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azullumi · 29 days

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"once more to see you" ; aventurine

summary — to him, love was like a religion waiting to be discovered and he’ll find god in the way the sun looks on your skin; alternatively, aventurine thinks he’s rotten work and tiring to take care of but not to you, not if it's him (please get the reference).

pairing — aventurine (w/ gender-neutral reader)

tags — established relationship (but aventurine wants to de-establish it), somewhat fluff, slight angst with comfort, never proofread never what?!!, 1.3k ; ficlet

note — 2.1 broke me (the whole quest knocked at the door of my house, shook my hands, congratulated me, and invited itself into my home before pouring water on my face, slapping me, throwing me around, and left with the door open, all the while, my family watched). this is day 1 of writing for aventurine until i have him.

“you have a lot of moles.” his voice, despite a gentle whisper, tears through the silence of the night like a drop of water that ruptured and disturbed the surface of the pond. “especially here.” he gently taps on your skin; they seem like stars, he swallows the words back down.

you feel aventurine’s finger trace on the back of your neck and the curve of your shoulders, seemingly drawing—or connecting something. it was ticklish, the way he gently drags his hand and ghosts over your skin, a soft laugh slipping past your lips (you’ll capture his touch on your skin as if you were a sinner remembering how forgiveness tasted on your lips). there was something intimate that lingers in the air between you two as you lay in his bed with him, a fleeting moment that will be inked into your mind.

(the both of you leave your titles behind, mixed together with the scattered objects on the floor, laid on the cold ground to be picked up and worn later like a shiny medal even if you weren’t proud to have them.)

“they say it’s where your lover kissed you the most in your past life.” you stir in your position as you speak, coming to face him and meet his pretty jewel-like eyes—how alluring it was, painted with vivid colors yet it never shines. the sound of mirth laughter bubbles from his throat, a pleasant melody to your ears.

he asks, curiosity tracing the tone of his voice, “and from where did you even hear that?” and you shrug, bringing your form closer to him as you seek for more warmth, “i can’t recall. perhaps i heard it from topaz or maybe from one of the members of the ipc? they’re the only ones i often see and talk to.”

“the doctor?” he wraps his arm around your figure, his hand settling on the small of your back.

“that man will only scorn at that idea and call it stupid. he’ll most likely say that ‘only fools would believe such concepts.’” you mimic the way the esteemed doctor spoke, from the serious expression that he always don on his face to the deepening of his voice. your seemingly successful imitation earned a chuckle from the blonde-haired man before you.

“i’m sure he will.”

silence falls between you two and you took this time to adore each and every line of his being. a few strands of hair fall over his eyes—beautiful, captivating, mesmerizing, you could list out every word to describe his eyes but it would never be enough. you had always wondered why he would hide it until you witnessed the reason why he does so.

aventurine seems to study your expression at the same also, a soft look on his face as he did, and you can’t help but be curious. “what are you thinking about?” you ask him, breaking the silence that nurtured itself in the space between you and him.

you, he wishes to answer. how you look at this moment in his embrace: you were wearing one of his shirts, albeit, not exactly to your size but you insisted, saying that you liked it as it smelled like him. how gentle, loving, adoring, you were everything; he looks and thinks of you as if you were his everything (he doesn’t deserve you). but he doesn’t say it—the thought weighs too heavily on his mind, claws at his throat, and suffocates him—, instead he utters something entirely different that creates a shift in the air between you two.

“i don’t think i can do this.” he turns his head to look away from you, staring at the ceiling instead. it seems to extend itself far and far away from him.

the horrible part of being human is the tendency for destruction that lies in your bones. stained palms, calloused pads, despite the gentleness of your touch and the comfort of your caress. the desire to devour flesh and bones, to understand the underlying thoughts and meanings behind words and unexpressed feelings by consuming them. to submerge and drown in the depths of one's despair and desire (too close that the line blurs into one). the horrible part of being him was his tendency to destroy—hesitation and doubt lies in his being and aches at his chest, tugging on his heart’s strings, and settles on his throat—, it’s not like he doesn’t want to hold you, it’s just that he can’t.

“do what?”

“this.” you know exactly what he was referring to, know what he’s afraid of. he has laid himself bare and vulnerable in front of you countless of times that you have memorized the constellations that adorns his skin. you know him, you have known him enough to recognize the fear that tugs on his voice and see the walls that he tries to build up in front of you. you know him enough to know what thoughts are plaguing his mind.

“why do you think so?”

“don’t you think i’m too much to take care of?” he tries not to choke on his words and bite his tongue, careful not to let his voice crack lest he crumbles underneath your caress. i am undeserving of it. worthless. failure. selfish. discarded. coward. loser. nothing. you are bound to leave.

“not for me.” you caress his cheek and guide him to look at you—instead of the ceiling that seems to appear farther than it originally was in each passing second as the walls glean over him like a shadow—, to meet your gaze and see the sincerity that lurks deep within. “never will i get tired of you. so, let me carry your burden.”

he takes a few seconds to answer, uncertainty lingering in his tone: “it’s not yours to have.”

“it may not be.” you answer with no hesitation, “but it doesn’t mean that you must shoulder them alone.”

he opens his mouth to speak but unable to find the words to say, he closes them. there was a moment of stillness shared between you two. comfort, relief, assurance seeps into the ache of his bones and you say something too heavy even for this steady and silent night to hold, the words too much to be held—light spills in like a flood as if it was pouring out from the sun itself.

“i love you.”

“you utter such words as if it’s something easy for you.” as if loving him was just as simple as waking up in the morning and adoring the way the honey-light hugs your form as the dust settles in the corner of your room. when he’s stripped of everything and left with nothing, would you still love him the same? would you still kiss him as gently as you did? would you still hold the shards of his form even if it makes your hand bleed?

you spoke in a gentle yet firm croon, gaze unwavering, “because it is.”

you see the falter in his expression: his face, that once was crumpled, relaxed and so did his gaze soften. and you smile at him with only adoration in your eyes—like a devout follower to a divine being. “are you still afraid?”

“i don’t know.” he whispers.

“it’s alright. you have all the time in the world.” your hand weaves itself into his own, fingers lacing with one another, and you gently squeeze. it was a form of reassurance, a way of telling him that you’re here with him through all of it.

the warmth has settled in your being and you spill yourself into the cracks of his vulnerability. “i love you.” you say once more and you kiss the mark on his neck—lingering and soft as if you wish that it would take all his hurt away. the way he shudders underneath your touch, the hitch of his breath soon followed by a gentle sigh as he cradles you closer to him tells you everything that you wish to hear.

for once, he sleeps as if he had nothing to carry, nothing that shackles him to the stars that forsakes him.

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aspiring-house-husband · 9 months

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“forgive me, father, for i have sinned…”

I relish in breaking priests.

“I have been lustful.”

contrary to popular belief, a demon has no difficulty stepping foot in church. surrounding myself with all of that holiness, it only heightens my hunger. i keep my face looking human and my clothes modest and i remember what i’m here for. a priest… you, the gorgeous and beautiful priest with a body to make me drool. a body that deserves so much more than to be locked behind the church.

“tell me more, child.”

you’re young, for a priest. young and pretty and lovely. i want nothing more than to have you as mine, but i have been patient. i have visited you in the past, devout and mournful of my sin. supposedly.

“I have pictured you, father. in my nights alone, i have pictured you on my bed, devoid of clothes. i have imagined your supple flesh quivering with pleasure from my touch.”

you do not respond but with a sharp intake of breath. my lips reveal sharp teeth as i smile, a scent of shock and arousal slipping through the slatted holes separating us.

“i have imagined your soft thighs opening for me as you plea for my touch. you beg vulgar things of me, father. you beg for me to touch you and breach you and spear you onto me.”

“i- i see.”

“i have seen it in my dreams, father. you ask me to break you open on my cock and keep going even if you cry. you beg me to take you, body and soul. to make your hole and so your entire body feel as though holy, bewitched by god’s light.”

“interesting…” you sound breathless. you smell desperate.

“you promise me that you will save me from my sin, and that you can only do so by letting me release it within you, as you, holy father, can handle it. that you will cleanse me with your touch and your hole.”

“they say…” you say, and it comes out as a whimper. “they say that dreams are sent by god.”

“as guidance, father?”

“indeed. That god offers us answers and communicates with us through our dreams, should we only listen.”

“how must i repent, father?”

you try to hide it, but i hear the soft thump as you rest your temple against the wall between us. so too can i hear your thighs rubbing together for the slightest relief, and your hand making way of your clothes to reach your own heat.

“if god has so graciously shown us his path, we must take it,” you answer, and i can hear your robes shuffling as you dig your hand down further between your legs. “but you must finish confession, first.”

“only after you beg of me, in my dreams, do i take you viciously,” i answer, listening to the sweet sounds of your wetness as you shove fingers as deep into yourself as you can reach. “i satisfy you with my cock and you cry out at how it feels. i thrust into you with enough force to bounce your voice and force you to cum around me and again until you shed tears of ecstasy, father, and told me that i was cleansed with the holy light of god’s love within your body.” your breathing and the scent of your arousal both spike as you near your own orgasm, every word of mine and every thrust of your fingers bringing it closer until you tremble and shake through it. i see the shadow of you leaning back into your seat as you listen. “and i felt the euphoria, father, of the holy light that i spilled into you. i was cured of my sin, father. surely my lust was balanced by my connection to the spirit.”

“in the dream, it was,” you answer, breathless and smiling, “but you have not repented from your waking lust. i shall save you, as such i did in your dream.”

“i’m so glad,” i say, my teeth sharp and claws sharp as i tear aside the wood between us, revealing to you my muscular frame, my slitted eyes, my wicked horns, my predatory smile. “for I shall make my dream real.”

it takes me only a moment to lift you from your seat and strip you, demonic magic only helping in pulling your robes from your body, before i spear you deep onto my cock, your hole loose and wet with orgasm.

“cleanse me, father,” i growl, forked tongue circling your ear before my lips latch to your neck, working your blood to the surface. “free me of this sin and i shall worship you as i worship our lord.”

you grip onto my shoulder with one hand and my horn with another, locking your ankles behind me, dropping your head back and moaning like the best succubi i’ve seen. your hips buck lewdly and your hole grips around me with the tightness and heat of hell itself. your spend drips from you and joins my precum, smearing both your thighs and mine before painting the floor.

i cushion your head from slamming into the wood, feeling it as your so-called holiness slips from you. i drink it up from your veins as it escapes my demonic power, which i pour into you with every kiss and caress and thrust, which you accept with every cant of your hips, every tight grip onto my body, every moan to be heard throughout the cathedral.

you flutter and clench and ripple around me with your second orgasm, body going taught and earthquaking in my arms. i can’t help but sink my teeth into your perfectly pleasured frame, my magic following my fangs and pouring ever further into your body. it has you trembling even more, whimpering in prolonged pleasure the likes of which you’ve never experienced, shaking and tensing and ignorant to how your holy light shatters and focuses into tying you to hell, where a tempting sinner belongs.

i can only withstand so much of your perfect sloppy hole before i cum into you, spilling into you with unholy light and darkness. i watch the glow of it fill you, and watch as your orgasm drags ever on, even to where your eyes roll back in your skull and you go limp in my arms, still trembling through the pleasure in your sleep.

this means that, lovingly, i can watch as my glowing demonic magic reshapes within you, to a binding mark so beautifully painted between your hipbones. i watch it climb your veins to your hairline, where it spouts nubby horns from your perfect hair. finally, it bleeds down to your face, and when you open your eyes, they resemble a snake’s.

“you are cleansed,” i whisper, reverently, kissing you softly. “an angel all for me.”

“angel,” you breathe in response, tremoring still around my cock within you. “an angel you are, sent to rescue me.”

“to raise you to the unholy light you deserve. to rapture you to your higher purpose.” i kiss you as i speak, all over your chest and neck, with worship and adoration on my lips.

“higher purpose,” you simper, clenching yourself around me again. “take me to this higher purpose. show it to me. fill me with it.”

“as you wish, my angel,” i tell you, invading your mouth with long tongue and loving kiss, and fucking you anew.

#og #story #monster #transformation #demon #religion kink #corruption #public #well this was… something

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zepskies · 4 months

Note

Hey could I request angsty and fluffy headcanons for Dean having a crush on reader but he thinks she has a crush on Sam but she actually has a crush on Dean back

Hey lovely!

So I kiiiind of already did this type of prompt with "Dean gives you an impossible choice" and its sequel, "Choosing Him."

But I'll do another imagine in this vein for you! ❤️

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 1,000 Tags/Warnings: Fluff, angst(ish), fear of unrequited love, mutual pining

Imagine: Dean reads you wrong.

When Dean falls for someone, it's "slow and steady wins the race."

But the spark. That spark is instant.

He feels it with you.

Your pretty smile. Your "get it done" attitude that mirrors his. The way you know all of his references, whether it's movies or TV or music — you grew up learning how to tell time from what was on TV, just like him.

It's the way you laugh with him, share quiet moments of contemplation with him, and even moments of grief with him. Even when it's his grief, you always come. Whether it's to sit beside him, or share a drink with him, or make him something you know he likes, or get him to take a drive with you.

But realistically, you have more in common with Sam.

Both of you are bookish (nerds). You two get into heated discussions about Dante's Inferno and proper Latin translations. (You always accuse Sam of his pronunciations being off, while Sam argues, "At least I remember the whole exorcism. You think the damn demon cares if my vowels are off?")

You and Sam bicker. You playfully tease him, bring smiles to his face just as often as you bring them to Dean's. You're comfortable with him, playfully jabbing his arm or his chest when you mess with him.

Sam takes it with a smile, or a slight roll of his eyes, but always with fondness.

Dean can't help the churning in his stomach. Every time he thinks he has a read on you. Every time he thinks it's safe to maybe, one day, after a hunt, after an episode of Dr. Sexy, after you get out of the shower, after he's made you a home-cooked meal, after you sit with him and talk about everything and nothing while he works on his car — he thinks he might have a shot if he asked you out.

But he always falters, because he just can't fucking tell. He thinks you and Sam have something.

And Dean...he likes you. A lot.

More than he's ever willingly expressed.

But despite his reputation with women, he's never, and will never, step on his brother's toes.

Until he can't help himself.

It's your birthday. Sam got you a series of books he recommended to you last month. (Again, fucking nerds.) Dean got the booze and made the food to celebrate.

But you're surprised, and even a little teary when he brings out the cake he bought at an honest-to-God bakery. He even stood in line, waited 30 minutes to have them write your name on it, with little balloons. The frosting letters are drawn in your favorite color.

"Happy Birthday, sweetheart," Dean tells you. His tone is a little too soft. It's because he sees your unshed tears, and his heart clenches.

It's just a fucking cake.

Does it really matter that much to you?

But he still feels a well of warmth and pride in his chest. He turns to his brother with a smirk. "I win."

It's meant to be playful, but he kind of means it. Sam just eyes him knowingly.

"Sure," Sam laughs.

What the hell does that mean? Dean nearly frowns. But he's soon distracted — by you leaning in close to kiss him on the cheek.

He turns just in time (with slightly wider eyes) to see you blush.

That smile tells him something.

"Thanks, guys," you say to both of them. But your hand lingers on Dean's wrist, squeezing a bit.

At the end of the night, Sam turns in early. You stick around to help Dean clean up.

"Aw, stop. You're the birthday girl. I got this," Dean says, waving you off. You join him at the kitchen counter and lay a hand on his arm.

"Dean," you say softly. It earns his attention. You look a little nervous, your eyes falling from his, then meeting them again.

"What's the matter?" he asks. His brows furrow. He's thinking of your lips on his cheek. Unconsciously he glances down at your pretty mouth.

"Was wondering if you could help me with a birthday wish," you said.

A smile begins to tug at your lips, and Dean can't help but smile back. Intrigue, and a small tremor of something triggers up his spine.

"Oh yeah? What's that?" he asks.

You bite your lip. "Okay...I'm going to ask you this once. Yes or no. And if it's no...then we won't talk about it ever again and you'll have to wipe it out of your memory, because I don't want to make things weird or make you uncomfortable and I don't want to have to do something drastic, like leave the Bunker—"

Dean's smile falls as his brows raise in slight alarm. He also raises placating hands to stop your verbal flapping.

"Whoa, hey. What? What the hell kinda birthday question is this?"

You close your eyes and take a breath. "Okay."

Your eyes open, and as what happens far too often, Dean's captured by them.

"Close your eyes for me," you request.

"My eyes need to be closed to answer a damn question?"

"Damn it, Dean. Just do it, please!"

He lets out a slightly peeved breath, but he obliges you, shutting his lids. He really doesn't know what the hell is going on...until you lay a bracing hand on his chest and press a soft kiss to his lips.

For a moment, he freezes.

He inhales deeply through his nose as the surprise fades.

Relief floods in its wake.

A smile reaches his face.

But soon enough, before you can pull away, he grasps your upper arms to hold you in place. He dips his head down to kiss you in earnest. His lips find yours, gentle at first, and then gaining in passion.

He learns quickly the pattern of your lips, and the heady feeling of that knowing travels straight to his brain, stronger than the whiskey he drank earlier.

It's like you two were made to move together. To end up just like this.

You both are breathless by the time your eyes slide open and meet one another.

Dean's lips curve into a smirk. "How's that answer for ya?"

Your smile is beaming bright.

"Yeah, that works."

Chuckling, he pulls you in closer and tugs a strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb brushing your blush-warmed cheek.

And he answers you again.

AN: Ugh, I'm sappy as hell. 😂 Hope you liked this! Let me know what you think. 😉

Read Sam’s version: “Sam reads you wrong.”

Dean Winchester Imagines

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Dean W. Tag List:

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sanscas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

#Dean reads you wrong #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female reader #reader requests #ask me stuff #dean winchester #sam winchester #dean winchester fic #spn #supernatural #zepskies answers

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watermelonlovershigh · 2 months

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"Y/n, I really want a baby!" /blurb/

AN: i started writing this the same day Gemma announced she had a baby but you know me, i'm a slow writer and proofreader. so sorry it took me a few days to have it finished and posted. hope you enjoy and make sure to leave your feedback. xoxo

This story contains: talks of wanting a baby, heavy persuasion, small smut scene, breeding kink maybe?

{ husbandrry - soft!harry - uncle!harry - current harry era }

word count- 1,484

After the pregnancy announcement of Harry's older sister Gemma, Harry has become sick with the case of baby fever and tries to convince you over and over to start having children now rather then later.

Ever since Harry has become an uncle to his sister Gemma's new little baby girl, he's had massive baby fever. And it's not like you're opposed to having a baby with Harry. Of course you want a baby with your husband of a year, boyfriend of nearly eight years. But your original plan was to wait for another year or two and that's what you were hoping to stick to. But Harry is mighty convincing.

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

Gemma had invited you and Harry over to her little house back in Holmes Chapel that she shares with her long time boyfriend, Michal. Harry's been finished touring for about a month now so you had a bunch of free time to make the drive up there. When you arrived, you got the sense something was up. There was this sneakiness in the air that you couldn't ignore.

