimacies, or at least not before building a certain bond.

Glad that Jolyne was open to it, the sea-bound girl squeezed both her arms around the human's waist lovingly, forcing endearment on Jolyne, who felt her own heart tighten at the sweet and adorable embrace. The girls wanted to keep each other.

"Will we see each other again? I mean, I know you shouldn't be noticed by the public for your safety, but I don't know... Guess I took a liking to you or something." Jolyne mumbled, still resting her hands mindlessly around the creature's shoulders, fiddling with the ridges of her dorsal fin.

Y/N smiled, a smile that looked empty on her fish eyes, but sincere regardless. She let go of Jolyne who couldn't quite take her own hands off of her, clinging a little bit longer.

"Don't you know this, Ms. Jolyne? When human women die in the ocean, they relive as our kind."

"What? Really?" Jolyne let the mermaid get away slowly, ready to swim off to some unknown destination.

"If you want to see me again," Y/N called out cutely, waving her webbed hand like the very first time she saw Jolyne surfing, "Then perish in the ocean!"

She grinned, diving into the deep blue and splashing her tall tail strongly, giving herself a boost of speed, and disappearing away.

Jolyne could only stare into the horizon, darkening as the night arrived, stunned into place.

"...Ok, that was metal as fuck..."

H2O Just Add Water opening, but with Jolyne, Hermes and F.F

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo #jjba #reader insert #x reader #writing #jojo no kimyou na bouken #part 6 #jojo part 6 #stone ocean #jolyne cujoh #jolyne #jolyne x reader #jolyne kujo #jolyne kujo x reader #mermaid au #fantasy au #mermaid reader

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

Text

le deux, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: One rebel from the waist down plus Jeon Jungkook in a sleeveless tee equals two in the back of a car, fucking like animals as Jungkook takes pictures of it all on your phone. Per your request, of course.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; smut (fem reader, semi-public (car) sex, photography/filming of sex, m-receiving oral, cowgirl); non-idol!BTS; reader has a dimple and Jungkook’s inner monologue is basically in love with it; PWP? you decide happy jungkook day! :D 2021.01.09

–

Jeon Jungkook thought he knew what he was getting into, but he sure as hell didn’t.

When he stepped through the gate, he thought, damn, it’s awesome that so many girls decided to wear such skimpy clothes to a rock concert. He figured he’d see some bouncing titty, flashes of ass, maybe the loss of some underwear because the lead singer was hot as hell. Dude was ripped and tattooed like nobody’s business. Dream body for Jungkook, to be honest.

If only his mom would let him get that many tattoos.

The right sleeve was already pushing it though. He’d have to ease her into it slowly.

Jungkook had gone alone, because his friends weren’t really into rock the way he was, but that was fine with him. He liked being able to enjoy himself without thinking too much about other’s opinions, even if they were his friends. Got to wear a sleeveless band shirt, tight black jeans, left his long black hair in a half-ponytail, and decorated his wrists with silver bracelets. He would have been more covered up if he was with his friends – didn’t want to make them jealous with all the stares he was getting with his tattooed right arm, after all.

And my body in general, he thought amusedly.

If he was younger, Jungkook would have been shyer about leaving himself so exposed like this, but he wasn’t, so instead he merely gave the stares a cocky smirk.

What was the point of working out if he couldn’t show it off a little?

He spied his seat and noticed there wasn’t anyone sitting right next to him yet. Odd. He had purchased relatively close seat and the concert was sold out. Hm. Well, maybe he should get some beer before it started.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her.

She was dressed like every other girl at the concert; smokey eyes, dark lips, black choker, shredded black crop top with an equally short fishnet shirt under it, pleated black miniskirt with silver buttons. A black strap over her chest. Knee-high black boots with buckles running all the way up her calf. Bare thighs and naked waist on display. Nice.

But that wasn’t why he paused.

He paused because she had a tattoo.

A single tattoo of black script around her waist. Her body was facing him, tilting her head at her phone, then looking down at the floor, at the seat row numbers. The tattoo was in English and Jungkook could read, a rebel. She turned, facing her left, and looked up, counting the stairs. He realized the black strap connected to a clear waist bag that she was wearing on her back. She twisted a little so he got a good view of her back, the part where it trimmed down to the curve of her round, perky ass.

from the waist down.

Holy shit.

She had a rebel from the waist down tattooed around her midriff.

His eyebrows rose so far up into his forehead in shock that he didn’t even realize she was crawling over the people to her seat. She had black, pointed nails and silver chains draped over the back of her hands. A charming smirk, dimple flashing as she apologized for bumping into people. None of them seemed to mind, probably because her skirt was flipping up and revealing the strappy black velvet panties she was wearing. She seemed not to notice.

She plopped herself into her seat and grinned, checking her phone again. She had a black case with a nine-pointed star on it. Held her phone up and took a selfie with that killer smile, her tongue between her lips.

With a start, Jungkook realized she was sitting in his seat.

“Hey, you’re sitting in my seat.”

She sat up and looked around, counting down the row. “Aw shit, you’re right. Sorry.”

She got up and flopped into the seat next to him. Jungkook sat down, careful with his beer and water bottle. The chair was still warm from her body heat. That would have bothered him if he wasn’t staring at her open legs. She sat unapologetically, man-spreading in her seat, thighs laid out like a five-star buffet.

If she asked, Jungkook would gladly partake in said buffet.

Her hands were holding her phone and she tucked her tongue in between her teeth as she typed furiously, nails clacking against the glass, lowering the phone to her lap. A long text exchange was visible on the screen.

“Argument?” Jungkook pondered out loud.

She chuckled darkly. “More like, ‘I ain’t sitting on your dick for any amount of money, you piece of shit, leave me alone.’ You think men could get the fucking hint.”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow even though she wasn’t looking at him. “Block him?”

She scratched her chin, sending the message. “I would, but if I do, my parents are going to have a fit. They’re trying to set me up with him.”

The show was almost starting. He could hear the instruments warming up.

“What are you gonna do about it?”

She raised her head and grinned at him. Her right dimple winked at him with her smirk. Damn. Jungkook loved dimples.

“Me? The same thing as I always do. Find someone to fuck and send him pictures.”

So that’s why Jeon Jungkook was in the back of this random woman’s car, gasping as he was getting the best head of his life.

And struggling to take a picture of it.

“Holy shit,” he hissed, one of his hands hitting the glass of the car window as she took him deeper, tongue running underneath the length, hips swaying, her waist tattoo clearly in his vision. a rebel from the waist down. She had told him her name earlier, maybe when they were making out in the concert seats halfway through the show, maybe when they were practically dry humping each other by the end of the concert. Not the way Jungkook thought he was ending this particular event and he would probably buy another ticket so he could actually listen to the songs properly.

The head of his cock was jammed in the back of her throat, continually being squeezed by her tight, wet vice.

Jungkook wasn’t complaining though, if you get his drift.

Her eyes flickered up and she smirked around his cock, right dimple appearing as her tongue slid out from her plump lips and curled around the base.

Jungkook snapped a photo.

“Fuck, that’s sexy,” he mumbled, turning the screen around to show her. She chuckled low in her throat, vibrating the head of his cock. Rutted him a few more times, making him moan at the euphoric sensation.

She removed her mouth and he almost whimpered, but she was speaking and he was listening, staring at her dimple and glistening pink lips.

