#EVERY WEEK IS FAT BEAR WEEK YES | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jinkookspencil · 9 months

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til you make it | jjk

jungkook is startled when you call him in need of a favor... to play his dream role - your boyfriend - for a day...

tags/description: jk x chubby reader / fluff / friends to lovers / fake dating trope / rating: like pg13 or 15 with swear words / slow paced / it feels like one very long date :)) / this can be read as a oneshot but it ends in a way that sets up a part 2 which i will likely write but i still haven't gotten the chance to do so please bear with me / image from koomoments, i found it on goggle and edited it further

words: ~7.7k

tw+note: this fic includes fatshaming - detailed description: someone makes a comment about jk being out of oc/yn’s league and her not being good enough to date jungkook because of her size (the person says this to jk, behind oc/yn's back). oc/yn assumes people think that too, and talks to jungkook about her experiences dating as a plus-sized woman, mainly the fact that her ex was ashamed to go out with her. and in case anyone is wondering about where this fic comes from and any sensitivities regarding this fic, this is another fic that is loosely based on an experience i had myself... well, i wish this was what i had ~.~ i channeled my hurt into something comforting for myself and hopefully others. if anyone has ever been in a similar position and was fat-shamed or made to feel like they don't deserve good things because of your size, just know that you never deserved that treatment - you deserve all the good the world has to offer. lots of love always to my fellow curvy/plus/chubby people, and anyone who takes the time to read my fics <3

“Jungkook… Jungkook are you there?”

Your muffled voice echoed through his phone, thrown on the bed behind him as he searched his room frantically for his sweatpants. Talking to you on the phone wasn’t uncommon, but he jumped the moment he saw your name and when the clock on his bedside table confirmed the time. 3 AM. Later than you’d ever called. Dressing might’ve been a silly notion, but at this hour, his fight or flight response was triggered, and he couldn’t bring himself to think, let alone talk to you half-dressed. The urgency and/or intimacy of it all… frightened him.

“Yes! I’m here!” he calls out, hopping into his sweatpants before grabbing the phone and putting you up to his ear, feeling the cool glass of his screen nudged between his neck and his shoulder as he tied the strings at his stomach. “What’s up?”

“I need… a favor.”

“Anything.” He couldn’t have answered any faster. In the back of his mind, Jungkook hoped you’d called for another late-night talk, maybe one of your delirious, exhaustion-caused conversations where you’d fall asleep to his voice as he played along with whatever you’d wanted to talk about… Those were his favorites, even doing the same to you himself. Or maybe it was to inquire about one of his ramen recipes, going so far as to hope you’d ask him to come over and make it for you… In a perfect world, maybe. Well, if it were a perfect world, it’d be a confession.

A favor only made his heart race faster. Jungkook trusted his intuition in getting dressed, already walking to his front door, ready to go to you wherever you were... He already presumed you weren't drunk in a club and in need of someone to pick you up... you didn’t sound like it. The ramen recipe, perhaps? Though you sounded too anxious for it to be so. In any case, he meant his words - he’d do anything for you…

“It’s not serious, but it will take up some of your time tomorrow.”

“I said anything,” he reiterates, partly relieved.

“I’m invited to a wedding next week - my sister's best friend - and I need to get a dress. Do you mind coming to the mall with me tomorrow…”

That’s it? Jungkook joyously helped you pick out outfits, accessories, and even nail polish colors in the past, and every time he did - whether you’d asked or when he’d subtly recommended something he liked to you - his heart would flutter whenever he’d seen you actually take his advice, so he’d definitely agree, happily even…. but there had to be more to it.

“Well, I mean, of course….” he whispered quietly into the phone, his confusion apparent.

“Yeah, there’s more to it - don’t agree just yet...” In the moment of silence that followed, Jungkook silently prayed you’d ask him to go to the wedding with you. To be your plus one. Oh, what he’d give to spend the night beside you, the both of you all dolled up… Imagining the possible starlights at the scene with love in the air, he knew it’d be a great chance at finally confessing. If he chickened out, at least he’d be able to imagine what it’d be like to be your boyfriend for a night.

“Would you…. Would it be okay if you pretended to be my boyfriend?” Jungkook felt his stomach turn at the thought of the heavens answering his prayers that quickly and immediately regretted not asking for more. He almost missed what you’d said next. “If we go shopping tomorrow…. Would it be okay for you to pretend to be my boyfriend?”

“When… when we go shopping?” Jungkook choked, knowing you could hear his confusion through the phone once again.

“Yeah… You see… Most times when I go shopping… someone always has something to say about my body, and I’m kind of sick of it. ‘You won’t find anything in our store. Please leave.’ ‘I’m surprised this fits you.’ And then, just last week, I got the ‘Honey, no dress could flatter you enough that you’d be able to pull a man.’ That got me thinking, and…. I kinda suspect you, or someone, a man, being there with me might shut them up… some weird form of using the patriarchy and people’s internalized misogyny to, weirdly enough, protect my peace.”

Jungkook felt his blood boil as you went on. You, the most beautiful person he’d ever met, were being shamed… spoken to in that way…. often? People went out of their way to make you feel bad…. for having a body?

“What the fuck…”

“Yeah… I’m a bit embarrassed, actually… Should we forget it? Pretend I never asked. If it’s too much, I could just go alone - if I experience it, I experience it. I’m used to it. I just want to… try this as an experiment.”

“Don’t ever feel embarrassed. You don’t have to be. I feel embarrassed for not… for not knowing... I’m so fucking sorry you… ever had to go through that.” He’d felt a pang in his heart as the words left his mouth. An idiot was what he thought he was. It was something he’d never spared a thought about - how people, how you, could be mistreated in everyday life for simply existing as you were….

“No, don’t be sorry, Jungkook. It is what it is.”

It is what it is? It shouldn’t be, he thought.

“Of course I’ll be there, ____. Of course, I’ll be your boyfriend.” He told you he’d do anything for you, and he meant it - he needed you to know that - and this was the very least he could do. “And hey, for the record, I’ll never let that ever happen to you again, you hear me? You just call me, okay? Anytime. I’ll do whatever I can. You’re not going through this shit again, okay? I'm your boyfriend whenever you want me to be... ”

Did you take the hint?

“Thanks, Jungkook,” you say, with an exhale and a slight giggle that gives away that you’d been choked up, the final nail in the coffin for Jungkook’s composure…

It wasn't the right time to confess, he knew that, but an ‘I love you’ still rested at the tip of his tongue. Friends loved each other... 'I love you' was always a comforting thing to hear... would it be so awkward now? You both have told each other variations of the saying in the past - from ‘love ya’s’ to random finger hearts in crowded rooms- but never the exact phrase. It held too much weight - the weight of the confession that, similarly, he’d been dying to relay…. but he reminded himself... it wasn't the right time.

“I told you… anything”

“I’ll see you tomorrow… boyfriend.”

✿

“Hi… girlfriend.”

Jungkook didn’t even try to hide the smile on his face. It’d hopefully overshadow the bags under his eyes… He’d been up for hours after your call - pressure, joy, anger, and pain overwhelming him all at once as he imagined what you might’ve gone through before, what undeserving, cruel words you’d heard from people too blind to see the sheer beauty before them. It hurt him even more that you felt embarrassed about asking him for help. You never should’ve been embarrassed about a damn thing. If anything had been embarrassing at the situation, it was the time he’d spent in front of his mirror, rehearsing vague, angry threats and snide comments he might have had to make, tapping out after a cringey “that’s my girlfriend” line.

Jungkook was never one to insult and intimidate others so purposefully, his enigmatic baby villain-like exterior always doing the work instead. It'd work whether they saw him as the lovestruck, caring sweetheart he was or the tough, protective boyfriend he could also be... but he knew the tattoos, piercings, and his physique probably aided him with the latter option, with Jungkook himself assuming it was the reason you'd asked him specifically to help out, especially over Taehyung, your mutual friend who also happened to be an actor... And busy on a late-night shoot, Tae left him helpless. He could not prepare any speech or insult to save his life, stuck between how to go about his dream role. You'd trusted him, and Jungkook decided he had no choice but to trust himself too. Whatever he emulated was up to the other person, and whatever came out of him would be the truth he’d been feeling at the moment. Whether he leaned into either side - either knowingly or unknowingly - all of it was still him, and specifically him as a boyfriend... That killed the nerves more than anything and allowed him to focus on the silver lining. He’d gotten the role he’d always wanted, and though there could have been better contexts, you looked as beautiful as ever in your flowy sundress… even as you did roll your eyes.

“Boyfriend,” you greeted him jokingly, smiling too before looking at him up and down. “What do you have going on today, Koo? I can't tell if you just came from the gym or not.”

Jungkook shakes his head in response, a proud, bunny-toothed smirk on his face. After ransacking his entire wardrobe that morning, he paired his go-to ripped jeans with a Nike muscle tee, clutching his motorcycle jacket in his hand. It wasn’t like him to wear sleeveless tops outside of the gym, still shy to show off the muscles he’d worked so hard for, as well as the tattoos he’d designed himself…. but provided he was there to intimidate others - and hopefully impress you - he had no doubts about showing them off and his mish-mash of an outfit. “This is just in case anyone even thought about saying anything to you today,” he added, flexing his muscles before spreading his arms wide open. “Come here.”

It didn’t pass Jungkook’s eye that you’d hesitated to step into his arms, but when you do, he finds himself inhaling deeply - your scent, but more so the feeling of you. With you in his arms, everything fell into place, as it always had with you.

“I’ve always got you. I have your back, you know that right?” he whispered into your neck, digging his fingertips as hard as he could into your soft, plush skin, hoping it’d emphasize his promise when he noted how your heartbeat hadn’t slowed as it always did when you hugged.

You hadn’t said a word the entire time, even as you pulled away and glanced up at him - ever so briefly. He'd have waited until you said something first, but he’d always read your face with ease, and the panic he sensed emanating from you only agonized him further. Once again, he tries to push away the scenarios you must’ve gone through.

He murmurs your name, sparking your attention. Remembering his role for the evening, Jungkook allowed himself to follow an urge he’d always resisted, brushing a stray hair away from your face, cupping your round chin in his hands. It felt too good - a taste of his forbidden imagined scenarios and the person he'd always dreamt of.

“Always, okay? I won’t allow my girlfriend to go through this,” he said, forcing himself to emphasize the title he wanted to give you in a teasing way. Again, you roll your eyes and push his hand away.

“We’re just testing a theory, Koo,” you say, starting to walk with him alongside you. “Don’t… get too into it.”

“Are you kidding? The acting classes I took years ago are finally coming in handy. This is good practice,” he said, wishing he could just tell you that he likely wouldn’t be acting at all - merely doing all the things he wished he could do on a regular basis. He kicked it off by grabbing your wrist, intertwining your fingers into his.

Jungkook had been so cool, so collected until this moment. It was only until he actually did it that Jungkook realized that hand-holding was expected, and he cursed himself for not spending more time prepping himself in front of the mirror. It was such a simple act, what he always wanted to do.... and so it drove him crazier than the hug. You’d hugged in the past, as friends do, but never held hands... not like this, at least. Taehyung had urged him to try doing so in the past, to ‘gauge your response,’ but he’d always been too much of a coward to do anything besides ask for high-fives and offer his elbow for you to hold when he walked you home. You were braver, taking his hand and tracing his tattoos whenever your talks went a little too deep or needed a distraction…. just as you did now, with your finger rubbing the skin below his thumb... Still, this felt different for the both of you.

Jungkook bit at his lips, trying to hold back….something. He himself wasn’t even sure if it was a smile or a squeal, but he soon remembered the point of his presence. The favor. A boyfriend - he, as a boyfriend - would never be able to keep his eyes off of his loved one. So, he’d allowed himself to steal glances your way, noting every single time how low you’d kept your head as you walked.

"Hey," he says, stopping.

"What?"

"Nothing," he smiles, taking in your expression and the way the sunlight beautifully shone on your face. "I just wanted to look at you."

"Okay, Bradley Cooper in A Star is Born," you chuckle, nudging him to continue your walk. "You need to watch more movies."

"And you need to know that you look really pretty today. You do know you're pretty, right?"

"Oh, shut up, Koo... I know."

Jungkook didn't know if you believed him or if you were serious or not, but he knew damn well that he was... Perhaps he was overdoing it already, but remembering how quickly his prayers had been answered just the night before, he held out hope that the universe still had his back, silently praying you’d soon realize see how good of a “fake” boyfriend he was and asked him to be your real one.

“This is the main store I wanted to visit, Koo,” you say, stopping in front of a modern gold and beige storefront on the busy high street. Suddenly, he felt an emptiness in his hand and at his side when you let go to reach out and pull open the glass door. Already half open, he forcefully tugs the brass handle as far back as he could, holding the door open for you to walk in first.

“I’m your boyfriend, remember? Let me do it,” he whispers by your ears and into the stony silence of the cool room.

Looking around, Jungkook quickly saw plenty of dresses that’d look great on you. It was overwhelming at first glance, but the one you pulled out from a nearby rack trumped them all. A blush, floor-length tulle dress, with tiny embroidered daisies scattered all over the fabric, including the translucent balloon sleeves and an off-shoulder neckline. It was almost as beautiful as you were.

“I knew they had this in stock! What do you think?” you smile, putting it up against your body. For the first time that day, Jungkook’s mind went blank - he was suddenly grateful you hadn’t asked him to accompany you to the wedding. It’d be too much to see you in it.

“Pretty,” he murmurs, holding the fabric between his index and thumb, tracing over a tiny daisy.

“Right? I’ll go try it on. Wait here, okay?” you say, moving to leave but quickly returning to place a swift kiss on his cheek.

Jungkook was so taken aback he did nothing even long after he’d seen you approach the sales assistant in the back and disappear into a dressing room.

“You can sit over here,” said the woman, who now returned and pointed at the arrangement of chairs a few steps away.

“Thanks,” he whispered, only now realizing his hand had been on his cheek, tracing the ghost of your kiss. You’d kissed his cheek. He’d been happily playing the role of the boyfriend the entire time, he hadn’t realized you hadn’t done much to play the role of ‘the girlfriend’ in return. But you did it. You kissed him. You wanted to, at least in that moment…

Jungkook tried not to linger on the thought any longer, knowing it’d feed his delusions. Pulling out his phone as he plopped onto the velvet seat, he loaded up the mobile game he’d been struggling with, and it was a few minutes later when he realized someone had been calling him.

“Sorry?” Jungkook asked, looking up to see the sales assistant leaning on the couch opposite him.

“I said ‘Hey,’” she repeats.

“Hey…” he responds, perplexed until he realizes you might've been calling him. “Is she okay in there? Does she need me?”

“Uhm, I don't think so,” she replies, seemingly just as confused as he was. “But… I was wondering… what’s her deal?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is she rich or something?”

“What?”

“I mean, what’s the catch, exactly? Why are you with her?”

“Because I love her? There's no catch.” It was freeing to say the words so openly, Jungkook thought - they’d left his lips without a thought. Still, what's it to her?

“Oh, come on,” she went on, rolling her eyes. “You know you’re out of her league. Just keep her for 'her kind' and the fetish freaks on the Internet, you know? You’re too hot to-“

In utter disbelief and refusing to hear another word, Jungkook stood up and made a beeline for the dressing room, his long strides and huffs echoing throughout the store in response.

“Hey, babe - need any help with the dress?” he asks a little too loudly, knocking on the dressing room door in the same fashion.

“....Yeah, actually. Can you get the woman that works here?” you say on the other side.

“No. Let me in.”

“Jungkook, just call her.”

“Let me in. I’m your boyfriend,” he emphasizes. “Let your boyfriend help.”

“…This dress is supposed to be a surprise, honey,” you reply.

“Babe, I already saw the dress,” he half-chuckles, almost forgetting his anger. You were clever as hell but never thought of the wittiest comebacks - it was endearing.

Jungkook rushed through the moment you pried open the wooden door, turning the metal lock behind him. Still lost in his thoughts, he mindlessly zips up your dress before stomping to the room’s bench, sitting upon it with his head in his hands.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” he lies, feeling just how furrowed his brows had been as he stared at the floor.

“You don’t seem like it. Why’d you insist on coming in here?” you say by the mirror a few footsteps away.

“.....Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit, this was uncool. I just wanted to get out of there. The… uh… scents on their diffuser were too much. My nose acted up... started sneezing.” It was hard to lie to you. He’d rushed over because he always had, for you were his safe space even now, but it surely was to prove something too. His eyes darted around the cramped dressing room, trying to look anywhere but you... he was too ashamed. “I'm so sorry, ____. This was my first thought. I didn’t even think that you were obviously getting dressed. Should I leave?”