But that all ended after your dinner, as you sat on Gemma's nice plush couch, when she looks to you and then to Harry before blurting out, "We're having a baby."

Harry's eyes nearly bug out his head and he shouts, "What! Oh My God!!" He stood up from his spot on the couch as Gemma shook her head yes and walked over towards her, giving his big sister a big, warm hug. You allowed the brother - sister duo to have a moment before also standing up.

Once Gemma parted from the hug she had with her baby brother, because Harry never breaks hugs first, she reaches out to embrace you in a hug. "Oh My God, congratulations. To you both. I'm so excited for you guys."

Gemma whispers a, "Thank you." in your left ear before stepping back again.

After giving Michal a quick hug as well, Harry questions, "Wait, does Mum know?" His face is still in complete shock.

Gemma nods and responds, "Yeah, she was the second person I told. First being Michal of course. "

You each sit down again and continue the conversation, "I bet Anne sobbed when you told her."

Giggling, Gemma replies, "Oh yes. She first shouted in surprise, quite like Harry did, then cried. It was adorable and sweet."

----

Later that night on your drive back home to London, you look over to the driver's seat and notice Harry has tears in his eyes. You can only see that in the dark because the street lights are reflecting off his shiny eyes. Quietly, you coo, "Harry, what's wrong? Why are your eyes all watery?"

He turns his head to look at you quickly before watching the road again, then answering, "S'just, m'so happy for Gemma. M'gonna be an uncle. But then it got me thinkin', one day m'gonna be a dad and m'gonna get to hold our small baby and care for it and love on it. They get to call me dad. Y/n, I really want a baby." After saying that last sentence, Harry lets a full blown sob come out. One that you debate whether or not to have him pull over because you don't want him to crash the car.

"Oh baby," you say in a gentle tone, reaching over the center console to run your hand soothingly up and down his arm, "it's okay. You're gonna be the best uncle to your niece or nephew and the best dad to our kids one day."

"But what if I don't want to wait for one day? What if I want kids now? Y/n, can we start tryin' for a baby?"

You giggle at his eagerness and respond, "We said another year or two, remember. But I'll consider bringing the wait time lower. Just let me have time to think on it.

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

A couple weeks have gone by since Harry found out he was gonna be an uncle and his baby fever has yet to go away. You haven't gave him an answer on whether or not you want to start trying right now and Harry hasn't brought it back up either. He didn't want to bother or pressure you with answering such a big question. But, he has been bringing more persuasive hints your way.

For instance, the other day you were walking in the park and Harry spotted a little girl running up into her daddy's arms. Harry gets your attention at the sight and whispers, "Can you imagine, our little girl or boy runnin' into my arms? Where they know they'll be safe and loved. Of course your arms too but them feelin' love from their daddy is somethin' extra special."

And the imagine of that does get your ovaries tingling, you can't lie. Just picturing your child running into Harry's arms after a day at school, or after getting a little scrape on the knee, or when someone was being rude to them on the playground. Knowing their daddy will love and keep them safe. Ugh, maybe you do want a baby now.

Another time Harry has shown his baby fever recently is in bed. Right now you're on birth control so you still get to have raw sex and Harry takes advantage of that. Whispering in your ear while making love, "Gonna put a baby inside of you. Fill you up with my cum and give you all the babies in the world."

You breathed out while holding his body closer to yours, "You know I'm..... I'm on birth control, right?"

"Don't remind me. Let me just pretend, alright." Harry mutters while thrusting in to you with love and care. Obviously he knows you're on birth control and he'd never interfere with your medication knowing it's something you requested to be on for the time being. But that doesn't mean he can't pretend he's knocking you up.

And it's something Harry does, not just that time but several times following. Really every time you have sex after Gemma's pregnancy announcement where he got baby fever.

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

What the final straw was to make you want kids now rather than wait until later was when Harry's niece was born and you saw Harry interact with her for the first time. A day after Gemma had given birth, she allowed you and Harry to come visit. Anne had visited first, obviously since she's the mum and grandma, but next it was you two.

When you walked into the hospital room filled with pink balloons and flowers, you saw Gemma propped up in bed with her baby cuddled to her chest. Michal sitting next to the bed in a chair. Gemma waves you both over and asks Michal to grab the baby from her arms and hand her to one of you. (you and harry washed your hands before entering the hospital room) He offers the baby to you first but you shake your head no and say, "Let Harry hold her first."

Michal hands over his baby girl to Harry and it's like some kind of instinct comes forth with how natural he makes it look holding a day old baby. Looking down at the small baby in his arms, Harry coos shakily, clear emotions in his voice, "Oh My God, Gemma, she's beautiful. So small and delicate."

The view in front of you was the best sight you think you've ever seen. Your husband holding his baby niece for the first time. And now all you can picture is you in that hospital bed, looking over at Harry but instead of his niece, he's holding your baby. The one you created together with the love you made. Maybe even doing some skin to skin contact.

----

On your drive back home from the hospital, you blurt out, "Harry, I want a baby. Like right now." Harry nearly crashes the vehical. He has to actually pull over so he can make sure he heard you correctly.

"Y/n, what'd you say?"

"You heard me correctly, H. I want a baby right now. Not in a year or two. Seeing you with your niece today did something to me. Made my ovaries flutter and this big desire to see you holding our baby. A baby we made together." you explain softly.

Not thinking twice, Harry surges forward and crashes his lips to your. One hand cradles your face while the other settles on your thigh over the center console. Then breaking away to catch his breath, Harry smiles wide and speaks, "Yeah, you wanna make a baby together? When we get home m'gonna stuff you full of m'cum and get you so fuckin' pregnant."

His words turn you on beyond belief. And though you took your birth control this morning, you know tomorrow you're flushing the rest down the toilet. Harry knows the likelihood of getting you pregnant tonight is unlikely because you took your birth control today, but that isn't going to stop him from fucking you until his seed eventually sticks. Whether that takes days, months, or years.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(no more tags are allowed because i've hit my number limit. sorry : ( )

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python333 · 8 months

Text

bedbound — python333

— — — —

synopsis you're on a mission and oopsie daisy you get trapped under a building!! you end up in the medbay and tf141 visits you one by one, each of them giving you a lil piece of their mind for going and getting yourself trapped under a collapsed building.

relationships platonic!taskforce 141 & gn!reader.

characters cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.

word count 4.5k

warnings pretty detailed (i think) descriptions of [reader] being in pain [specifically having a bunch of leg injuries], angstier than i usually write, 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

note this is my first actual fic ive wrotten in MONTHS so i hope its okay! so sorry if it feels like a majority of the focus is on the reader, i had a too much fun writing out the first part where they get crushed :3 i am also once again begging for requests. like on my knees hands together begging for requests. its the best way of getting motivation istg. anyway, this is all mild hurt/comfort and some angst + fluff so enjoy!! :3

You tried running out of the building—you didn’t expect the whole damn thing to come crashing down on you.

You’d just been chasing after an enemy soldier moments ago, dashing into the building, when suddenly the whole building seemed to shake. Then, the whole thing seemed to just collapse. When you think about it now, you realize the shake must’ve come from a nearby explosion, an explosion somehow powerful enough to damage the structural support of the building so terribly that it couldn’t hold itself up anymore and instead fell down onto you.

Now, here you were, just ten steps away from the entrance of the building, stopped by the huge slab of concrete and twisted metal that pinned your legs down to the ground. Your earpiece fell off when you fell down, sliding across the floor, preventing you from calling your team.

Sure, you could try and move your legs, but the excruciating pain that came with each movement wasn’t worth it. You think your legs are broken with the way your nerves scream at you every time you move them, and with how uncomfortably and horrifyingly disconnected they feel.

“I’m making shit up,” You whisper hoarsely to yourself, ignoring the tears that welled up in your eyes from the debris and dust in the air, “They’re not broken. I’m making it worse for myself by thinking that.”

In the back of your mind, you remember that you’re quoting Price on that one, from the last time you got seriously hurt like this. You vaguely remember your panicked words and Price’s soothing voice that came after every worry, telling you that no, you’re not too badly hurt, it’s gonna be okay, you’re just panicking.

But in the forefront of your mind, all you can do is think about how you can’t reach your earpiece to talk to your team, the only thing you can do is listen to their worried voices.

The earpiece is loud enough for you to hear, even though you’re just out of arm’s reach from it, you can still hear your teammates repeating your call sign and asking how you copy. With the stupid Push-To-Talk thing, you can’t even just respond, no, you have to push the button on the side of your earpiece to unmute yourself.

You stretch your arm out just a little bit more to try and reach the earpiece, but when your leg starts to strain and your nerves light up you immediately give up, letting out a small, pained huff. You take a moment to just lie there and listen to your own labored breaths, every other breath hitching or catching in your throat.

You swallow down a sob that threatens to bubble out of your throat and try to reach again and—nope, that still fucking hurts.

You bring your hand back and put it over your mouth to muffle a small sob that climbs up and out of your throat, and try to take a deep breath the best you can with the debris in the air.

You feel a slight discomfort in your chest and cough, horrified when you see small specks of dust in the air you cough out, and God, the sight of it makes you want to rip out your lungs.

You feel the sudden urge to cough everything out, to flush out the dust in your lungs, to get rid of the uncomfortably full feeling you feel in your chest, but you know that every time you cough you can only exhale more of that debris-filled dust back in so now you’re trapped in a loop and—

“[c/n], how copy?” God, you want to yell at them that repeating that question won’t help, but you know there’s nothing else they can do. They’ve already asked where you are, if you’re okay, and how you copy multiple times, all of which got no answer.

They’ve only experienced radio silence on their end, and the thought makes you feel guilty for not being able to suck up the pain in your legs and just reach over to the damn earpiece and tell them you’re trapped.

You take a few deep breaths, trying your best to ignore the way you can literally feel the dust entering your lungs, and reach. You stretch your arm out the farthest you can, and feel the strain in your leg, and you’re almost to the earpiece, just a few more inches— pop.

A bone chilling pop rings through the air the moment you manage to snatch the earpiece, and good thing it was at least after you managed to grasp it firmly in your hand because you recoil back on instinct and gasp.

The gasp only lets in more dust, and you cough, wet tears dripping down onto your cheeks as you go through a seemingly endless loop of coughing out dust and inhaling debris and coughing it out again only for new dust to make its way into your system.

You stifle a pain-filled whimper and try to control your shaky breath, gripping the earpiece firming in your hand, looking down at it, looking at the sheer amount of debris on it. You bring your free hand out and wipe away the debris with shaky hands, making sure it’s clean enough to put in your ear before you carefully insert it.

It takes you a moment with your trembling hands, but you manage to do it, and you listen to Price ask how you copy one more time before you push down on the PTT button.

“Copy—” You hoarsely say, before coughing, everyone on the other line going silent, “Copy, not doing very well over here.”

“What happened?” Price’s voice crackles through on the damaged ear piece, “Are you hurt?”

“I got trapped under— under some concrete, and I…” You take a moment to catch your breath, “My legs are pinned, I can’t move.”

“Okay, okay,” Price’s voice softens, his tone becoming more soothing, “Where are you?”

“In a building— dunno which— which one… it’s by the really tall one,” You breathe out, mentally slapping yourself in the forehead for not being able to remember, “I’m sorry, I just know it’s orange and it has the entrance that Ghost bumped his head on—”

“It’s okay, I know which one you’re talking about,” Price reassures you, “Catch your breath. I’ll be there to get you out of there, okay? Just stay still, don’t move a muscle, you hear me?”

“I hear you,” You mumble, trying to catch your breath, coughing at the amount of dust that infiltrates your lungs. You bring your hand off of the PTT button and sob once, quietly, and sniffle to try and stop yourself from crying, blinking away tears.

The tears that trailed down your face earlier now only make you realize just how much dust and grime is on your face, how the tear trails must’ve been the only clean lines on your face, how there’s a whole layer of pure filth on your face and you can’t even properly wipe it away because your hands are dirty too.

The pain in your legs are throbbing and you know that you’ve torn some of the muscle in your thighs, and you know the popping noise had to have been your hip, from the unnatural way you’d twisted it to reach your earpiece. You don’t even have time to think about how pathetic you look when suddenly Price opens the barely-hanging-onto-the-hinges-door, looking at the floor for a moment before his eyes finally land on you.

He immediately walks over to the slab of concrete pinning your legs down and forcing you to lie on the ground and you can hear him faintly murmur, “Oh, God,” and kneel down to the same level as the concrete.

You turn your neck to look at him and watch as he looks at the concrete for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to lift it, before he simply grabs the edge of the concrete and, with a grunt and after a good thirty seconds, he manages to lift one end up and flip it over onto its other side. The circulation that immediately floods back to your legs and the sudden feeling of weightlessness you get is almost too much, and you can barely find it in yourself to feel shame as you let out a small, relieved sob at the sudden rush of blood to your legs.

Price immediately gasps and you can’t see much from your angle but in the midst of your relief you suddenly feel a pang of pain and oh God, that hurts. You can recognize now the warm blood that accompanies the drying blood on your calf, and with the blood rushing into your legs, more spills out from the wound in your leg. Vaguely, you can remember twisted metal doing something to your leg—stabbing it, maybe? Your brain becomes fog-filled; too hazy to think through but just clear enough to register the throbbing pain in your leg.

“I’m so sorry,” Price murmurs softly, and before you can question him he takes the metal out of your leg and you let out a closed-lip scream, slapping a hand over your mouth to try and muffle the now uncontrollable sobs that break past your lips, the pain you feel making you light-headed.

Price quickly pulls a tourniquet out of one of the many pockets of his tactical best, wrapping the bright red strip around your leg just above the bleeding, blocking the blood from reaching past that point. He tightens it and rolls you over so that you’re laying on your back, making you stifle another pain-filled whimper. Without another word, he slips his arm under your knees and his other below your back and lifts you up bridal style, making you gasp sharply and cry out for a moment in pain, a few drops of blood making it onto the floor from your calf, the whole sight dizzying.

Being lifted up like this gave you vertigo—your head spun as you were lifted up and you could barely process anything with your hazy mind. Price mutters small ‘sorry’s under his breath, carrying you out of the door and quickly running with you in his arms back to where the others are, almost wanting to cry for you, seeing how much pain you were in.

Your eyelids drooped and your eyes shortly became half-lidded, and your ears started to ring, and everything was so overwhelming you just wanted it to be over.

Price notices your eyelids drooping and quickly says, “Hey, hey, don’t pass out on me, you gotta stay awake, kid.” You can only shake your head ‘no’ because talking feels like too much right now and let out another small, pain-filled whimper, just the sound of it making Price’s heart shatter.

You can only find it in yourself to talk a moment later, your words slurring together as you try to speak, “I can’t— can’t… I’m sorry, I can’t—” You don’t even know what you’re trying to say, what you’re trying to warn Price about, but he seems to know.

“No, no, no—” Price tries to beg you, as if you had enough strength to stay awake. Those are the last words you hear before you completely black out.

—

You wake up to a white ceiling and the faint beeping of a heart monitor. You move your head around a bit, trying to gauge where you are, when you realize— oh, I’m in the medbay. You blink for a moment before sighing and just resting there for a moment, trying to recount the events that happened earlier. You don’t have time to go down memory lane, though, because suddenly the curtains in front of your bed are pulled back to reveal your Captain. “You’re awake,” He states, closing the curtains behind him. “How could you tell?” He snorts and sits down in a chair by your bed. You look at him questioningly, “Where’re the others?” “They’ll be here soon,” Price assures you, looking at your blanket covered legs for a moment before looking back up at your face, “Medics said one at a time.” You hum neutrally in response to that and wait a moment before asking, “How bad is it?” “Your leg?” “Yeah.” “Well…” Price starts to list off on his fingers, recalling the doctor’s words, “The joint that connected your hips and your legs was twisted and it had to be set back to normal, your muscles were torn, your ligaments were torn, your nerves were so compressed someone had to physically massage your legs back to life, and the stab wound in your leg almost got infected.” “… Huh.” You blink at Price, before asking, “When can I get out of here?” “Why is that what you’re thinking about right now?” Price asks, confused, before sighing and answering, “Kid, your leg was basically broken. You can get out of here in maybe a few weeks to a month. Getting back to your assignments is a whole different story. It could take several months for your muscles to fully heal, and even then I don’t want you back out there for a while. Not until it’s guaranteed your leg won’t… give out, or something, out there.” You frown at Price, “So what, I’m just gonna be stuck here?” “What else are you gonna do with an almost-broken leg?” “…” Price sighs and puts a gentle hand on your shoulder, “Look, I know it’s frustrating, having to sit here for a few weeks then be able to get out only to not be able to do anything too physical, but your leg muscles were torn. You were trapped under concrete. You’re not going on any missions any time soon. I feel like that should be kind of obvious.” You can understand it, knowing the condition you’re in now, but you still deflate a little where you lie down and let out a tired, frustrated huff. Price chuckles softly at your clear display of disappointment and rubs your shoulder gently before patting it and getting up. “I guess I have to let the others see you too,” He muses, making your lips twitch up into a smile, the sight making him smile in return, “But I’ll be back tomorrow to talk to you again, alright?” “Alright,” You nod, watching as he walks past the curtains blocking your bed from the rest of the medbay and listen as the door clicks open and closes shut. Not even a few seconds later, the door opens again, this time with someone walking faster to the curtains, pushing them aside eagerly. You quickly recognize Soap as he walks in, quickly closing the curtains behind him before rushing over and leaning down to hug you. This all happens so quickly you have to take a moment to process it, but you eventually hug him back, sighing at the warm embrace. “I want tae call ye stupid sae bad,” Soap mumbles into your neck as he hugs you, “but it wasn’ even yer fault sae I can’.”

“That’s the worst thing that’s happened all day,” You mutter sarcastically, making Soap laugh quietly. He pulls away from you and looks down at you. “It is, actually,” Soap says, and at your confused and mildly offended expression, he adds on, “It’s been over a day since ye got yer leg fucked up.” “… Oh.” You dumbly said, trying to process that. Over a day. “Everyone was really worried about ye, too,” Soap tacks on, refusing to sit on the chair behind him, simply standing by your bed. You stay silent, and Soap takes that as an invitation to keep talking. “I think that's the first time I've actually seen Ghost stressed," Soap muses, making you huff out a small laugh. “Really?” “Yea,” Soap smiles, “I ken. Stone cauld L.t, suddenly worryin’ o’er ye.”

“Isn’t that a surprise,” You mutter, a small smile gracing your lips thinking about Ghost worrying over you, “So you were all really worried?” “Very worried,” Soap nods, “Gaz thocht ye were gonnae die, poor chiel.” “Hm,” You hum neutrally. Soap stays silent for a moment before his voice softens and he quiets himself down a bit. “Try no' tae dae that again, aye? Ye'll gie the captain a heart attack," When you give him a pointed look, he rolls his eyes and adds on, “And me. Possibly. Maybe.” “Uh huh,” You look at him, unimpressed, “Right. I’ll try to predict when a huge piece of concrete is gonna fall on me.” “Ye ken wha’ I meant.”