“You’re good at taking pictures, Jungkook,” she murmured. “Get one of me on your balls.”

She lowered her head, lifting his cock. Black nails, silver chains, and long fingers wrapping around his stiff length, lifting his wet cock and placing her tongue onto his balls. His eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head. Fuck, he had never felt a better tongue, swiping back and forth, getting the full expanse of his balls as her other hand came up to smush them against her lips. He sucked in a breath and spread his thighs more, seeing saliva drip down, hitting the black towel she had spread out in her backseat.

Evidently, she had planned this shit.

Jungkook lifted her phone and pressed the circular button.

Her eyes flickered up at him again, smirk on display, tongue fully extended and smacking his balls back and forth, jiggling them with the wet pink tip. Hand firmly gripping his cock. The moans coming out of him could rival the best porn out there. His chest was shuddering, his sleeveless shirt forgotten and crumpled in her front passenger’s seat – he couldn’t really remember how it got there to be honest – and his pants were balled up around his knees, making this somewhat uncomfortable but also hot as hell.

Jungkook snuck a glance at her phone and realized he was taking a fucking video the entire time instead of a photo. Shit. He furrowed his brows and stopped it, switching back to photo mode, and took a picture the second she swallowed one of his balls in her mouth.

“Fuck!”

He nearly dropped the phone on her face as she sucked, eyes sparkling with mirth, doing some kind of crazy figure-eight maneuver with her tongue as he lowered his hand, gasping for breath as she pulled her head back and forth, jerking him slowly at the same time.

“I… might have taken a video,” Jungkook panted out, head tipping back and staring at the ceiling of her car as she switched sides, sucking harder and tonguing more intensely, back and forth, up and down, so wet he was losing his mind.

She hummed onto his fucking nuts and he almost exploded into her hand.

His hips rose involuntarily and the base of his cock smacked her in the nose. She had the audacity to laugh, releasing his balls, spit dripping down her chin. She cleaned it off with her forearm, also letting go of his cock.

“Let me see,” she chuckled, wiping her hand on the towel before grabbing her phone from him. Replayed the video. His own moans filled the car, far too fucking loud. Jungkook’s cheeks heated with embarrassment as she planted her warm, clothed pussy onto his naked thigh, bouncing on it as she gleefully watched herself making out with his balls.

“Nice. I like it,” she chuckled.

“You’re crazy,” Jungkook snickered. And she was, but this was also fun too.

The dimple came back. “Want me to sit on your cock?”

Fuck yeah, he did. “Least you can do for me, since I provided such excellent service.”

She lifted her hips from his thigh and handed him her phone back. Took the two sides of her strappy velvet panties and pulled down. His eyes widened seeing the long string of juices from the black velvet to her crotch, snapping against her thigh, the strong scent of arousal so apparent it suddenly dominated all others.

“Someone is gonna see you,” he breathed, seeing the reflection of her ass clearly in the window, in view of the vehicles around them. People were in their cars, waiting to leave. Maybe some of them were watching this crazy woman jumping on his dick. The thought made him smirk.

She reached over to the center of the car and pulled out a condom from the cup holder.

This woman was definitely insane and Jungkook was loving it.

She grinned back at him, ripping it open right in front of his face. Lowered her hands and rolled it down on his throbbing cock. He exhaled in satisfaction, watching her ass lower and slide her pussy to him, lifting her skirt so he could see. Clean shaven. Probably for the pictures. Damn. That was a pretty pussy, and she was soaking wet.

“You like me that much?” Jungkook teased.

She pressed the head against her glistening slit and placed her tongue in between her teeth, dimple reappearing.

“Fuck yeah. You’re hot as hell.”

He didn’t expect her to say that. His ears burned and his cock pulsed with need. He also didn’t expect her to shove his cock into her that roughly either, jerking her hips into his and pressing down. She chuckled at his breathless gasp, settling her thighs against his waist.

“Take a picture for me,” she purred. “Gonna show him how deep I can take your big cock, Jungkook.”

Did he have a big dick? He knew he was bigger than average for sure, but it wasn’t like he measured and compared sizes on the daily. Also, he tended to get bigger and harder the hornier he was and right now he was maximum aroused because her pussy was clenching around his dick, burying it all the way up to the tightest, deepest parts of her wet hole.

“You’re choking him,” Jungkook chuckled as she gave him a particularly tight squeeze. His cock throbbed in delight.

“Death by pussy can’t be that bad,” she teased. Her chain covered hand nudged his hand holding her phone. “Come on.”

He lifted the phone and she raised her skirt once again, letting him see. God, it was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen in his life.

“Should I take off my shirt?” she asked.

Jungkook made his dick jerk inside her and she moaned deliciously.

“Nah, he doesn’t deserve titties.”

She leaned back, pulling her skirt high and Jungkook took the shot of their joined thighs, her viscous juices shiny and smeared all over his crotch. Man, it had been a great idea to work out until he got that v-line. Matched perfectly with hers.

He turned it around and she bit her lip, grinning wide, dimple indented in her right cheek. Jungkook was beginning to become a fucking sucker for that dimple. He wanted to cause all kinds of trouble just to see it over and over.

“A rebel from the waist down, eh?”

The dimple stayed as she laughed.

“It’s a little bit of a lie,” she said mischievously as she began to roll her hips into his. “Because I’m definitely a rebel from the waist up too.” Her tongue extended, long, so fucking long and wet, almost touching past the midpoint of her chin.

Goddamn, Jungkook was glad he attended this concert.

She put it back into her mouth and began to fuck him hard, putting her back into it and smacking their hips together loudly, rocking the car a little, but at this point Jungkook was ready to go to jail for indecent exposure, head thrown back in her backseat, groaning as he felt her squeeze him with every descent, so wet that he felt like he was going to slip out while also feeling every contour of her pussy clamping down on him. He placed her phone on the seat and grabbed her thighs, sinking his fingers into her softness, drunk on the feeling, moaning her name as she used him like her favorite dildo.

“Ah, Jungkook,” she panted, smirk still on her lips. “You have a great cock. Glad I picked you.”

His eyes lowered, watching her through his lashes, seeing her smug expression. “I’m honored.”

She snickered. “Pretty face, hot body. Down to fuck.” That dimple. “I got lucky.”

Me too, he thought.

She placed her hands on his, sliding them up to her waist.

“Can you fuck me from below? Bet you’re great at it.”

He grinned and slammed his hips into her dripping heat. She moaned wantonly, grabbing his shoulders as he pounded her from below, feeling her clench and squirm, her walls spasming and juices leaking down his balls.

“A-ah, fuck,” he gasped, closing his eyes as he felt it. She must have orgasmed, but was too breathless to say as her nails dug into his shoulders, pushing her hips down as he jerked them up, meeting his thrusts over and over.

“Fuck, you’re so strong,” she breathed, pussy clenching again, splattering more onto his thighs, whole body shivering in his hands as she threw her head back, moaning his name. It sounded positively sinful from her lips and he loved it. The towel under them was soaked with bodily fluids and most of it was hers.

“Ugh, you feel so good,” Jungkook panted. “So fucking good when you cum for me, fuck, I thought girls couldn’t orgasm that easily on dick.”

She chuckled deep in her throat, bringing her head back and looking down at him, hair falling all around her shoulders, plump lower lip in her teeth. Fuck, her face was so fucking pretty.