“Koo, honey, relax. I don't know what's up, but... I don't think I want you to leave," you softly whisper.

Pink obstructed his vision, the spot on the carpet he'd been so focused on. Daisies made him snap out of his rage. And the hand on his knee interrupted the voice in his head that’d been on a tirade on the injustices of the world. But looking up at you, the world suddenly seemed so beautiful - you were in it.

“I'd never leave, then,” he says with a smile. “I’m fine.”

The reassurance was enough for you to get up from your crouched position by his legs and return to the mirror.

“We both know you can't lie, so I need you to tell me how I look in this dress. My curves stick out a little more than I’d like, and I don’t know how I feel about the whole arm situation. But I think I’ll get it. Nice, huh?”

“Nice." Repeating your description was the only thing he could do, unable to think of anything else to say. You were covered in flowers, yet here you stood, prettier than every single flower he’d seen in his entire life, let alone the ones on your dress. The dress did cling to your body at certain angles, and that’s what made it even all the more alluring. He had no idea what you’d meant by 'the whole arm situation' - the skin he’d always wanted to bite on was even more tempting through the translucent fabric… and with your shoulders out... it was a sight too good to be true. A wave of envy rushed over him, thinking of all the wedding guests that'd see you in the dress for hours while he only got a glimpse... They had no idea just how damn lucky they were, but Jungkook knew that he was as well, grateful for this very moment and trying to take a photographic memory of how you looked, twirling so alluringly in the room with him alone.

“Beautiful, actually,” he quickly adds.

"Good. If your nitpicky Virgo ass thinks it's a beautiful dress, then that means it really is pretty,” you say, satisfied.

It wasn't the dress that was so beautiful...

He opens his mouth to correct you, but nothing comes out, and you speak before he does. “Uhm, help me with the zipper again?”

Jungkook’s anger had blinded him when he’d zipped it up - the intimacy of the moment only just sinking in when he stood behind you, facing the back of your neck and shoulders. He was unzipping your dress - granted, not in the context he’d always imagined, but he couldn’t help but do it at the speed he’d always wanted to… slow and steady. What felt like an eternity later, just a few centimeters from the top of the dress, Jungkook sees lace peeking through. Abruptly letting go of the metal in his hands, Jungkook inhales, trying to shove away the image, but it must’ve been the hardest thing he’d ever tried to do. He never imagined you were the type to wear a strapless, lacy maroon bra. He didn’t even think bras came in that color. The rare times he dared to take his imagination that far, only for fleeting moments, he’d mentally dress you up in pink or black… Maroon was, somehow, sexier. This... this was too good to be true.

But Jungkook, always so detail-oriented, quickly spots a tiny piece of metal at your waist. Another zipper. Did he zip that one up as well? His fingers pull the zipper down, only for your hand to cover his, stopping him.

*“*Thank you, Koo... I got it from here,” you say with a hush.

"I'm sorry," he says in a similar fashion, stepping away.

"Don't be. But, uhm... I’ll get dressed. You don’t have to leave, but… can you... look away?”

“Of course,” Jungkook panics, turning around to face the abstract art on the wall. He tried his hardest to make sense of the colorful shapes in front of him, but all he could take in were the sounds behind him. Soft fabric, falling onto the carpeted floor. The brushing of bare feet… bare thighs. Fabrics, zippers, a clanky hanger…. He reckoned that if he tried hard enough, he might’ve been able to hear the humming of a radiator that must’ve been hidden behind these walls - he could certainly feel the heat, wiping away a bead of sweat. Another zipper. Probably the actual source of all the heat.

“Done, Koo,” he hears softly from behind him.

With a blink, Jungkook realized the shapes in front of him clearly made up a cityscape.

“Koo,” you call again, and he finally turns around to face you, hoping his face hadn’t been as flushed as yours was. You’d been changing - what excuse did he have? The giggle you let out confirms his suspicions, which he tried to cough away... until he gets an idea.

"Oh, hey, wear this," Jungkook says, handing you his leather jacket.

"W-why would I?" you ask.

Because I always wanted you to wear my clothes, I finally have an excuse to ask you to do so, and this will drive me and everyone else crazy, Jungkook thinks.

"It's cold outside," he utters.

"Jungkook, it's almost summer... why else would I be wearing a sundress?"

"It can get breezy! And hey, you want my opinion on fashion? Your outfit will look better with this on." Not exactly what he wanted to say.... "You know... sundress and leather jacket? Pretty and tough... Juxtaposition... It's a thing. It's... what couples do."

"I don't know if it'll fit, Koo," you say quietly, staring at the piece of clothing in his hands.

"Drape it over your shoulders, then," he says, doing it himself. He guessed that it would have fit you but didn't insist on it then and there - even if it hadn't, he'd always find ways to make you feel loved as his girlfriend... And you looked adorable in his jacket.

"Looks even better this way, actually..." you murmur, brushing away the hair from your face, clearly flustered. It gives Jungkook the exact rush and confidence he needs. He unlocks the door, taking your hand as he walks out of the dressing room together - more than ready to nail his dream role once again.

“It was a perfect fit - I’ll buy this for sure,” you say to the sales assistant with a smile, placing the dress on the marble counter. Jungkook could feel you try to let go of his hand, but he wouldn’t budge and only held on tighter - he’d let you struggle with your purse one-handedly if it meant he was holding your hand.

It only helped him reach for his wallet with his free hand quicker, handing the woman his black card after she’d announced the price.

“Jungkook, no,” you whispered, hand deep in your purse, the other still trapped by his grasp.

“Baby, it’s only fair that I pay,” he starts, in a low, hushed tone just loud enough to be heard as he takes in your quizzical expression with a smirk on his face. “…Since I’ll be ripping it off of you later.”

Jungkook can't help but chuckle, seeing you go catatonic beside him after letting out a comically loud gulp in response. He doesn’t need to look at the sales assistant’s face to know she’d been startled as well, almost forgetting to hand him the receipt. Putting away his card and wallet single-handedly, Jungkook quickly looks back at you when he realizes your hand has turned limp in his. He’d only ever seen you so petrified when he’d suggested you watch a horror film together, in the hopes of you curling up in his arms - but he’d always stupidly ruin the moment with a laugh seeing your frozen state and wide eyes, just like now…

“I love seeing my girl all flustered. You looked so beautiful in it, honey... Just wait til Sunday,” he laughs with a wink, wrapping an arm around you to pull your body closer to his and finally place a kiss on your head. He didn’t even know if the wedding was on a Sunday - if the lie fits… “Excuse me, do you know if there are any lingerie stores nearby? A place they’d sell something that suits the dress? I’m not done treating her - well, the both of us, really….”

“There’s a place two blocks down,” the woman says with her face flushed, and Jungkook yanks the bag into his hands the moment he is able to do so.

“Thanks,” you whisper, seemingly to both him and the woman. Reaching for your hand once again, Jungkook intertwines your fingers in his, occupying both of his hands and awkwardly following you out.

The two of you walk side by side in silence, replaying the moment until the store is out of sight and Jungkook finally realizes the gravity of what he’d said.

“____... Sorry about… what I said back there. I really didn't mean to be disrespectful... I should’ve checked in with you first before just saying that shit. It was just where my mind went to, and...Wait… Fuck.. please don’t think I had those thoughts when-”

“You didn’t?”

“Huh?”

“You didn’t have those thoughts?”

Jungkook could so easily read your face most times, but this wasn’t one of them. Did you want him to have those thoughts about you? Should he lie? Were you just playing the role of the girlfriend, even now? Should he answer as the boyfriend or just Jungkook or…

“Relax, Koo. It was just unexpected… a little jerky, if it wasn’t you or if I hadn’t asked you to pretend… I thought the maroon suits the dress, though,” you pout.

“It does!” Jungkook blurts. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, Jungkook. That was actually nice,” you reassure him with a squeeze on his arm, interrupting his train of thought.

“Nice?”

“Yeah… this is all…. this is very nice,” you hum, tugging at his leather jacket on your shoulders before wrapping your hands around his arm.

Was it really happening?

“I know you’re just faking it, but… it feels good to be treated this way. To have a boy… treat me like this… publicly.”

“Publicly? What do you mean?” he asks, ignoring the urge to deny he’d been faking anything. “You had boyfriends before, no? What about your ex? Mr. Organic Shoes?” Jungkook could never remember the guy's name, remembering how distant the two of you had been at that time.

You shake your head and roll your eyes. “No… no, he never… he never did this. He convinced me I wanted a too-private relationship - you remember, I barely told anyone anything… I barely saw you or Tae... anyone. We barely went out, not for our anniversary, not to events, dinners….. nothing. The rare times we did, he’d never even hold my hand. I went along with it, figured that was his dating style and that he was just that shy, but - surprise, surprise - he goes everywhere with his new actress girlfriend, as proven by me drunkenly Insta-stalking him the other night. I like nights in more than anyone, but it was clear he just wanted me in private. In the breakup, he actually admitted he’d be ashamed to go out with me. It was that messy.”

“What the fuck does that idiot have to be ashamed about?” Jungkook fumed, even more so when you laugh in response.

“This isn’t a fucking joke, ____….. Fuck that guy, honestly,” Jungkook spits out, surveying the area he stood in and considering if it was possible to somehow track the asshole down and beat him up then and there, but with you still latched onto him so tightly…. he wouldn’t leave for anything. “You were always way too good for him, for anyone… I wish I’d told you sooner.”

“Thanks, Koo,” you whisper, hiding your face against his arm for a fraction of a second. He didn’t have the guts to face you at that moment either, knowing he’d kiss you all over just to show you how loudly and publicly you deserved to be loved if that's what you wanted.

“Thanks for today, too. My theory seems to be correct… I wasn't fat-shamed, so ‘yay’ to being treated with basic human decency. But that means you'll likely have to join me again in the future. Congratulations, Koo - you're one-off acting gig turned into a regular role in the _____ Cinematic Universe. What favor do you want in return? What’s your price, Jeon?”

“Oh, I'm never letting you shop without me ever again. See how good my leather jacket is on you? Forget being a boyfriend, my fashion advice is like no other. No... no, this is a Marvel contract now. I'm in this for life... but we agree this isn’t a one-off cameo? Spider-Kook is the star of this universe, alongside you? Just the two of us?"

"What, do you want me to get another guy to pretend to be my boyfriend?"

Fuck no. Jungkook shakes his head.

"I’m still your boyfriend for the day, aren’t I?"

".. What did you have in mind?"

“....I wanna show you something.”

✿

Nagging usually works on Jungkook. Well, nagging was a bit of an exaggeration - he caved in quickly when it came to your requests, seemingly forgetting his sheer signature willpower. But now, even you would admit that you’d been unrelenting… you couldn’t help it. Jungkook had been very vague about ‘what he wanted to show you,' the favor you'd pay in return for his current and future fake boyfriend gigs. But he wouldn't budge, even going so far as to finally resign with a smile and tell you to ‘just shut up and let him lead.’ Jungkook had always been down to do whatever you wanted to do - a true highlight in your friendship - but now, your heart fluttered at him taking the lead…. and even more so when he took you by the hand and excitedly, physically led you to all the places he did… his hand never leaving yours.

First, he took you to a bookstore - nailing the part of the perfect boyfriend with that choice alone, then taking it further when he went on to say he’d treat you to two books - one of your own choosing, the other of his. Something straight out of a romance book, as your day had been thus far.... and Jungkook must've caught on. Of all the books in all the aisles, he had to pick out “Fake It Til You Make It” - the fake dating romance book that inspired all this, only the roles were reversed… In truth, you could’ve easily asked Taehyung to pretend to be your boyfriend and help test out your experiment instead - the two of you were friends as well, and though your relationship was strictly platonic, Tae was an actual actor… But you had to jump at the chance that there might be a teeny, tiny possibility that life imitates fiction and your crush would see you in a new light. And if he hadn’t ended up thinking that dating you might not be too bad of an option… at least you’d get a day of what you’d always longed for. It was a risk. You’d never been able to hide your emotions and already got teary-eyed a number of times, seeing Jungkook act as noble as he’d always been… even better than the perfect boyfriend you’d imagined him to be. It was getting harder and harder to muster up the courage to ask him to accompany you to the wedding as well…

The second place Jungkook led you to was a photo booth studio. He spent way too much money on many different takes and overpriced photo strips, trying different decorations, poses, and photo options. If his arm around your shoulder weren’t holding onto you so firmly, you’d have bolted when he’d insisted on taking a ‘couples version,’ as if the rest weren’t torturously coupley enough. He must have found you out, and it was getting embarrassing.

“I guess…. To back up this lie,” you’d said sheepishly, trying to remind yourself of the situation.

“Sit on my lap and sit still,” he’d instructed, helping you onto his lap and wrapping his arms tightly around you.

Looking off to the side, you couldn’t tell what Jungkook did for the first photo - probably a funny face. For the second, he turned your face to his with his fingers underneath your chin, and you heard the camera click. His features seemed softer, a twinkle present in his eyes… you’d missed the countdown once again, and suddenly Jungkook’s lips were on your cheek, your face held in his hand. He let out a loud mwah you could still feel against your skin after he backed away.

“You kissed my cheek earlier, so…” he quickly mumbled.

A stinging feeling hadn’t left your face. It was hard to say whether it was the lingering feeling of Jungkook’s lips or its effect, the smile you couldn’t stop from appearing on your face.

“Here,” Jungkook whispers, handing you one of the two duplicate photo-strips.

Oh… he was looking at me in that first photo. Why do we look so in love? Holy shit, is he a good actor. Oh hey, how did I not realize he’d also been smiling when he kissed my cheek?

“Put it on the back of your phone,” you hear.

“To back up the lie,” he says, repeating your own words when you finally look at him through your lashes, catching him slip his copy into his wallet as you did into your phone case. Before you were able to process what he’d just done and the photos staring back at you, he wrapped his around your wrist, pulling you out of the tight space.

It was still hard to tell what Jungkook had wanted to show you…. More glimpses of something you could never have, perhaps…

✿

Jungkook was running out of time. He wanted to do so much more for you. He’d imagined taking you out on so many different types of dates and crammed in as many as he could with the time he had left in the day, the possibly pivotal hours that he hoped would awaken something in you.

It was hard not to get carried away, as he always had a tendency to... He’d begun speculating that he actually was in a dream in the bookstore when he found the novel with a story eerily similar to his exact predicament. Ever the believer in fate, Jungkook took it as a sign that he was doing the right thing…. and if all that he was doing couldn’t wake you up, surely the book would... Then at the photobooth… Jungkook could have sworn you’d felt like a real couple then - you’d just been goofing around together, as you always had…. In such a cramped space filled with laughter and love, he’d finally mustered up the courage to kiss you back. He could have sworn he’d seen you smile so wide after that, and that made him happier than the kiss did. Maybe he had a shot....

The third stop was a quick run to the grocery store, which he knew would confuse you most of all. He mindlessly grabbed both of your favorite snacks and drinks in a rush before dashing out, thanking the heavens that he'd made it exactly where he wanted to be, right on time after that.

The park, before sunset.

As expected, the place was packed with couples, families, and friend groups all gathered around and enjoying golden hour. The cool sun shined through marshmallow-like clouds high in the warmly-hued sky. Laughter, music, and joy could be heard all around you - the sounds of happiness, home, and peace.

A perfect spring day.

A perfect opportunity.

Once you'd set up camp and his impromptu picnic, Jungkook leaned back and silently motioned to you to lean against his chest. You do so, cuddling right against him and making Jungkook feel so whole. He'd urged you to read the book he picked out, but you settled on the second one and suggested he give the other a go himself. Jungkook was never a reader, and he would read if you'd asked him to do so sincerely... but he put the book down five pages in. Why would he read a book, especially one that you needed, when he could bask in the beauty of his reality right there in that very moment?

Only thinking this far, Jungkook didn't know what to do after this, but he knew one thing: he’d never felt more alive nor more at peace.

"It's beautiful, Koo."

Jungkook opens his eyes, after closing them briefly as he took in the moment to see you staring up at the orange-pink sky.

"Yeah, it is. You're prettier, though," he says.

"Thanks, boyfriend," you scoff. "Thanks for showing me this... Thank you for the favor. Thank you for everything, Koo. I have to say that again.”

"The sky isn't exactly what I wanted to show you today, _____."

"Oh? Well, what is it?"

“Look at me, _____.”

Startled by his sudden command, you sit up to face him. He couldn’t say what he needed to say without seeing, knowing you believed him… Your eyes always told the truth.