“Never said I didn’t.” “Ye— y’know wha’? I’ll just leave then,” Soap says, feigning annoyance as he walks away from your bed, making you laugh quietly. He slips out and doesn’t bother to close the curtains behind him, simply walking out the door, not bothering to close that either.

You can hear him letting someone else know you’re ‘free to visit’, and just a few seconds later you watch Ghost walk in. You shouldn’t be as surprised as you are, seeing as Soap had told you Ghost was worried over you, but you still find yourself a little shocked when he walks over to you and closes the curtains behind him. He sits at the chair beside your bed, and silently stares at you from the chair.

You stare back, not blinking, waiting for him to say the first word. You and Ghost’s silent staring match ends with Ghost sighing and speaking up. “How does your… leg feel?” “How do you think it feels?” You ask, deadpan, watching as Ghost’s eyes narrow. You blink at him for another moment before adding on, “It feels numb, right now.” Ghost hums at the actual answer and sits there awkwardly for another moment before stating, “Gaz thought you died. Or, were gonna die.” “I heard about that,” You respond, raising an eyebrow at Ghost, “Did he not know it was just my leg that got hurt?” “Hurt is a mild word,” Ghost mutters, before clearing his throat and saying, “No, he knew. He was more worried about all the stuff that got into your lungs.” “Oh.” “Yeah.”

You both stay silent for a bit, again, before you speak up, “So… are my lungs okay, or… ?” “No, yeah, they’re fine.” “That’s… good.” “Mhm.” Why is this so awkward? You purse your lips and turn your head back so that you’re staring at the ceiling rather than at Ghost, not knowing what to say. Why’d he even come in here if he was just gonna be awkward about this whole thing? It’s silent again, an uncomfortable sort of quiet that’s silent yet deafening at the same time—and you hate it. It seems Ghost hates it too, because he shifts in his seat, not saying anything verbally but you can tell by his body language it’s awkward for him too.

This goes on for maybe a minute or two, when suddenly Ghost gets up and walks the short one step between him and your bed and leans down to hug you. Like the silence, the hug is awkward, but unlike it, it’s comforting. A comfortable awkward? You tentatively hug him back and you feel his hands snake underneath your back, forcing his arms under you so that he can hug you properly.

“I know Soap told you I was stressed and worried and whatnot,” Ghost mutters, his skull mask pressing into your shoulder, “… And he was right.” “… Did you think I thought he was wrong?” “Shut it and let me try to talk.” “Yes, sir.” Ghost sighs and takes a deep breath before continuing, “He was right. I was growing greys watching you passed out, and I think I almost passed out as well, hearing you were trapped under a huge block of concrete and got stabbed by metal.”

“Did you ever find out what the metal was?” You ask after a moment, making sure he was done talking.

“The Captain said it was a twisted pipe.”

“Huh.” You lay there for a moment, simply enjoying Ghost hugging you, before Ghost speaks up again.

“I know it wasn’t your fault, but please, God, never do that shit to me ever again.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time I’m in a collapsing building.”

“I’m serious,” Ghost pulls away from the hug and looks down at you, keeping his hands on both of your shoulders, “I had to drive a car with you in the back passed out laying in the trunk with Price, all while not knowing what happened, and having to drive you guys back to base.”

“… Damn, you guys didn’t get a helicopter, or anything?”

“[c/n].”

“Sorry.”

Ghost sighs, “I’m trying to say that I don’t like worrying over you like that. I don’t like knowing that my kid is hurt, and I can’t do anything about it. That was the first time I was seriously worried and— and stressed over you, and it was terrifying, seeing you just passed out with dirt all over you and blood all over your leg, and just seeing you like that— I can’t do that again,” Ghost takes a deep breath, and looks down at you, trying to gauge your reaction, trying to see what you think of his words, but all you can think is, wait, he called me his kid?

“You called me your kid,” You dumbly voice your thoughts, watching as Ghost’s expression becomes more confused, and he opens his mouth to deny that when suddenly— oh shit, he called you his kid.

“… I did,” He dumbly says back, sounding surprised by his own words, before he fully realizes what he said and simply blinks down at you, not knowing where to go from here. You both blink at each other, not knowing what to say, before he clears his throat.

“I’ll just… head out then,” He awkwardly says, slowly walking away from the bed.

You take the opportunity to say, “Alright, dad.”

He freezes and slowly turns towards you and mutters, “Don’t call me that.”

A grin splits across your face, “Oh I will. Dad.”

He points at you with a single finger, “Don’t. You. Dare.”

“I’ll call you it in front of everyone. I’ll gaslight them into thinking we’re related.”

“God, you better not.”

“I will. In fact, tomorrow, I’ll begin with the Captain. Then I’ll tell Soap, he’s the next most gullible next to Gaz, who I’ll see right after you. Gaz won’t fight with me over it, he’ll just accept it, I know he will, then, and only then, will I tell everyone else. I spread it across the base like the flu. Everyone, and I mean everyone will think that you’re my father, Ghost.”

“That is…” Ghost blinks at you, dumbfounded and mildly horrified, “... terrifying.” “Yeah, I know. Pretty sure I got that from you, dad.” “Oh my God,” Ghost groans, making you laugh at his misery. He walks out without another word, being sure to slam the door behind him, making the poor medic passing by jump at least a foot in the air. You giggle quietly in your bed, waiting for the next person to walk in. By the time you’ve contained your laughter, Gaz walks in, looking strangely sheepish as he walks over to you and closes the curtains behind him that Ghost had forgotten to close. He doesn’t say anything until he’s right by your bed and bends over to give you a nice, firm, quick hug before standing up straight again and clearing his throat. “Hi,” He greets you simply. “Hi.” “How’s the uh… how’s your leg?” “You thought I died?” You ask teasingly, ignoring his question. You can’t see any blush on his face, but you’re almost certain his face heats up as he looks away from you. “Listen…” He sighs, looking back at you, “Price ran over to the whole group, with you not moving at all in his arms, and a tourniquet wrapped around your calf. I feel like it was a bit reasonable for me to think you were dead for a second.” “Right, of course,” You nod, definitely not believing that he only thought you were dead for a second, “That’s totally why I’ve had both Soap and Ghost tell me you thought I was dead. They only told me that because you thought I was dead for a second.” “I’m gonna murder them both, I swear to—” He mutters, burying his face in his hands, making you laugh quietly. He glares at you from behind his hands and adds on, “Oh, you think this is funny? You having a laugh down there, knowin’ that I thought you were dead?”

“I think this is hilarious.” “You’re insufferable and I don’t even know why I try to care about you anymore.” “You don’t try, you just do,” You roll your eyes, “Don’t act like you have to actively try and care about me.” “You’re so snarky today, my God,” Gaz scoffs, “Wait ‘til I tell Captain Price about this.” “Alright, Draco Malfoy. You do that.” “I shouldn’t have ever visited you in here,” He mutters, crossing his arms and looking away from you, feigning annoyance. You huff out a laugh at that and that makes Gaz laugh a bit, though he keeps up his dramatics, continuing to look away from you. “You still think I’m dead now, or?” “Shut it, you.” “My bad.” “I wish they amputated your leg.” “No you don’t.” “…” Gaz can’t even argue with it, simply sighing and rolling his eyes before looking back at you, ”No, I don’t.” “I knew it,” You smile at him knowingly, making his lips twitch up into a smile. You think for a moment before tacking on, “Wanna hear what Ghost said to me?” That makes Gaz perk up and immediately reply, “Oh, absolutely.” Cue you both five minutes later, Gaz gaping at you while you laugh every other word, remember the horror on Ghost's face when he realized what he called you. Gaz covers his mouth with his hand, laughing into it, gripping the rail of your bed with his other hand, keeping himself up.

“He— oh my God,” Gaz laughs, trying to keep quiet so Ghost wouldn’t hear him, knowing the latter was right outside the medbay. He takes a deep breath and another before breaking into small giggles once again, making you do the same. After maybe a few more minutes of just pure laughter, Gaz manages to catch his breath and stop laughing, and you do the same. “I should probably head out now,” He says, sounding almost disappointed by the fact, glancing over at the closed curtain a few feet away from your bed. You nod in understanding and don’t say anything in response, making Gaz look back at you and add on, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow though, yeah?” “Yeah,” You confirm, making Gaz offer you a warm smile and lean down to hug you tightly one last time before getting up and walking over to the curtains, sliding them to the side and walking out, sliding them closed behind him. You hear the click open and shut of the door, as well as Gaz’s footsteps walking outside of the medbay and eventually fading into nothing.

933 notes · View notes

toruro · 1 year

Text

love you twice — j. wonwoo x reader — part one

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4

description: in which your extremely hot and sexy one night stand turns out to be your son’s teacher. naturally, chaos ensues, but you might just find love as your life continues to take an unexpected turn.

“so, you’re just going to pretend like you aren’t avoiding me?” wonwoo asks with a brow raised, pointing an accusing finger in your direction. heat flourishes at the tip of your ears as you turn away from his gaze. “i’m not avoiding you mr. jeon,” you mutter, suddenly realizing you’ve just been caught in his trap. he takes a step forward and you back up against the wall as he leans in so his lips are ghosting your ear. "really?" wonwoo murmurs, "because i think you're lying." you both stay like that for a few moments before coming to your senses. he steps away with a heavy breath. "i'm sorry. you can get going if you—" you aren't sure what possesses you in that moment but you just can't allow him to finish what he's saying, grabbing him by the collar and slamming your lips on his.

tags/warnings: sexual content (18+), first-grade-teacher!wonwoo, mother!reader, fluff, angst (light), reader is jun's cousin, dirty talk, sexual tension, tension in general lol, unedited

w/c: 6.7k

a/n: this thought came to mind like once and i just *had* to write it because oh my god???? i hope u like reading this as much as i liked writing it! please reblog and like if you enjoyed, it would mean the world to me c:

“Fuck, yeah,” the pretty man above you grunts into your shoulder as he fucks into you, the drag of his fat cock against your gummy walls having you writhe in pleasure under him. Your fingers reach up and claw at his back, and if the digging of your nails into his skin is hurting, his only response is another deep, guttural groan of pleasure.

“Oh, fuck!” you cry out when his thick tip is hitting that one spot which has your toes curling, throwing your head back into his mattress, weakly bringing your hips up to try and sync with his thrusts, encouraging him to go deeper, harder. “Right there—right—ah! There!”

He continues to batter his length into you after your pleas, muttering out words of praise—“good girl—fuck—holding me so tight, so good,” and the words are going through your ears and straight down to your hot, sopping core because holy hell this man is amazing at dirty talk.

You’re so fucked through that you can’t even remember how you ended up here—all you know is that you were finally left with a free night when your cousin offered to take care of Kei for the night when you expressed the need to have just a little time to yourself. The last thing that comes to your mind at the moment is how you were at a club and somehow managed to end up here, in the bed of an extremely attractive man who seems to know exactly what to do with his mouth, his hands, his dick.

It’s a passing thought that the shame will hit you eventually, but right now all you can think about is how long it’s been since you got laid and how you never, ever remember sex feeling this good. You aren’t sure if it’s just this guy that is amazing or if you’re just really needy and desperate but—oh fuck, he’s slamming into you so hard and there’s that pulse that rumbles deep inside of your core and it has you moaning loud. Okay so, it’s definitely the fact that he might be your best lay pretty much ever, and it has you squirming around as you babble, “‘m gonna cum—I—fuck, I’m cumming!”

The waves of hot, white pleasure hit you hard and it has tears welling up in your eyes as you feel him let out his own moan from the way you’re squeezing him so tight, the feeling of his warm cum filling up the condom as he thrusts into you a few last times. You two stay like that for a moment, his hands on either side of your head holding his body above yours, as you both inhale and exhale deeply trying to catch your spent breath.

After a minute, he’s pushing himself off of you and off the bed, pulling off the condom to throw it out without a word. You take this as your cue to get up and start picking up your clothes, squeaking a little as a dull ache resides in your legs. You catch him looking at you at the sound, and you swear there’s a hint of a smirk on his face, but in the dark of the room you can’t quite tell. As you lean down to slip on your panties, he finally speaks.

“You can use my shower, even if you don’t plan on staying.”

You glance up at him with a chuckle, saying, “You like keeping your one night stands over for breakfast? What a gentleman.” He rolls his, pulling on some pants as he does so.

“Is there something wrong with being hospitable to someone who looks like they can hardly walk?”

“I suppose not,” you hum, ignoring the flush of your cheeks at his sly comment. “I appreciate the offer, but I have to get home—I have someone waiting for me,” you explain, a small smile creeping its way onto your face as you think about Kei. He looks at you for a second, a confused and honestly slightly mortified expression donning his face. Your eyes widen as you realize what that must have sounded like, and you throw up your hands and shake your head. “I don’t mean it like that—I—fuck—I’m not cheating on anyone! I meant something else!”

He gives you a funny look, replying, “I’ll choose to trust you on that, for the sake of my own sanity. I wouldn’t want to know that I’m the cause of a failed marriage or something.”

You grumble as you pull on your shirt, checking your pockets and purse to see if there’s anything missing. “No failed marriages here,” you laugh, tone slightly bitter before you brush it off. “Anyways, you should choose to trust me because I am telling the truth,” you counter as he watches you make your way to the exit. “I guess it doesn’t really matter, since I probably won’t see you again.”

“Too bad,” he grins as you approach his apartment’s door, slipping on your shoes. “That was fun.”

You inwardly bite your cheek at his shamelessness, looking away. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right, I guess,” you huff nonchalantly. “Anyways, thank you for this night. I kind of really needed this,” you admit, and then you’re slipping out of the door before he even has a chance to respond.

When you return to your apartment, you’re greeted by Jun at the door, lips somewhat in a grimace as you find Kei asleep in his arms. “Sorry, he kept saying he wanted to wait for you and he wouldn’t go to sleep so I tried to put on some show for him but then he fell asleep on my lap but I didn’t want to move until you came back,” he explains as he braces Kei under the arms so he can hand him over to you.

“Aw,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to your son's forehead as you look up at Jun. “Thank you so much for this, Jun, it really means a lot.”

He brings a hand up to the back of his neck and chuckles, waving his hand at you. “Don’t worry about it. I know you needed this,” he says, following you to your bedroom to help you set up the bed for Kei. “I got him to brush his teeth and all, so all that stuff is in set. Is there anything else you need help with?” he offers as you finish up tucking Kei into bed, walking out of the room as you shut off the lights.

“No, I think it’s okay,” you tell him honestly, leaning against the kitchen counter to catch up with Jun for a few minutes.

“Okay well, d’you have fun?” Jun asks, and he doesn’t give you the chance to respond before saying, “Seems like you did,” he snickers, pointing to your neck. Your hands fly up to your neck with wide eyes as you remember that your fuck buddy for the night was quite literally all over you.

“Whatever,” you respond with a roll of your eyes, “it’s just one night, and I swear I just needed to let loose a little.” You sigh deeply, and Jun sends you a look of sympathy.

“Everything alright?”

Your shoulders slump as rest your weight on the counter, leaning into Jun has he wraps a shoulder around your arm comfortingly. "It's just—ugh—Kei is starting first grade in two days and I just...I don't know how to feel."

"That makes sense," Jun agrees, "but it's good that he got into that school you'd been trying to get him into, right?"

"Yeah," you sigh again. "Fuck, that was really hard—I had to beg that principal to let him in 'cause they were full and it was a pain in the ass, but it is a really good school so I guess it makes sense." Jun hums in response, encouraging you to go on. "I guess it's just that I'm worried for him? It's only been me and him, you know, so I'm nervous. I know it's a good school, I just hope he's gonna be in good hands."

"Trust me, Kei is an amazing kid, so he'll be able to thrive anywhere. And if the school isn't up to your liking, you always have the option of transferring him out—after all, he's only in first grade so switching schools shouldn't be a problem," Jun explains to you, leaving your side to bring you a glass of water.

"Thank you," you say honestly as you gulp it down. “I think I needed that.”

“No problem. Is there anything else you want to talk about? You know I’m always open ears.”

You throw Jun a smile as you push yourself off the counter. “Yeah, I know, and I appreciate you for that, but honestly, all I need right now is to change into my pajamas and crash into the bed,” you tell him as he slips on his shoes at the doorway, picking up his backpack.

“Alright, alright. Let me know if you need any help or anything. I’m gonna get going now.”

“Thank you again,” you say as you open the door for him. Jun smiles and waves at you, bidding goodnight before he’s walking down the hallway and out of your sight. Once you close the door behind you, you waste no time getting into your bathroom and rinsing your body off, slipping into a much more comfortable set of clothes.

It's around ten minutes later when you're finally done with cleaning yourself and the room up one last time before crawling into the bed next to Kei. As you pull the covers over you both, you feel the exhaustion from the entire day fully engulf you, and before you know it, you're being thrown into a deep slumber.

The next day is Sunday and you spend each minute biting your nails and stressing over anything and everything. Kei’s going to be going to an actual school for the first time ever tomorrow and you can’t help but notice a buzzing instinct that something—just something—unexpected will happen. You can’t quite place your suspicions on something just yet, but the thoughts have you going crazy to the point where you have to call Jun in the night so he can calm you down.

“What if—what if—?” your frantic thoughts are cut off by Jun.

“Okay look I know you’re stressed but maybe you’re making this harder on yourself than it needs to be. You’ve thought of everything and like maybe 0.01% of the scenarios are actually even feasible, so trust me when I say nothing’s going to go wrong.

“But what if—”

“No what if’s!” Jun exclaims exasperatedly, “or else I’m going to come and take Kei to school myself tomorrow because god knows you’re not in the right mind right now.”

“Okay! Okay! I’ll stop!” you surrender in defeat, sighing as Kei comes up to you to show you a drawing he made. “I’m gonna get back to making dinner, Jun,” you say through the phone before squatting down.

“Okay, talk to you later. Try not to lose your mind,” Jun advises, causing you to chuckle as you hang hup, turning your full attention to your son.

“Hey Kei-Kei,” you say sweetly, patting his head as he looks down at the paper in his hands. “What’cha have there?” you ask curiously, scooching closer as he holds up the paper.

“It’s the new school, Mommy,” he explains, holding up a colored drawing of a school and a stick figure of you with an (adorably) abnormally large head holding the hand of a stick figure of him. “An’ there’s you an’ there’s me!”

Your heart swells as you stand up holding the paper, using a magnet to put it up on the fridge. “I love it Kei, you’re such a good artist!” you exclaim, swooping down to pick him up. “You excited for school tomorrow?”

“Yeah!”

“Your teacher’s name’s gonna be Mr. Jeon okay? That’s what the principal told me,” you tell him carefully, setting him down at his elevated seat at the dinner table. “Be nice to him okay? You need to respect teachers.”

“Yes Mommy,” Kei nods along enthusiastically as he watches you go to the kitchen and bring him some rice and curry.

“You remember the plan? I’ll drop you off but I don’t think I can stay long enough to go with you inside ‘cause I have work, okay?” Kei only half-mindedly nods his head as he dives into the food that you’ve set for him, but you don’t have the heart to blame him—after all, this is probably the fifth time you repeated this to him today. “I’ll be there right after school ends though,” you tell him, reminding yourself of the parent-teacher meeting Kei’s teacher had arranged to introduce himself to the parents.