Pretty fucking naughty too.

“Can’t speak for other girls, but I do love getting railed by a hot guy with a big cock,” she purred, licking her lips. “And you’re so hot you could spark a match.”

Was it possible to get harder because of a damn compliment? Because that was happening to Jeon Jungkook right now, his jaw clenching as he grinned, fucking her harder, deeper, bouncing her on his dick unashamedly, definitely catching someone’s attention out there because of how deliciously she was moaning for him, telling him how good it felt as her pussy violently massaged his entire length.

“Yes, yes, ah, Jungkook, your cock is so fucking good…”

It was getting to his head, shooting down to his spine, coiling tighter and tighter, smashing his hips into her tight, wet hole, every muscle on fire and vibrating with pleasure, her name falling from his lips repeatedly, feeling so good doing something so bad, pleasure so intense he barely heard someone honk their car horn cheerfully at their fucking.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum, fuck!”

He shot into the condom with a fierce jerk, filling it completely as she gasped, pussy tightening and throbbing around him as his crotch was soaked again, exhaling hotly into his face as she came with a shudder of his name, big smile on her lips.

Absolutely the best car sex Jungkook had ever had in his entire life.

She collapsed against him, pressing her hot cheek against his.

“I think someone honked at us,” she laughed, a little raspy from moaning so much.

Jungkook wrapped his hands around her waist, kneading it. “Cheering for me and my dick, I bet.”

She reached down and felt for her phone.

“You really gonna send him those pics?” Jungkook asked, panting from exertion.

“Do you not want me to?” Her tone had a hint of concern. “You’re in them too, so I won’t if you’re not down.”

He chuckled. “Just send him the one of you holding my dick and licking my balls.”

She held the condom down as she got off him, laughing. “Damn, how cruel. Showing off your big dick like that. You’re trouble, Jungkook.”

Jungkook looked over to his left. She sat down next to him, pressing her body close to his. Thigh against thigh, shoulder against shoulder. Dimple clearly visible because of her mischievous smirk. He leaned over and kissed it. He just had to. Her eyebrow raised, smirk turning into a pleased smile.

He grinned.

“That makes the two of us, doesn’t it?”

Her eyes darted around the rapidly vacating parking lot. Then they came back to his face, her lips curving into a grin to match his.

“Damn, I’m so lucky to have met you, Jeon Jungkook.”

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x you #jungkook scenarios

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writefightandflightclub · 3 years

Text

At ease, soldier (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader)

What is this? This is 8/10 one-shots/blurbs for my “friends to lovers” event. (More deets in pinned post). The prompt is “I’ve never seen you dressed-up like this and **** you’re hot.”

Summary: when Santi moves in with you following his divorce, he didn’t anticipate seeing you in THAT DRESS. It does things to him, and has him reevaluating everything he feels for you, and everything he thinks he knows about home.

Author’s note: this has divorced!dad!Santi, so it’s a bit different (marriage / child not with reader). This might not be my best thought-out one-shot ever, or my best portrayal of Santi, but it is what it is. I personally think the thing reader does is adorbs, fight me if you disagree :P I really hope you like it! <3 Thank you as always for reading, commenting, and sharing. It means the world.

Rating: M/E (18+ ONLY, Minors do not read or interact. Thank you.)

Word count: this is not as long as some of the others! Hurrah!

Warnings: masturbation (m); Santi has super sexual thoughts about reader and they’re not together- they are written but not said out loud. theme of divorce but not too angsty. few mentions of shared custody / parenting (not reader’s child). Food mentions. Swearing. Kissing. Lmk if I missed any.

GIF: @realoscarisaac

Tagging: @isvvc-pvscvl @anetteaneta @stardustkenobi @casifer-is-king @foxilayde @tlcwrites @aellynera @kindablackenedsuperhero

“Hey, look. Thank you for this,” Santi says, softly and sincerely as you cross him again in the hallway, halting you with a hand on your shoulder. The heat from his palm bleeds through the thin fabric of your t-shirt and you consider wresting yourself sharply away from the pleasant torment of him. At the same time, you consider leaning in to his warm chest and staying there, so help you, curled like a leaf against the sturdy trunk of him.

He’s moving in with you, following the long, drawn-out process of his divorce. It has been a long time coming, but his marital house -which he has lived in alone going on a year - has finally been sold-off and split with his ex. And so, here he is, treading lightly and making himself small in your home - as if this isn’t somewhere he’s been loud and brash and welcome ever since you bought the damn place.

You can tell he’s grateful. He’s expressed it enough times. It’s the apology in his eyes you can’t stand - as if he’s some kind of burden. He’s been through a lot, but you want him to walk tall, instead of stooping under the weight of his “bad decisions”. He blames himself for a lot of things that you don’t think he ought to, not least the collapse of his marriage. She had cheated; although, he insists there were problems long before that. Perhaps even right from the beginning. He’d always been a travelling soldier, and even after he was discharged he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

“I promise. I’ll be out of your hair as soon as I get back on my feet,” he adds, self-consciously smoothing a hand over his scruff.

You smile softly. His promises still mean something to you. Even if he hadn’t seen through the promise of his marriage, you know he had tried. You know his word is never given lightly.

It’s hard. To start again, all over again. You know. You, yourself, were rattling around in a house too big for one, bought for two, perhaps meant for more - but that hadn’t worked out either. You’d had to forego promises you made as well.

“There’s no rush. Honestly.”

There isn’t. Between the legal fees and alimony, and carving up his assets, Santi needs a little time to get his finances together before he can consider his own place. You’re happy for him to take all of the time he needs. Out of the options available to him, you had been both the preferred one, and the last to offer. The other boys don’t have space. He’d considered a houseshare, but he needed somewhere his little daughter, Ava, could still come to stay on weekends.

You have space. Ava adores you. You were spending a lot of time with Santi anyway. For all those reasons, it was a no-brainier. You’d only hesitated so long in offering due to your impossible, undying love for the man. Did you really want to do that to yourself? To torment yourself with him, in your home?

“It’s no problem at all, but I do need you to haul this stuff inside a little faster, okay? I still have a date tonight, slowpoke.”

“You got it, boss.”

You chuckle, punching him playfully in the tricep, and traipsing out to the lawn to pick-up another box.

Perhaps it was ludicrous to go on a date tonight, of all nights, but at least you admit to yourself that it is an exercise in majorly over-compensating. It is some conscious attempt to signify how Not Into Him you are, and you are hoping -if the guy is cute enough and the sex is earth-shattering enough- that perhaps you could even convince yourself.

Aside from your well-established feelings for him, this whole arrangement is pretty dangerous. Santi is too easy to be around, and if you let yourself sink into the cosy bubble of his company, you fear you will never think to look for anyone else again. Whilst that would be just fine with you - Santi, on the other hand? He’s never been interested in you like that. Probably hasn’t ever entertained the idea of it. Besides, the timing between you two - even if there was something there- has never been quite right. There was always some mission or woman or man or bad decision getting in the way.

You sigh, as you bend and pick-up a box, feeling like your date is already doomed as thoughts of Santi swirl relentlessly in your head.