“All of it... All of this... This day was what I wanted to show you. I wanted to show you… the kind of love you deserve. The kind of boyfriend you deserve. Actually, no - this isn’t even half of what you deserve. This is just the shit I could think of on the spot on a Monday afternoon. You deserve so much more, _____. I want to show that to you. I want to… I want you to know that. You don’t need to thank me for anything. The favor wasn’t even a favor. You deserve to have someone do that for you, no questions asked. I said ‘always,’ didn’t I? You deserve to go on dates, a boyfriend who loves you loudly and proudly.”

When your ears perked up, Jungkook knew you were listening. Really listening. But the tears on your face interrupted his train of thought. He needed to do something.

“Here,” he starts, clearing his throat as he stands up. “I LOVE HER, WORLD - I LOVE MY GIRLFRIEND! I AM IN LOVE WITH HER!” Jungkook’s voice echoed loud enough for every surrounding person to turn to him after his very loud declaration towards the sun.

“Jungkook!” you quietly protest, pulling him back down with a shocked smile on your face.

“I don’t know if you want exactly that….” he says, a proud, bashful smile still on his face as he reaches for your hand. “But you deserve it, regardless. Even if it’s not with me…. That’s what I wanted to show you. I wanted to show the love you deserve.”

Jungkook thanked the heavens for having his back once again. He'd imagined confessing a million different ways, but he'd never have imagined for it to go so smoothly and in such a spontaneously romantic setting. For such an important moment, he was thankful he could read you like a book once again. You took in every word, and your eyes began to water. This was it.

“Even if it’s not with you?”

Wait... what?! What did he say?! What did you say?!

"_____?”

Jungkook had been just as startled as you’d been at the calling of your name. It came from a woman who’d been sitting behind you, someone he had noticed earlier who had been clearly listening in on his confession, even smiling widely with the man beside her when he jumped up and declared his love so loudly. She… knew you?

"Rina?” you say, the shock you’d already been in still present on your face. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s our last date night before the wedding! Picnic in the park - a classic, isn't it? You would know, boo! You have a boyfriend! You're doing the same!”

You turn, mouth agape, to face Jungkook. “Oh, we’re….”

“Oh, don’t bother denying it. We all heard loverboy’s declaration - straight out of a 1980s film. I love it! I won't tell your sister if you don't want me too,” she cheers, smiling at Jungkook. “Oh wait, you aren’t even hiding it, are you? Look at your phone case!”

The photos of you in his arms, him kissing your cheek, were displayed right there through your crystal clear phone case on your lap. Behind his now bashful smile, Jungkook felt a thrill at the exposure.

“Oh, don’t be so shy now, you two,” the man speaks now. “You reminded us of ourselves.”

“____! He's just your type! What’s your name, cutie?” the woman, Rina, asks.

“Oh, it’s Jungkook.”

"Jungkook, I'm Rina. I'm friends with _____ and her sister! I assume you're coming to our wedding next week? _____ must have told you about it already. As long as you’re _____’s boyfriend, you’re welcome. Jae & I are going all out and want as many people there as possible!”

Jungkook had no idea what he must've done in his life, or a past one, for the universe to have his back like this. It’s exactly what he’d wanted… except it didn’t come from you. With all eyes on him, his dart to you, relieved and euphoric to see you smile and nod.

“I, I, I’d love to…"

“Great! I guess we’ll see you then, loverboy. Bye, my love,” Rina says, turning back to give you a hug. “I know me and your sister are the ones who taught you not to hear anything a man has to say but…. He’s a good one. Keep him. Listen to Jungkook, huh?”

Jae leads Rina away, the two of them waving goodbye and turning back until they are out of sight. But Jungkook can’t face you yet. He confessed…. didn’t he? He knew you were listening, but it still felt as though his words remained in the air, unfinished. Did you finally get it? Rina did. The whole damn park did. At least he’d gotten what he wanted. One more gig… One more gig to perfect it.

“I guess you’re my date…. loverboy.”

#jungkook fic #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook scenario #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fluff #bts scenarios #bts scenario #jungkook x reader #bts

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hollyhomburg · 7 months

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(Hopekook x reader, toxic relationship but in a 🥴 way, possessiveness, controlling behavior to the extreme, implied yoongi x reader, voyeurisim, exhibitionism, squirting, pee stuff, mafia stuff)

You know what I sorta want? Organized crime boss alpha hoseok who treasures his little omega pet beyond words, couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to her 🥰 unfortunately for him she has a habit of being a disobedient little pet. especially when he leaves for business and he’s not there to keep her in line himself. Luckily he has his live in bodyguard and most loyal second jk who keeps her fuzzy and omegaspacey and so spoiled she’d never think about leaving him. (Not that she could, not that he’d let her, but things won’t ever have to come to that because hoseok is going to treat her /well/ keep her happy)

He knows all of their rules. That she can’t touch unless hoseok says she can, can’t cum unless he says she can, can’t leave the apartment unless he says she can and if she’s accompanied by at least 3 guards, can’t skip meals, has to wear the clothes that alpha picks out for her. Everything. Hoseok is not the typical alpha, he demands utter devotion for what he gives- and he gives her everything in return.

Of course he has to leave sometimes for work, and the long weeks away are taxing on their relationship and her submission. jk is there to pick up the slack when he catches her with her hand between her thighs or using the shower head in ways she shouldn’t. often spanking her pussy pink and swollen infront of the camera and documenting every flinch and squeal for hoseok. Making her beg to cum, jks tatted fingers spreading her lips wide when hoseok asks to see her hole.

Just the threat of sicking jungkook on her is enough to have her quaking because he regularly fucks her to the point of incoherency, fucking her with his fat knot even after he’s cum and it’s popped. Hoseok always asks to see, always demands videos of the two of them. He has to make sure jk is breeding her properly in his absense 🥰

He gets little updates from jungkook whenever he’s away, little things like “she took her settling spanking so good this morning, woke up and asked for it like a good pup,” “ah she’s so cute, give her pussy a kiss for me” or “she was batting her eyes at one of our alphas, how do you want me to proceed?” “make her show him her hole and tell him it’s mine, fuck her infront of him if you must”

There are other cuter moments too, moments when she calls him curled up in jks arms and tells him how much they both miss their alpha, or when she wants to show him their kisses. How sweet she can be when she wants to be, or photos of jk tucked all under her chin, smothering her with his body the way hoseok always does too 🥺

Imagine she tries to leave the apartment without anyone, without jk, just to go downstairs to the coffee shop across the street for a treat, and hoseok is so pissed because she could have been put in real danger. Maybe she was in real danger and she almost got abducted by hoseoks enemies.

He’d be seething, already arranging for their deaths but unable to come home just yet. “I obviously can’t trust you to make decisions by yourself so from now on until I say so You’re not allowed to do anything without jks permission. you’re not allowed to sleep, eat, or take a fucking piss without him telling you that you can. Do you understand me?”

“Yes alpha.”

Jk is equally as angry, maybe he narrowly got to her in time before something did happen to her. But he takes hoseoks command seriously, the humiliation burning through her and doing something funny to her tummy when she tells him she needs to pee and he says she can’t yet. maybe he pushes it, waits until she’s squirming and begging and only the does he say she can. Maybe she tries to protest when he follows to watch. “Hyung says I’m not to leave you alone.” A mean glint in his eyes as he doesn’t move.

Maybe he likes it a little too much and continues to enjoy his power over her, waiting’s until he’s fucking his fat knot into her and on FaceTime with hoseok to tell him all about how she hadn’t been good enough today, that she was complaining about jk watching her, that it’s icky and embarrassing. But it’s hoseoks urging of “go on baby, you where complaining about how gross it was, why don’t you show us how good you can be” her sobs and hiccups music to his ears as jk’s knot presses right /there/ and she can’t /not/ make a mess all over. And the humiliation just intensifies when jk reaches down and slaps over her clit, making a wet slapping sound.

I imagine it’s all in an effort to make her obedient so that when hoseoks rivals or even his friends come over he can show off how /perfect/ she is. Making sweet commands like “baby, show us your pussy” and she lifts her skirts without a second thought, “good puppy, now kneel before daddy and Mr. Min” she drops to her knees without a second thought, nothing in her mind but /have to be good for alpha, have to be good for hoseok/. “Good pet, now suck on mr.min’s fingers like how you suck on jkies cock, show him how good and messy you get pet” and she just opens her mouth letting yoongi shove his fingers into the buckle, keening when he pets over her tongue. “No gagging?” “None at all, baby pet let me train that out of her ages ago, isn’t she beautiful?” Maybe he sits back and sips on his whiskey, snapping his fingers and beconing jk forward, “jk, show mr.min how cute she is when she cums”

“Yes sir.”

Maybe when she complains about something small (maybe she’s a little spoiled) like wanting two alphas for her heat when hobi’s going to be away for it and really she’s used to two knots at once during her heat 😠 why can’t she have that this time??? and hoseok just tells jk to see how many times he can make her squirt before she passes out.

The pictures he gets later…her ass up on the floor with a puddle beneath her, jk showing off his sticky fingers. His own glossy lips and fucked out grin. And the text that comes through isn’t just for her, but for him too

“Good puppy”

#bts mafia fic #bts mafia au #bts poly au #jungkook x reader #hoseok x reader #bts a/b/o #alpha! hoseok #alpha! jungkook #hopekook x reader

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soufcakmistress · 9 months

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new love on the near northside

A/N: haters that ruin the fun will get blessed out and blocked! find someone else to play with, tysm :) this is for all the sydcarmy truthers like me who’ve been in a spiral for two years

Pairing: Sydney Adamu x Carmen Berzatto

“All right chefs, we need to fire four prime ribs, two lobster risottos, and four cream puffs!”

“Yes, Chef!”

“Marcus, 86 the mascarpone for the cherry tart on 20!”

“Heard, chef!”

“Okay I need to see hands!”

The waitstaff gingerly grab the plated dishes from the final station, while Carmy is gently yet firmly reminding them not to smudge the plates as they’re being taken to their respective tables. Dinner service is in an awesome groove right now and Syd is feeling confident tonight. She’s still riding on a high from the last food critic that visited from the Chicago Tribune, who raved over her braised short rib and orzo pasta. There are also other reasons for Syd’s good mood.

“Open your legs, Syd..”

Syd shudders, takes three deep breaths and continues to fire off orders from the expo. The Bear has been packed almost every single night for three weeks. They don’t have much of a waitlist yet, but word of mouth moves quickly in Chicago and the front of house are noticing some repeat customers already.

Carmy joined Syd at the expo, and she can still pick up the scent of his cologne even in the midst of garlic, heavy cream and raw seafood. If she even peeks at him, she’ll lose her train of thought, and that’s the last thing the team needs right now. After having to let go of Josh after his unfortunate episode, her sous Tina has been pulling double time, covering both stations like a champ. She makes a mental note to give her an unbelievable gift and some love this weekend. “How are we doing, Chef? We cool?”

His eyes are so crystal clear and she recollects how he stares through her when they….oh fuck. “Yes, Chef. Runners are getting everything out in a timely manner, and we are turning these tables around. You?”

“Carmy, Carmy, yes—oh!”

Carmy licks and bites his lips and smirks. “Yes Chef. You’re the captain of this ship.” He squeezes her shoulder and goes back to his station as their boucher, Daniela checks in with Carmy about the fat trimmings for their beef.

Fak, Richie and Sweeps were holding down the front since Nat is on maternity leave. Carmy keeps a wallet size photo of his brand new nephew at his station, looking occasionally with a smile. Forty five more minutes before dinner service is over and Syd can finally go puke out back. “Chefs, we’re almost in the clear! Let’s keep up the momentum and sense of urgency!”

“Yes, Chef!”

Every dish is gorgeous. So many painstaking hours reworking the menu. Chaos menu, thoughtful chaos menu, back to chaos menu again. Reviewing and poring over Carmy’s intricate drawings, all the late night sessions, so much money spent on ingredients—it was enough to make Syd’s head spin. Hence why, almost a month since The Bear opened she’s still subsisting on a diet of Tums and Pepto.

She’s eternally grateful for her partners. Nat and Cicero have saved all their asses more times than they can count. Cicero is a hard ass but he adores Carmy and Sugar and has grown to love Syd as well. And of course, the best chef she’s ever had the privilege of working beside is her executive chef, business partner, best friend and now lover.

“Look at you. You’re so wet baby. Fuck—”

They’ve managed to keep their love affair under wraps for this long. It’s a struggle not to be able to touch each other when they’re working. Tina and Marcus are too perceptive; they would be found out immediately. Still, Sydney feels like a giddy school girl whenever Carmy corners her in the office as they open the restaurant every morning—both of his hands by her sides keeping her close. He’s so incredibly sexy without even trying and she still gets shy sometimes. He has to pull her chin from her shoulder and make her look at him.

“Don’t run away from me. You know I won’t let you..” And those ocean blue eyes of his again….and his lips are feather light on top of hers. Her knees are ready to buckle and Carmy sensed as much, so he pulls her close to the hardness of his chest and stomach to keep her standing.

She loves how his stubble feels on her chin and cheeks, especially when he drags his mouth down her jaw and lightly sucks on her neck. “Carm, Carm, Carm, oh my god, don’t! If they see me with a hickey when I didn’t have one yesterday, how do I explain that?” Her face is hurting, she’s cheesing so hard.

One hand slides up her chef whites, slipping under her camisole and his agile fingers pinch her nipple while his tongue circles her earlobe. Syd’s learned that Carmy is insatiable. For someone to not be as experienced as he claims—his hands, lips, tongue…always seem to go exactly where she needs them to. “I can’t help it, Chef. You’re just so damn beautiful.”

Syd’s hands roam all over his thick biceps and eventually land in the bushy mess atop his head. Their tongues lave and suck on each other’s and their moans can’t be held back any longer. Carmy pulls her leg up to his hip while he grips her braids, until he hears Marcus and Sweeps come through the back door. They separate quickly and get themselves together. Lusty gazes linger between them and they’re both aching between their legs. Carmy is as red as a beet, and Syd’s lips are swollen from his kisses and nipping. “Right, thank you chef.” Syd walks out first awkwardly with wobbly legs that make Carmy chuckle.

Dinner service is over—the kitchen has been scrubbed down, trash taken out, perishables have been stocked away in the lowboys and walk-in, and the back of house staff has skated out. It’s just Carmen and Sydney, in their brand new restaurant. “I’m beat. You got all your stuff right?”

Syd has an overnight bag with everything she needs for a weekend with her babe. “Yes, I do! Are you..ready to go?” Carmy grabs the weekend bag along with her hand and they walk in tandem to his car.

Carmy has been seeing a therapist in addition to the Al-anon meetings and Sydney can tell a difference already. He’s slower to rant and rave and owns up to his mistakes. More eager to hear people out. She’s proud of him—he’s suffered through a lot to make it to this point. They eventually arrive to his apartment and a shower is the first order of business. Syd loves the water pressure at Carmy’s place and taking showers together has been great for their newfound intimacy. They undress each other, Syd pulls her braids up in a high bun, and they just hold each other under the steaming water. This is their time. Away from The Bear. Away from Chicago. Away from the many demands and decisions they’re forced to confront every single day.

Carmy washes her with her pink loofah that’s been made a permanent staple in his bathroom. This is all new to Syd; her heart blooms in her chest at these big feelings she’s experiencing. He’s gentle and doesn’t leave an inch of skin untouched. Syd washes his hair with his expensive shampoo and Carmy’s eyes close in ecstasy. They needed this tenderness. They deserved it.

All cleaned up and fresh, they mosey back to the kitchen for a late night meal. Habits are hard to break. “Spaghetti?” Carmy suggests.

“Yes oh my goodness. Butttt use bucatini instead. And all the cheese.” He smiles in agreement and pecks her on the lips and gets out all the ingredients they need. Julia Child is on in the background on a public access channel, as they converse about the restaurant and Carmy’s nephew and Sydney’s dad and Carmy’s dysfunctional family, the deep loss Syd still feels at the absence of her mom for most of her life. More tenderness.

Pasta is rolled out. Meat sauce is sautéed, seasoned and almost ready. The Shiraz is poured. Carmy can’t stop staring at her in his shirt and boxers. She’s so cute. The pasta boils and he watches her watching the program, fully enthralled. Everything is finally done; he plates everything in his unique Carmy way and Syd audibly orgasms at how the savory flavors meld together especially with the wine.

He grates more pecorino over the pasta and the lull in conversation is comfortable and warm. Not awkward and full of anxiety like with Donna….leaving him constantly overthinking and being afraid to speak. Sydney seemingly knows what he’s going to say before he does and that brings him comfort. They’re in crystal clear alignment on every way and he now knows a semblance of peace.