“Okay,” Kei responds, his mouth stuffed with rice and curry smeared on his chin. He looks up at you innocently and you can’t help but giggle, his smile washing all your worries away.

As you clean up his face, you remind yourself of Jun’s words from earlier. Everything’s going to be okay.

And for the most part, everything is okay. In fact, everything’s going great, from Kei’s smooth drop off at his new school, to when you set foot on campus with five minutes to spare before the teacher meeting. There’s a big fat grin plastered on your face as you realize that maybe your hunch that something was going to go wrong was nothing more than that—just a hunch.

Now this is the part where you think you should have known better.

Once the final school bell rings, there are students rushing out of classrooms as you among a few other parents gather around the room that is 103, waiting to see your children and their teacher. As you all form in a line by the door, there’s a slightly older woman standing next to you wearing a kind smile.

“Are you here to see Mr. Jeon?” she asks you. Her warmth grows on you as you smile and nod.

“Yes! I assume you are too?”

“Mhm,” she nods, “I’ve been so excited! He’s a fairly young teacher, you know?”

“Is that so so,” you murmur, “my son is new to the school and all, so we aren’t really familiar with any of the teachers. Does Mr. Jeon have a good reputation?”

The lady shrugs. “I’ve heard he’s quite good with the kids, but I’d hope he was since he’s a first grade teacher…” she jokes. “I haven’t heard anything bad about him, if that’s what you’re asking. What I have heard though, is that he is quite nice to look at!”

You let out a small chuckle at that, amused by the idea of a man who has the parents of his students gossiping about his looks.

“Oh!” the lady exclaims, straightening her back. “Looks like they’re about to come!”

You peer over the shoulder of the father of another student in front of you, watching as the door opens slowly and a rush of Kei-sized children run out. Your smile brightens as your eyes land on your son, calling out his name so that he can run up to you and into your lifting arms. Picking him up, you have time to observe the obvious grin he has plastered on his face, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Hey Kei-Kei,” you say sweetly. “How was your first day of school?”

“It was so much fun Mommy! Mr. Jeon says he’s gonna talk to all of you,” he said, pointing at all the other adults greeting their kids.

“Yeah, that’s right!” you tell him, setting him down. You’re about to say something else before you hear a deep, familiar voice—it hardly takes you a second to realize who it is, and you freeze in your tracks. Your face grows pale as you brace yourself for what you’re about to see and hear—you’re lucky you’re standing in the back so he can’t see you and the million thoughts that are evidently running through your mind..

“Hello everyone, I’m glad you could make it today. I’m Jeon Wonwoo, and as you know, I’m your child’s teacher. I’m excited to start things off on a high note. You can have your child play on the playground during the meeting, since we still have our supervisors out to watch them."

Mr. Jeon. Jeon Wonwoo. Wonwoo. Him .

You should have known that your mother instincts were too accurate—the universe just had to throw you a curveball. You chew on your tongue for a moment figuring out how to handle this situation as you lean down closer to Kei, nodding to him when he looks over at you for permission to follow his newly-made friends to the playground. Taking a deep breath as you watch Kei skip away, you glance over at him , who luckily hasn’t seemed to notice you.

Straightening your back as all of the young kids happily follow each other outside, the hallway is finally only left with him and the parents. “Okay, you guys can come in, I’ve made room for you all to stand around the back since I doubt any of you will fit into your child’s chair,” Mr. Jeon jokes, and while most others laugh, there’s a pit of anxiety gnawing at your stomach that has you going stiff. He moves aside a little, making way for the parents to enter the classroom and greeting each one individually.

Suddenly your breath is caught in your throat and you glance around you, excusing yourself from the lady next to you so you can shuffle to the back of the line, pretending to look through something in your purse. You aren’t even sure what you’re trying to do, but all you know is that you just need a moment to collect yourself, your thoughts. Luck must not be on your side though, as before you know it, the last person in front of you has entered the classroom leaving you dead in your tracks and staring at Mr. Jeon , who’s eyes haven’t turned fully towards you yet.

Maybe this is your last chance to run , you think quickly, but you remind yourself that embarrassing or not, this is for Kei and you’d be damned to miss this meeting. That and the fact that maybe you’re just a little happy that you’re seeing this attractive man again and— no! You scold yourself, don’t think like that!

You shake yourself of such dirty, such inappropriate thoughts when you finally catch his eyes landing on you. That’s when you see it‚ the way his eyes widen slightly as he takes in your figure. He recognizes you, you’re sure of it. His hand is already reaching out to shake yours but it stops midway as you both take a moment to stare at each other before he’s quickly clearing his throat and looking away for a second.

“H-hi,” he says, pursing his lips together after realizing he fucking stuttered. “Nice to meet you. You must be Kei’s mother?” he asks, avoiding the fat fucking elephant in the room. You shyly reach out and shake his hand, fruitlessly trying to ignore the memory of these very fingers being plunged knuckle deep inside of you less than two nights ago.

“Um, yeah, that’s me,” you reply quieter than you want, suddenly finding it unable to meet his gaze as the pads of his fingers brush against your skin. “Nice to meet you too. Kei’s been, um, excited to start school here,” you say louder as you try to avert your attention away from what you’re both thinking about, “so I hope you can make his time here a good one.” Mr. Jeon presses his lips into a smile and you want to bash your head into the wall at how sincere he looks.

“I’ll do my best,” he says, before raising a brow and pointing toward the room. You follow his direction and stand by the other parents who are lined up at the back of the classroom, Mr. Jeon following in behind you and making his way to the front of the classroom.

From there the meeting begins, and he goes over a small presentation over the daily activities of his class, classroom expectations, and such forth. You pay attention to the best of your ability, you really do, but sometimes you find your eyes drifting away from the projector screen and toward his arms that are on show with his short sleeve shirt, your mind trailing off to a place that it definitely shouldn’t. You catch yourself quickly though, mentally reprimanding yourself and turning your attention back to the presentation.

He finishes up the meeting with a list of his contacts and you quickly bring out your phone, along with others, to list down his email and phone number (only for the reason of Kei’s education, of course). “If you have any questions, you can ask me now. If not, you’re free to go!” There’s a series of “thank you’s” that echo through the room as some approach Mr. Jeon and others, like you, shuffle out of the classroom. You can’t lie, your steps are quick and you’re nearly running out of the room so fast that you don’t catch the way his eyes linger on your back as you exit.

“He said I’m a great artist! We did some coloring and he said my flower looked really nice.”

“Well he didn’t lie,” you tell your son as you pull up to the parking lot for your apartment complex. “You are a great artist, Kei,” you say as you get out of your seat and pull your work bag with you, then help Kei get out too. “Tell you what Kei-Kei—you want to go to a restaurant tonight?”

The way his smile is so bright and infectious when he’s nodding yes has you leaning down and squeezing him into a hug as you both make your way to your apartment. The rest of the evening is spent with you cleaning Kei up and finishing up your own work—now that Kei isn’t going to full day care, you’re going to have to go to work for half the day so you can pick him up, leaving more work for you in the evenings.

Tonight, you’re determined to finish up your work quickly so you can take yourself and Kei out to dinner at some burger joint as a celebration for his first day of school. By the time you’re home, Kei is exhausted and nearly falling asleep in your arms as you carry him up. Setting him down and tucking him into bed is the last thing you do before going to the living room and sinking down into your couch, sighing out of your own fatigue.

You’d think you don’t have enough energy to think about anything else, but once you’ve cleaned up and are trudging to crash onto your bed, those thoughts are creeping up your back.

Jeon Wonwoo.

You roll around under your sheets, pressing your face into the pillow as you mumble incoherent curses. It was only a one night stand, only a casual fuck, so why are you here still thinking about him? For fuck’s sake he’s Kei’s teacher! You just can’t be having such thoughts about him! Right?

So why are you squirming under the sheets thinking about that night—the way he made you feel things you never could even imagine feeling. “Fuck!” you mutter to yourself, slamming a pillow over your head. You huff lowly, rolling over in your bed, pressing your eyes shut as you hope that if you pretend that you’re asleep hard enough, your brain will actually lull your consciousness away. And for a moment, it works—you’re asleep within a few minutes.The only downside? You may or may not be dreaming about Jeon Wonwoo.

The rest of the week is, thankfully, slightly easier on your heart. You only really go to Kei’s school to pick him and thanks to the valet system in place, you often don’t even have to get out of the car, one of the older volunteer students always helping him into your car.

Kei seems to be having the time of his life as well, always coming back home with saying something along the lines of, “Mommy, today Mr. Jeon taught us this really cool thing…” or “Mommy, Rei and I made up this new game at recess…”—least to say, you’re enthralled that he’s having a good time, and you almost forget about how his teacher haunts your thoughts every night.

It’s Friday now and as promised, you stay behind after school today so you can watch Kei play with his friends for some time on the playground. You’re on your phone, scrolling through some work emails to mentally calculate just how much you’ll have to work tonight to ensure a relaxing weekend. You're in the midst of frowning when you see a shadow approach you from the corner of your vision, although you pay it no mind. At least, not until you hear his voice.

“Hey.” It’s deep and calm and has you thrown back into those thoughts that you've been so desperately trying to avoid. You’re hyper aware of his figure next to you, and the way that his shoulders, his arms, feel so large and protective next to you is driving you fucking crazy.

“Oh,” you murmur in surprise, turning to look at him. “Hi Mr. Jeon,” you greet awkwardly, keeping a bit of distance between you two as you slip your phone into your purse, “it’s nice to see you here.”

He nods. “The feeling’s mutual,” he tells you, and although you figure it’s just a formality, the way he says it with that small smile tugging at his lips has your stomach doing tumbles. “You can call me Wonwoo, by the way.”

“O-okay Wonwoo,” you reply nervously as the air between you thickens, as if you’re both egging each other on seeing who’s going to fold first. You clear your throat before speaking again, “How’s Kei doing in your class? Is there anything I can do at home to help him?”

“Not at all. He’s a good student,” Wonwoo—god, his name sounds so nice in your head—replies almost immediately. “He’s really good at drawing, I’ve noticed.” Wonwoo notices how your face lights up at that comment, the tension on your shoulder dropping slightly as you respond.

“Yeah, he loves to draw at home. I’ve been thinking of putting him in an art class or something where he can practice and stuff,” you explain, eyes flickering over at Kei who’s sliding down some slide with another boy.

“That would be nice,” Wonwoo agrees, and once again the silence returns.

“I should get going now,” you say after a few moments, pulling your phone out to pretend like you’re checking the time. “Kei-Kei!” you call out, and it only takes a few seconds before your son is bounding down the playground and up to you as you crouch down. “Hey buddy, it’s time to go,” you tell him.

“But I wanna play Mommy!”

“Kei-Kei, please? I have to work tonight and you’ve played for almost an hour now.”

He’s frowning deeply and you find yourself almost caving in, but before you do, Wonwoo is speaking. “Listen to your mom, Kei, okay?” His voice is stern yet gentle, and the way Kei’s face softens has relief coursing through your veins.

“Okay Mr. Jeon,” Kei agrees, taking your hand as you stand up. You look at Wonwoo with gratitude.

“Thank you for that,” you say quietly, slightly embarrassed. “We’ll get going now.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Wonwoo says casually, pushing his hands into his pocket and stepping back. You’re walking away as you say bye, Kei flashing a grin at Wonwoo as he waves him goodbye. “See you later,” Wonwoo calls out to you. “Hopefully,” he adds and you swear he chuckles when he here’s you choke in shock. You don’t look back out of the humiliation that your cheeks are burning, tugging Kei along as he goes on about the new game he’s made up with his friends.

Jeon Wonwoo might just be the death of you.

The first month of Kei’s school continues to go smoothly. You don’t come across Wonwoo much after that, although that may partly be due to you avoiding him. It’s not as if you dislike him, in fact, it’s quite the opposite—you think you might like him too much.

His face, his glasses, his smile—fuck—the way he’s so kind, so gentle—you can’t seem to find a single thing wrong with him. Everyday Kei comes home babbling a new happy story about Mr. Jeon and what he taught the class, or a new compliment he gave him, and you can’t help but fall for him simply through the words of your son.

It is a little embarrassing, if you’re being honest—having a crush on a man at your big age—but you just can’t help it.

As the month progresses, you find both yourself and Kei get used to things—he seems to enjoy going to school every morning and you enjoy the happy smiles he holds when he returns. Everything seems to fall into a perfect pattern, with nothing seeming to go wrong. Well…that is, at least, until this Friday.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” you exclaim, knuckles white as you grip the steering wheel, glancing at the time on your dashboard. Your last meeting ended up longer than you planned but you couldn’t leave, given it was with executives, and now you’re stuck in traffic as you’re already late to pick up Kei. “Ugh,” you groan out, trying to peer over the cars in front of you only to realize that you might be stuck here for a bit.

You’re slightly frantic trying to figure out what you’re going to do—any other day you would have called Jun and asked him to pick Kei up for you, but he’s on a trip with his friend so that isn’t an option right now. Chewing on your bottom lip, you glance at the unmoving traffic and pull out your phone, scrolling through your contacts. You don’t think twice before hitting the contant labeled Mr. Jeon, letting out a sigh of relief when you hear the other end pick up your call.

“Hello, Mr. Jeon?” you say quickly when you hear some shuffling on the other side. “This is Kei’s mom.”

He says your name softly before asking, “Can I help you?”

“Hi, yes, I’m really sorry, but I think Kei might be waiting for me at the valet but I’m stuck in traffic and I—fuck—” you mutter when you need to slam the breaks hard. “—sorry for my language—I just don’t know how long it’ll take for me to pick him up and I don’t want him to wait for me too long so I was hoping that there was something you could do so he could wait in the office or something—anything really—just so he can wait somewhere safer while I come,” you blabber.

Wonwoo takes a few seconds to reply, and for a moment you think you might have spoken so quickly that he didn’t hear a single thing you said. “He can stay in my room, if that’s okay with you,” he finally says, and you blink a few times.

“I—really? Tha-that’s definitely okay with me, yeah. That would be amazing, thank you so much Mr. Je—Wonwoo. Thank you,” you ramble, shutting up quickly when you hear a soft chuckle from the other side.

“Yes really. Don’t worry about it, I usually stay in the class after school anyways. You said he’s in the valet?”

“Yes, he usually waits by the tree,” you tell him, and a silence can be heard from Wonwoo as he gets up from his seat. “Thank you again, I’ll come as soon as I can.”

“No problem,” he replies, and with that you hang up, leaning back in your seat as you feel you can finally relax now.

It takes you around another 25 minutes before you’re finally pulling up to the school's parking lot, quickly making your way through the familiar route to Kei’s classroom. Knocking on the door, you peer through the small glass window, insides growing warm and fuzzy at the scene of Kei happy drawing on a desk. It takes a few seconds but then there’s a hand on the knob, opening the door for you.

“Thank you so much,” you let out before you can even see all of Wownoo’s figure.

He laughs and holy hell is it one attractive laugh (since when did you start finding laughs attractive?!). “Stop saying thank you, please,” he groans jokingly. “I might just start feeling bad. Seriously, it’s no problem, I’m usually here for a while anyway and Kei is wonderful company.”

You purse your lips, tentatively stepping into the room as Wonwoo moves for you, arm brushing against yours as you approach Kei. “Hey Kei-Kei, you wanna go now?”

Kei turns to look at you, eyebrows slightly furrowed. “But Mr. Jeon said I could play outside if I wanted!” You turn your head to look at Wonwoo, raising a brow.

“Uh, since the supervisors are still out I said he could play in a bit since I didn’t know when you were going to come,” he explains, and your gaze softens, turning back to your son.

“Okay Kei-Kei, but only fifteen minutes, okay?” you tell him, helping him clean up as Kei makes his way out the door and towards the playground. After putting his stuff away, you pick up his bag and head in the same direction as Kei to follow him, pausing when you feel a hand on your wrist.

“You can stay here, you know?” Wonwoo tells you, a smirk playing at his lips. “I don’t bite.”

You plaster a sympathetic smile through your nervousness, hastily replying, “I know, I just—I’ve already bothered you today and I think I should just head off now.”

“You aren’t bothering me.”

“Okay well,” you counter as you make your way to the door, “what if I just really want to watch my son have fun?”

“You’re really good at this, you know?”

“Good at what?”

“So, you’re just going to pretend like you aren’t avoiding me?” Wonwoo asks with a brow raised, pointing an accusing finger in your direction. Heat flourishes at the tip of your ears as you turn away from his gaze.

“I'm not avoiding you Mr. Jeon,” you mutter, suddenly realizing you’ve just been caught in his trap. He takes a step forward and you back up against the wall as he leans in so his lips are ghosting your ear. "Really?" Wonwoo murmurs, "Because I think you're lying." You both stay like that for a few moments before coming to your senses. He steps away with a heavy breath. "I'm sorry. You can get going if you—"

You aren't sure what possesses you in that moment but you just can't allow him to finish what he's saying, grabbing him by the collar and slamming your lips on his. Wonwoo’s arms fly up to your face and cup your cheeks, immediately running his tongue along your lips. The familiar taste of his tongue sliding against yours is something that you thought you wouldn’t experience after that night, but having him with you, right now, like this is enough to have your mind racing—he’s so fucking addicting that you can’t even fathom how you went more than a day without him.

Wonwoo's grasp on your face has you tilting your face, noses brushing past each other as you deepen the kiss, your fingers lacing in his thick locks to hold him close. His lips move so effortlessly against yours you'd even go as far to say you two were dancing, as you stumble back into the wall. Wonwoo presses you against the surface and you let out a gasp as he leans down, kissing you so hard and passionately that it might just suck the air out of you.

And it probably does, considering when you finally pull away from each other you’re gasping for air both from just how long Wonwoo’s lips stayed connected to yours, along with how breathtakingly amazing of a kisser he is. He looks down at you with some sort of sparkling look in his eyes and it has you weak in the knees, gripping onto his hair tighter.

He lets out a low grunt at the action and holy fuck the sound is doing things to you but then you’re both reminded of where you are and what you’re doing and then Wonwoo is stepping back as you let go of him, putting some space between you two. His glasses are slightly foggy and he takes them off to rub the moisture away on his shirt.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—” You reach for his hand, cutting him off.

“It’s okay,” you murmur, somewhat bashful of your own actions as you look down, “We both did that so uh…don’t apologize.” Wonwoo looks up at you and then back down at your hand holding his, squeezing it comfortingly.

“Okay,” he says gently, reaching for his phone in his pocket. “Can I, uh, get your number? I only have it saved on the school phone…” he asks hopefully, looking up at you as he uses one hand to smooth his ruffled hair, the other holding up his phone in your direction.

Your lips are pressed into a tight smile as you try to hide your cheeky grin. “Of course,” you say maybe a little too quickly, punching in your digits and handing it back to him. A silence settles between you two, but it isn’t uncomfortable like before, no, it’s rather…warm now.