You can hope, perhaps, that it won’t turn out to have been a terrible decision to invite him into your home. Perhaps living with him will even help you get over him, once and for all, in a way that nothing and no-one else has managed to. You could discover all of his annoying habits and start bickering over whose turn it is to take the bins out until you hate each other, perhaps? However, somehow you think this is unlikely - when you’d broken up with Malik, Santi’s presence in your house had gotten you through. His laugh and his warmth had curled into every corner of this structure and nestled there, driving out all of the cobwebs. Santi made this house a home again, before he ever lived in it. In a way, you dread to think what will happen now.

“Make yourself at home, okay?” you encourage - this time as you cross him on the landing. “Put your stuff wherever. Take up some space. Hang your guitar above the fireplace. Hell, get a new one. Hang that too.” That had been a point of contention with her. “Paint your bedroom black, like you always wanted when you were a kid, whatever you want.”

Santi smiles warmly at you as he gets the message you’re so desperately trying to hammer home. You don’t want him to shrink himself into a corner. You want him to be at ease here. You want him to feel welcome.

With words escaping him, Santi’s hands wind around the back of your head, and he casually leans over, planting a quick but heartfelt kiss of gratitude, right in the middle of your forehead. “I love you,” he says freely, and, as he trots abruptly down the stairs, you only wish he meant it in the same way your heart sings its reply.

You do want him to relax here. He’s carried so much for so long. He’s carried it halfway around the world and back again, and the man deserves the break.

****

“Can I ask your opinion?” you call through his new bedroom door, cracking it and poking your head in as he responds affirmatively.

“Sure, come in.”

Santi watches as your body follows the path of your head, the slow reveal of your striking dress oddly tantalising, and sending a subtle surge of heat through him which he wasn’t prepared for.

“How do I look?” you say apprehensively, holding out your palms before doing a little half-swivel, one hand poised on your hip.

Santi’s extremely conscious that his eyes widen, and he swears he must look like a cartoon, feeling like they’re popping out of his head in surprise when he clocks you.

You’re wearing a form-fitting, flattering dress. It’s long, and it hugs you perfectly where it touches, with subtle hints of leg and cleavage where the luxe material gives way to soft, inviting skin. Your hair and make-up are different than usual too, and you really look the whole package - so much so that Santi takes a minute to form a coherent thought, beyond the low whistle he expels when he sees you stood before him.

Shit - he knows it has been too long since he said anything, and yet all he can muster from his slack jaw is a feeble croak.

Wow. Holy shit.

Santi is a little thrown. Your body looks amazing. You look sultry and sexy, and like sex-on-legs, if he’s honest. He tries to think or speak, but he’s not sure if he’s ever seen you dressed-up quite like this, and you have him feeling more than a little stupefied.

He gulps.

It’s not as though you look transformed, or anything. You’re an attractive woman, always, and the dress simply highlights that. No change there. But the way he’s responding to you is something new, and not something he entirely understands. Perhaps he simply became so used to seeing you clad in fatigues and sweats and overalls, usually covered in mud and sweat and blood. Perhaps he’s spent so long schooling himself into believing you’re someone he couldn’t and shouldn’t hit on -his friend- that he simply buried it. Buried it under his missions and his marriage and his house and his divorce. But now that all of those things are gone, and all the silt stirred-up, perhaps there is space for it to resurface? Now that, for the first time in a long-time, he feels at ease, and, here you are, looking like that?

Oh boy. His eyes trail over you further as though he can’t get enough. His gaze snags on the places the dress clings to you, providing a subtle outline of your form. He lingers on the places where you’re practically busting out of it- he likes those places especially.

He likes it a little too much, he realises, as he experiences an involuntary rush of blood to his cock, and he subtly rearranges his hands in front of him to disguise the fact as he stands to attention for you.

Fuck, what would Frankie say? Santi thinks, as he reaches for literally any wholesome thought where none seem to exist - in his mind nor his vocabulary - while he’s looking at you.

“You look nice,” he manages to say, but that’s not how he’s phrasing it in his head. Not at all.

I wanna shove my tongue between your thighs, honey. I want you to slip those red lips down on my dick until you drain my balls dry.

“Nice?” you bristle. “Nice, Santiago? I don’t want to look nice.”

“How do you want to look?”

Naked, on my bed? Or, maybe that dress hitched all the way up. Those juicy hips of yours being marked by my hands as I bounce you on me until I fill you up.

You cross to the cheval mirror at the opposite side of the room, further examining yourself.

Holy shit, you look good from the back too.

Santi may be a lapsed Catholic, but he certainly feels like he needs to visit confession with the thoughts he’s having about you right now. He swears he must have started visibly sweating.

“I don’t know,” you say, softly twirling. “Bangable, I guess? Come on, you’re a straight, hot-blooded male. If a woman turned-up to a date wearing this, would this do it for you? It’s not too much?”

He gulps. “Yes. Yep. For sure. That’ll do it.”

When you flick your eyes back to him, with a soft, humble smile, laced delicately with an inner confidence, he finally has a wholesome thought again:

You’re beautiful.

“I think it’s a little too much... but I guess we’ll find out,” you sing-song, his eyes following your hips as you wiggle back to the door, before turning back to him over your shoulder. “Do you have everything you need before I go?”

He looks at your plush red lips. He licks his own.

I need you on your knees.

Oh well, he’d managed to be wholesome for all of two seconds. That was something.

“I’m good,” he pushes out. “When will you be back?”

“Don’t wait up,” you breeze. “He has a nice pad, so if it works out I think we’ll be heading to his place.”

His place?

Santi can’t help but wonder why he’s suddenly imagining what sounds you might make underneath another man. Hell, whether he could double the intensity of those pretty noises under him instead.

This is not ideal. This is not ideal at all, when he hasn’t even made it through day one.

He hasn’t felt this... aroused in a long-time. Not since long before things went south with her. He hasn’t been this hard for a woman in just as long. He’s been hard in the sense of a mechanical, routine need, sure, where he has the basic need to pleasure himself; but this is something else. This is potent. This is lust, raw and consuming. This is not a general need, but it is startling in its specificity.

As you leave, and he takes himself urgently out of his pants, he understands that this is all for you. Moreover, as he winds his hand around himself, and works his shaft to the thought of you, he has the best orgasm he’s had in a long time.

When he’s done, he has some severe post-nut clarity, feeling guilty that he has moved into your home and spilled himself on your sheets to the thought of you; on day one, no less. It’s not very respectful.

But at the same time, he’s caught in a spiral. It’s like you have flipped a switch in him.

And, as much as he feels a little guilty, and a little terrified by the sudden onslaught of his desire, he feels oddly at ease. He already feels at home.

****

Santi is curled-up on the couch when he hears your key rattle in the door, and you tread in looking just as breath-taking, but a little more sombre than earlier. Having already shed your coat and kicked-off your shoes at the door, you collapse into the arm chair opposite him, your dress ballooning momentarily with a waft of air.

“It didn’t work out,” you explain solemly, answering the question on the tip of his tongue. He flicks off the distracting TV he was half-watching to give you his full attention.

“How?” he asks, leaning unconsciously forward in his seat, his eyebrows raised and mouth curling in a soft sympathetic smile. “There’s no way he didn’t like the dress.”

“Oh, he loved the dress. But I didn’t love him. He was a bit of an ass, actually. I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“You okay? Did he hurt you? Say something to you?” Santi searches your face urgently, his eyes suddenly intense and muscles coiled. “I’ll fucking kill him.”