“Fuck. This is good.” Sydney is damn near scraping the plate, while Carmy is smiling the biggest she’d ever seen from him. They both love when the other eats their food. That sense of pride is undeniable.

“I’m glad you enjoyed, Chef. Anything for you.” He winks at her and she gets bashful and mumbled out that she’s going to take care of the dishes since he cooked. To his surprise, he’s a little more tipsy than he realized from the Shiraz. Carmy drains his glass and pours himself another, while checking Syd’s frame out. His boxers are screaming for relief and a little moan eeks out of him before he can stop it. Thankfully Syd isn’t aware of his moment of weakness.

Carmy swallows and wipes his lips and moseys behind his girlfriend. Kissing and nipping. “I’m almost done here, Carm..” Syd whines a bit at his ministrations and drops the plate into the soapy water.

“Yeah. Not fast enough for me..” Carmy turns her around and leaps with his tongue and mouth first. Her hands are dripping wet but she doesn’t waste a second grabbing his head of wild curls and taking what he has to give. Carmy grabs her legs to wrap them around his waist and Syd can periodically feel him thrust up into her mound, wailing for stimulation that only he can provide.

Their shared affection overpowers the television, and Carmy feels his way down the hallway with his baby in his arms. His love, that saved him in so many ways. He pulls his shirt off, she takes hers off. She takes his boxers off that she had on and she lays on his bed, naked as the day she was born. “Fuck me, Carmen.”

She held in her amusement because his entire neck and face was blood red with the pupils of his eyes blown out. Syd knows that he’s doing everything he can to stay contained, but he knows her better by now—she does what she wants. So she spreads her legs for him and twirls her clit in tandem with a brown nipple. Carmy’s about to explode.

He drops to his knees and explores her love below like it’s never been done before. “Sydney, why do you taste so good? Why do you do this to me..” She relishes in the fact that he’s potentially bruising her with the vice grip he has on her thighs, but yet she’s so afraid that she’s gonna squirt in his face if he keeps gently sucking her clit in and out of his lips like that. His manicured fingers enter her canal one after the other and prompt her to let go. “CARMYYYYYYY!”

His whole chest is drenched, and his eyes are shut tight, his deft fingers rubbing tight circles around her clit with a precision that only an executive chef named Carmen Anthony Berzatto could deliver. Sydney pushed his head away and she’s left trembling with watery eyes. “I-I—i didn’t know I could do that!”

Carmy just smirks and wipes his mouth and drops his pants. Syd still can’t get over him. He has even more tattoos that can’t be readily seen on a day to day basis, he is so cut and muscled and has a cock that should be cast in 24 karat gold. Don’t sleep on the short kings.

“Turn around.” His voice leaves no room for pushback, and she can barely raise up on her knees before he’s manhandling her. He’s learned that he loves doggy with Syd. With her ass high in the air, she is getting impatient as well and reaches behind her to line him up with her slit. Carmy catches his lip in his teeth as he pushes forward and they both groan out a “fuck” that only they could wholly grasp.

On the first stroke, he’s all the way in and Syd fees his sack grazing over her entrance. They’re both in a trance. Carmy has visions of Syd cooking, smiling, cumming, revolving in his mind as well as the score of the last White Sox home game so he doesn’t bust his load quick. Syd can’t get the thought of how intense and sweet he gazes at her. How he commands their team, how his talent speaks for itself, how fucking sexy his jawline is, how big his heart is. How lucky is she? To fall in love with her idol, mentor, boss….and to have him love her back.

The bed is beginning to bounce off the wall. Their volume increases as Syd can’t hold herself up anymore and they fall into collapsed doggy with their fingers interlocked. “I’m so glad you found me. I love you Syd, I love you, I fucking—fucking love you baby!” That set Sydney off for the most expansive and overwhelming orgasm of the night, taking her beau with her over the edge. Carmy’s sweaty forehead lays on Sydney’s right temple—both of them with tears in their eyes.

Carmy kissed every finger tip until their mouths met again, both letting their waterlogged eyes flow free. “I know. I love you too Carmy. We’re never alone.”

“We’re never alone.”

#soufcakmistress #carmy and sydney #carmy x syd #carmy x sydney #syd adamu #the bear fanfiction #the bear fx #syd x carmy #sydney x carmen #sydcarmy

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cursedonyx · 9 days

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The Bars Between Us (Part 2)

Read Part 1 here

AU in which Sebastian was sent to Azkaban despite Ominis and Dracaena trying to keep his secrets. They spent the next several years trying to free him, and eventually succeeded. Now free from confinement, Sebastian is not the same, Azkaban has sapped him of everything he once was, and Dracaena is determined to bring back the man she knew.

Sebastian has to spend a week in a halfway-house, readjusting to life outside Azkaban before he will be allowed to come home. Dracaena must support him during this time, dealing with his nightmares, his physical weakness, and some very difficult questions that he needs an answer to.

Word Count – 6.7k

It took a long while for sleep to find her. A hundred thoughts chased themselves in circles in her head, yapping and snapping for attention as she stared across the room, her back propped against thin pillows, listening to the faint whisper of wind beyond the window, a faint rustling as it chased a few fallen leaves in circles around the bare courtyard.

At the front of her mind was Sebastian, curled beside her and sound asleep, his brittle limbs wound around her, stripped of almost all muscle and fat. How thin he was. How pale. How empty he seemed. She ran a hand over his hair, the motion calming her fluttering heart.

Immediately following him was Ominis, the man she loved and had committed herself to, heart and body and soul. His gentle smile, his elegant hands, his noble bearing and pure spirit. How she adored him for everything he was, how he seemed to instinctively know her innermost thoughts and desires, ready to comfort or advise before she could even tell him what was on her mind, how he was perfect in every conceivable way.

Next in the baying pack of her thoughts was simple, burning guilt. It was the kind of guilt that made her heart fold in on itself, as if it was shrinking, her anxiety spiking. Guilt for Sebastian’s condition, guilt for not working harder, for not getting him out of that vile place sooner. Guilt for abandoning him. It didn’t matter that she and Ominis had devoted every spare second to freeing him, it hadn’t been enough. They’d fallen in love, and had sometimes spent languid days in each other’s arms, instead of working on Sebastian’s case.

Dracaena winced. That was another level of guilt to add to the tottering tower. How much more could she stack before it teetered and fell?

She had been intimate with Sebastian while she was engaged to Ominis.

Yes, she could tell herself he needed it to feel human. He’d said so. It had made him happy, and she had vowed to make him happy. And yes, she could remind herself that Ominis not only expected her to do so, but had encouraged it. She bit her lip. Why had Ominis encouraged it? He was as devoted to her as she was to him, perhaps even more so. He knew she had once held Sebastian in her heart as she now did him, but was it wrong for her to expect at least a little jealousy? Every other man she’d ever known would have been incensed at the idea.

Not her Ominis. Not her future husband. Her happiness was at the front of his mind, always, as his was with her.

She traced the shape of her ring, unable to see it properly in the darkness, but she knew every detail of it by heart. She’d spent long hours gazing at it, dreaming of her wedding day, showing it off to her friends and colleagues, elated beyond measure, wanting nothing more than to spend the rest of her life with him, and only him.

Now there was doubt.

She loved Ominis, perhaps more than she had ever loved another person. He was the sun in her sky, the stars of her night, the river that flowed through her very being and gave her life.

She also loved Sebastian. She had loved him all this time, no matter how she had tried to hide it, to forget how his easy laughter and free spirit made her heart soar. To ignore it now would be akin to ignoring the building burning down around her.

Her brows drew together as Sebastian mumbled in his sleep. How could she love both of them so deeply and completely, her feelings for one undiminished as the other bloomed? Surely such a thing wasn’t possible? What would it mean for her impending marriage if she loved another man as much as she loved her fiancé? Ominis might have agreed to her providing Sebastian with the comfort he needed, both physical and emotional, but did that stretch to love? How long could he endure it?

Such were her thoughts as the night slid by, the sky beginning to lighten behind the heavy curtains, the thin line of grey on the ceiling soon becoming peach, then yellow as the sun climbed into the sky. Dracaena found herself dozing fitfully, waking at the slightest sound, the tiniest movement of the man beside her, his head in her lap, his arms locked around her waist, his thigh draped over her shins. On more than one occasion he stirred more vigorously, whimpering and groaning as some nightmare or another played out behind his lids, but all she had to do was pull him close to her, whispering soft, comforting sounds in his ear, stroking his hair and his back until he settled.

She jolted awake with a start, wincing as a thin wire of pain lanced through her neck. She stared about a moment, wondering what had woken her, before she looked down and met Sebastian’s eyes. He was gazing up at her as if she was a unicorn, a phoenix, perhaps, as if he wasn’t quite sure she was real, as if she was the most beautiful thing to ever grace his vision. The sight of him looking at her like that made her heart both swell and shatter, and she reached down, cupping his cheek tenderly.

“How’d you sleep?” she murmured.

Sebastian drew a long breath, letting it out just as slowly.

“Better than I… have in a long… time,” he said, his voice still weak, his eyelids lowing by half, a tiny smile on his face. It faded as quickly as it had come. “Drac… I’m… sorry. About… about last night, I…”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” she assured him. “Bassy, I can’t even begin to imagine what you’ve been through, but I’m here to help you, no matter what you need, okay?”

His jaw tightened. He didn’t say anything else, but his gaze was fixed on her hand, on her engagement ring.

Dracaena shuffled down and pulled him into a tight hug, her fingers winding into his hair and pressing his face into her shoulder, careful not to hold him too firmly. He was so frail she was afraid he might snap if she tightened her arms too much around him.

“Do you want to sleep a little more?” she asked. “There’s a few things I need to do this morning before we get to our list.”

“List?” he echoed, and she explained the rules the Ministry had laid out for them, the daily reports she had to write, the exercises he was expected to do, all those little things that were supposed to prepare him for his re-entrance to civilised society. Sebastian nodded slowly as she spoke, then stirred, sitting up with difficulty. He frowned down at his hands, once large and strong, now skeletal.

“I feel… so weak,” he whispered. “I never noticed… I can barely… even talk properly.”

“Your strength will come back,” she said, smoothing her hand over his back, his skin warm and taut, biting her lip as her fingers traced the protrusions of his spine, the sharpness of his shoulder blades. “It’ll just take time.” She cleared her throat delicately. “Let me get some breakfast going, do you need me to help you with anything?”

Sebastian shook his head slowly, still frowning down at his hands. Dracaena waited a moment longer, then slipped out from under the covers, remembering only then that she was in nothing but her undergarments. By Sebastian’s sharp intake of breath, it seemed she wasn’t the only one who had noticed. Fighting a smile, Dracaena strode for the bathroom and took a quick shower, brushing her teeth then towelling herself dry as fast as she could. Though it seemed to her that Sebastian’s mind was still very much his own, there was a growing prickle in the centre of her chest, a rapidly twisting ball of anxiety that tightened the longer she was away from him.

What if he fell? What if he got hurt, or heaven forbid, did something to himself? He could barely stand upright alone, why the hell had she left him?

Dracaena all but flew back into the main room, her blouse only halfway buttoned, a comb caught in the tangles of her damp hair, pulling up short with a sharp gasp of relief as she saw Sebastian hunched at the tiny table, reading the note pinned to the wall. He jumped as she clattered in, whipping around to face her, his face a mask of terror.

“It’s just me,” she said in a rush, raising her hands and approaching as swiftly as she dared. “I’m sorry Bassy, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

He turned away and flopped to the tabletop, his head buried in the crook of his arm. He shivered a little, and she rushed to put her arms around him.

“Love, what’s wrong?”

He shook his head and shivered again. Dracaena bit her lip, her hand making small circles over his back. He didn’t respond, and she straightened.

“Are you hungry?” she tilted her head, but Sebastian kept his silence. “You should eat something, darling, it’ll help get your strength back.” She backed off towards the cupboards and browsed through, frowning lightly at the poor fare. For some reason, she’d been expecting more to have appeared overnight, or perhaps some more variety to the oats, rice and tins of plain fish and vegetables. Hell, even a few potatoes and onions would make the world of difference. On the inside of the cupboard was a list of suggested meals, and each of these had measurements for each ingredient deliberately underlined.

It had been one of the conversations she’d had with the Aurors before she’d left for Azkaban. Sebastian was only allowed to eat small amounts, or he might get sick. She looked down at the pair of bowls before her, a packet of oats in hand, wishing she was able to at least mix them with hot milk instead of water. Her stomach rumbled, but she didn’t dare add any more to her own bowl than the amount suggested. How could she sit and feast while he starved? It was only for a week, and once he was home, she’d make him something truly delicious.

She curled her lip at the cupboard. Sebastian had always been fond of sweet things, but there wasn’t a grain of sugar or honey to be found.

Dracaena sighed softly and boiled the kettle with a flick of her wand. There wasn’t even tea or coffee, and she wasn’t quite sure how she was going to function without her morning pep.

Sebastian was still slumped over the table when she brought their breakfast over, and for a moment, it seemed like he’d fallen asleep. She nudged him gently, and he stirred. Dracaena bit her lip and grasped his shoulders, helping him sit upright. His gaze was unfocused, his expression hollow. She gently pressed a spoon into his hand, waiting patiently until his fingers curled around it.

“Make sure you finish it,” she said softly, guiding his hand to the table so his wrist rested on the wood, the edge of the spoon resting against the bowl. She settled beside him and devoured her own paltry breakfast, hoping it would encourage him. As much as she loved him, she drew the line at feeding him like a kid when he was capable of doing so himself. “Don’t let it get cold, love.”

Sebastian blinked slowly and began to stir his food, occasionally taking tiny, slow bites. Dracaena couldn’t blame him for the lack of enthusiasm, at least their dinner last night had a little flavour. The porridge tasted like wet cardboard.

Once she was certain he was content with finishing his breakfast, Dracaena summoned the small folio of parchment the Aurors had left with her the previous day. Each sheet held a form for her to fill out, the daily reports she was supposed to write for Sebastian. They’d arrive at ten each morning to collect the one from the previous night, and she winced as she glanced at the clock. It was a quarter past nine. She summoned a quill and ink as Sebastian pushed his empty bowl aside with a grimace and set his head back on his arms with a low sigh. She idly ran a hand over his hair as she eyed the form, tapping the nib of her quill against the inkpot.

The Aurors had been explicit in their expectations. She had to detail everything.

The trouble was, everything included their passion last night. Her throat worked a moment, the tip of her tongue sliding out to capture her lower lip and bringing it between her teeth. She could remember the taste of him vividly, pepper and tang, a slight hint of citrus mixing with the heady scent of sandalwood. Once he had carried the soft musk of old books on his robes, for he was rarely more than an hour away from reading some tome or another. Not now, though, that scent was painfully absent. She tilted her head. There would have been no books in Azkaban.

Dracaena gave herself a little shake and set her quill to the parchment as Sebastian dozed beside her, filling out his name, prison number and all his other personal details. She moved to the Activities section, and hesitated again. She made brief notes, such as cutting his hair, shaving him and helping him bathe, making sure he ate his dinner and sending him to bed. She paused, and swore under her breath.

It wasn’t that she was ashamed of what they’d done. Guilt-ridden, perhaps, but not ashamed. That said, was she even supposed to have entertained him so? Was it really necessary for the Aurors to know she’d buried her face between his thighs and sent him to heaven, if only for a brief time? How the hell would she write it?

She swore again and settled for a partial truth.

Sebastian struggles to sleep alone. He finds comfort in another person’s presence, so I spent the night in his room. He nightmares frequently and wakes screaming if he is by himself.

That would do. She could only hope that the Aurors didn’t push her for any more details than that, for she had no desire to find out what the unspecified Trouble would be if they did.

She jumped as a loud knock came at the door, but it was nothing compared to how Sebastian reacted. He launched himself out of his seat as though he’d been electrocuted, stumbling over his own feet and crashing to the floor with a muted yelp, kicking at the threadbare carpet as he scrambled backward, his eyes wide, his teeth bared in a rictus of sheer terror.

“Sebastian!” Dracaena leapt after him, dropping to her knees as he tried to wedge himself behind the sofa, trembling so hard his teeth chattered. He covered his face, turning away with a low whine as the knock came again, the sharp raps more insistent than before.

“Just a moment!” she called, reaching for Sebastian as he cringed away. “Darling, it’s alright, it’s just the Aurors, they’re here to pick up my report, that’s all.”