“I…” Wonwoo starts to admit, “…never thought I’d end up in a situation like this.” You giggle and nod your head in agreement. “But, um, I’d like to see where this goes.”

“I like the sound of that,” you reply with a smile, and it's the truth—your stomach tumbles with a good feeling that things might just go your way.

a/n: hope u liked it! i'm super duper excited for this story and was literally kicking my feet writing this so you can expect a part 2 quite soon! in the meantime, please like, comment, and reblog! send me an ask or comment if you'd like to be tagged in part 2!

pt.2

#jeon wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo smut #wonwoo smut #wonwoo fanfic #jeon wonwoo fluff #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo x you #seventeen smut #svt smut #svt fanfic #seventeen fanfic #📝 writing

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anananass · 6 months

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Wriothesley reacting to you telling him you’re pregnant

warning: a little suggestive but otherwise extremely sweet because he is a silly man with a big heart in my eyes

note: I will keep this one part with him only but AHHH I’m planning on doing some of the other boys in the near future because hughshhsh

Wriothesley

You decide to bring the fortunate news at the most random moment ever.

There you are, enjoying some tea in silence during his afternoon break whilst both your favorite artist plays in the background making the best atmosphere for a regular afternoon.

Truthfully, you figured the news not too long ago but right when you found out, you thought of how you should inform him. Wrio loves children from the bottom of his heart and does anything in his power to assure their safety and well being and that alone causes you to melt at the simplest thought of telling him that he himself is going to be a father. But how should you tell him???

He deserves to fibf out in a big way but at the same time, can you really resist keeping your lips shut???

To sum up, you can’t, not with the tensed look he is flashing you. Is he able to read the air and notice you are pondering really hard?

“Something on your mind, darling?” He asks, genuinely curious, but when you take longer than usual to respond his expression turns into one of worry. Still, he is so sweet and just assumes you might have a little difficulty with telling him what’s bothering you so he gives you the time.

But his icy eyes and the awkward silence consume you so much that you sigh and just stare at him for a little longer. You need to figure how you’re gonna word all that and it’s okay, he doesn’t mind it although it’s eating at him.

“There is something I should tell you.” You finally utter whilst holding back your breath for the big announcement you’re about to make. However, he mistakes your enthusiasm and excitement for worry and anxiety.

“Come on, tell me. Whatever it is, I’ll take care of it. Anything it is, just say it and it’s done. ” He insists and lifts himself from the chair just to cut the corner of the desk so he can kneel before you to bring a sense of comfort within you. He even holds your hand and stares deeply into your eyes and dear god, the tint of wonder mixed with concern in his eyes is killing you.

You gulp and take a big breath before unleashing the news. “You know… remember when I told you back then that you’d make a great father? When you took care of that lost child?”

“Yeah, what about it?” He doesn’t catch the hint but only because his priority is your current mental wellbeing that he has to ensure is fine.

“What if I told you that you WILL be a great father?” As soon as the words leave your mouth, you give him the brightest, the most radiant smile that he has ever laid his eyes on, and even with that he can’t figure what you’re referencing.

He remains unresponsive for a second and soon enough, the digits begin to add up. He is going to be… a father?? Is that what you meant??? He has to make sure he’s not getting the wrong idea.

“y/n.” He murmurs, sounding all soft and quiet while his eyebrows raise. His eyes begin traversing your whole face and it’s looking a bit more intense than he probably intended.

“Wrio.” You repeat after him, just waiting for him to say it himself.

“Am I going to be one?” Those words barely slip his throat, they sound almost stuttered, as if he was holding back tears perhaps? His heart races the more he processes this possible information.

you don’t give him a straight answer but lower your head to your belly and place gentle rubs against the lower of your stomach, occasionally flashing him glimpses of your eyes.

His eyes follow your motions and he is utterly unable to take his eyes off you. He allows for the silence to settle once more and instead firmly places his wide hand against yours so he could feel your touch, and where the baby will be. You notice a gentle smile paint his face, and with each second it seems to be widening more and more.

That’s your favorite side of him to see and it’s fine, he doesn’t need to say anything more, his gesture is just enough to show you how content he is right now.

However, as soon as both your eyes lock back onto each other, he leans in to melt a kiss against your partly open lips. Now that he’s much closer, you can hear his heavy breathing growing steadied. Then, you feel his hand slowly creep closer to your lower back and within a few seconds, he begins pushing you closer toward him. His other hand finds your thighs as a resting spot. His fingers tug at your skin but different than usual, it’s rather a gentle grip that still pushes you to make some noises that are music to his ears.

Shortly after, he parts away from you. “God, the way you’ll look so stunning.” He mouths softly and immediately eyes your belly again.

He can’t lie to himself but feel a little worried about how he’ll handle a child. Not that it’ll be a hard thing to do, but… will he be a good one? Will he be up to his own standards and be the father he never had but yearned so deeply for? Will he take good care of you? Is he worthy of such a blessing in his life? And most importantly, will you still consider him worthy of being a father afterwards? You know, definitely not because he wants more than one child.

#wriothesley #wrio x reader #pregnancy #genshin imagines #genshin impact #fluff #wrio fluff #wriothesley fluff #i’m dying #of love #lovey dovey shit

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jaywonjuice · 7 months

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📄🖇️ — bf!jake making sure you eat; taking care of you

pairing bf!jake x gn reader

genre non idol/student au, angst, fluff, drabble

requests: [here] & [here]; prompt #2 comforting you when you’re crying; #18 them making sure you eat.

WARNING tw! disordered eating!! we do NOT romanticise EDs over here please n thank you but pls pls pls skip on this one if you think you might find it triggering <3; sfw intimacy, kissing

wc 595

as you surveyed the sea of notes and past papers that were spread out in front of you over your unmade bed, your heart sank in your chest.

still so far to go.

rubbing your temples in a bid to ease your rising headache, there came a knock at your dorm door.

‘come in,’ your voice trembled a little involuntarily.

you watched as jake let himself in, closing the door gently behind him before turning to face you.

god he was a sight for sore eyes.

he looked like a dream just stood there in front of you in his sweatshirt and jeans, hair a dark ruffled mess, his eyes… full of concern.

you watched as he took in your appearance; you had dark circles under your eyes, your face was grey. you’d done your best to hide your weak frame in one of his oversized hoodies, but by the look on his face you could tell it hadn’t worked.

‘baby, i’m worried about you,’ he said softly. ‘your flatmates say you’ve hardly left your room all week,’ he pushed some papers aside and sat down next to you on the bed. as you looked up at him to meet his gaze, you could just feel how tired your eyes must look to him right now. you thought you might cry when you saw his face so full of worry as he watched you, soft brown eyes not leaving your face for even a moment.

‘you’re not eating again, aren’t you?’

the question fell over you like a wave; you hadn’t prepared yourself for him to be so straightforward with you. all of a sudden you couldn’t hold it in any longer, and hot tears came rushing down your cheeks. alarmed, jake pulled you into him and wrapped his arms round you tightly. as you buried you face into his chest, breathing in his comforting scent, wracking sobs took over your entire body.

‘shhh, oh baby,’ jake’s voice a near whisper as he kissed the top of your head. ‘please tell me what’s wrong?’

‘i’m sorry,’ you sobbed quietly, your entire body still shaking. ‘i’m really sorry i- i’ve been so stressed. i’m just so stressed all the time what with finals coming up and when i’m stressed i get this knot in my stomach, it makes me feel sick, and i- i just can’t.’

jake stroked your hair gently as he held you to him. ‘it’s okay baby, you’re gonna be just fine,’ he paused, thinking. ‘but you gotta eat.’

‘i know,’ your voice came small, barely audible. slightly calmer now, you pulled away a little and met his eyes. ‘i know, jake.’

he reached out a hand to stroke your cheek lightly. ‘okay here’s what’s going to happen,’ he said decisively. ‘i’m gonna go make us some pasta, and we’re gonna watch a movie, okay angel? all of this can wait til tomorrow. you need a break,’ he leaned in, bringing his lips to yours in the gentlest kiss. relief flooded over you as you kissed him back softly, feeling the tension within you melting away.

‘thank you,’ you whispered.

he nodded with a small smile, and started gathering all the papers up from the bed, placing them in a neat pile on your desk. ‘i’m going to be here to take care of you, but you gotta start taking care of yourself, too.’ he leaned down and placed a firm kiss on the top of your head. you smiled gratefully.

‘i really love you jake,’ you whispered.

‘i love you so much, angel,’ he replied.

a/n i’m so so thankful for this request, tysm to both anons who asked for jake with these prompts! i honestly think that jake would be the most caring boyfriend so this just suits him so well. pls remember to always take care of yourself (you know jake would want you to ♡).

TAGLIST ೃ⁀➷ @thejakeslayla

©jaywonjuice | do not copy or re-upload my work on any platform

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teamatsumu · 6 months

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kinktober 2023 -> day 27

hate sex - kuroo tetsuro x reader

word count: 2100

warnings: swearing, nsfw, reader is yaku’s sister, both of them are kinda assholes but not really lol

kinktober masterlist

Kuroo Tetsuro was a very talented individual. Because no one had the capacity to piss you off quite like he did.

You should’ve known the minute you walked into your biochem class that he would become the bane of your existence. You wished you had gotten some sort of warning when you chose your major. A sign. A whisper from the gods. Anything at all to stop you in your tracks. But no, you were here now, and you were stuck seeing him in class every time.

If only that was where it stopped. But then you discovered that he was on the college volleyball team with your brother Morisuke and apparently, they were thick as thieves. The nightmare just kept getting worse.

It’s not even that he was a jerk to you or he bullied you. You just thought he was too cocky and loud and the smirk he supported was stupid. Unfortunately, the moment he found out that you didn't like him, he made it his mission to annoy the crap out of you any chance he got.

He would make jokes about your height, or how uptight you were. He would call you dumb under his breath if you got something wrong in class, or would snicker when the teacher corrected you. He had a taunting lilt to his voice when he talked to you, like his mere words were making fun of you. It was embarrassing, and it stung a bit, but mostly it served to make you angry. Morisuke would always tell you to let it go. That Kuroo was a provocative and inflammatory person by nature, but at this point even his voice annoyed you.

“What kind of pleasure does this bring you?” You gritted out, refusing to look up at his stupid grin.

“It tingles me just right, sweets.” He replied.

“Ugh.” You made a disgusted face, giving him a look that hopefully communicated that.

“You are gross.” You responded, turning back to your book. “Now can you please leave? I have a quiz I need to study for.”

Kuroo hummed, as if contemplating your request. He leaned back in his chair, balancing it precariously on its two back legs. They squeaked in the silence of the library, making your cheek twitch.

“Nope.” He popped the ‘p’, running a hand through his already messy hair. “I’m waiting for Yaku, remember?”

“And he told you to meet him here?” You didn’t look up at him.

“No, I told him to meet me here.”

You glared at him. “To purposely annoy me? Is that it? Why can’t you just stay away from me?”

He scoffed. “Don’t flatter yourself, sweets.”

You turn to him completely this time. “Then what is it, Kuroo? Why the hell are you obsessed with me? How pathetic are you?”

Kuroo stared at you incredulously. “Obsessed with you?”

He leaned forward until his face was inches from yours, eyes narrowed in anger. You nearly reeled back but held yourself in place.

“You’ve got some nerve. Thinking everything is about you. You think I give a single fuck about you? You’re just Yaku’s whiny little sister who thinks the world revolves around her. You’re not worth my time, or anyone else’s. Get your head out of the clouds or you’re going to end up taking a fall you won’t survive.”

You stared at him in shock, watching him gather his bag and water bottle before he stood up and hastily left. You stared at his retreating back, and felt anger burn through you as his words registered in your head.

You ignored the hot tears that stung your eyes.

…………………

The knock on your dorm room door startled you, and you stared at it warily. You contemplated whether you should open it or not. Maybe you could stay quiet and pretend no one was home. You weren't really in any mood to talk to people.

“I know you’re in there. The light is on.”

You nearly groaned, eyes squeezing shut. Anger boiled up in you again, and in a moment of impulse, you rushed to the door, opening it with more force than necessary.

“You've got some nerve.” Your voice shook in anger when you met his golden eyes. “Coming here after the shit you said to me today.”

Kuroo sighed, shoulders slumping. “I came to apologize for that.”

You laughed in disbelief. “What part, Kuroo? Me being whiny or me being pathetic?”

He scowled. “I didn't call you pathetic.”

“You’re getting hung up on the semantics now?!” You shrieked, stepping back to slam the door shut. Kuroo shot his foot out, blocking you from doing so.

“Excuse me? I’m not going to apologize for something I didn't even say!” He stepped inside the room, shutting it behind him so your voices didn't carry into the halls. “In fact, I specifically remember you were the one who called me pathetic. Which you still haven’t apologised for, by the way.”

“Oh my god, I hate you!” You screamed, feeling your face get hot because of how angry you were.

“Trust me, the feeling is mutual!” Kuroo screamed back, stepping forward until he was right in your face. You stiffened at how he was towering over you, his chest heaving and breaths coming heavy and quick. His teeth were clenched, making his jaw tick. Your eyes tracked the movement. You watched a small droplet of sweat run down the side of his face.

You stepped forward until your lips met his.

Kuroo jerked back, looking at you with wide eyes, mouth dropped open in shock. You stared at each other for a few moments, completely silent. Then, the dam broke.

Kuroo grabbed the sides of your face, sealing your lips together in a searing kiss. You moaned into his mouth, giving him the opening to slide his tongue over yours. You backed up until your legs hit your bed, falling back and Kuroo following you down, not breaking the kiss. Your limbs tangled together in a flurry, attempting to rip each other’s clothes off as quickly as you could.

“Can you hurry?” You broke the kiss, glaring at him as you tugged his shirt off.

“Can you shut the fuck up?” He bit back, pulling your sweatpants off your legs.

His lips met yours in the next moment, effectively silencing you except the little moans leaving your lips. His bare body felt heavenly against yours, and for the first time you thanked the lords that he was an athlete.

He broke the kiss again, making his way down your body with his lips. He bit at your right breast, making your breath stutter.

“Of course you would like that.” He chuckled.

“Shut the fuck up, Kuroo. Don’t ruin this-” You dissolved into a moan when he licked over your nipple, biting at it slightly before sucking. You sighed at the feeling.

His hand groped at your other breast, hips grinding down. His crotch pressed between your legs, and the pressure made you whine.

“Hurry up.” You pushed at his boxers, trying to tug them down.

“Say please~” Kuroo smirked up at you. You nearly slapped him.

“Over my dead body.”

Kuroo sighed and lifted himself off your body. He slid off you slightly, making to stand up. “Well, in that case-”

“No!” You sat up, biting your lip, staring at him. You groaned. “God, I hate you.”

Kuroo chuckled. You gasped when his fingers brushed over your clothed core, before hooking a finger into your panties and pulling them off you. His fingertips dipped into your slit. Your breath stuttered.

“Kuroo.” You stared at him, his eyes dark and pupils dilated. His lips parted, tongue peaking out just a little to run over them. His fingers continued their feather-light touch.

“Please,” you gave in.

“Please what, baby?” You whined at the nickname, feeling your core pulse. God, his voice was so husky. You stared at his lips, eyes wandering to his shoulders, his pecs, his abs, to the bulge in his underwear that was hinting at how big he probably was.

“Touch me, Tetsuro.” You whispered. “Please. Touch me, fuck me. You want me to shut the fuck up? Make it happen, then.”

He was on you the next moment, teeth digging into your skin and fingers burying themselves deep in your pussy. You yelped and moaned, spreading your legs more so he could hit deeper. His fingers were so long and delicious, reaching your spot and rubbing against it just right. Within seconds, he had you seeing stars.

“You’re such a brat.” Kuroo bit out, fingers picking up speed instantly. You could barely breathe. Your body jolted under his movements. He was being so rough. “A spoiled little princess. Greedy girl. You’re even letting me fuck you just so you can get off.”

You cried at Kuroo’s words. Fuck. Why was this turning you on so much? You clenched around his fingers, and were met with the sight of his infamous smirk, except this time, it was so much hotter than any time you had seen it before. Kuroo looked like he was enjoying the crap out of this.

“Oh, you love this, don’t you?” He goaded you, curling his fingers until your back was arching off the bed. “Such a slut. What, you got a humiliation kink or something?”

“I’m gonna cum.” You choked out, tears swimming in your vision as your toes curled.

You should've known. This was Kuroo Tetsuro you were with. There’s no way he would let you have anything good. You nearly wailed when he pulled his fingers out, soaking wet with your juices.

“Kuroo!” You cried, tears spilling down your cheeks. “Don’t- why?!”

You didn’t even care that he was witnessing you break down over this. You were just about to have what could have been the most intense orgasm of your life and he denied you it.

“You fucking asshole-”

He shushed you, leaning over and shifting slightly. Something hard prodded at your entrance, before sinking into you in one fluid motion. Your mouth dropped open at the feeling, jaw going slack. He was big, long and oh so hard, and he grazed all the right spots as he slid into you.

Kuroo wiped the tears that soaked your cheeks, brushing his nose against yours in a manner that was almost affectionate. You stared up at him, still dizzy from your almost orgasm a few moments ago. His eyes held a glint that told you tonight was going to be brutal in the best way possible.

And you were right. Kuroo fucked you through three orgasms before he even slowed his pace. You were left a blabbering, bumbling mess by the time his hips stuttered and he emptied himself inside you, warm cum washing over your walls, pushing you through one more orgasm as his unrelenting fingers rubbed at your abused, swollen clit. He didn’t care when you whined at him to stop. He was merciless throughout. It was rough and hot and it made you see stars.

You didn’t even register when his body left yours, or when he came back and ran a washcloth over the mess between your legs. You turned on your side, back sore from all the arching. You were still out of breath as he tugged on his clothes, watching him fix his hair. Well, as fixed as his messy hair could get. Aside from the sweat on his face and his slightly heavy breathing, he seemed unfazed. You would think he was out for a run, not rearranging your guts.

You didn’t realize he was staring at you until a few moments later, when he leaned over to brush your hair off your face. His signature smirk spread over his lips.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. You’re the best sex I’ve ever had too.”

You scowled as he straightened up, making his way to the door. “What the hell do you mean ‘too’?

He didn’t answer, humming happily to himself as he tugged his shoes on.

“You aren’t the best sex I’ve ever had.” You sat up, feeling your face turn red. He gave you a look that was so smug it made you stiffen in embarrassment. You knew he didn’t believe a word you just said. You also knew that Kuroo’s already humongous ego was about to shoot through the fucking roof.

“You’re not.” You mumbled. Kuroo pulled the door open, still supporting the insufferable smirk on his face, giving you a teasing wink.

“You’re not, Kuroo!” You called behind him as the door clicked shut. Sighing, you flopped back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling and ruminating on everything that had just happened.

Fuck.