You lean forward in your own seat and pat him on the thigh. Your perfume wafts over him. You smell delectable. “Stand down, Garcia. You’re fine. I don’t need anyone knee-capped. I’m just tired.” You stand, and his chin tips up to follow you. “Gonna wash-up and go to bed,” you add, tiredly. “Your night okay?”

“Yep. Fine,” he says briefly, more concerned with you. You look a little sad. A little wistful, he thinks. “Think I left my entire box of underwear in ‘Fish’s car. But that’s tomorrow’s problem.” He smiles up at you gently, with those deep, brown eyes of his, as that earns a light laugh from you. He saws his hand over his chin, gaze remaining soft as he watches you disappear and bid him goodnight. You swing around the doorframe as your hand clutches it, a trail of diaphonous fabric floating after you, as though you are a vision which could disappear in a cloud of smoke. It scares him that you would, he realises. He’s usually the one who disappears. Who retreats.

He watches you slink away, his mind already busy, working on how he might pick you up from your slump, and he plods to the kitchen.

You are upstairs in your en suite when he calls in to you, and, once you admit him, he transfers a steaming mug of sleep tea to your night-stand as a little pick-me-up. A small token, but one that makes you gasp in a breath, looking at his thoughtful gesture in confusion and surprise. “Thank you. That’s sweet of you.”

“Don’t sound quite so surprised,” he says thickly as he approaches you where you hover next to the sink. “Just because she ditched me doesn’t mean I’m a total write-off. I do have some redeeming qualities.”

He wraps his hands around the back of your head and he pulls you to him, planting another kiss to your forehead; but this time, in the dusky bedroom light, it hits different. It is slower and softer, and he looks far more comely. It sends a hot flare of yearning through you, blazing into every nook of you.

“I know that,” you say steadily, your fingers and thumb reaching up to play idly with the hem of his t-shirt sleeve. Your fingers brush his arm before you check yourself, turning away from him and towards the sink so that he can’t see your desire catching like a flare - and instead you continue to cleanse the make-up from your face, grateful for the cover the activity provides. “In fact, maybe I should have gone to dinner with you,” you snicker, innocently, before you think of the full implication of your words. “Sorry. I didn’t mean like that...” you hastily backpedal. “Just because we live together I’m not planning on getting ideas.”

“It’s okay,” he says, voice low and steady and soothing enough to halt your ramble. “You can go getting ideas if you want to.”

You whip your head towards him, a gulp trailing down your throat, as you see the vaguest hint of a suggestive eyebrow, of a smug smile dancing at the corners of his lips. You will yourself to remain in place; to avoid the call to lean in to his inviting lips or chest - even if he’s not giving you any signal that he would move away if you did.

You are hot aren’t you? Santi thinks. More than that; you are beautiful too. Now that he’s allowing himself to notice it, he can’t stop noticing it.

Seeking air, and space, the world shrinking to a dot, you tear yourself away from the sink and stride out into the bedroom, posting yourself at the door and signifying it is time for him to head out too. He takes the hint, and he comes to stand opposite you in the hallway, hands shoved into the pockets of his sweat pants.

“How are you doing?” you ask breathily, not knowing what has come over you but trying to push this heady, unravelling feeling away. To bundle it up and bind it back down. “First night in a new place?” You consider it, chiding yourself. “I should have been here. This whole date thing was stupid.”

It’s not a new place at all though, Santi thinks. In fact, he doesn’t think he’s ever been somewhere more familiar. Anywhere more like home. Not even with her - Ava notwithstanding, of course; that little girl is his pride and joy.

When Santi doesn’t answer, his eyes softly glowing at you instead, you reach to fill the silence, lest you fall all the way into the pit of yearning. “Maybe us living together is a bad idea. This is day one and you’re already counselling me through a bad date.”

“What else are friends for?” he smiles meaningfully. Gratefully, again. You can tell what he’s likely thinking. He’s thinking about all the times you have counselled him through years of bad decisions. You’ve always been there for him.

“Right.” Friends, you remind yourself, as the hall-light pools around him like spun gold.

He reaches his sock-clothed foot out to gently bump yours. “Well, don’t take tonight too hard, okay? You’re a catch.”

Feeling bashful, you fold you arms and smile, looking down at the floor and away from the vision that is him.

You kick your foot out to boop his in return, with your sizeable, fluffy slipper. “Well. You’re pretty bangable too, you know. Someone will snap you right up, as soon as you’re ready.”

Someone.

He turns his mouth downward, and tilts his head to the side. “Hmm,” he says as if considering your point. “Kinda looking for a little more than a bang though. I want someone who can be my best friend too. And... best friends? They’re kinda hard to come by.”

Your heart hammers in your chest. His tone is casual, but his eyes are earnest, and your desire unravels like spools of red ribbons from your core.

The way he’s looking at you, from beneath his lashes, a smirk developing at the corners of his lips has you almost collapsed to the floor with yearning, and you think, if he doesn’t step away from your door soon, you will find it hard to resist the temptation to drag him inside - if he’s willing. You will be tempted to let these ribbons wind around him and coax him to you.

However, Santi simply lets his comment hang in the space between you as you fumble for a response, before turning away and shuffling down the hall and towards his room.

“Goodnight, hermosa,” he calls, the pet name lighting you on fire. Beautiful.

“‘Night,” you call back to him, as casually as possible, before disappearing hurriedly inside your door and throwing yourself face down on to the bed with a silent scream.

Santi, for his part, reaches his respective room, and throws himself backwards on to the bed, having to fight the urge to run straight back to your room and kiss you senseless, if he’s honest. As he sighs out a huge breath and brings his hands up to his face, a light chuckle befalls him, and he has to consider what’s so funny. He lands on it quickly.

She - his ex- must hate this living arrangement, he realises. She’d always thought the two of you had something. She’d insisted. Had gotten mad jealous over it too. In all honesty, Santi had never seen it. Or, not at the time, at least.

Perhaps the timing had never been right.

...Not until now, perhaps?

****

The atmosphere is different in the morning. More settled, thanks goodness.

You’re up earlier than Santi, and you get to work in the smaller guest bedroom, which you had kept off-limits to him the day prior. When you’re ready, you call down to him - he’s in the kitchen getting a head start on breakfast- insisting that he comes upstairs.

He pads up to find you in the hall, stood with a huge smile plastered on your face.

“I have a surprise for you,” you announce to him, and, a curious, happy look blooms over his sharp features.

“Okay,” he says, oblivious, but his interest piqued as you swing the door open and hustle him inside ahead of you, clinging to his t-shirt.

“It’s not finished yet,” you explain from behind him as he moves his head to look around the room, freshly painted and carpeted, and entirely different to how it looked before. “Ava still likes purple, right?” you say to his back, delight infusing your voice as he takes it all in. “Oh, and the birds-“ you point “-the boys and I each painted one. Benny’s is super wonky. I know it’s cheesy as all hell, but we wanted to remind you that you -and Ava- you’ll always have us as family.”

Santi doesn’t say anything. He can’t. He’s speechless with gratitude. It is all he can do to look around the room and take in all of the details. The little bed and princess canopy, the shelves lined with a few books to start her off.

This is something he didn’t dream he would be able to give Ava again for a long time. At least, not without some coordinates and a shovel.