Sebastian didn’t respond in any way other than to try and push himself further behind the sofa. It didn’t move an inch, and Dracaena sighed softly, taking the corner of it in her hand and easing it away from the wall. Sebastian tucked himself in further, and she squeezed his shoulder, torn between staying to comfort him and attending to the Aurors outside as the knocks came again, three deliberate, loud bangs. Each of them made Sebastian flinch.

“Just stay there, I’ll be right back,” Dracaena said, scrabbling to her feet and rushing for the door, plucking the report off the table as she went.

She opened the door a crack, peering out at the tall, cloaked men that stood on the step. Their faces held all the expression of a brick wall, and the tallest one held out his hand expectantly. Dracaena swallowed, and passed over the form. Without a word, the Aurors turned as one and stalked away. Dracaena watched them, a light frown on her brow as they crossed the courtyard, two of them veering off to resume their patrol, the tallest one moving to the small building by the gate of the complex and vanishing inside. Muttering under her breath, she closed the door and hurried back to the sofa.

Sebastian had tucked himself so tightly into the tiny gap that for a moment she feared she wouldn’t be able to pull him out. His head was on his knees, his fingers laced together atop his head like a shield. He was shivering, his breath trembling, and she reached out a tentative hand, resting it on his bony shoulder. He flinched.

“They’ve gone,” she said, keeping her voice as low and calming as she could manage. “They won’t be back until tomorrow, you can come out now.”

Sebastian didn’t respond, but he huddled tighter around himself, clamping his hands over his head, his face pressed into his knees. Dracaena shuffled a little closer, her heart aching at what Azkaban had done to her dearest friend. How bright he once was, how cheerful and determined, how clever and witty and smart. How could he have been reduced to this, this cowering man frightened of a simple knock at the door?

“Sebastian,” she gripped his shoulder. “The Aurors will be here at ten o’clock each morning that we’re here to get my report. They won’t take you back, alright? That’s not what they’re here for. Even if they wanted to, I wouldn’t let them. You remember what I can do, right?” she shuffled as close as she could, and he shied away again. “It’s alright, Bassy. I promise you I won’t ever let anyone take you there again. They’d have to kill me before I let them.”

✧˖°⊹ ࣪ ˖ * ˖ ⊹°˖✧

It was past midday before Sebastian was able to unfold himself enough to reach out, and she pulled him to her chest gladly, enveloping his skeletal frame in a gentle, yet insistent embrace. He clung to her with all the strength he could muster, his grip on her blouse little more than a phantom. Dracaena led him to the bathroom and helped him shower, averting her eyes despite the desire to admire him, then supporting him to the bedroom, towelling his hair dry and picking out a new set of clothes from the selection provided by the Ministry.

“We’ll have to get you something more your style when you come home,” she said, pulling a smile onto her face as she browsed through the cheaply made, dull-coloured shirts and trousers in the wardrobe. Sebastian simply sat on the bed, a towel around his waist, his absent gaze fixed on the carpet. Dracaena sighed softly and lifted him to his feet, helping him dress, trying once again to ignore the shape of him as he leaned against her, his head on her shoulder, his hands sliding over her back, then resting on her hips as she sat him back down and buttoned his shirt, his eyes finally focusing on hers.

She knelt before him, and something passed between them, a spark of connection, of longing, something that spoke of adoration and loss, of a love held burning, an ember nursed and nurtured for six long years. In that brief moment she saw him as he had once been, bright-eyed and feisty, flirtatious and gracious, hot-headed and demanding, fiery and consuming.

Her Sebastian. The boy she had grown to love, the man she had stood beside despite it all. Betrayed by an unknown person, stolen from her before either of their young minds could comprehend what such a sentence could mean. She would bring him back, no matter the cost, and rain hell itself down on the soulless bastard that condemned him to a life of torture.

He blinked and looked away.

Dracaena lowered her eyes, frowning at the sharp, thinly laced brogues the Ministry had provided. They had to take a walk about the courtyard, to build up his strength, but even to her the shoes looked uncomfortable, the kind of footwear that would bite just under the ankles, that would pinch the toes, that would nip and squeeze in all the wrong places. She wasn’t even sure if Sebastian could manage the intricate laces, and she’d be damned if she did it for him. For all her luck, she’d tie them too tightly and make them hurt, or too loosely and make him trip. Setting her lips in a thin line, she transfigured them into a pair of comfortable loafers, easy to slip on and off.

Sebastian eased them on and made a face.

“Too tight?” Dracaena asked, as he shuffled his feet.

“No…” he managed, his voice a hoarse rasp. “Just… odd. I’ve not… worn shoes since…” he trailed off, his gaze growing distant and hollow once more.

Dracaena managed a smile and helped him to his feet, throwing a thick cloak about his shoulders. She slipped an arm around his waist, pulling his over her shoulders, and they set off for the door. Stepping out into the cool air made Sebastian tense, and he stared around warily, his eyes lighting on the distant figures of the Aurors patrolling around the perimeter of the fenced complex they found themselves in.

“Come on,” Dracaena laced her fingers with the hand resting limply about her shoulders, her other at his back. “Ten minutes around, that’s all, then we can find something else to do for a bit.”

Sebastian gave a slow nod and they set off at a glacial pace. Though Sebastian was capable of at least walking in a straight line, within the space of two minutes his breathing was laboured, and he leaned more and more upon her until she was practically carrying him.

“Do you need a rest?” she asked, as they made another circuit. Sebastian set his jaw and shook his head, a spark of that old fire glimmering behind his eyes. It was gone in a flash as he lowered his head again, focusing on the ground, but it gave her hope. There was still something of him in there, that fierce determination that drove him so passionately to learn, to fight, to break every rule under the sun and charm his way out of it. A lump formed in her throat, and she brushed away a glimmer at the corner of her eye.

Once their ten minutes were up, Sebastian could barely lift his feet, his grip on her shoulder alarmingly weak. She supported him back to their rooms and the moment the door clicked shut, Sebastian collapsed completely, flopping to the side with a low groan, his complexion a strange mix of flushed and pale. Dracaena cursed under her breath and hooked her free arm under his legs, carrying him to the bedroom and lying him atop the covers before summoning him a glass of water.

She cupped the back of his head as he sipped, then his eyelids fluttered, and he all but passed out, his breathing laboured. Dracaena perched on the side of the bed, biting her lip. He was so much weaker than she’d thought, but she had to keep trying. He had to keep going. She would not let that vile place take him from her forever.

Brushing away cool tears from her cheeks, she moved back into the other room, wondering if she could summon some tea. She and Ominis always felt better after a good cup of tea, surely Sebastian would as well.

As if thinking of her beloved summoned him to her, there came a tapping at the window, and Dracaena opened it to find a pretty barn owl astride the sill, a letter clamped in its beak. She took it, recognising Ominis’ elegant script on the front of the envelope. She slit the parchment eagerly, heading back to the bedroom to read, absently pulling a spare blanket over Sebastian’s sleeping form.

My darling Dove,

I am delighted to hear that you and Sebastian are safe and well, or at least as well as can be expected. I feared he would be somewhat insane from the torment he endured, but it gladdens me to know he has you to support him, whatever he needs.

I miss you terribly, my love, but I know it will only be a few short days before both you and my true brother are back home, where you belong. I have taken the liberty of preparing one of our spare bedrooms for Sebastian, though I am somewhat at a loss for what decoration he would prefer, having never had an understanding of such things. Perhaps you might enlighten me as to what he would like, and I will endeavour to make it so. I’m sure the Ministry will spare us a few House Elves to assist with the project, Spavin has rarely been one to deny me. Does he need a new wardrobe as well? Do send me his measurements if so, I’ll purchase a selection for him.

I can’t imagine how difficult this is for you, Dove, to endure this alone. I do wish I had come with you, but fear it would overwhelm him. I shall simply wait for your return, eager for the feel of you in my arms once more.

Do keep me updated on his progress, I will be most keen to hear all the details once you’re home safe.

All of my love to you and more,

Ominis

Dracaena sighed, a smile resting on her lips as she read the letter over and over. Five and a half days, and she would be back home with him.

And Sebastian.

She glanced at him, judging that he would sleep for at least an hour or two. His breathing had steadied, and she brushed a strand of hair off his forehead, her hand curving down to cup his cheek, missing how they had once been so full, bordering on chubby, but never quite making it there. Her eyes lingered on his freckles, tracing patterns between each fleck of caramel and amber, and she caught herself sighing.

She drafted a quick reply to Ominis, telling him how much she missed him, giving a brief update on Sebastian’s condition, providing the required measurements he requested via sneaky use of a conjured tape measure, pausing only to wonder how Sebastian would like his bedroom to be decorated. To her dismay, she hadn’t the first clue. She’d been to the Sallow's old cottage, though Sebastian never had his own bed there and Anne had decorated it to her preference once Solomon had died, and Sebastian's dorm at Hogwarts was decorated in the Slytherin fashion, all emeralds and silvers and dark woods. She’d never asked if it was his style, if he liked it.

There was a lot she’d never had the chance to ask him, caught up as they were in his quest to cure Anne and her own trials with Ancient Magic. She could hardly remember a time they’d just sat down and had a normal conversation, getting to know each other better. Everything she knew of him was inferred by what she saw, the adventures they had, and the snatches of his history he gifted her when he provided context as to why he was trying to hard to help his twin.

The twin he no longer had.

Dracaena sighed, added a line to her letter for Ominis to keep his room neutral for now, and they could decide when they were home. She sent it off with a tawny owl and frowned at the kettle. If she didn’t get some caffeine soon, she was going to become irritable, and that would be disastrous for both her and Sebastian. The thought of snapping at him chilled her.

She heard movement from the bedroom and hurried back to find Sebastian stirring. She settled on the edge of the bed and took his hand as he woke, smiling gently as his eyes found hers.

“Feel better?”

He gave a slight shrug, struggling to sit, the blanket pooling in his lap. Dracaena drew her wand and levitated it off him, folding it with a flick. He eyed it, and she smiled.

“We’ve lots to get you when we get home,” she said. “Ominis is going to get you a whole new wardrobe, won’t that be nice?”

Sebastian tilted his head, looking mildly surprised.

“I’m sure it’ll only be a few outfits to start with, but we’ll all take a trip to Diagon Alley once you’re feeling up to it,” she continued. “We’ll have lots to get, parchment and ink and books. We’ll get you a whole library, Bassy, anything you want.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled slightly, his deep eyes taking on a faraway look, and Dracaena glanced at her wand.

“We’ll need to get you a new wand, as well,” she said, and Sebastian’s eyes dimmed, the corners of his mouth turning down.

“I want… my wand,” he said.

Dracaena understood, and she squeezed his hand gently. The thought of being parted from her wand was akin to being parted from her hand, and for someone to take it, to snap it in half as if it had no more value than a simple twig… she shuddered at the thought, and slid an arm around his shoulders.

“It’ll be alright,” she soothed. “Ollivander will have something that’s just perfect for you, you’ll see. We can even get a handle that matched your old one, yeah?”

Sebastian looked away, leaning against her and sighing deeply. She nuzzled his hair, allowing herself to indulge in the scent of it for a few heartbeats.

“I know it won’t be the same,” she said. “But it’s better than nothing, right?” she pulled back a little and ruffled his hair gently, the motion similar to how she used to wind him up when she had the chance, playfully messing up his wild waves until he did the same to her, the pair of them laughing so freely. He didn’t laugh now, but he leaned away, turning to face her.

He met her eyes, an intensity dancing there that had long been absent, and she stilled. That look had always made her skin prickle delightfully, as if he was staring into her soul and seeing her for all that she was, and it always promised that trouble was soon to follow.

“When did… Anne die?” he asked.

Dracaena froze.

“You… you know?” she said, stunned.

Sebastian turned away, an agony on his face so similar to that of a victim of Crucio that she was surprised he didn’t howl with pain.

“I… suspected,” he said, the end of the words cracking. “You… confirmed it… just now.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said, reaching for him, but he didn’t react to her touch. “Bassy… she fought so hard, for so long.”

“When?” he repeated.

“Three years ago,” she said, and he loosed a tiny, broken sound that pierced right through her heart. “I wanted to let you know, to visit, hell, even to send an owl, but we weren’t allowed. We tried everything, I promise.”

He shook his head, his shoulders beginning to quiver, and Dracaena tugged him back to her, a hand at the back of his head, her fingers winding into his hair until he slumped against her, his arms rising, grasping at her blouse.

“I’m so sorry,” she repeated. “We… Ominis and I, we buried her on that nice hill in Feldcroft. Ominis said she used to like the view there. It’s right under an apple tree, so she gets blossoms twice a year. We… we take a trip every couple of months to leave her fresh flowers. I was going to tell you Bassy, I swear I was, I just… I just didn’t know how to say it.”

Sebastian didn’t answer her, but his shoulders still shook with restrained sobs, the neck of her blouse growing sodden as she held him, the light outside dimming as the coolness of autumn pushed the twilight into the sky.

✧˖°⊹ ࣪ ˖ * ˖ ⊹°˖✧

It was almost nine o’clock by the time Sebastian stirred, and Dracaena cupped his cheek, tilting his face to hers and kissing him gently. Sebastian leaned into it with a low groan, but she pulled back, searching his face.

“You doing okay?”

It was a foolish question, but Sebastian nodded.

“I knew,” he said, his voice low. “I… knew… somehow. I just… didn’t know when. Thank you… for telling me.” He leaned in to brush his lips over hers once more. She allowed it for a moment, then moved to kiss his cheek.

“You should eat something,” she said. “We missed lunch, darling. You must be famished.”

Indeed, her stomach was doing a rather marvellous impression of a grumpy hippopotamus, but Sebastian shook his head.

“I’m… not hungry.”

She frowned a little. “Bassy, you have to. I don’t want you wasting away, there’s barely anything to you as it is.”

He shot her a glower, but far from upsetting her, her heart leapt. There was the Sebastian she knew, the argumentative, stubborn man she knew so well.

“I said… I’m not… hungry.”

She fought a smile. He’d been able to manipulate her once, using his charm and intelligence to sway her into doing almost anything he wanted. She’d not forgotten what she’d learned from him.

“Please?” she said, letting her eyes widen a fraction, her brow knitting. “For me, Bassy? I’m worried about you. Won’t you just have a little, to make me happy?”

He curled his lip in a sulky grimace, and it was a struggle not to laugh at such a display of petulance.

“The food here… tastes… like the way… Prewett’s robes… used to smell.”

“I’ll try not to be offended,” she said cheerily, and Sebastian shot her a guilty look.

“Sorry.”

She did laugh this time, and rumpled his hair, drawing a tiny smile from him. He allowed her to help him to his feet and lead him to the table, and he winced a little as they went.

“What is it?” she asked, peering at him in concern.

“Ache…” he said, and made an inarticulate gesture. “Legs… my back.”

“Hm.” Dracaena settled him at the table. “That’ll probably just be because you’re not used to moving around so much. Tell you what, I’ll make us some dinner, and if you eat it all, I’ll give you a massage, how’s that sound?”

Sebastian glanced at her, and she noted a definite spark of interest. “Alright.”

She quickly busied herself at the stove to hide her grin, ferreting around in the cupboards above. To her absolute delight, she discovered a pound of butter wrapped in wax paper hidden behind the tins. Yes, the Aurors had advised not to feed Sebastian anything too fatty, but he needed to put some weight back on, and soon. She repeated their first meal of white fish and beans, and absolutely drenched it in butter, crumbling a little salt over it for flavour. She’d have to ask Ominis if he could possibly send something a bit more hearty than the crap they’d been provided.

Sebastian brightened after the first mouthful, even smiling a little as he tucked in.

“Better?” Dracaena asked, the small dinner barely making a dent in her own hunger, but that mattered little.

“Yeah,” he said. “Much. Thanks.” He glanced at her, then away again, rubbing the back of his neck and giving a slightly exaggerated wince. “What… now?”

She withheld a smirk, knowing full well he was thinking of her hands gliding over his back. She was thinking of the exact same thing, and the realisation sent a flash of guilt into her belly. Merlin’s arse, she was engaged! She knew it would help him, to soothe his sore muscles, but she knew all too well where such things could lead. Whenever she favoured her fiancé with such a treat, it always ended in deliciously lazy, loving sex.

Her cheeks warmed as she thought of him, his alabaster form scattered with beauty marks melting under her hands. By god, she’d give anything to have him here. Even now, after years together, the thought of him made her stomach flutter.

Sebastian was still stealing furtive looks at her, and Dracaena smiled, tilting her head at the sofa. “Lie down over there, love. I won’t be a moment.”