Taglist:

@bxbyyyjocelyn @thisbicc @lazuliquartz @dreamayy @kuroosluthoe @true-form-hoe @akumakitsune21 @cham0mil3-and-h0n3y @samisfunky @universal-s1ut @msbyomimi @dohwaesu @leothesquishy @n0tmykays @tsukiran @reyofsunshinelol @bleach-your-panties @galaneiaeris @leyra-giovanni @erenspersonalwh0re @peachesncats @soapsoftheworld @iwannabecamiloshovel @vintagevict0ria @smithieandy @moonlit-mizukage @snazzyturtles @argwein

A/N: For those whose tags arent working, im sorry! I tried and for some reason, your names wont show up in the mentions :( another way of being notified is to turn on my blog notifs for @teamatsumufics . I only reblog my fics there so it serves almost like being in a taglist!

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illyrian-dreamer · 7 months

Text

Our girl – Part 5

Azriel x Cassian x fem reader angst

Summary: You wake after succumbing to the mating bond.

Word count: 5.1k

<<< Part 4

Strands of hair tickled your cheeks, a warm, gentle breeze kissing your face as you groggily blinked awake.

A spring breeze.

You jolted upright, urgently scanning around you. It was a lavash guest room, soft white sheets settled over your body, lush pillows piled to have cradled your head. You had no idea who's clothes you wore, but you knew you were at the Spring Manor.

As if on queue, a house maid opened the doors to your room, behind her a healer. It was the same perky house maid that had greeted you when you first visited Tamlin.

“Oh good, you’re awake, she pepped. The healer wordlessly approached you, pressing her thumb to your wrist. She gave the maid a quick nod before leaving the room, without having spoken a word.

“She’s mute,” the maid explained.

Oh. You stared back at her. So were you, it seemed.

“The High Lord will be eager to hear you are awake. Will you take his visit?”

You nodded silently, unable to form the thousands of questions as your brain came to wake.

Tamlin was in your room in no less than a few minutes.

“How are you feeling?”

You blinked. You hadn't really thought about that. Looking within yourself, you felt it there, a swollen heart, alive and beating and thriving, but also aching from a deep wound. You were nautious and weak and so gods damned angry. How could the Mother be so cruel?

“How long was I asleep?”

“Just a day.”

You nodded, running your hand through your hair. “And we’re in Spring?”

Tamlin nodded. “Feyre and Rhys winnowed us here.”

You were too tired to gawk, so you blinked instead. “Pardon me?”

“And your… Azriel and Cassian are still here, waiting for you to wake.”

You must still be dreaming. “You opened your home to them?” you croaked.

Tamlin shrugged. “We wanted to bring you to your Uncle’s, but you could see to a healer faster here. Besides, there was no fitting five fae in that cabin, especially two Illyrians.”

“They could have slept outside,” you ground out, and Tamlin chuckled.

“You do… remember what unfolded at the wedding, don’t you? That Azriel and Cassian are your mates?”

“Do not call them that.” Taming the bite in your tone was beyond you, even for your friend. You had to clench your eyes shut to stop the reel in your vision, your whole body clenching as you remembered that awful, fated moment.

Tamlin didn't falter. Instead he dropped his eyes before reaching for your hand and squeezing it sympathetically. “Are you in any pain?”

“Yes. No. I don't know,” you said plainly, pinching at your nose. It did hurt, this unwanted binding to the two beings you resented most in this world. It hurt to resist them, to resist it. As if there was a home, beckoning you inside to warmth and food and comfort, and instead you stood outside in the hail and cold, despising it for ever being built.

Tamlin’s eyes were soft as he watched you shift uncomfortably. You hated that look too, as if he was sad for you, as if this bond was your fate and you had no say in the matter.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” he blinked.

“As if I’m some mindless female destined to forget and forgive and go running back with a kiss to each of their cheeks.”

“I don’t think that–”

“Because I’m not, and I won’t. I still have my head, and my senses, and some gods-damned self respect.”

Tamlin sighed then. “No one can force you to do anything you don’t want to Y/N. I won't allow it.”

You cast your eyes to the roof then, blinking away the sting of tears. “And what of us, Tamlin? Suppose I was free to explore a future with you?”

Tamlin moved to hold your one hands in his, running a thumb in your palm. “You are free, sweetheart.”

“And you would court me, knowing I’m cauldron-bound to not just one, but two others?”

His thumb stopped rubbing then, and his lips pressed to a thin line.

You stared hard at Tamlin, eyes piercing. Don’t lie - that look said - we do not lie to each other.

And as Tamlin raised green eyes to yours, in their softness you had your answer.

“Your silence is answer enough,” you bit, letting out a sharp breath as tears slid down your cheeks, snatching your hand from his.

It had started – your choices, your freedom – fading away already. Curse the Mother.

“Come now Y/N, I will always love you, and we will always have each other, however our relationship might change.”

“Lies, Tamlin. Fucking lies,” your voice broke as tears streamed down your cheeks. You were flushed with anger then, kicking off the sheets that were now too hot, your skin beginning to tingle. Gods, not now you begged, holding your breath to stifle the sting at your fingertips.

“I do not lie to you, Y/N.” Tamlin said sternly.

You swung your legs from your bed, standing in a hurry as blood rushed to your head. “You’re just another disappointment,” you said coldly, pacing as you shook your hands to rid of your power.

Pain flashed in his eyes, and he recoiled slightly before straightening, his eyes hardening. “You’re being unfair.”

“You males are all the same! You treat females as if they are objects, owned by one male and therefore not to be touched by another. An unspoken exchange, as if I were cattle and not an actual fucking being.”

Tamlin pinched his nose then, his jaw tightening. “That is not what is happening here. You cannot punish me for not wanting to entangle myself in your mateship, not when I’m doing it out of respect for you.”

You were being unfair, and quite unforgiving, but your words were as unstoppable as your power in this moment, zapping and dancing at your skin.

“Is that what you define as respect, High Lord? Because despite a year of friendship, all it took was one gods-foresaken moment for you to side with what they want, and start dismissing me. You believe in the bond, and you respect Azriel and Cassian enough to house them, and agree that you won't so much as look at me again. You have chosen them over me, plain and simple.”

Tamlin’s face was grave, and you knew you were twisting an old wound of his. And perhaps you were being rash, but you didn't care. You would shut him out, or anyone who thought they knew what was best for you.

“I thought I was helping you by allowing them here,” he said defensively. “I thought perhaps you’d feel safe here, but would still want them close, to be able to talk to them.”

Your eyes narrowed. “You’re gods-damned right I want to talk to them! I’ll tell them exactly what I think of this couldren-made-shackle, of what I think of the Mother if they think for one second they can–” You swayed on the spot as you spat a string of curses, vision blurring slightly.

Despite the cruel words you had cast his way, Tamlin approached, steadying you by your shoulder’s, biting down on the pain that stung him at his touch.

“I understand your anger, Y/N, I do. But you’re still unwell, you should rest now and–”

Tamlin should have know better than to test your stubbornness.

So you marched for the door, flinging it open as you stormed through the manor, using that tether you so loathed to cast out your mates. Tamlin was on your tail, trying to reason to take a moment or calm yourself before doing anything rash. But you didn't turn once as you found the room that beheld your mates, ripping the doors open without so much as a knock.

They knew you were coming of course. Azriel stood near the bed, and Cassian had just risen from the armchair he sat on in the opposite corner – their faces grave, worried, with a sickening kind of longing.

It was as if the flesh between your bones went soft, your body begging to give out or give in and relish in the proximity of being close to your mates. But you forced yourself to stay stiff, holding a glare that could cut glass.

“Wipe those looks off your faces,” you bit, stalking into the room.

Azriel cast his eyes to Tamlin who held a look that said I tried to stop her. He knew better than to linger, pulling the doors closed behind you.

“How are you fee–?” Cassian tried, but you raised a hand to silence him.

They waited in silence, and you darted your eyes between them.

“You think this means I forgive you?”

They knew better than to answer that.

“You think this means you can have me, because the Mother wishes to see us mated?” you continued, your voice laced with ice. “Well it doesn’t. I will not head to fate and forsake myself, not even for the cauldron.”

Azriel sighed then, moving to sit at the edge of the bed. “Of course you won’t,” he said plainly.

You scowled. “Is that sarcasm?” you bit, even though you felt his sincerity creeping through the tether.

“No. It’s knowing.”

You blinked.

“We know you doll,” Cassian said as he too sat back in the chair, running a strong hand through his hair – a tell sign of stress. “Not because of the bond. But because we’ve loved you for almost a decade now. We know there is not a thing that can set you apart from your principles.”

“And we would never ask that of you,” Azriel added.

You shuffled, your arms crossing defensively. “You won't try to convince me to go back with you?” you asked stiffly.

Cassian shook his head. “No, it was wrong for us to ask that of you in the first place.”

Azriel stood then, moving closer to a settee in the centre of the room. “We do ask that you might let us explain. We have so much we've wanted to tell you, even before you left Velaris. And there is a lot of truth we’ve withheld, things you deserve to know.” He slid his hands behind his back, waiting at the seats – a silent offering to join them, to hear them out.

It was a temptation you couldn't deny yourself. You moved swiftly, sitting on one side, a low reading table separating you as Cassian took a place next to Azriel.

“We had suspicions of the bond from when we first began to court you.” Azriel began. “It was so rare for us to long for the same female, but the true hint was in the lack of jealousy we felt between each other.”

Cassian nodded. “We agreed to court you as, well, as partners. It wasn't anything we had explored in our 500 years, but with you, it felt so natural.”

“And your ease too, that was a big sign,” Azriel added. “We half expected you to flee, or never speak to us again.”

“But you were so comfortable, you made it feel… right.”

You were frowning slightly. You didn't remember feeling natural or at ease at all, in fact you were sick to your stomach with nerves when you first began dating. But perhaps they had a point, exploring your first relationship with two males hadn’t added any more challenge than regular dating for you. You had put that down to your friendship of many years.

“Over the period we dated, and as we fell in love with you, we learned to love each other too. We were brothers, but you showed us how to be more than that, igniting something not even they Cauldron dared show us.”

“We wanted to tell you of our suspicions, but it didn’t feel like the right time. You were so focused on your work, so determined to do well. And I suppose we thought it was a hopeless dream – it didn't feel right to distract you with that.” Cassian explained, leaning into his elbows that rested on his knees.

You weighed up their words, eyes darting between the males. It had never occurred to you that a mating bond was at play. You would have never believed yourself to be cauldron-blessed if they had suggested it – or cauldron-cursed rather.

Azriel cleared his throat, cutting through the silence. “It wasn't until the moment that I killed Alvar, that I felt the bond snap,” he breathed out, his voice husky and his hazel eyes cast downward, grimacing as he recalled the difficult memory. “I watched the life leave his body, and then I heard a snap, a force so strong it made me falter. I was reborn in that moment, my new purpose to solely fill your needs, to care for you, protect you. I could feel your desires overriding mine, and in that your determination and hunger to avenge your sister. And I knew then, that I had made the biggest mistake of my life.”

There was a downward tug of your lips, your face muscles jerking involuntarily as you tried not to cry, imagining that moment that changed everything for the worse.

“I have dreams of Alvar, still alive and at the mercy of Trutheller. I dream that I sheath my sword and step away, returning to a world where you are waiting for me at our home. And your embrace is warm and true, because you love us, and we never did a thing to ruin it.” Azriel’s voice broke as he flashed those hazel eyes, lined with tears.

Two silent tears slid down your cheeks, your chest tight with the shallows breaths you kept to keep yourself from crumbling. You didn't respond – what could you say? Instead, you cleared your throat, grasping the arms of your chair even tighter. “And what of you?” you asked Cassian.

“It snapped for me in that same moment. But I was journeying home from the northern training camps in Illyria.”

You blinked in shock. The bond had snapped for the both of them, with that greater distance between them while Azriel was across the sea?

“As I was flying back to Velaris, and I heard the snap in my ears before I felt it course through my veins and wounding my heart. That realisation, that same pain that Azriel described, the devastation at what we had done… it sent me crashing into the thick of forest.”

You closed your eyes as you imagined the great War General, bought to his knees by such a thing.

“It seems none of us have been welcomed to this mateship gently,” you said tightly. Why had the Mother forsaken so much pain?

“I could hear Az then, speak to him through the bond in the same way Rhys and Feyre speak in our minds. I could feel his panic too, his fear of having to tell you, to break you in such a way. I calmed him down as best I could, and reassured him that we would do it together, as soon as he returned.”

Your eyes turned cold again. “But that isn’t what happened.”

“It was a cowards choice to ask Rhys to be the one tell you, we know,” Azriel said with dismay. “But the concept of hurting you, of wounding our mate so deeply? It was unfathomable.”

“Its not an excuse,” Cassian added. “But we hope you can understand, there is an instinct there that twists our concept of what is wrong and right. Rhys understood that, it was the same instinct that kept him from telling Feyre about the risk of birthing Nyx. I think that’s why he volunteered to tell you, to protect us from something that would wound us so deeply.”

“We are learning, Y/N, and we are so sorry that we hurt you,” Azriel said, hazel eyes pinning you with their intensity. “But we are trying, and we will do better by you.”

You looked between the two of them, pulling your hands to your lap as your fingers trembled. It was just all so much.

Closing your eyes, you imagined what it would be like to say those words – I forgive you.

You could see it, relief flooding the bond and breaking those solemn gazes, their embrace and warmth and scent surrounding you, fulfilling your primal desire. Their lips on yours, their hands on your body, yours on theirs, puling each other in and never letting go. There was a thrumming in your heart, a pulsing through your veins. It felt so right.

But then you thought of the life you had made, the path you were forced to walk by yourself after what they had done. They had broken you completely, and you had put yourself back together, now stronger than ever. Your mission work, your life in Spring, the pain you endured and the scars that remained from doing it alone – it was a part of you now, and you could never let that go.

You were at a cross roads – one path leading to the overwhelming promise of unconditional love that tempted your heart, the other promising freedom and choice and sense, tempting your head.

“What are you thinking?” Cassian asked, his voice soft from where he still sat, anxiously fidgeting with his hands.

You took a deep breath. “That I am overwhelmed.”

Cassian nodded, and Azriel watched you before speaking softly. “That is understandable.”

You didn't have an answer for them, not even for yourself.

“I don't know what to do,” you whispered.

Cassian continued to nod, casting his eyes down sadly. “Whatever you decide, Y/N, we will do right by you.”

“Of course we dream of you accepting the bond, of becoming our mate, we won't deny that. But we want you to want it,” Azriel added.

You gulped, anticipating the pain that would come from your next words. “And what if I decide to break the bond?”

Cassian’s head dropped as he let out a wrangled sob. Azriel’s shadows recoiled so fast they disappeared entirely. The latter gripped the chair, his knuckles white as he slipped into that place he so often had to as the Spy Master – a place where nothing could hurt him. “The choice is yours.”

“Please,” Cassian breathed out, tears streaming down his face. It was a plea, even the thought of the bond breaking unbearable to him.

It unbearable for you too, and fresh tears slid down your face as your arms coiled tighter around the ache in your stomach. It would sicken you, perhaps almost kill the three of you. But it was what they deserved.

You were exhausted, and keeping that wall up through the bond, stopping their emotions from tampering with your own – that alone had you begging for your bed.

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” you said with a broken voice, guilt slipping through at the sight of the General sobbing before you.

Azriel put an arm around his brother, comforting him as best he could. “We know that, sweetheart. Of course we know that.”

You cast your eyes sideways as you blinked through more tears. “But I don't have an answer for you.”

Cassian nodded, running his hands over his face as he tried to collect himself. “Take your time,” he said after a few moments, his voice shaky and breaths forced. “We will wait for you, no matter how long it takes.”

“And you don't need any more bargains from Rhys or Feyre,” Azriel added. “We will respect your privacy Y/N, any and all distance you might need. Let us prove that to you.”

You nodded then, forcing yourself to your knees despite the scream of protests in all of your muscles and joints. Gods, is this how the rest of your life would be, forever fighting a higher cause? Perhaps you’d go mad before you could ever hope to forgive them.

“I will…,” you trailed off, not knowing what to say. “Good bye, Cassian and Azriel,” you forced out, your voice thick from the cry that begged at your throat.

Cassian’s lip wobbled, and Azriel’s brow broke upwards as he spoke. “Take good care of yourself, Y/N.”

Cassian’s head felt to his hands, and you forced yourself to close the doors behind you, quieting the sound of his cries.

————

You spent three weeks at your Uncle’s cabin – mostly in bed and unspeaking, even to Finbark. He dotted over you, trying to pry you from your room to spend some time outside or eat a full meal. But that familiar pain had returned, that same weight that kept you bed bound for days in your old apartment. It was grief, in all shapes and kinds.

You hadn't broken the bond, but it was rejected good and proper for now. And it hurt so gods damned much. Your waking moments were consumed with the tug and pull of what was right, a constant reeling battle that exhausted you to every extent.

The mission aid work carried on without you – you had a competent team of friends that you trusted to continue to provide care across Spring Court. You were grateful for their passion and dedication – while your desire to help others was unreachable in those moments, and you felt completely numb to what you once had thought was your life’s calling. You despised the bond for changing you so.

You wondered of the wild Geranium, if it had been harvested yet and if Tamlin or your team had made any progress on bottling its healing pigment.

And there was pain and guilt when you thought of Tamlin too. You had hurt him – you were malicious in your anger and said so many things you hadn't meant. You weren't angry at him, not really. Your anger lied with the Mother and your mates, and you could not fault him for not wanting to complicate relations and involve himself where he knew he shouldn’t. He was true to his word – he was open and honest with you – and you had punished him for it.

Tamlin hadn’t sent word, and you knew he was respecting the distance you sought, perhaps even licking his own wounds. So you would start there, apologise to him, and help just one person hurt less from the recoil of your poisonous mating bond.

You sent word to his Manor, asking him to meet you in three days time.

————

Tamlin was at the stables, brushing down his steed when you trotted up on Podie.

He wore his riding pants again, boots to his knees, a shirt tucked in at his tight abdomen, strong forearms moving the brush gently across the horses back. You cursed the Mother that the sight of him didn't have the same effect on you as it had a few months prior – the bond chipping away at what you had once known to desire.

Your heart did clench at the sight of him in a sorry way, his blond hair pulled back as he worked humbly. You had missed your friend dearly, and even the Mother could not stop you from feeling that.

Tamlin turned, his face neutral as he watched you approach, neither of you speaking. Green eyes followed your dismount, and you lingered for a moment before you rushed at him, wrapping your arms at his waist and burying your face into his chest. The scent of mountain dew and fresh cut grass filled your nose – gods you had missed that.

“I’m sorry,” you croaked before sobs overtook, muffled by his clothing.

Tamlins arms were still in the air, shocked by your approach. But he loosed a breath, bringing them to hug you, rubbing soft circles on your back.

Relief found you then, and you melted further into his touch. A sign of truce. “I’m so so sorry Tamlin.”

“Shhh, it’s alright Y/N. It’s alright.”

You shook your head, pulling away and looking up at him. “You were only trying to help, and I was so cruel. The things I said, I–”

Tamlin shook his head gently, hushing you. “I don't understand the instincts of a mating bond, but I do know what it is to say things out of anger.”

“I didn't mean them,” you swallowed with guilt.