He rasps one hand over his stubble, and you come up beside him, seeing that his eyes are full with tears, and his face pinched, as he fights to supress his emotions. He doesn’t cry often, and there’s not a lot that can reduce him to tears, so you can tell from his reaction how much this all means to him.

Your voice and your manner softening, you slot both of your hands around one of his and give him a squeeze there, before rubbing soothing circles into his back.

When you speak again, your voice is full, cracking with emotion. “I know this can’t be easy, Santi. And you need to know that you are home for Ava, wherever you are, whatever happens. But I thought this would help a little too?” He sneakily thumbs away a tear from the corner of his eye as your words overwhelm him. “I hope I didn’t take too much of a liberty,” you continue, looking around the room, and wandering deeper into it. “Thought I’d get it half-done and then you could choose the rest with Ava tomorrow?”

You turn back to him, smiling over your shoulder before turning all the way, your expression bright and hopeful and everything he hasn’t been able to muster for himself.

Still choked-up, Santi takes a few steps forward to meet you in the centre of the room, his long lashes beaded with diamond-like tears. He takes your hands in his, one to each side, and he presses his forehead against yours.

“Thank you,” he rasps, his voice full of holes, and your own eyes overflow too as his hands squeeze yours, happy that he’s happy, and sad that he’s in pain too.

After a few moments like this, the yearning creeps in, and, lest it invade everything, you extricate yourself from him gently, padding towards the door and offering, in a soft voice, to give him a minute alone.

“Wait,” he says, his voice catching you as you reach the hallway, evidently yielding a great deal of power for such a breathy thing, and it halts you in your tracks. “Can I try something?”

“Try what?” you ask, your heart and your voice fluttering in tandem, as Santi moves towards you in the hall with purpose.

“Can I kiss you?” His eyes search yours, brimming with emotion and softness and yearning too, his thumb and forefinger coming-up to clasp your chin tenderly in his grip.

“Is this a good idea?” you babble, as his lips hover moments from yours, and you are drawn to him with an achingly slow gravity. “You’re emotional, and you’re rushing and maybe you’re projecting or... maybe a million other things and I... really like you,” you say, raising your hands in between you, your palms pressed to his chest as your voice catches on hooks in your throat - keeping him at a slight distance before you can succumb to him. Immediately, he stops his advances, one hand winding gently around your waist. “Santi, I mean, I really like you,” you elaborate, you voice brittle and coming undone.

As much as you want this -have wanted this-you couldn’t face being one of his whims or mistakes or bad decisions. You couldn’t face being something he ended up leaving behind. He means too much to you for that.

Sensing your pain now, Santi smiles softly at you, not angry or offended in the slighest, but nodding in understanding. Tenderly, he trails the pad of his thumb along your jawline, and across your lower lip. He still finds apprehension in your eyes, and so, instead of the kiss he craves, he holds your head gently with one of his hands, and he dips forward to plant a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead, your eyes fluttering closed and a single tear spilling out of you as it lands.

Then, he pulls back, both of you wearing watery smiles, and feeling more than a little frayed around the edges.

“I get it,” he admits, nodding slowly. “On paper, this seems like another of my bad fucking ideas, doesn’t it? But...” he explains softly, eyes shining at you. “I feel as though I finally have things figured out. I feel like I know where I’m supposed to be.”

You nibble on your lower lip, a tentative, shy smile brewing. “Guess that was one powerful dress I wore last night, huh?”

“Hmm,” he considers, with a gentle chuckle. “It was, for sure, honey. Honestly though? This sports bra and overalls get-up is doing it for me too,” he admits, with a lopsided grin, nodding down at your DIY outfit.

You examine his eyes in disbelief. You can’t believe that he’s looking at you like that. Like you’ve always wanted; and yet... you essentially knocked him back, your nerves and anxieties getting the better of you, despite his lips being moments from yours.

“Look, I’m sorry,” you gulp, eyes heavy with apology.

“Don’t worry,” he says, tilting his head towards the end of the hallway. “Let’s go make some more coffee. Also, I think you deserve some pancakes, sweetie.” He offers his hand to you and with a gentle song in your heart you take it, Santi leading you back downstairs into the kitchen.

You giggle, suddenly giddy as you shake out your remaining nerves and shock and doubts. As you settle.

By the time you watch Santi open-up the cupboards and search inside, turning back to you to ask if you want chocolate chip pancakes, a tiny note of delight in his eyes, he finds you looking at him with a gentle heat, brewing and eddying and clasping him in its tendrils, dragging him under with you. It causes him to double-take as he looks between you and the food-stuffs, until you have his whole attention. Until the world around him shrinks to you.

“Santi,” you suspire, tugging on his t-shirt to spin him towards you, your voice shaking like a leaf. “You took me by surprise up there. Any chance we can... C-Can we... try that again?”

A gulp trails down his throat, mirroring the heat sinking and settling into your core, even with the mere anticipation of his lips brushing against yours; of feeling his warmth where you have long been cold. You watch his tongue darting out to whet his lips, and it is as though you are already parted for him with the motion, your own lips already spread to accomodate the way he will delve into you, opening you up for him.

Then, Santi surges forward, hands holding you securely yet softly at your back and gathering you to his mouth, as if he is parched of you, all the yearning collapsing in on itself in one final surge as he flows into your arms. Yet, for all the force of your yearning meeting in the middle, and for the harsh initial crush of your lips, when the wave crashes, it is delicate and soft, his hand cupping your face and his tongue a delicate interlocuter, uttering promises against yours. Promises you are sure he will keep.

As the kiss deepens, you truly feel him, hard and sturdy everywhere around you except for this molten, supple tongue which courses into your being like a trail of fire. His kiss is like starlight tossed into a dark pit. You are lit but your hunger will never be sated; and instead you will kiss him and devour him again and again, opening yourself up to him to feed the dark.

Suddenly, with this kiss, his warmth is on you and filling you and one with you, unravelling, and you wonder what you ever did without it. How you ever felt at ease with this yearning within you; although, you suppose you didn’t. You suppose you longed for this divine quickening and stilling, this slickness and friction. You longed to feel him, and most of all, you longed for him to yearn for you in return.

And, finally, as the kiss wanes and you hold each other tightly, Santi considers that although he planned to stay in your house for a mere few months, he has a feeling his stay by your side will be far longer. And, on your side, as you hold him against you and this house feels like a haven in ways it never has before, you are content in the knolwedge that your travelling soldier is finally at ease.

Finally at home.

A home for one, but meant for more, finally fulfilling its purpose.

#santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia #santiago garcia x reader #triple frontier #oscar isaac

392 notes · View notes

parkers-gal · 3 years

Note

Being tom’s costar & him setting you up with his brother, Harry. Maybe reader keeps saying no because she thinks Tom is asking her out

hello

combined with another request (hope you don’t mind)

Reader is dating Harry & Nikki like doesn’t her because she’s tom’s love interest in a movie. Harry & Tom defend reader

wc: a fat 3k (sorry lmfao took this too far)

—

When you were first called in for a dry run through of a script that would later be your next movie, you didn’t expect Marvel’s very own Spider-man to be there too. Of course, he didn’t expect you there either, but you were still pleasantly surprised that the director had called in for willing or suggested actors.

The two of you immediately hit it off, clicking on screen and off screen. And though you were playing lovers in front of the camera, your relationship with Tom was strictly platonic — and you were glad he was on the same page.