Aside from when he’d had his fright from the Aurors knocking on the door, Dracaena was quite certain this was the fastest she’d seen Sebastian move as he almost darted for the sofa, perching on the edge as he fixed his eyes on her. She tidied up the plates, giving herself a mental pep talk, trying to convince herself to behave, to keep a firm line between the comfort he needed and letting things get too far.

Taking a steadying breath, she turned back to him and gestured for him to lie down. He obeyed instantly and she leaned over, plumping one of the cushions to rest his head on. She settled herself beside him and rested a hand on the small of his back.

“Usually this is done without a shirt,” she said, almost guiltily. “You don’t have to take it off, of course, only if you’re comf-”

He was struggling with the garment before she’d even finished speaking, and she huffed a soft laugh, reaching over to help him out of it. He gave her a shy smile, his eyes bright.

“You’re… okay with this?” he asked.

“Of course,” she replied with far more confidence than she really felt. She knew what Ominis liked, and his slender frame hid a surprising amount of taut, elegantly defined muscle. Sebastian was all skin and bones, what if she hurt him by accident? She swallowed past a drying throat. “Just… try to relax, okay? Let me know if you need me to stop or change anything, yeah?”

Sebastian nodded, closing his eyes as Dracaena set her palms on his shoulders, moving them in small, slow circles, watching the slice of profile she could see. His expression didn’t change, but his features relaxed a little, and a long, slow sigh left him as she slid her hands over his shoulder blades, applying light pressure. The motion seemed to soothe him, the tightness in his back easing slightly as she followed the direction of his spine, easing her hands almost to his hips, then back up to the base of his neck.

She tried to think of anything but the feel of him under her hands as she worked, but soon realised this was an exercise in futility as he let out a soft, breathy groan, wriggling his shoulders against her hands. Dracaena closed her eyes a moment, then increased the pressure marginally, the corner of her lips pulling out in a crooked smile when Sebastian hummed contentedly, his long, bony fingers digging into the sofa cushions. Each time she moved her hands down to his hips she paused, feeling him tuck them forward, pushing into the sofa.

She fought with herself for a solid half an hour until she decided she just couldn't do it. Not now. Not tonight. Dracaena drew a soft breath and pulled her hands away, her regret palpable.

“Better?” she asked, quietly.

Sebastian mumbled something unintelligible, reaching back for her hand. It didn’t take a genius for her to know what he was asking, but she couldn’t. Mustn’t. She took his hand instead, giving it a light squeeze, and he seemed to understand, a tiny, sad-sounding whine murmured into the sofa.

“I don’t want to do too much,” Dracaena whispered. “It… can damage your muscles if we do too much.”

While true, the excuse still rang hollow to her, and it was with no small level of guilt and confusion that she helped Sebastian roll onto his side and curl up around her, his head in her lap. She stroked his hair until he fell asleep, staring at the wall opposite as the room darkened to black around her. Whether she would manage the rest of the week without messing up again, she wasn’t sure, but no matter what he had said or implied, her Ominis deserved better than that.

Masterlist

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #mc x sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt x mc #hogwarts legacy fanfic #dracaena hoctina #post azkaban sebastian

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blingblong55 · 1 year

Text

Things said-141(and some more characters)

If you watched Ja'mie the private school girl I love you!

Pt2 to this post

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

R/n and ghost have a friendship where they basically share 1 brain cell every time they're together, this time its no different. They call for a meeting where they share their recent topic, basically 141 is forced to agree with their 'beliefs'

R/n: we'll be there for each other, like if one of us *nudges at ghost* got depression and wanted to k!ll themselves..

Ghost: then we as part of the 141 slayers promise, (name reader gave the team) we'll kill ourselves

R/n: yeah

Gaz: I didn't know it was that extreme

R/n: yeah it is

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Soap: where the fuck is my Coke Zero?

R/n and Ghost stare in silence

Soap to König: did you drink it?

*soap closes fridge and walks away*

Soap: fuck my life

König *clueless*: I ate a bread this mornin' it was amazing (please imagine him in his funny excited accent)

R/n: you're unique König

Soap: don't touch my Coke Zero! *in his harsh Scott accent*

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Price, soap and r/n are having a meeting in private. Soap logged in to readers laptop and saw a folder with pictures of gaz. (Folders title was: "My pookie bear")

R/n: how did you even get in?

Soap: isn't your password, gazmylover69?

R/n: little bitch

Price: r/n *in a stern tone*

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Price found out that r/n was trying to sell König on eBay for 14£, and Ghost was the buyer.

Price: the two of you are just as bad as each other, I'm disgusted

Ghost: good

R/n: *under their breath* next time I'll sell you

König is sitting outside waiting for the mailman

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Roach is now in charge of teaching r/n how to drive, this is after they 'accidentally' ran soap over. (he called r/n a little brit that looked like King Charles left butt cheek)

Gaz, Ghost, and alejandro are in the backseat. Roach, passenger and r/n driver seat.

R/n: why isn't the car moving?

Roach: because the hand brake is still on

R/n: well take the hand brake off!!....

Roach: r/n-

R/n: I told you to take it off before I get in!!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Soap was named "best soldier of the week" this includes a medal price custom made. R/n is pissed that he got it.

R/n: what I'm accusing you of is awarding the medal to a dumb fat Scott,

price: here we go again*under his breath*

r/n: when the most incredible soldier to ever grace this base, is being completely ignored

price: roll the tears *under his breath*

r/n: and treated like their the scum of the earth!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Rudy and r/n grew up together. But after he told them they weren't allowed to date anyone from 141 they got mad at him.

Rudy: no, its a final decision

r/n: just because Valeria ditched you for ale back in the day doesn't mean I can't get some

Rudy: you're just saying none sense

r/n: nonsense my ass

Rudy: no dating, no nothing

R/n: I wished I fucking drowned you as a child

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

It's no secret that König is crushing on r/n. However the feelings aren't mutual, because reader adores Price. This happened today after sparring.

R/n and König are sat in some stairs, resting from todays training.

König and reader are sitting side by side, he leaned in to kiss their cheek, this was the reaction he got:

R/n: okay..okay..so that was weird...

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Soap is helping r/n, they've been feeling a little low today. He was sitting in bed with them. Reader has been under their blanket all day

R/n: pass me my book please

Soap tries to give them their book but teases reader in the process. Reader is trying to reach for it but soap is really enjoying himself.

R/n: give me it! I've got clinical depression you fucking idiot!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

I hope you all liked this one! and yes it was all inspired by that show. If you want a part to lmk! ?<3

Tags: @piece-of-shit-outlaw

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cevansbrat0007 · 2 years

Text

Deliciously Sore

Summary: You allow Andy to take you in a way no other man has ever before.

Warnings: Smut, Anal Sex, Oral Sex (fem receiving), Finger Fucking, Cursing, Light Spanking, After Care, Minors DNI

A/N: Prompt courtesy of an Anonymous Reader who was curious about Andy and Reader's first time exploring backdoor play. This is also my first time writing something like this, so I hope it's okay. Part of my ongoing Growing Pains Series. Likes, comments, and reblogs are encouraged and appreciated. Semi-proofread, but not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Please enjoy and thanks for reading!

___

You’re finishing your night routine when you notice your man’s reflection behind you in the bathroom mirror. "Can I help you?”

“Yes.” He purrs, his brawny arms wrapping themselves around your waist. “You can start by losing the clothes and coming to bed.” One of his hands slides underneath your camisole. His fingers tracing little circles around your navel.

“Can I at least finish what I’m doing first? I need to put my hair up and –”

“Uh uh. I want it down.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to watch those beautiful curls of yours bounce while I fuck your ass from behind.” A shiver courses through you as he grinds his impressive erection against the curve of your panty-covered ass.

“Oh…” You whimper softly.

Andy’s sharp teeth go to nip at your jaw. “You gonna keep your promise, baby girl? Hm?” His wicked tongue laves at the small hurt. “You gonna give yourself to me tonight?”

“Pretty sure I give myself to you almost every night, Big Man.” You feel your heart speed up as you turn in his arms. “Come to think of it, I give up this good good all the time.”

“Yeah, but there’s one part of yourself that you haven't given me. And I think it’s high time you pay up.”

Blushing, you try to bury your face in his chest. “Why do you want it so bad?” You whisper, suddenly feeling bashful.

“Because you're mine, baby. And I want to own you in one of the most primal ways a man can own his woman.”

You feel your belly flutter at his words.

“You trust me to make it good for you? Swear to God, I’m gonna fill you up just right with my big, fat cock.” Andy punctuates his words with several sinful thrusts of his hips. “And you’re gonna love taking every inch.”

“Ah, is that right?” Your voice sounds rather breathless, even to your own ears. “Cuz’ I gotta be honest with you, sweetheart. I’m not really sure if you’re gonna fit.”

Your Andy Bear throws his head back as a short burst of laughter escapes his lips.

“Trust me, baby. I'll fit just fine.” He tells you as he quickly divests you of your black bra and matching lace panties.

That you didn’t doubt. Your boyfriend had been hinting at wanting you this way for weeks now. He’d been beyond excited when you'd let it slip that you were still very much a virgin…back there.

Swooping you up in his arms, Andy carts you out of the bathroom and lightly tosses you on his big, comfy bed. He makes quick work of getting you settled on a mountain of pillows before climbing on himself.

“Got me fucking starved for you, baby girl.”

Tonight, Andrew Barber was going to claim your body the way he’d been dreaming about. And you were going to let him.

“What do you mean – oh!” You cry out when your man parts your cheeks, exposing your dripping core and puckered hole to his hungry gaze.

“Look at that juicy little pussy.” He rasps as one of his thick fingers begins to toy with your entrance. “Always so fucking wet for me.” Leaning down, he buries his face between your parted thighs.

Legs shaking, you struggle to get control of your breathing as he delivers a hot, open mouthed kiss to his favorite part of you.

“Shit!” You mewl as he continues to fuck you with his fingers.

“That’s it, Y/N. Ride my fingers like a good girl.”

“Oh God, yes!” You cry out as stars burst behind your eyes. “Makin' that pussy cry...”

Fuck! You loved the way that man’s beard felt as it scraped against your most intimate flesh.

Your hands fist themselves in the sheets as your man devours yours sweetness, his expert tongue rhythmically flicking over your pulsating clit. Gathering some of your slick, his fingers briefly leave your passion-swollen folds to trace over your back hole.

“Bout to get you nice and stretched out for me so I can stuff you full.” Andy grunts, his passion-filled voice rumbling deep in his chest. “Can already tell this perky little ass is gonna fit me like a goddamned glove.”

A strangled moan escapes you when you feel his long, index finger begin to push against your puckered ring.

“Mmm…” You bite your knuckles as the sensations slowly begin to overwhelm your trembling body.

“Just relax and let me in.” He opens a bottle lube, drizzling the cool liquid over your hole. “There we go.” He takes his time stretching you open, allowing you to get used to him working you over in a way no other man has ever before.

You’d be lying if you said that you didn’t enjoy the burn of being opened like this.

“Want you inside me, Andy. Want to feel all of you.”

“You will. I’ma give you everything you want and more, baby girl. Just need to finish getting you ready for me.”

“Wanna be your good girl so bad…” You keen as your man adds a second finger, pumping in and out of you at an increasingly fervent pace. You begin grinding your needy pussy against the pillows, desperate for some kind of relief.

Eventually, your Big Man removes his fingers. You cry out at the loss, pushing your ass backwards for more.

Your man had said he was gonna fill you up, and it was about damned time he made good on that promise.

You’re so lost in your own thoughts that you almost miss the sound of a foil packet being torn open behind you. Seconds later, you feel something impossibly hard graze your back entrance. And then you hear something buzzing behind you.

A fucking vibrator.

Your hips jerk of their own accord when the toy finds your clit.

“Alright, Y/N. Be my sweet girl and let me in.” He hisses as his fingers dig into your hips, the tip of his cock pressing piercing your hole. Even though you want nothing more than to soothe the mounting pressure between your thighs, you grit your teeth and force yourself to take a moment to get used to the pressure.

“Can’t believe you're is giving me such a beautiful gift.” He growls, sounding positively feral as your muscles dutifully milk his cock. “Fucking luckiest man alive.”

“So full.” You whine as a thin sheen of perspiration covers your skin. “Ungh! It - it’s too much…”

“I know, baby. I know. But you can take it. Keep that ass up for Daddy and he’ll reward you shortly.” Andy’s free hand comes down hard on your left ass cheek for good measure as his hips piston in and out of you.

“That’s it, baby. Takin’ me so good.” He praises you as you bounce back on his dick again and again. “You’re makin’ your Daddy so proud, Y/N.”

He fucking loved watching your gorgeous jiggle. And it was all for him.

“Ah, God! Make my pussy cream, baby. Want you to really beat it up!”

Your wish is my command. Andy thinks to himself through his pleasure-fueled haze as he presses the purple bullet vibe back to your throbbing clit. He uses his other hand to thrust his hand in your hair, gripping the thick curls in his fist and yanking your head back for a bone-melting kiss.

“I love seeing you like this. All twisted up and greedy for my cock." He purrs, licking your cheek. "You make the prettiest little fuck toy.”

"Only for you, Daddy."

"Damned right only for me." Each word is peppered with a powerful thrust. Your man's pace never wavers, his hips never slowing down. You were so close to toppling over the edge you could taste it.

You were being fucked within an inch of your life, and you were loving every minute of it. And judging by the guttural sounds coming from behind you, so was your man.

"Cum for me, baby." He flips the vibrator to its highest setting. "Wanna watch you fall apart for me."

You do as he asks, letting your orgasm consume you as you spiral into bliss.

Andy is quick to find his own release soon after, a savage sound coming from his corded throat.

And then everything goes dark.

___

Moments later...

You come to as a large hand lovingly strokes your back.

“Stay right there for me.” Andy murmurs as he rises from the bed to dispose of the condom before heading to the bathroom to fetch a warm, wet cloth.

“Andy, I can -”

“Hush, sweet girl.” He calls out from the other room. “Cleaning you up is my privilege. Just relax and let me take care of you.”

“Yes, Sir.” You hum softly, resting your head back on your arms as you wait for him to return.

God, your body was deliciously sore.

Your man re-emerges a few moments later, not even bothering to hide his satisfied grin.

"You did so well for me, baby." He purrs as he kneels between your legs to tenderly wipe you clean. "I love you so fucking much."

"Mmhm." You drowsily mumble. "Ditto. Now hush and go bring a cigarette."

Your words catch Andy by surprise. "You don't smoke." He says with a laugh.

"No I don't. But after what we just did, I think I might start."

Your man simply shakes his head. "I'm afraid I'm fresh out. Looks like you'll have to settle for a glass of wine instead."

"Eh, I'll make it work. Now hurry up and pour us both a glass so we can snuggle. It hasn't even been five minutes yet and I'm already missing your big body."

"You're wish is my command, sweet girl."