He smiled softly. “I know.”

You took a deep breath. “Please forgive me.”

Tamlin rolled his eyes playfully then, a smirk now on his lips. “I already had.”

You tried to smile back, but it came out all wobbly, so Tamlin pulled you in again, swaying in a hug as he kissed the top of your head.

After some lunch and a stroll through the gardens, he watched your carefully as you fingered the roses.

“Do you know what you’ll do of the bond?”

You stiffened, your eyes not leaving the row of flowers before you. “No, I really don’t,” you said sadly. It was true, you hadn't a clue what to do next.

Tamlin nodded.

After a deep sigh, you forced yourself to meet his gaze. “But I do know what I want for my life. I want to continue my mission work, expand my horizons and work across Prythian. I suppose I need to approach the other High Lords, and harvest the Geranium if you’re still willing?”

Tamlin smiled, his eyes warm as he seemed to find relief. “It’s all yours.”

You nodded, smiling back. There was relief for you too – you recognised your old self in those words. Your passion to help others was still alive and strong – and that meant the cauldron hadn’t changed you beyond recognition, and if you fought hard enough, it couldn't if it tried.

“I’m so grateful to have you in my life, Tam,” you confessed, your chest swelling with sincerity.

Tamlin raised his brows in question.

You gave a half smile. “You make me feel… like myself. No matter the circumstance.”

Tamlin’s face softened in a way that made you wonder how long it was since he was shown a genuine kind of love – especially after what happened with Hybern.

“You are wonderfully you, Y/N, with or without my help.”

“Always the humble High Lord,” you teased, rolling your eyes. “But I would not have made it this far without you. You’re my dearest friend.”

Tamlin reached and squeezed your hand. “You’re dear to me too, Y/N.”

You squeezed back, and you swore to yourself that the bond would not interfere in this friendship ever again.

————

6 months later

The High Lords meeting was held in Dawn, in an impressive wide cast room, marble sprawled from floor to ceiling, glassless windows arched at every wall. All seven High lords and one High Lady seated at a wide-spanning table, a cartographic map of Prythian etched within the wood.

Fingers tingling as you shook them out, and skirts kicking at your feet, you paced anxiously on the other side of the double doors to the meeting hall.

Today was the day you would propose your mission to expand refuge aid across the whole of Prythian, asking the High Lords to consider opening their borders and contributing resources and volunteers of their own.

Your team had worked tirelessly to get to this point – the wild Geranium was now harvested and a new batch was already seeding, and you had worked for months on your proposal, researching natural resources, writing guidance sheets on how to train volunteers, identifying what each court had to contribute and when.

The challenge that lay ahead of you now was to appeal to spectrum of powerful leaders waiting on the other side of those doors. You knew of their egos, of the rivalry and sensitivities between courts – this was no easy task.

“Tamlin must certainly be a terrible lover if this is how wound up he leaves you.”

You threw a scowl over your shoulder, knowing that voice and whitewood scent.

“And what of you, Eris? Waiting for daddy to finish his meeting like the good dog you are?”

Eris gave a half grin, one that didn't reach his eyes. He strolled over, leaning against the wall as he watched you try to calm yourself, delighting in your nerves. “Speaking of dogs, I heard your mates are cooped up at Night Court, the both of them suffering from wounded hearts.”

Your bared your teeth before you could think twice. Eris knowing that both Cassian and Azriel were your mates was dangerous, but the primal snarl had escaped you for that insult alone.

Eris’s eyes danced with satisfaction. “Oh, don't go feral on me now, Y/N. From what I hear, you haven't so much a secured the bond with a fuck.”

“I will–“ your hands curled into fists as you stalked up to the male, overcome with a shaking rage.

But Eris stayed leaning, cleaning his nails with arrogant nonchalance as he cut you off. “I suppose they’ll have to satisfy each other instead, how sad.”

Your hand was raised, ready to strike, and fire glowed in Eris’s eyes.

“Try that, girl, and your pathetic mission turns to dust. You can forget any allegiance from Autumn, and it’s likely others will back out too.”

You faltered, your arm swaying slightly. He was right – the prick. A sounding slap was not the way to heed your proposal.

He grinned with smug satisfaction as you lowered your arm and turned away. “Such a violent response from someone who preaches to only want to help others. Perhaps you’re not the peaceful messiah you claim to be, Y/N.”

“I’ve never had a problem defending what is mine,” you threw over your shoulder. “And my aid is offered to those in need, not to arrogant princelings, or lapdogs and the likes.”

A snarl tickled at Eris’s lips, and you were glad to have landed at least one blow, be it verbal.

“You consider those overgrown bats yours?” he asked with distaste. “So it’s true then, about the bond?”

Blinking, you played back the words that had found you so naturally. Was that how you felt?

Chewing on your lip, you decided to ignore Eris’s question. You would think of that later – you had a meeting to focus on, and you’d be damned if either the mating bond or Eris distracted you from it.

You didn’t have time to throw a final insult his way before Thesan pulled the double doors open, eight pairs of eyes now set on you, and Eris no where in sight.

“Y/N, we are ready for you,” Thesan said with a soft smile.

You gulped before straightening yourself, stepping into the room and facing the most important moment of your entire existence, whether you were ready or not.

--------

Part 6>>>

AN: SURPRISE guest appearance by Eris ;) ;) ;) Hello hello lovelies, thank you so much for your patience on this part, I know it took a while ❤️ I am so so excited to finally explore a bit of Cazriel's perspective, and get their side to the story. I hope I've done all the characters justice so far! And there's still so much to explore – I am very keen to share the next part and see how this High Lords meeting goes down (let's face it, there will be TEA). As always, I LOVE hearing your thoughts and opinions on the fic, so pretty please drop me a comment or ask anytime! Hope you're all well and are taking care of yourselves too. MWAH! ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

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morrieandlicky · 6 months

Text

Sweet Moments Between Maurice and Alec That You Have Not Seen Before (From E.M. Forster's 1st Draft for Maurice)

Context: Forster's first version of Maurice, finished in 1914, has a rather different ending than the final published version (no hotel scene, and no boathouse reunion). See here.

Forster's first draft for Maurice is, in my opinion, the rawest in terms of boldly displaying the love shared between Maurice and Alec. This version shows much more of Alec's emotion and tenderness, as well as of Maurice's sentiments and affection towards Alec. It is definitely not as subtle as the final version, with quite a few straightforward declarations of love.

Hence, I'm disappointed that Forster did not manage to integrate at least some of these 1914 texts into the final version: it would've made the love between Maurice and Alec much more pronounced and convincing, as well as made Alec a character with more depth and feelings.

Having read Forster's first draft for Maurice, I share below some of these moments between Maurice and Alec that are not in the final version (ordered on how lovely I think each moment is. Bolded texts are the highlights).

1. After running into Mr. Ducie in the museum and Maurice bursting out to Alec.

M: "I'd possibly have blown out my own brains."

A: "Why?" he asked, stopping dead.

M: "I should have known by that time that I loved you."

A: "You can't, sir, you couldn't."

M: "I love you, sir be damned."

A: "Maurice"—never before had the word been spoken—"you're an angel."

M: "I don't want to hear that."

A: "Maurice, Maurice" his voice failed also; he had once said the rest to a woman. "Maurice - what you've said I feel. Understand?"

M: "I think so, but I want to be sure. Remember those rose bushes in the other rain? - Look at me hard - That's right. That'll do. It's settled." (Maurice is referring to the moment when Alec ran in the rain across the rose bushes at Penge just to see Maurice's face.)

2. The conversation after Maurice refuses to stay the night with Alec—a scenario that only happens in the first draft in 1914. Be prepared for tears.

A: "Come just for a little to me."

M: "If I came it would be for ever."

A: "Ever's the best."

M: "Why, man, you sail Thursday."

Alec found no answer.

...: here's when Maurice explains in a long paragraph why they can't be together because of their class difference and the fact that they're both men. But in this long paragraph Maurice pretty much brings up wanting to marry Alec—"We can't have the particular thing we want (which is roughly speaking marriage) unless we sacrifice something else"

M: I thought from that letter of yours you might want me to come. But, Alec, come where to?"

A: "I'd know if you weren't a gentleman," Alec said. "We'd a' found work together as mates."

M: "Yes, and if you were a gentleman, I'd take you this minute to my home.

A: "I'd a' been what young Clive was to you, then."

M: "He's a saint and we aren't. Leave out him."

A: "I'd a' been yours till death, then." ("I would've been yours till death, then")

M: "Out there if you get a chance to marry, take it. That's what I wish.

A: "Maurice, what'll you do without me, dear? Have you no other friends?"

Maurice dared not look forward to his own future. He rushed on the parting.

M: "And if there's ever a child, I shan't ever have that, so remember me."

A: "I'll remember you, child or none. God bless you. O God bless you, and be with you if I can't."

3. Right after Maurice puts his hand on Alec's back in the museum

"Yes, awfully serious," remarked Maurice, and rested his hand on Alec's shoulder, so that the fingers touched the back of the neck, doing this merely because he knew that he loved Alec, that he loved him not as a second Dickie Barry, but deeply, tenderly, for his own sake, beneath weakness and vulgarity.

4. In the museum, Alec in pain and acting cute

[Alec] had bitten his lip, his eyes were red too; face and body were cramped with pain.

M: "Alec -"

A: "Alec am I?"

M: "I'm sorry I used that other name of yours."

A: "Don't speak to me," he growled, "let me go, you calling me Alec when I"

M: "Did you give me away then on purpose?"

A: "You're correct.

M: "Was it to get money - or only to do me harm?"

A: "I couldn't say."

M: "Come, let's get away where we can finish our talk."

A: "What? What do you say?"

M: "Come along, Alec."

A: "Do you call me that still?"

M: "Come away, man, don't break down for God's sake...." He took hold of [Alec's] arm. The touch was not reminiscent; it hinted at a relation to come.

A: "Oh but you must, I want it." Alec yielded.

5. Maurice at night thinking about Alec's letter

He tried to forget the treacherous letter, but it stole back to his mind, and he suffered most during moments in bed, when it masqueraded as a real love letter, and offered him the completeness that Clive enjoyed with Anne.

(This is brilliant writing because we, as readers, know that Alec's letter is a love letter, yet Maurice's "muddles" prevent him from seeing it as a love letter, and it is only at night, when he's craving Alec's presence, that he's able to allow himself to see the truth and succumb to his feelings for Alec.

Here, again, is also a suggestion of Maurice wanting to marry Alec, like how Clive married Anne)

6. One version of Maurice's and Alec's first night together

A: "Good evening - sir, said the low voice. Was you wanting something? Couldn't you sleep?" It was the gamekeeper.

On your rounds? gasped Maurice, trying to sound natural, and felt corduroys. Their touch disconcerted him. Whither was he tending from Clive into what companionship?

A: "Just wait till I've set down my gun - eh aren't you trembling?"

M: "So are you - ah don't."

A: "Don't you like that?"

M: "I don't know."

A: "Christ you're fussy. Don't you like me to touch you."

M: "That's you lad."

A: "Yes."

Side notes: hopefully these will shut all the detractors (of the relationship between Maurice and Alec) up—namely Clive apologists, Clive+Maurice shippers, and all of those dark academia classist out there.

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drewsbuzzcut · 3 months

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Standing On The Sun And I Don’t Feel A Thing

mat barzal x model!fem!reader

a visceral in doses fic

warnings: hospitals, miscarriages, mentions pain, nausea, and blood, mentions abortion, mentions panic attacks, grief, anger, some angst, and mat being kind of mean, also mentions trying for a baby and I think that’s all (pls let me know if I missed any)

this takes place september 2030

“Where are the kids?” You ask, voice hoarse and eyes puffy.

“Shhh shhh. The kids are with Bev. Baby, what happened? I got a call from the hospital and I went straight to drop the kids off, thank god Beverly was home,” Mat takes a seat next to the side of the hospital bed. He brings your hand into his and you can tell he’s been crying.

“I-“ you start but stop as you start coughing.

“You need some water,” he presses the call button that alerts the nurse.

After a few sips of water, you close your eyes to try to gather your thoughts about all that you could remember.

“This morning, after I got to the photo shoot, I started feeling nauseous and my lower back was in a lot of pain. I just thought I was about to start my period. I don’t really remember anything after that. I think I remember seeing blood and then everyone started freaking out. Eventually everything went black,” you recall the foggy events that led you here.

“Do you know what happened? Did the doctor come to talk to you?” He asks but tries to hide his frantic state.

“I just woke up. I’m still in pain. I don’t know what’s going on. I’m scared, Maty,” you grip his hand really tight, bringing his palm up to your cheek for warmth and comfort.

“It’s going to be okay, baby. I love you. I’m here and you’re going to be okay,” he whispers against your forehead, willing his tears to go away.

A knock sounds on the door and Mat tells them that they can come in. The look on the doctor’s face makes you go pale.

“Is everything okay? Am I okay?” You ask warily.

“It’s nothing too serious, but I regret to inform you that you’re miscarrying at the moment,” the words fade out, your head fuzzy and heart pounding.

“I’m sorry what?” Mat says in shock.

You try to take deep breaths but everything feels shallow.

“Mrs. Barzal, you’re going through a miscarriage which is why you are experiencing severe pain and were bleeding earlier. We do, however, want to perform an ultrasound to confirm,” the doctor says in an eerie tone.

Tears spring to your eyes and you shake your head. This cannot be happening. The nausea returns and twists at your abdomen.

“That’s not possible,” you whisper.

“It’s what your blood test is telling us. We’re going to take you to a different room for your ultrasound,” the doctor says along with some other information before they leave the room.

“Oh my god,” you cover your face with your hands and throw your head back.

“I love you,” Mat kisses your forehead.

“This can’t be happening,” is the only thing you say.

An hour later it’s confirmed that your body is going through a miscarriage, and you feel like everything beneath your feet has been taken from you. You feel so empty and you didn’t even know you were pregnant.

You close your eyes and force yourself to fall asleep, but even then your mind still reels at the events of the day. Not even Mat’s hesitant touch can help you feel better.

“Y/n, wake up,” you hear Mat whisper softly in your ear a couple hours later.

You blink your eyes, the blinding light of the room making your head hurt.

“The doctor said that you will be discharged in about an hour,” he informs you, but you honestly just hear static.

Everything from that point on is a blur of unshed tears and horrific thoughts. The shrill sound of your babies wanting to be in your arms when you get home momentarily distracts you, but that emptiness lingers. You try to distract yourself with being a mom and setting up dates with your close friends. You move throughout the house, cleaning every surface over and over again to keep you sane. You go through about 4 wooden pencils as you write and write until you’re snapping each pencil in half with your strong grip. You take extra long showers to wash away each trace of grief that may be left on your body.

After a week of feeling like a robot, you start to feel every emotion you’ve been trying to push down come back up. It doesn’t help that Mat pulled himself away from you. You don’t remember the last time you had a full conversation that didn’t revolve around your kids or random topics that warranted a 30 second talk. You cancel all plans and lock yourself in the guest bedroom.

The empty feeling spreads from your stomach all over your entire body. How could you not know you were pregnant? Why wasn’t your body strong enough to keep them alive? Why did you feel so alone despite Mat being a father and a mother all while he’s trying to help you?

You sob your eyes out and twist in agony, because each time you feel like you might be okay, you’re reminded that your body failed you. No one prepares you for what it feels like to lose something you didn’t even know you could lose. You hate yourself for feeling this way, because it’s selfish when you already have kids and a husband. A family that’s already felt complete, but now it just feels broken.

It takes several phone calls to your therapist before you feel like you can function without your heart aching every second. You realized that you need your babies’ hugs and kisses. You needed to feel some kind of love.

You attempt to put back all of your broken pieces by playing with your children or napping with them. Simply just being around them puts a smile on your face. You start to feel yourself come around more. You start hanging out with friends again and laughing and feeling anything but sadness. You try to be more positive in situations you’d automatically become upset with.

The only thing that’s keeping you down is Mat. He’s become really good at being just a roommate. He’ll work with you when it comes to the kids, but other than that the space between you both feels like miles rather than inches. You’ve let him keep to himself, because you’re not sure how he’s coping with what happened- especially because you’ve locked yourself away for the past week or so.

Eventually you get tired of his silence and pressure him into talking to you.

“What’s going on?” You ask one night when he’s just getting out of the shower.

“What are you talking about?”

You stay silent for a minute and just watch him. His face conveys nonchalance, but his body is rigid.

“You know what I’m talking about, babe. Why have you been so distant with me? Is it because I’ve been sad? I’m better now and even if I wasn’t, you can still talk to me,” you say, walking up to him and putting a hand on his shoulder.

His body stiffens and he slowly moves away from your touch.

That really hurts.

“It’s not about that, Y/n. Believe it or not, I’m not feeling this way because you were or are sad,” he blurts out.

He continues to move around the room, getting dressed and putting on lotion.

“Okay. So what’s wrong? Why are you being pissy with me?”

“Like you don’t know,” he says.

“Obviously I don’t. Why do you think I’m asking?” He’s really starting to make you mad.

“How could you not tell me?” He finally asks.

“Not tell you what? I’m so confused right now,” you tug on your hair and shut your eyes, trying to come up with the missing details.

“How could you not tell me that you were pregnant? I had to find out by seeing you in the hospital because you were having a miscarriage,” he just about shouts and it makes you flinch.

“I didn’t even know I was pregnant. I was just as in the dark as you were. I would’ve told you if I was pregnant. I can’t believe you’d think that I’d keep something like that from you,” you explain with your voice and head low.

“Shit. I- I’m sorry. I just assumed that you knew and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry. I love you,” he gathers you in his arms and just holds you.

“I’m sorry I pushed everyone away. I just needed some time to think about things and to be sad,” you say through tears.

“It’s okay. I love you,” he kisses your temple.

“I love you.”

Later that night you’re both in bed, cuddling and basking in the comfortable silence.

“Mat?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I think you should get snipped,” you voice your most recent thought.

“What?” He questions because he’s not sure if he’s hearing things.

“I really think you should get a vasectomy,” you reiterate.

“Wait… why?”

You adjust in his grip so you can fully face him. Your hand goes to rest on his cheek and you thumb at his skin.

“I think I’m done with having babies. We have 3 and I think that’s enough,” you say.

“No. That’s not what I meant. I mean why do I have to be the one to get the procedure done?”

“Well why not?” You ask back.

“I can’t get that because I have to be sharp for hockey. I can’t spend weeks just lazing around during a recovery period, you know that. You should get your tubes tied,” he explains and you let out a scoff.

You move away from him and get off the bed in favor of pacing around the room.

“I’ve held each of our babies inside of me for 9 months. I breastfed all of them. I just had a miscarriage for a baby I didn’t even know existed. My body is constantly changing. That’s not always an ideal situation for my career, especially because my body is an important aspect of my job. Hell, I’m practically art! So, no, I’m not going to be the one to get my tubes tied,” you rant, eyes squinted and a frown wrinkling your forehead.

“I thought that’s why you started taking classes at Pratt, so modeling wouldn’t be the only thing you have going for you?” He replies, subtly putting words in your mouth.