That didn’t, however, mean Tom wasn’t completely involved with your love life. After returning to your trailer directly after a date, Tom was waiting for you — and wondering where the hell you’d been. You confessed you’d gone out with someone, but the date wasn’t smooth and they weren’t your type at all. The date went pretty badly, and Tom pointed out later. Ever since then, he’d ask you if you were going on another date.

It had been a month and a half since then, and though you were ready for a relationship mentally, you knew it might be hard with all the press you and Tom would be doing around the world. You weren’t sure why you would be going on tour, though — it was a recreation of Sandra Bullock’s film While You Were Sleeping. Tom and you were popular enough as it was — a tour simply didn’t seem necessary. But, alas, you complied with your manager’s advice.

“Sooo…” Tom followed you into your trailer. It was around eight o’clock, and he was using the voice he used whenever he wanted something from you. “Are you seeing anybody?”

It had been about two weeks since the last time he’d asked, and you were already rolling your eyes. “No, Tom. I’m not interested in whatever offer you’re about to make.”

“But Y/N!” He whined, pouting. “I know somebody who’s perfect for you!”

“As perfect for me as Andrew from the Uncharted crew?” You raise a brow, setting your purse down while Tom huffs.

“He wasn’t that bad! How was I supposed to know that he doesn’t wash his beard?” “That seems like common knowledge to me, Tom!” You’re trying not to laugh at the ridiculousness of the conversation. “I could smell it from across the table!”

“Alright, alright.” Tom winces at the details. “I’m sorry about that one. But this time, I’m sure of it.”

“I swear to god if you pull some weird cliche shit and say yourself, I’m going to kick you out of my trailer.” You deadpan, pouring yourself from coffee from the brewer he’d just used while you were out.

“It’s not me, Y/N/N.”

“Yeah, but you keep giving me dates with people that aren’t my type and then saying you have someone better. What if you’re buttering me up?” You smirk from behind the mug, sipping it smoothly. He rolls his eyes, but blushes nonetheless.

“It’s not me.”

“Whatever you say, Spidey.”

He rolls his eyes again, sighing dramatically before heading towards the door. “See you tomorrow.”

“For what? Our date?”

“Quit teasing me!” He spins around, body halfway out the trailer entrance. “I meant ‘I’ll see you on set.’” You laugh wholeheartedly, waving to the brunette as he leaves you alone for the night. When you awake, you’re due early for a shower and straight to hair and makeup. You’re not sure why your character always wakes up so damn early just to work in a train station, but you comply with the director.

“G’morning.” You greet the assistant director with a smile, bagel in one hand and your script in the other.

“Morning,” He smiles before offering you some coffee. “Coffee?”

“Please?” You smile wider at the mention of the beverage, internally cheering as he makes your order — he’s memorized all of the crew’s by now, and it’s truly astonishing. You take up a conversation with him while you wait for your day to begin.

Tom comes in through the double doors, spotting you immediately — with another boy. He races over as quickly as he can manage with his tired body and with what’s left of his dignity. He doesn’t want to seem too eager, but he really thinks he’s found a promising boyfriend for you.

“Hey, Y/N.” He greets before his jaw clenches subtly. “Morning Conor.”

Conor nods at him before pouring another cup of coffee for the Brit. You’re rolling your eyes at Tom — you know him well enough to know when he’s feeling anything but positively.

“Excuse us,” You smile apologetically at Conor. “I have a part of the script I’d like to talk to Tom about before we start.” Conor nods understandingly, and you pull Tom aside, walking behind the sets while you angrily sip your coffee. “Y’know, you don’t have to be so dry to the crew that happens to talk to me.”

“I wasn’t dry!” Tom defends, shoving his free hand in his jacket pocket.

“Then what do you call that?” You gesture behind you with the roll of your eyes. “I thought we were on the same page about our relationship, here. I don’t like you in a romantical way, and I’d prefer it if you’d keep that base of our relationship out of work.”

“Y/N, Y/N.” He’s wide eyed, hands gesturing for you to slow down and listen to him. “I don’t like you in that way. I just… think I know somebody who you’ll really get along with.”

You groan. “Tom, you’re a shit matchmaker. Y’know that?” He gasps at your response, feigning offense. “Look, I’m being real with you! Nobody you’ve set me up with has lasted more than a week. You suck at this job, Cupid.”

Tom rolls his eyes but stops you from walking any further, grasping your arm to turn you in his exact direction. “Look, just trust me on this one?”

You ponder the idea almost with your body, head tilting in unsureness. “I don’t know…”

“Please,” He’s practically whining now. “Please, just… one more date?”

“Fine.” “Yay.” He smiles in victory just as the two of you are called back onto set. With heavy feet, you drag yourself to set, but this time, you can’t help but feel a little hopeful. Don’t fuck this up, Cupid.

You’d wrapped up filming last week, and the director’s were quite positive you wouldn’t need to come back in later for reshoots. So, you were flying out of Chicago and down to Atlanta with Tom for the weekend. He was going to “introduce you to his next option.” You still didn’t trust him, but you didn’t have any immediate projects, so you agreed anyways.

Tom was due to start filming Spider-man 3 on the upcoming Monday, so you knew you’d be going to the airport alone on your last night — that is, if things didn’t work out with this new date.

After receiving a text from Tom to be ready by eight o’clock, you’d showered and done your makeup. Settling on an outfit wasn’t as difficult because you had only what you brought with you. You were driving down to Tom’s rental home — apparently Marvel Studios always rented him that one — by seven forty-five. You were driving a rental car, and you mentally kicked yourself for not bringing a jacket in the middle of winter.

Parking in the open driveway, you rang the doorbell. Tom swung the door open, hair slicked back and trousers fitted nicely. You rolled your eyes with a groan, and before Tom could even greet you, you complained.

“Tom, I told you I’m not going on a fucking date with you- please ju-”

“No, no, no, love.” He laughed. “C’mon in, it’s game night with me and the boys. Your boy is inside waiting for you.”

You looked at him skeptically before walking up the steps and through the door. Tom led you through a rather modern-looking house, through an extremely large kitchen and into a back den room with a poker table. You rolled your eyes, but your facade dropped in the immediate moment where all eyes turned to you.

“Guys, this is Y/N, my co-star in that rom-com we just wrapped.” You saw Zendaya smile and wave, Jacob greeting you with a cheerful “hi!” and then you saw a freckled boy with red hair and immediately felt butterflies tickle your stomach. “Y/N, this is Harry. The guy I told you about.”

You wanted to curse at Tom for practically keeping this guy a secret. You wanted to curse him for setting you up with all those other tramps instead of this gorgeous boy right here. You wanted to curse at Tom for-

“This is my brother, Harry. Harry, this is Y/N, the girl I told you about.”

Your eyes nearly bugged out at his words, for reasons being that this “Harry” is his brother and that he’s talked about you to him. Keep your cool, Y/N.

“Uh, hi.” You nervously laugh, stepping forward to shake his hand. Harry smirks at you, hand reaching up as his lanky fingers make contact with yours, shaking from his seat without even standing.

“Hey.” His voice is deeper than Tom’s and it catches you by surprise. Tom had told you about his three younger brothers, but he never mentioned specific details like the ones you’re noticing now.

“Right then,” Tom clasps his hands together. “Y/N, you can share the seat with Harry while I get the drinks.”