END

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sentience-if · 16 days

Note

Let's say the Ro's came home late from work or traveling. When they open the door they saw Mc asleep on the couch and cuddle up to a stuff toy they got them. How would they feel and react? Also what toy would they get them? (dating stage)

Kat: a black cat, obviously, that always smells like her (she may or may not give it a perfume bath once a week) // lets Io sleep for a bit while she eats/changes/etc, just glancing over to watch them breathe every once in a while. once she's ready, she'll transition Io from cat to Kat

Val: a little dog with floppy ears; it was Val's to begin with (they don't even know where they got it from) and Io seemed to latch on to it in the early days. // takes a mental photograph, then wakes Io up to get them to a real bed. yes the dog is coming too

Klaus: I have no idea what situation would lead to Klaus giving someone a plushie, but it would be a classic teddy bear with a bow tie. just an absolute little unit // doesn't wake Io or comment on it later, but he does seem to be more careful with the bear from now on, always making sure it's in pride of place

Ira: some kind of bird, maybe a fat little owl, very round and squishy// makes sure Io has a blanket and tucks their hair out of their face. Pats the owl on the head and sternly whispers that it had better keep any nightmares away

Connie: something from a craft fair that Io had looked disappointed they couldn't afford. any animal will do, but it's handmade and high quality, and oh so soft// if Io looks comfy and warm, won't want to disturb them and goes to bed on their own. but the door stays open

#ask #sentience if #val #constantine #klaus #ira #kat

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frogchiro · 2 years

Note

Okay I know u wrote all the fluff but all this talk about being pregnant with Pierro just has me going crazy about Pierro having a breeding kink like,,,, he’s just watching ur stomach and breasts swell by the day and he’s just so turned on by the fact that he pumped you full of his seed and now ur gonna be bearing his children and now he wants to fill you up even more and wrap his large hands around your swollen body with a fierce possessiveness and,,, Yh it’s giving me major brain rot rn LMAOAO also not me being all red faces typing this and putting myself on anon to hide my shame but yh sorry if you’ve done this kind scenario before 💀💀

nonnie i'm literally ascending as i'm reading this >//<

yes to all of this. i just know that pierro being the dirty old man he is would definitely have a big fat breeding kink <3 not only before while trying to get you pregnant but also after the announcement he's just crazy for you and your changing body

f!reader, SMUT, breeding kink, pregnancy sex, feral pierro being driven wild by his little wifey's body <33

he's literally obsessed with you and your belly <3 sometimes he still can't believe that he was the one to get you like this, all full and heavy with his pups; but every time he gets to grab your widening hips and gently run his big scarred hands up and down your belly as he thrusts up into you he's reminded anew that he was the one to breed you good and gets to father your babies

since getting you pregnant and you growing more and more heavy with each week he didn't want to cause harm to you or your pups while making love to you, so he resorted to doing it while on your sides and gods was this something entirely different

now only he gets to be as close to you as possible, plastered against your back, but now he can nuzzle your neck and cheek, grope your full breasts and caress your belly as much as he wants to <3 just the thought that his seed did this to you, that the product of your love for each other is growing right now inside you drives pierro wild, a new sudden surge of protectiveness and fierce possessiveness washed over him, a deep growl making its way out of his mouth as he dipped down to your neck and delicately grabbed it in his sharp teeth, listening to your delighted moans as you lifted your hand to hold your husband's head still

yeah, pierro is indeed very much possessive and protective over you and your future babies AND has a raging breeding kink <3

#kin speaks #asks #interactions #thirst #me and pierro repopulating khaen'riah <3 #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #fatui x reader #genshin impact fatui #genshin impact smut #pierro x reader

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slowlyhardgoatee · 10 months

Text

Hey you, kid. C’mere a second. I wanna talk to you.

I’ve been on this campsite for a couple days now, and I could have sworn I saw you earlier today in the men’s shower block. You were showering with your cubicle door wide open, and every time anyone walked by who looked like they were over 60, you dropped your soap and bent over to pick it up.

I know what you were trying to do, boy. Not very subtly, either, I might add. Did you get any by trying that? No? Hmmm.

Well, I’m no queer, but I do appreciate a nice firm arse when I see one, and son, you’ve sure got one of those.

Now, how old are you, boy? Nineteen, you say? Hmmm. Good. I’m a good 45 years older than you, boy. Turned 64 just last week. I’m here on holiday to celebrate. Celebrating a couple of things, really. See, my divorce got finalised a couple of days back. The ex-wife didn’t like what she found on my hard drive, let’s just leave it at that. Like I say, I’m no queer, but sometimes nothing does the trick like putting a boy in his place on camera.

Do you need to be put in your place, boy? Eh? I think you do. I think that’s exactly what you need. I think that’s why you were putting on a little show in the showers this morning.

All right, then. Let’s go over to my van.

Now we’re inside, you’ve got a choice to make, boy. On your knees? Or over my knee? What’s it gonna be, son?

Over my knee, eh? You need a good spanking, do you boy? Yeah, that’s what I thought. Keep up that ‘Yes, Sir’ talk, and all. Getting me harder and harder.

Over you go then, boy. You want it with my bare hands, a slipper, or my belt?

Sir’s bare hands, did you say? Good choice. Let’s see, I think 19 slaps should do it.

One… two… three… - Are you hard, boy? You are. Let me finish up here first, and I’ll deal with that in a moment.

Seventeen… eighteen… nineteen. And one more for good measure. Now to deal with your cock.

On your knees, faggot boy. You want Sir’s fat cock in your faggot mouth, don’t ya? Eh? Yeah. Well I’ll tell you what, boy. You can slobber all over my cock for as long as you want - but you’ll do it wearing a slave collar. Once the collar goes on, it doesn’t come off. You will become my property. Fully and completely Owned. What do you say to that, faggot?

Dirty little slut. I can’t believe you just begged me to collar you. I’m just about old enough to be your fucking granddad, boy. But that’s what gets you off, isn’t it? Fat old men old enough to be your granddad. Well, then it’s settled. Once you’re all collared up, we’re gonna spend a nice, long afternoon together. Me with my feet up and smoking a cigar, you on your knees with my cock head rammed against your fucking tonsils. And we’ll see where it goes from there. I know there’s a gay sex club in the town here, boy. I think I might be taking you down there tomorrow night and renting your holes out in the fucking toilets to fat old bears.

For now, open wide, faggot. Time for you to taste Sir’s meat. If you’re a good boy, I’ll let you cream all over my fucking boots when I’ve finished raping that throat.

#faggot slave #pigboy #breedpig whorehole sirsbelt discipline cumdump faggotslave

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johannestevans · 1 year

Text

Tailor's Hands

Romance short. A newly out man falls for a local tailor.

3k, M/M, rated M. Sweet and short, some bantering back and forth, some shyness and sillinness, some cute cats! Featuring Pothos Hearn. Adapted from a TweetFic.

Remember to reblog if you enjoy! <3

Also on Medium / / and Patreon.

---

Davis has been in the closet all his life. That’s what they call it, closeted.

His mother would never have accepted it if she’d known, always hoped and prayed every day that he’d finally meet a girl and settle down with her, and if he’d ever have let on what he was… Well, she’d have died earlier than she did, and he couldn’t bear it, the idea. He’d loved her, truly, he had.

She’s been in the ground three weeks when he first goes into a gay bar. He’s forty-six years old and he feels like he’s entering a whole new world, a new society – no one recognises him, but he still feels their gazes on him, feels late to the party.

Another man his age calls him “sweetheart” when he says hello, slips into the seat beside him at the bar, and a few minutes later his hand is on Davis’ knee, and Davis is giggling, giddy, can’t get over it.

He experiments. He plays.

It’s so much easier than he ever dreamed it would be, no matter that he’s so late at this, no matter that it’s all so new.

Months into his new self, his new life, his new everything – his new happiness, the flower that’s bloomed out of grief, a man walks into his local bar. He’s very popular, it turns out, and Davis isn’t surprised by that.

He’s a fat little tailor, handsome and smooth with beautiful hands, and he always has men in his lap. He’s so confident Davis can hardly believe it. He’s confident, he owns himself, he talks a lot and is so opinionated, and so funny.

He’s good at his work, does tailoring for everyone in town and nearby, and Davis has been working up the courage to go in and ask him to tailor something, anything, just as an excuse to make conversation.

He comes into the bar one night and he’s just looking at him, just glancing the tailor’s way, and he says, “You’re always examining me. Has it never occurred to you that you might touch as well?”

Davis is stock still, stunned by the question, at being addressed.

The tailor pats his knees.

Suddenly, Davis is bright red and burning and trying not to sweat as he says, “Oh, no, I… I can’t. I’m much too big to sit in your lap.”

“Do you think you’re the biggest man to ever sit in my lap? I can assure you, you’re not.”

“I’m too old.”

“Am I Santa Claus?”

“Eh?”

“Am I Santa Claus? Father Christmas? Do I look as if I set a maximum age requirement to sit in my lap?”

“I’m too old for you, I meant.”

“You’re not even fifty, are you? I’ve fucked men older than you, let alone had them in my lap.”

“I… don’t know,” Davis mumbles. He’s not been in someone’s lap since he was a boy, he doesn’t think.

The tailor laughs. He has a wonderfully expressive laugh, and bright eyes, and he wears jewellery in his ears. “You don’t know, is that it? You’ve never sat in a man’s lap before? Come here, let me tutor you.”

“I—”

“You’re not too old for me, in any case, I’m younger than I look,” says the tailor. “I’m thirty-seven.”

“You’re not,” Davis says immediately, but it makes something relieved and a little bit ashamed surge in his chest. The tailor laughs again.

“Kind of you to agree I don’t look it,” he says, “but yes, thirty-seven is right. What are you, forty-six?”

“I… Yes. That’s right. Spot-on.”

“I always get the bullseye in darts, too,” says the tailor, waggling his eyebrows. “I’m ever so cold, though. Come warm me up.”

It’s unthinkable, really. Davis has spent the whole of his life secretively reading romance novels and watching romantic films and it had always felt like something he’d grow out of, wanting to be in the woman’s position in one of those stories. He thought when he came out, as they called it, that he’d shake it off – that he could have the real thing, be with men, that he wouldn’t want to be… What? Wooed? Seduced?

And it is different. Things are different, in many ways better than he might have imagined, so much more casual than he had expected, men with men… But no one has wooed him. No one’s made him feel small and precious and delicate.

It was meant to just be fantasy, just be his imagination. It was meant to be different. And yet there’s something about this, something wonderful about it, that speaks to everything he’s ever craved, every wanted.

The tailor pats his knees again.

He strides suddenly forward, stiff and awkward, hands at his sides, and the tailor’s delicate hands settle solid and warm on his waist, turning him to the side before one palm splays on his belly. He can’t breathe and he feels light-headed at the touch.

The tailor’s thighs, fat and plush but a little awkward to perch on because he’s not a tall man, are comfortable and so warm he could cry. He’s aware of the tailor’s belly pressing against his side, the tailor’s hand coming up to squeeze his shoulder.

“Oh my God,” he whispers, and the hand on his belly presses down in a way that makes him breathlessly laugh. It tickles him and overwhelms him.

“You needn’t call me that,” he says. “My name is Pothos Hearn.”

“I’ve never sat in a man’s lap before,” he says giddily, and he realises he has no idea where to put his hands. “You were right about that, too.”

Pothos, apparently sensing his hesitation, tugs one of his hands up to his neck, encouraging him to touch him there, to put his fingers in Pothos’ hair.

“Your hair is so curly,” he whispers. “And so thick.”

“And that’s just the hair on my head,” says Pothos, and he laughs. “What’s your name, old man?”

“I’m not that much older than you!”

“Mmm, you act older, though,” says Pothos, pouting his pretty lips. “It’s appealing.”

“Davis,” he says quietly: without his permission, the hand not wrapped around Pothos’ neck has settled on top of the hand he’s holding to Davis’ belly. His fingers feel strong.

“Where have you been all my life, Davis?” asks Pothos, and Davis shivers.

“Don’t tease.”

“Oh, but I’m a teaser by nature. I have to.”

“Do you have to, or do you like to?”

“I absolutely have to do things I like doing.”

Davis turns his head to look down at him, and Pothos gives him a smirk, his eyes glittering. His clothes smell faintly of lavender and camphor – Davis has heard him mention it, heard him say he keeps dried flowers in his wardrobe and his drawers, flowers and wood oils. It’s a traditional way of keeping out pests, and he likes the smell.

Davis does too.

“What do you do, Davis?”

“I’m a health and safety inspector, a risk management specialist.”

“Foresee any risks in this situation?”

“I might die.”

“Oh, don’t die,” murmurs Pothos, shifting his hand out from under Davis’ and interlinking their fingers. “I’m enjoying you.”

Davis lets out an involuntary noise, his thumb touching against Pothos’ hand, stroking over the side of it.

“Did you move here recently?” he asks, and Davis shakes his head; Pothos has spread his surprisingly strong thighs out a bit, giving him a wider seat, and Davis almost wishes they were lying down so he could sprawl entirely on top of him. “I’ve never seen you about.”

“I only came out this year.”

“Oh?”

Davis bites his lip, nodding his head, doesn’t meet his eyes, and Pothos leans forward, wrapping his arms around Davis’ middle and resting his cheek on his shoulder. Davis wants to cry, it feels so warm and secure and really quite wonderful, because no one’s ever touched him like this, not since he was a child, and yet part of him aches to hold Pothos’ hand again.

“You’re so handsome,” he says. “And charming. Everybody here loves you.”

“I do have my admirers,” Pothos agrees. “I’m sure you’ve plenty of time to accumulate your own.”

“No.”

“No,” Pothos repeats, seeming amused.

“I just meant— I’m not like you. I’m too old, and I’m not handsome and not pretty either, and I’m… People don’t want a man like me. Inexperienced and that, at my age.”

“How inexperienced?”

Davis risks a glance down. Pothos Hearn looks like he could eat him alive.

“I, um,” he mumbles, and Pothos looks up at him wit his eyes alight, his hands interlinking with one another and coming to rest on Davis’ hip again, squeezing.

“You’ve really got quite a lovely body,” says Pothos. “Jog, do you?”

“I— Yeah. Yeah, I, I jog. And I row.”

“Ah, that’ll be it,” murmurs Pothos, squeezing tighter and making Davis shiver, his knees pressing together. Pothos’ fingers are dancing over the surface of his abdomen, feeling the lines of the muscle there. “You row at school?”

“Yes.”

“You compete now?”

“In the local stuff.”

“Lots of trophies on your wall?”

“A few. Do you?”

“Have trophies? Oh, yes. Several. Not for sports, I’m afraid. I’d sooner kill a man before I ran a marathon – running a marathon might well kill me.”

“For tailoring?”

“Mmm-hmm. I’ve won all sorts of little awards.” His fingers tap against Davis’ waist, and Davis’ breath hitches in his throat. “I bet you’re a lovely mannequin.”

“I’m not handsome enough to be a model,” Davis demurs. Pothos chuckles, looking up at him, and Davis grips at the back of his hair – it makes Pothos sigh in a pleasured way Davis can’t quite cope with.

“Certainly you are,” he disagrees. “But I said mannequin.”

“What’s the difference?” asks Davis, and Pothos’ fingers creep up his side, up toward his armpit, making him laugh and squirm and then feel guilty, because there’s not quite enough space to squirm.

“A model is to be looked at. A mannequin, on the other hand, one touches.”

Davis laughs, feeling his cheek burns. “I don’t think that’s exactly the distinction.”

“Oh, it is,” says Pothos. “Trust me, I’m an expert. You can arrange a mannequin too, move it around, move it here, move it there. Bend it over.”

“You’re going to bend me over?”

“I thought you might bend me over,” says Pothos, sliding one hand up his back and making him shudder again. “But I don’t suppose I can make you do that, can I?”

“I don’t exactly need to be made. That sounds nice.”

Pothos’ laugh is a peal of bells. “Nice,” he repeats. “Is that how it sounds?”

“You can’t expect someone to be all well-spoken and that when you’re holding him in your lap.”

“Oh, I can do. I’m setting you a challenge, darling.”

“You’re the challenge.”

“Mmm, quite right.” Pothos’ hand comes up to cup the side of his jaw, and Davis loses the ability to breathe, feeling it catch in his throat or in his chest or somewhere. Pothos’ hand feels soft and delicate, but Davis can feel the muscle is strong. “Would you like to come home with me tonight, Davis?” asks Pothos quietly, his voice a warm purr, and Davis swallows.

“To be your mannequin?” he asks.

“If you like. I was thinking a bottle of wine and some sex, but I’m happy to pin something to you.”

Davis turns in his lap, stumbling almost out of it as he rushes to straddle Pothos’ thighs. The movement is clumsy, unpractised – there are men who come here who are really very good at moving in people’s laps, sitting in them, are used to it. He’s not one of them. Pothos seems anything but surprised that he’s trying anyway, his lips smirking, his hands sliding down from Davis’ hips to cup his arse.

“I’ve only done a bit,” Davis admits. “A bit. Not saying I’m a forty-year-old virgin, but I’m not exactly— what you’re used to.”

“Oh, I don’t like to get used to anything,” says Pothos, squeezing, his fingers pressing into the meat of Davis’ buttocks. “Variety is the spice of life, I always say.”

When Davis leans in, he hesitates once their noses brush against one another, and Pothos laughs before he closes the gap, tugging Davis down so that they’re mouth-to-mouth. His lips are so soft Davis can hardly believe it, plusher than anything. Pothos nips at Davis’ lower lip when he parts his to let Pothos kiss him more deeply, and Davis gasps in a hiccoughing noise, surprised at the heat and tingle the moment of pain leaves. His body feels hot and flushed all over.

He shifts his position, trying to adjust how he sits so that his legs aren’t as strangely cramped against the bench Pothos is sitting on, but he ends up almost grinding against Pothos’ belly, and the noise that comes out of him is torn out and ragged.

“Oh, the sweet sound of inexperience,” says Pothos musically, leaning in and nipping at the edge of Davis’ neck before inhaling deeply. “I do love noises like that. I’ll have to wring every one of them out of you.”

“Fuck,” says Davis.

“Yes, dear. That’s the plan.”