Your every feature turns down in a sad and disappointed pout. You honestly didn’t see this conversation going in this direction. The whiplash is unreal.

“That’s not what I was aiming for when I decided to take some classes. You’re being a real ass right now,” you bite.

“I’m being an ass? What about you? You just assumed that I don’t want any more kids. You know, I want you to at least want one of them, because if you haven’t noticed you really didn’t want either of them,” he spits out, face red as a tomato.

That makes you cry. That assumption that you never wanted your kids makes you die on the inside.

“At first, you wanted to get an abortion with Nolan,” he says when you stay silent.

You cross your arms over your chest and cock up an eyebrow, daring him to continue.

“You didn’t really want Angel. I remember you saying that you didn’t want any more kids after Nolan,” he adds.

You glare at him in return.

“Lastly, you said you didn’t really like the timing of Sloane and I can’t blame you, because you went and broke up with me and then hid it from me. No wonder I thought you hid this one, too,” Mat rips into you, voice laced with venom.

“You listen to me, Mathew Barzal, if I really didn’t want to have our kids, I wouldn’t have had them. Believe me when I say that. Of course I wanted our kids. Was I scared out of my mind each pregnancy? Yes! Would I take them back? Hell no. I love our babies, so for you to say that really sucks,” you respond, wiping away your tears.

He just shakes his head in return.

“I’m scared of pregnancy. I just lost a baby and you expect me to want to try for another one? I don’t know if I can do that for you, for us,” you correct your last couple of words before he can turn them into something else.

He watches you, staying silent as you fall apart at his feet.

“Is this going to be the end of us?” You ask.

“Why is it always a breakup with you? Is that what you really want? Deep down, do you really not want to be with me?” He accuses.

“No! I just feel like you don’t love me, so I’m not going to beg you to stay if that’s not what you want. I can’t even give you a baby, so there’s that,” you admit.

“I lost the baby, too,” Mat points out.

“I know that, Mathew. I know, but you don’t understand what it’s like as a mother to go through a loss like that. My body should be capable of growing a life. Then you go and say that I didn’t even want my kids. You don’t know what it feels like to feel so utterly empty and alone. It doesn’t matter that I didn’t know that they existed, because as a mother, I should’ve known,” you whisper as your voice starts to become strained.

You feel your chest start to cave in on you and the lack of support makes your knees buckle. You go straight to the floor, tucking your knees into your chest for some kind of stability. You’ve never seen Mat so upset. You’ve never been on the receiving end of it. Part of you is mad at him for the way he’s talking to you, but another part of you understands. This whole miscarriage has turned your world upside down. You’d be naive to think that it wouldn’t affect him too.

“Baby, don’t cry. It wasn’t your fault. I love you, always. I promise it’s going to be okay,” he wraps you in his arms and squeezes you to his chest. He beats himself up for the way his words caused you to crumble. Seeing you break after already being broken down snaps him out of his anger. His word vomit just spewed out, but maybe it was a good thing because everything was out on the table.

You don’t blame him, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.

He doesn’t know it, but the beat of his heart does wonders to calm you down before you can have a panic attack.

“Do you hate me?” You lock your hands behind his neck, desperate to have him pressed to you in any way possible.

“Never. I’m sorry I made you feel like I did. I swear I would never hate you,” he rubs your back.

“You said I didn’t want our babies,” you get out through the remnants of your cries.

“Do you really feel that way? Be honest,” you speak again.

“Part of me used to feel that way, but every time I see you with our babies, I see how much you love them. You’re the best mama bear to our little loves. I wouldn’t have had kids with you, if I felt certain that you didn’t want them. I was just being an asshole,” he whispers into your temple.

You sniffle at his response, feeling another bout of tears ready to fall because you never knew he felt that way.

“Are you sad about the miscarriage?” You need his feelings to be transparent.

“Yeah. A lot more than I thought I would be. I’m also angry, because you shouldn’t have had to go through that. I should’ve known you were pregnant, maybe things would be different,” he answers honestly.

“It’s not your fault either. This is just a really sucky thing,” you try to comfort him, but you can see the tears in his eyes and the way his bottom lip wobbles.

“I’m sorry for being mean. I can’t take it back, but just know that I love you so much,” he finally cries.

You pull him closer, hand caressing his neck and back and you kiss his cheeks.

“We’ll work through it. We always do. Do you really want another baby?” You look into his eyes.

“I do. One more baby barzal, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to because I made you feel bad about an insecurity I have,” he admits, thumb wiping away your tears. His forehead leans against yours and for the first time in a couple of weeks, you feel whole.

“Insecurity?” It’s the first you’re ever hearing about it and it shocks you to your core. For as long as you’ve known Mat he’s always been the secure and stable one.

“I sometimes thought you were just having kids to please me and not because you were ready to have them. I guess I was feeling insecure about our age gap. I finally got somewhat of an understanding of what you used to feel like,” he explains and you feel guilty for never realizing.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me? I could’ve soothed your worries a long time ago. Like I said, I had our babies because I wanted to.”

“I thought I could get away with it, but I guess it just bubbled up until I couldn't hold it in anymore. I promise to come to you whenever I get an insecurity, or just any little problem really. You’re my wife, I need you all the time,” he pulls you in for a kiss. You try to kiss every single one of his worries away.

“I would like to purposely try to make a baby, but I don’t know when I’ll be ready. Just have some patience with me,” you say into his mouth.

He shakes his head.

“I don’t want to pressure you into having another baby if that’s not something you want to do.”

“Mat, baby, you’re not pressuring me into anything. I’ve been having some baby fever lately. Miss Sloane is getting older, so it’d be nice to have another baby,” you assure him.

“Whenever you’re ready, I’m ready,” he says, pulling you into a kiss.

“I love you. We’re going to get through this,” you promise him. And you will,, no doubt about it.

Being riddled with grief and guilt- that can only come from the way you both acted towards each other- will make you both stronger in the end. Stronger as individuals, as a couple, and as parents. You’re just glad you’re going through it all with your husband by your side. It’s Mathew or no one, and it’s safe to say that he feels the same way.

a/n: Looks like mat and model!reader have some therapy and lots of talking to do before they fix everything. As always, hope y’all enjoy!

#mat barzal #mat barzal fanfiction #mat barzal fluff #mat barzal angst #mat barzal blurb #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal smut #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal fic #nhl imagine #nhl fic #new york islanders #visceral in doses

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talaok · 8 months

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An idea for pedro and reader

They are in a relationship and live together. The reader is also an actress. She asks pedro to practice her lines with her. In the play, she is having a really long line, breaking up with the person ans leaving them... pedro can't continue... at night in bed they are cuddling and pedro talks about how he hated the feeling or the thought of the reader ever leaving

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x reader

a/n: ahh this is amazing how do you come up with stuff like this

"I know that face," he said, busting you immediately as you emerged from the bedroom.

He was sat on the couch, lazily half-reading something on his phone.

"what is it sweetheart?" he asked, as with a soft click, his phone went black

You bit back a smile "How do you know there is something?"

"Because you're very easy to read" he explained "Now tell me what you need"

"Excuse me? I'm not easy to read" you gasped

"No?" he asked rhetorically "Then what's up with the script in your hand?"

You glanced down at the papers between your fingers, feeling a soft veil of defeat land on top of you.

"Fine" you gave up, "Can you help with a scene?"

It wasn't unusual for you to run lines with each other, god only knows how many times he made you go through that scene from The Last of Us...

"of course" he nodded "What's it about?"

"Break up scene," you told him as you joined him on the sofa "I just feel like I'm missing something"

"What?"

"well I don't know" you laughed "That's why you're here"

"All right," he said, as you handed him the script.

"You just have to read the ones not underlined" you pointed to the paper

"Can do" he smiled, watching as you stood from the couch and ran your hands soothingly down your jeans.

"ok" you breathed closing your eyes for a moment to get in character.

Pedro took it as his cue to start

"baby I love you" he murmured as written.

"And I-" you stopped, your forehead creasing as if your next words physically pained you "I... I don't know if I do anymore" you spoke "I don't think so"

"what are you saying?" Pedro read again, his tone more clipped now, but you were too focused on your performance to notice the way his eyes had changed, had... saddened.

"I'm saying I don't feel that spark anymore, that-that I miss walking faster when I come home because I know that's where you are, that I can't remember the last time my heart swelled like it did on our first date"

Three long beats passed, before Pedro realized that was his cue

Something was happening inside of him.

He knew this all was fake, but a part of him couldn't help but wander on its own... sure it's just a scene now, but it's so real, people fall out of love constantly, and you- well, Pedro realized for an interminable, terrifying moment, that you weren't immune to it, that what was happening to Jeff in this scene could very well happen to him any day now.

He had always known he didn't deserve you, that you were too much, too perfect, too good, too kind to be with him.

And for the first time in a while, a dreaded thought crossed his mind.

What happens when she realizes it?

"Rose" he called, pulling himself out of his own thoughts

"I know" you sniffled, your eyes filled with tears now "I'm sorry jeff-I really am- I don't know what happened, I don't know what's wrong with me, I just know... I just know I don't love you anymore... I can't bring myself to anymore"

And that was it.

Pedro had to glance out the window to take his mind off of whatever was happening.

"It's perfect" he said, after taking a lungful of air "There's nothing missing sweetheart, you nailed it"

"but" you stuttered "the scene is not done baby, there's still-"

"I know" he shook his head, closing the script.

He didn't want that thing in his hands anymore

"But trust me it's perfect, you don't need any more practice"

"a-are you sure?" you asked, wiping away a leftover tear

"I am" he nodded "don't worry, you were incredible" he forced a smile "as always"

You grinned now "Oh well, if the Emmy nominee says so..." you considered, sitting back next to him "I guess I'm gonna have to believe you"

__ __ __

the rhythmic thumps of his heartbeat were the only sound you could hear from your place on the bed.

You were curled up against him, your head on his chest, and his fingers playing with your hair as his ability to emanate warmth better than any thermostat ever could, proved itself once again even on such a cold winter night.

"You've been quiet today" you finally spoke the thought that had been eating at you for hours.

He really had been.

When he didn't answer, you looked up at him, stopping drawing circles on his belly.

"Is something wrong?" you asked, wishing you could have had a clearer image of his face than the one the soft streetlamp from outside the window granted.

"No sweetheart, nothing's wrong," he said... but there was something in his tone that felt off.

You propped yourself up on your elbows to meet his gaze.

"You know, I'm not the only one who's easy to read..." you murmured gently, as your right hand went to stroke his pecs soothingly "You can tell me whatever it is, you know?"

A beat passed, and then two, as silence spread around the darkness of the room

"I know baby, it's just" he sighed "it's stupid"

"I'm sure it's not" you reassured him "and it's not like I haven't told you my fair share of stupid things"

He let out a weak chuckle.

"c'mon" you urged sweetly

He looked at you for a moment, before finally making up his mind.

"it's just- " he breathed "the scene you wanted my help with..."

"what about it?" you asked, after he didn't finish the sentence.

"I-It made me think"

Oh shit, your heart faltered, was he about to break up with you?

"That that could happen in real life too, you know?" he swallowed thickly "that one day you could stop loving me"

"oh"

"and the thought of you leaving... of- of not having you by my side anymore... it just- I wouldn't know how to do it"

"Baby" you whispered, "what are you talking about?"

"you're too good for me y/n, and I guess I'm just scared that one day you'll realize it and just... leave"

"stop" You placed a hand on his lips to silence his nonsense "Baby, that was just a scene from a play"

"Yeah but stuff like that happens"

"well not to us" you promised "You're stuck with me forever, pretty boy, whether you want it or not"

"but-"

"no" you stopped him "no but. Pedro I love you" you breathed "I love you so much it actually hurts sometimes. So no, I'm not leaving"

You could now hear his heartbeat even if your ear wasn't placed above it anymore.

he looked at you, really looked at you, and slowly you watched the doubts melt from his irids.

"thank you" he said simply, leaning closer to you "and baby…I love you more"

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gojos-thot-patrol · 8 months

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A short drabble in which Sukuna grapples with the fact he's going to be a dad

Sukuna had never wanted to be a dad. Why would he have any desire for that? A ball of snot and shit that rolled around on the floor and insisted on getting into everything? No thank you. He had other far better things to worry about. A child was out of the question.

So, it's really no surprise that you kept your pregnancy secret from him for so long. You may have been his favorite of the concubines, but you didn't think his favoritism extended that far. You'd seen other girls slaughtered for being cursed with a child, and were trying to avoid that fate for as long as possible. You couldn't avoid Sukuna though, not if you wanted to hold your spot as favorite. And that spot was the only chance you had of surviving this whole ordeal.

Sukuna wasn't an idiot, much to your dismay, and was very familiar with your body. The moment you started to show, he knew. And the resulting temper tantrum was nothing short of horrific.

“And just how long were you planning on keeping this from me?!" He yelled so loud you could feel your soul shake. Tears streamed freely down your face as you tried to make yourself seem small.

"I don't know-" you confessed.

"You don't know?!" He snapped, "you don't fucking know?! Do you think im stupid Y/n? Is that it? Did you think I wouldn't notice you were fucking pregnant?!" He punctuated his sentence with a punch to the wall, making what felt like the whole structure shake.

"I'm sorry My Lord." You knew better than to try to defend yourself in this situation. Sometimes it was safe to push back against Sukuna. Sometimes he liked to play brat tamer, and remind you of your place in fun ways. Now was not one of those times. To challenge him now would be to meet whatever God it was you worshiped, or lack thereof.

"You're sorry," He sneered, "you're so sorry, like that fucking fixes anything! Why wouldn't you tell me the moment you knew?!"

"I didn't want to upset you."

"You fucked that up when you got pregnant, whore." He scoffed, pinching the bridge of his nose and looking away in disgust. "Abhorrent girl, bringing a disgusting creature into my temple. Get out my sight until I can decide what to do with you."

You didn't need to be told twice. You rushed out of his throne room and back into the concubines quarters, just thankful to have your life. All in all, he took the news surprisingly well and it went better than you thought. You held your stomach as you worried about what your Lord would have done with your baby. With his baby. But, for now, you had survived the most dangerous part of all of this. Now you really just felt like you needed a nap.

Sukuna avoided you for weeks after that. It was harder than you thought to be on the other side of the avoidance game. You didn't realize how much you had grown to appreciate Sukuna’s attention until it was gone. You wondered what the hell he was up to, especially considering none of the other girls had been "blessed" with his attention either.

He was too busy battling with his own internal demons. The part of him that wanted you dead for the creature you were brining into his temple- and the part of him that wondered what a baby from the two of you would look like. Would they have his cursed techniques? Would they have your eyes? This was the part of himself that he hated the fucking most.

He was a ruthless warlord, he had no time for love or children or a family. And he definitely didn't have it in him to admit he'd grown soft for a fucking concubine of all things. How fucking pathetic of him. The only way he could rationalize any of this was to tell himself it was a for an heir. He wasn't going to live forever after all, might as well take this opportunity. Still, was really going to let a fucking whore mother his heir? There was only really one thing he could do.

You still remember the ice in your veins as you realized all of the concubines had been gathered in the court yard for an execution. It made sense, he hadn't been with any of you for a month now- and for the other girls quadruple that. You had all just become extra mouths to feed.

So then why weren't you down there with the rest of them? There was no hiding your swollen stomach now, if any of the concubines stood to be killed- it was you. But you had been tucked away safe from the executions in Ryomens sleeping quarters. Why?

The answer came pretty quick as he joined you in his room. His face was unreadable, which chilled you more than any blizzard could have hoped for. Ryomen had always worn his emotions on his face, and you had always been able to read him as if he were a well loved book. This was out of your comfort zone. You didn't like this.

"I spoke to your father." He finally said.

"My father's alive?!" You gasped

"Yeah, I was shocked too." He huffed, taking your hands in his. "You're to be my wife." He said rather bluntly as he looked into your eyes. There was no room for negotiation here, Sukuna made that clear. Despite yourself, you felt a wave of excitement surge through your body.

"I am?!" You asked, smilingly like a fool. He gave a rare, gentle smile back. And that's when you finally saw the softness in his eyes that was only reserved for you.

"You are." He confirmed, "under the condition that you can birth me a healthy heir, that is." He said, placing an uncharacteristically gentle hand on your stomach. You knew without him having to say it that this was his best attempt at an apology. The future king of curses could never bring himself to say the words 'I'm sorry' or 'I was wrong.' But, he could lovingly take you in his arms, and hope you got the message.

Ryomen was unnaturally tender in the days leading up to you giving birth. He had all of the best doctors on standby, and refused to leave your side. Anyone that so much as breathed wrong in your vicinity would have hell to pay. He didn't know what the fuck had gotten into him. All he knew was that as your stomach got heavier, his need to protect you and the life growing in you got more intense. Like some animalistic part of his brain knew a part of him was inside you, and to protect you was to protect himself. At least, that was how he rationalized it.

The day you gave birth he was a fucking mess. It killed him to listen to your screams of pain and be unable to do anything to help. All he could do was let you break his hand with your death grip, and reassure you you were doing amazing. Rare moments of his praise lost in the sounds of an agonizing labor. He didn't expect the relief that washed over him when he first heard his son cry, a sound he thought was going to be horrifically annoying some how sounding like music to his ears.

"Y/n, can you hear him?" He asked, mostly to make sure you were still alive.

"Sadly." You were not as enthused by baby screaming as Ryomen was. You were decently pissed off when, after being cleaned and checked over, the baby was given to Ryomen instead of you. You were the one that carried that bitch for nine months, and had just spent hours to deliver him, you should get to hold him first!!

All of that melted away when you saw the look in your husband's eyes as he stared down at his new child. You had never seen Ryomens eyes twinkle, but they were absolutely sparkling now. It even took him off guard just how deeply he fell in love with the baby the moment they touched. Flesh of his flesh, blood of his blood, he was holding his entire future in his arms. His chest felt like it was going to implode from how tight it was, and- holy shit, was he holding back tears?!

"He's beautiful." Ryomen finally choked out.

"He looks just like you." You hummed. He chuckled and shook his head.

"No, not at all. He's too good to look anything like me. He's all you." You shook your own head at the blatant lie. That kid was carved from the exact same marble Ryomen was, but you had no energy to argue.

Soft cries started to bubble up from baby boy as he stirred. Instinctively, you reached out for your son. It was almost reluctantly that Ryomen handed him over to you. You smiled as you pressed your newborn to your chest to feed him, finally getting a good look at the life you brought into this world.

"Thought of any names?" You asked your husband. Ryomen paled a bit. He really hadn't.

"None worthy of him." Technically it wasn't a lie. You chuckled softly. You expected such an answer.

"What about Ryuu?" You asked, looking up at Ryomen.

"Ryuu?" He asked, mulling the name over. The name meant Dragon. It was strong, and noble. He could definitely see Ryuu Sukuna leading his armies into battle one day. He smiled and nodded. "I like it. Ryuu it is."

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader fluff #sukuna fluff #dad sukuna #sukuna hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort #ryomen sukuna fluff #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #sukuna ryomen

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