You nod and try not to come off as too flustered, heart pounding against your chest, palms sweating. They’ve pulled up a loveseat to the poker table, suitable for two people, or two lovers. You wince at your own self, wanting to kick yourself again. But you don’t, instead sliding in next to Harry. He smiles, removing the toothpick that was sitting on the side of his mouth, sticking out like a truck driver. He throws it, and it lands directly into the garbage bin. You bite your lip and begin the game.

You end up staying in Atlanta for a lot longer than your two-day trip for the weekend. You’re there for a total of four weeks, and you’ve spent practically every hour with Harry. You were in a hotel for the first four and a half days before Tom had groaned at you leaving at one in the morning again, telling you to stay in Harry’s room and stop wasting your money on lousy hotels. The proposition made you giddy inside (and nervous, but they didn’t need to know that), and when Harry smirked at the idea, encouraging it too, you agreed.

So, you spent practically four weeks in Harry’s room, giggling at jokes and cuddling and watching movies and taking pictures. He’d taken you to set too, showing you around, talking nonstop about his cameras and their many different lenses.

The Spider-man crew was dispersing for a two week break, and Harry had already decided that you were going with him and Tom back to London.

“Love, are you ready?” Harry called for you from the bathroom connected to his bedroom. You shouted back your reply, zipping up your final suitcase while he walked back into the room.

You knew that after your trip to London, Harry would have to go back to work and you’d have to go home before starting your next project. But you didn’t care — the two of you had already discussed long distance relationships before confirming yours; you could make it work.

You would land in London by your two-month mark, you realized with a smile. Harry gave you a forehead kiss before talking both of your suitcases downstairs to the car. You grabbed the duffel bags and followed him out of the room where it all began.

The flight was exhausting but nostalgic in a weird sense. You spent the latter half of it curled up into Harry’s side, asleep or watching a movie. When you finally boarded off the aircraft, you went straight to Harry’s flat without protest. Normally, you’d fight about checking into a hotel so you wouldn’t catch anyone unprepared, but you were too tired to care.

Now, it’s been a day since your flight and you’ve promised Harry — and Tom — that you’ll go with him to their parents’ house for some lunch. You admit that you’re nervous and that it’s probably too soon to be meeting parents, but you pay no mind as you’re entering Holland's childhood home.

“Mum!” Sam, Harry’s twin who you’ve just been introduced to, yells out. “They’re here!”

You hear excited squeals as Sam leads the three of you through and into the kitchen. Nikki’s back is turned when you enter, but she excitedly turns around to greet her sons. She’s taken off-guard at the sight of you next to Harry, but still leans in to tightly hug her sons, who she hasn’t seen in quite awhile.

“And who’s this?” She inquires, gesturing in your direction. You’re a little taken aback at how unwelcoming she seems to be acting, but you shake it off as nerves.

“Mum,” Harry smiles, a hand on the small of your back, nudging you a little closer to him and his mother. “This is Y/N, my girlfriend.”

The whisk in her hand seems to stop mixing the recipe in the bowl. Your smile falters slightly, but Tom fills the silence at Nikki’s ajar mouth.

“Mum, she’s- uh, she’s my co-star in that rom-com I got casted for. Remember?”

“Oh,” She smiles a tight-lipped one, and you can tell it’s forced and fake. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m Nikki.” She wipes a hand off on her apron before extending it for you to shake. You accept the offer with a hesitant but genuine smile.

“It’s nice to meet you, too.” She hums but doesn’t respond, instead turning her attention to Tom. You make eye contact with Harry worriedly, and he shakes his head, bewildered. He kisses your temple before sending you in to meet Paddy and talk to Sam — somebody who actually welcomed you.

The day goes on like this, and though the tension is most obviously present, you don’t touch the subject, knowing it’s not your place or your home, especially since you came almost unannounced. You don’t want to be angry with a woman you barely know, so you try not to mirror her feelings.

“So, Y/N,” She directs her attention to you for the first time all day. You look up from your intertwined hands with a smile.

“Yea-”

“Did you just decide Tom wasn’t good enough based on his character and then move on to my next son?”

You’re shocked, mouth ajar as you blink. “W- what?”

“Tom told me about how many ‘date failures’ you had until you finally settled on Harry.”

You want to curse at Harry for offering to refill your drink, and you want to curse at Tom for spilling the secrets of your dating life. “I- I didn’t settle for anyone.”

“That’s not what my son says.”

Just then, both boys walk in together, laughing in conversation about something. You’re already crying, but the minute the door opens you stand abruptly, nearly knocking Harry off his feet.

He laughs at you, “Love? What’s u-” But he’s cut short when he notices your red eyes and fresh tears. He sets the glasses down, wiping your cheeks and grabbing both of your hands. “What happened? Hm?” He’s shushing you, trying his best to calm you down. “C’mon, angel. Tell me.”

“Your- your mom just said a few things.”

Harry’s eyebrows furrows, and so do Tom’s. They turn to look at the woman in the chair skeptically, questions flying out immediately.

“Mum? What did you say to her?”

You excuse yourself, not wanting to be a part of the conversation just yet. You run off to the bathroom to freshen up while Harry and Tom talk to Nikki.

“Harry, I’m just being a protective mother, okay? I didn’t say anything that bad.”

“Mum, you made her fucking cry.” Harry’s fuming, nostrils flaring while he glares at his mom.

“Don’t talk that way with me.” She points her finger at her son. “That girl is no good for you.”

“Mum, I introduced them.” Tom says. “I know her; she is good.”

“Not if she has to settle for Harry.” She clicks her tongue. “I remember all those dates you told me she went on, Tom.” She sighs while he scoffs. “Anyone that tries that hard to find a boyfriend is out for other things.”

“That’s bullshit.” Harry interjects. “She’s an actress, of course dating is hard.”

Nikki purses her lips but doesn’t reply.

“Mum, she’s crying.” Tom says softly, seemingly trying a different approach. “You haven’t talked to her at all, today. I think you shouldn’t have judged her too quickly.”

“Apologize.” Harry says finally before standing up. “Apologize or we’re leaving.” He walks out of the room, heading to the bathroom where you’re hidden away, sitting on the toilet while you catch your breath. He knocks, coming in with your permission.

He pouts when he sees your tear-stained face, face puffy and eyes red while you sniffle.

“‘M sorry.” You grumble the words while he kneels in front of you.

“What’re you sorry for, baby?”

“For causing all this drama.”

“Hey, hey,” His thumb rubs across your knuckles. “You didn’t do anything wrong. She had no right to say those things to you.” You look at him as he finishes, engulfing him quickly, crying into his shoulder while he catches you with his arms, holding you against his chest lovingly. After a few minutes, there’s a knock at the door, and Tom’s voice rings through.

“Mum says she wants to talk to you guys.”

Harry makes eye contact with you apologetically, thumb still moving across the skin of your hand.

“Well,” he stands tall. “Shall we?” You wipe your cheeks one final time before standing with him, taking the hand he offered you as you head for the bathroom door.

“Guess there’s no avoiding this part if she’s going to be my future mother-in-law.”

Harry sucks in a breath, and as you make eye contact with a smirk, there’s a glint in his eyes that acknowledges that you’re feeling better. He smirks back, opening the door for you as you head back into the living room.

Keep your cool, Y/N. You inhale a deep breath, emerging into the room. Keep your cool.

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