* * *

That night, Davis lies in Pothos’ bed, feeling as though he’s been wrung out like a cloth. He’s underneath a soft fleece blanket, propped up on pillows, watching Pothos feed his tarantula. He has another cage full of crickets, and he’s taken two of them out with chopsticks to pass them into her.

Pothos had offered to “introduce” Davis to the tarantula, which Davis has politely refused, but he’s interested in watching from this safe distance, craning his neck, as she comes out from her little log tunnel and pounces on one of the insects.

“What’s her name?” he asks.

“Tom Selleck.”

Davis laughs, his hand over his mouth, and he looks at Pothos’ boxer-clad arse, which is tempting him to get up and reach out to touch him even though he’s pretty sure he’d have a heart attack if he tried to have sex again tonight.

He thinks it might be worth it.

“Are your cats going to fight all night?” he asks after another miaowing scream and a thump filter in from the hall, and Pothos glances back at him, chuckling as he puts the lid on Tom Selleck’s tank.

“They’ll stop if I open the door – they’re fighting because they both want to get into the bedroom. Do you mind?”

“No, no,” says Davis. “I mean, they live here – I don’t. I always, ah. I always wanted cats. I just… couldn’t.”

“Why not?” asks Pothos, opening up the door, and Davis watches first a tubby orange cat rush in, its belly wobbling as it moves, followed by a tortoiseshell who seems to be made of muscle.

“My mother was allergic,” says Davis. “I lived with her my whole life. I, uh, I never… That’s weird. Sorry.”

“No,” says Pothos. “My sisters still live with my parents, and my grandmother, too. My aunts. You were her only son?”

“Yeah.”

“Then it makes sense you’d live with her and take care of her,” says Pothos, shrugging his shoulders. He picks up the muscular tortoiseshell when she tries to tug open the wardrobe, and Davis watches him fasten the doors shut with one of those child locks that goes over the door knobs. “She likes to get in and shed on my clothes,” he explains.

“Where do your family live?”

“Brighton, at the moment,” says Pothos mildly. “Until they get moved on again.”

“Oh,” says Davis, but he smiles when Pothos deposits the tortie in his lap – she’s heavy, and she purrs like an engine, falling onto her back and leaning back into his legs. “Pothos.”

“Hm?”

“Would you… like to go for dinner?”

“You’re hungry?”

“Not tonight, well— Yeah, a bit, I suppose, I could eat, but I just meant… Would you like to go out, another night? Or, or I could cook for you, if you wanted. I’m a good cook.”

Pothos looks down at him, his lips softly curved into a smile. “I’m not the sort of man people ask to dinner, you know,” he says quietly, not sounding too troubled about it. He says it as if he’s helpfully informing Davis of a faux-pas he’s made, a small error he hasn’t realised. “Being the sort of man I am. I’m really very fuckable, but not particularly romanceable.”

Davis feels nervous, uncertain. He wonders if he’s overstepping. “Do you want to be?”

“I would hardly complain.”

“Then— Then I’ll do it. You’ll have to be patient.”

“Is that so?”

“I’m not well-practised.”

“Well, that’s alright,” murmurs Pothos, cradling the big orange cat in his arms like a baby and making his way over. “As I said, nor am I.”

“What are they called?” asks Davis, scratching the tortie under her chin.

“This is Marmalade, you’re holding Marmite,” says Pothos. “The other one is Nutella.”

“There’s another one?”

“She’s shy, I’m afraid, not a slut for attention like these two. You’ll have to romance me for some while just to get a glimpse of her.”

“Okay,” says Davis.

When he looks up from Marmite’s belly to Pothos’ face, he sees a blossom of redness in his round cheeks, the skin darkening to show the colour, and Pothos looks like he’s trying to hide his smile, or trying not to giggle.

“Okay,” he repeats, and Davis swallows. “We’ll do that then.”

“We’ll do that,” Davis agrees.

They order in a takeaway and eat in their underwear, which Davis thinks foolishly is saving his clothes until he realises that Marmite has found where they’re folded and is sleeping on top of them.

Pothos scolds her on his behalf, and he looks wonderful doing it.

FIN.

Pothos Hearn also appears in:

#musings #fiction #original fiction #gay romance

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stitch1830 · 8 months

Note

Those two angsty pieces put me in the mood for something a little more light-hearted, so Misc #16 for Toko?

LJF, hello! Thanks for the ask :D I seem to have the bug for writing today, and so I figured I'd write this up and post it right away haha. Hope the this is hits the light-hearted Toko spot!

......

Toko - Misc - #16 - “YOU SAID TO BE HONEST STOP HITTING ME!”

“Ugh!”

Zuko looked up from his scroll, setting his morning tea down to look across the bedroom. The sound was undoubtedly coming from the closet, and he had a feeling he knew what was up.

Still, Zuko found himself asking his wife, “Everything okay?”

Toph let out a loud sigh, hollering back. “I feel like I look stupid.”

“What?”

“I feel ginormous and I feel like if I walk out of this closet I’m going to appear as big as a platypus bear.”

A faint smile played at Zuko’s lips, but he quickly wiped it away as he stood up and walked toward the closet. “I’m sure that’s not true, Toph. Besides, no one is going to care. And if they do, you’ll just throw a boulder at them.”

“Still! Everyone’s coming to the palace today, and you know one of the dunderheads is gonna say something.”

“Aang and Sokka know better than to say something, Toph,” Zuko said. “Remember when they came here before Kaede was born? They definitely learned their lesson.”

He remembered that particular day fondly, for it felt like the perfect storm of comedic and chaotic timing how both Sokka and Aang opened their big mouths at the same time. They just had to let Toph know how big she looked just a week before she was due. If Toph hadn’t skyrocketed them in the air with her earth pillars, Zuko probably would’ve lit their pants on fire. Now, of course, they could laugh at the memory. At the time, though, Toph’s wrath was not so funny to the boys. Now, Zuko hope for their sake that they knew better than to speak on the appearance of a pregnant woman, especially if that woman was Toph Beifong.

And yet, Toph still felt self-conscious enough to feel that Aang and Sokka hadn’t learned their lesson. “Yes,” she began, “but I wasn’t pregnant with twins then. I look twice as big now!”

With crossed arms, Zuko replied, “Okay, well let me see, and I’ll be the judge of that.”

Toph let out a sigh, then emerged from the closet with the biggest pout on her face. “Tell me I don’t look huge. You can’t.”

Every time he saw Toph’s glowing, growing figure, his heart skipped a beat. She wore a loose-fitting Fire Nation robe, and while Zuko truly thought she was stunning, the garment didn’t really do her any favors. It draped over her round belly, and, well…

It made her appear rather tent-like.

The man began to sweat. How on earth was he supposed to tell her that even though she was the most beautiful woman in the world that this particular robe made her look bigger than she actually was?

Zuko swallowed the lump in his throat, beginning the conversation by peppering her with compliments. “You look beautiful, Toph.”

“That’s not saying I don’t look fat.”

“Toph, come on. You’re pregnant with twins. No one really cares what you look like or what you’re wearing. They’re all just coming here to celebrate!”

“Zuko. I will call up every single one of our friends right now if you don’t tell me the truth. Do. I. Look. Fat.”

This was a lose-lose situation for the firebender. To lie and say she didn’t look fat would earn him a one way trip to the polar-bear-dog house, for she would certainly catch him in the lie.

If he was honest? Well, that was bound to end in disaster, too.

Spirits help Zuko.

He let out a sigh, and mumbled, “You—the robes make you look a little big—”

Zuko was immediately attacked Toph’s tiny but mighty fist, causing him to shout and yell, “Ow! Qu—Toph! Cut it out! I was just telling the truth—”

“You said I look fat!”

“You said be honest! Stop hitting me!!” he hissed.

“No!”

“Toph—what was I supposed to do? Lie?”

“Yes!”

“You would’ve caught me in the lie!”

Toph paused for half a second, then continued to smack his shoulder. “That—that’s not the point! You should know better!”

“I tried to steer you a different direction—”

“Steer?! Am I more like a cow? Is that it?”

“No! No, nothing close to a cow—Toph. You really are beautiful.”

“Just not right now, is that it?” “I never said that—” “Oh, save it. I’m calling Katara right now so she’s ready to kick your ass into the next Sozin Comet.”

Spirits help Zuko. This was going to be a long day.

......

Send me writing asks if you don't mind waiting a bit! Lol

#toko #toph #toph beifong #zuko #atla #writing #quote writing prompts #my asks #thanks for the ask!#ljf #Poor zuko #there was no way he was getting out of this convo lmaoo #send me asks!

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mioyeo · 2 years

Text

I’m a Dad ?! : 1# MEETING HIM

Just to be left with a baby all of the sudden when your just a growing teenager yourself isn’t easy

Pairing : player!Choi San x Ateez

Warnings : this chapter includes Meantions of illnesses , Slight fat shaming without knowledge, breakdowns,arguments, mentions of sexual inter course , character dead

Word count: 1,7k

He laid down exhausted from another night with one of his toys , the girls where all annoying so they ended up having to leave before he reached his limit

Everyone knew him as the player " Choi " , every girl in town had a crush on him because of his amazing looks and flirtatious ways of speaking to them

San stood up going to his balcony as he starred at the busy night time in Seoul letting the wind blow through his hair as he closed his eyes

Sometimes the question was , did he really want to keep being a player ? what type of future would he have if he kept his ways ?

" San come out dinner is ready ! "

One of his roommates called out for him making the male step out the balcony and go out the room just to be attacked with the delicious smell coming from the kitchen

" It smells so good in here "

He sat down smiling as the other roommates came out and sat down as well

“Wooyoung’s skills ain’t no joke ”

" Glad you guys like my food, but let's eat before it gets cold "

They paced each other's plates and started digging in

" So how was your hook up ? I saw her ran out crying as I was coming in "

Yunho asked as he held in the urge to laugh

" Horrible I yelled at her for scratching me hard on the back , they don't satisfy me anymore it was all fun at first but now it's just plain irritating with these dumb ass girls "

" I mean all you want is to get laid so it really shouldn't be a problem to bear with them ? "

Hongjoong laughed as he took a sip of his water looking at San

" What do you mean bear with it ? , she dug her long ass nails on my back it hurts "

" So what type of s3x do you like since the aggressive one is not for you ? "

" He likes the gentle one where the girls whisper sweet things to him as he moans softly for more , and he has a neck kiss kink "

Everyone looked at Jongho surprised

" What ? He was talking about it to her "

" Jongho did you spy on me ?! "

He shook his head scooping the food into his mouth

" Yeah I heard it too, let's say you where kinda loud when that happened "

Seonghwa and Mingi laughed clearly amused by the look on San’s face

" Wait are we talking about that one girl San incredibly dated for months almost a year ? "

" Yeah , where is she actually ? It's been a while since I saw her at the flower "

Yunho asked looking for an answer

" She actually left San and said he deserved someone who'd last longer than she would whatever that meant and just left him standing in the rain "

Wooyoung said sighing seeing San gripping his cup hard

" Is that why he became like this ? "

" I'd say yes , it was his way of handling the pain and heartbreak "

He scoffed at the way they talked about him as if he wasn't even there in the first place

" I almost forgot to say I actually saw her last week , she looked really pale and horrible let alone she seemed to have gained weight "

Hongjoong said looking at San

" That's her problem I don't care , and can we please stop talking about her ? I'm over it "

San said almost slamming his hands on the table

" Chill dude , since your over it why do you care if we talk about her ? "

Yeosang said pouring juice into his cup

" Yeah why do you care you guys broke up "

" Because she fucking left me ! Do you like talking about people who hurt you ?! "

He yelled at Mingi with anger filled in his voice

" San calm down he didn't mean it to sound that w-"

" No Seonghwa I meant what I said, why does he care ? They clearly broke up "

Mingi stopped the elder from defending him as he crossed his arms looking at San

" Why do you care ? , I can talk as much as I want about her she's not yours anymore you said you've moved on so what's the deal? "

" Nobody talks to their friends about their ex "

San yelled again

" San ! Stop yelling and Mingi drop it "

Wooyoung yelled at both of them to stop

" Wooyoung's right stop yelling it's late already so stop making unnecessary drama "

Hongjoong held Mingi back who had a frown on his face

" You guys really are some- "

Seonghwa was cut off by their house phone ringing

" Hello who's there ? "

" Good evening, This is Seouls hospital am I perhaps talking to Choi San ? "

" Ah , no it's his friend but why is the hospital calling him for and this late ? "

Everyone looked at him confused when he said hospital

" Well we tried to reach for any relatives of the deceased but just found this number on a peace of paper saying Choi San , and we need him to come and get something "

" Ok we'll be there shortly ..... thank you bye "

Seonghwa looked at the confused boys

" San you need to go to the hospital urgently someone you apparently know passed away and they need you to get something "

San's eyebrows knitted together in confusion, he didn't understand what Seonghwa meant

" San ! you need to go to the hospital now hurry and let's go don't just stand there ! "

Seonghwa snapped his fingers at him

" Let's go ! "

..........

San was still dumbfounded by everything that was happening but still dragged himself inside the hospital and walked to the receptionist

" Excuse me miss , I was called suddenly to be here because someone I apparently knew passed away and they want me to get som-"

" Choi San ?! "

" Yeah that's my na- "

" We have been waiting for you follow me ! "

The nurse rushed towards the baby station making him confused to why he was there

" Why are we in the Baby section ? "

" Sir , as you see that tiny one with the Shiba-Inu onesie is your son his mom just passed away after birth , we have tried to get her to stay strong but she gave up the battle in the end "

" But I don't have a child and I wasn't expecting a child this must be a mistake I'm not the only Choi San that exits "

The nurse checked him out to be sure before saying anything else

" But you are the guy in the picture thought see "

She pulled out a mini picture

The picture

" So are you really going to tell me that this isn't really you either sir ? "

He looked at the picture feeling strange

" And there is a message behind it too , I feel bad for you having to loose a loved one "

" I want a DNA test , this isn't enough to prove that I'm related to that child in there "

The nurse signaled him to follow her towards the lab

" Here , they will take your Saliva or even blood for a test so wait outside "

"Here , they will take your Saliva or even blood for a test so wait outside "

" San what is all this ? "

Hongjoong asked as he looked at the younger who had a frown on his face

" I don't know , their are telling me that I am father of some random child I don't know "

San looked up to him feeling some type of uneasiness rush throughout his whole body

" And are you waiting for the results? "

" No , the results will come in some days "

He sighed sitting down as he flipped the photo and started reading the message , the hand writing seemed very familiar too

The message

𝘏𝘦𝘺 𝘣𝘶𝘣𝘴 , 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘐'𝘮 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘐𝘯 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘐 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘶𝘱 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯 , 𝘴𝘰 𝘐'𝘮 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 . 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘺 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳 , 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 way to 𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘬𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘺 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘐 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘸 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 , 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘐 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘯 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘐 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘣𝘢𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘶𝘭𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘪 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘐 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 , 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘚𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘐'𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 , 𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰u

“ J-Jasmine ”

He stuttered her name choking on his tears as he fell to his knees

" Choi San the results will be available in s-"

" I'll take my son with me "

" Oh... ok , we will get him ready to leave with you so please wait at the baby station "

San started throwing the chairs around angrily

" Why did you lie to me ?! "

Seonghwa who had read the message behind the picture held him tight into his embrace

" San it's ok , let's get the little one and go home so you can rest i under- "

" You don't fucking understand me Seonghwa ?! I was left with a child and sh-he is dead how will I get over it , all this time I’ve been blaming her ! "

He shed tears hiccuping without an end

" What if I'll be a bad dad ? I'm still a child myself , I barely finished college "

" San please it's never to late for you to grow up and be someone for your child , you know we are here we will help you through this "

Yunho hugged him patting his back

" Guys look how cute and tiny he is "

Wooyoung whispered smiling at the baby carrier

" He indeed looks like his dad "

Yeosang teased making San smile with tears

" Really ? Can I see him "

San asked wiping his tears , all his worries suddenly gone as he starred at his son

" He-e is so adorable and beautiful an-nd looks just like his mom "

He sucked in his tears smiling at the tiny baby that grabbed his finger smiling with his closed eyes

" See your already bonding with him "

Mingi said patting his back

" Guys let's leave its so depressing here with all these machines beeping "

Hongjoong said making everyone go out towards the family van

" Now that you've become a dad San you should really stop sleeping around "

Seonghwa said and San nodded unable to stop staring at the little one that he grew to love

I'll protect you will all my strength my Sanie~

#choi san #ateez atiny #ateez seonghwa #ateez san #ateez wooyoung #ateez hongjoong #ateez mingi #ateez jongho #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #ateez imagines #ateez #ateez x reader #ateez angst #ateez fluff

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