#i have a headache right now. and a tummy ache. such is life | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rosedom · 2 months

Note

AHHHH HELLOOO sorry i usually dont request much, haha this is actually my second request in all of my tumblr story ever but...i saw you decided to write for gaming and i just couldnt resist, i love your writing a lot and i just think its so immaculate hahaa. Could you write an scenario where male reader is stressed from work (imagine he has an important job like a doctor or something whatever you want is fine :)) because he has been working days nonstop, so much that his boyfriend is all worked up and horny for him so when reader comes back he finds himself straddled by him while hes begging for fucking? With cockwarming, breeding kink and cowgirl position. Could that be with Gaming, Lyney and Gorou? SORRY IF IM ASKING MUCH I DONT WANT TO BE A BOTHER😭😭 i just dont know how to request but thanks for reading all of rant. And again, thank you and sorry for bothering😔 have a nice day/afternoon/night!

"an unnamed player has invited GA-MING, LYNEY, and GOROU to play . . . an apple a day

✦ㅤㅤ 【 CW 】 dom!top!male!reader, sub!bottom!ftm!characters, vaginal sex & riding, breeding kink + creampies, creaming (lyney), gratuitous praise + petnames .

A/N : aa u are never a bother !! i am SO SORRY this took so long for me to get to, omg . . . but i had sm fun with this (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

"do you want to watch, [PLAYER]? press KEEP READING to spectate the match."

Patient after patient after patient, each one with a more downright stupid trouble than the last. Your day had started with a young man, clearly fresh out of Millelith training, complaining of a tummy ache, of all things! He had clutched his stomach and moaned and groaned, and all you could prescribe him was bedrest. It’s not like you were going to waste medicine—medicine that some people needed—on someone who ached because he didn't eat fucking breakfast.

The next patient was an older woman, here only for her biannual check up. You'd greeted her, said a sweet, “Good morning, madame,” but all she did was turn her snobby nose up at you and demand you not waste her time.

“Madame, you have a serious—”

“I know, young man.” You had heaved a sigh, letting her boss you around for the length of her appointment before sending her off with the exact same specifications as last time: take vitamins, get ample rest, stop talking back to people just doing their jobs. (Though, that last one there was merely something you wished you had said.

Too bad the customer—in this case, patient—is always right, huh?)

But, by the end of the day, you wish, instead, that you had simply elderly after elderly; their disrespect pales to the absolute headache that the rest of your patients put behind your eyes, pounding at your skull—bam, bam, bam.

Wham bam-thank-you-ma'am, all throbbing incessantly behind your eyes and making you wanna hurl—except, god, you’re the fucking doctor, and who’s there to take care of him when he’s a little under the weather? You’ve got your boyfriend, of course—your perfect boyfriend, light of your life, apple of your eye, yet he’s home, and you’re here, and you’re bloody exhausted.

“I need to go home,” you murmur—quiet, lest your own voice make you lose the last of your thin-threaded sanity—, already stripping yourself of the itchy scrubs you wear during the long days.

“But sir—” the nurse asks, meak, but her voice is still too loud, too shrill for right now.

You huff. “I’ve worked for fourteen hours.” The tired gruff to your own voice makes you cringe. You can feel the way it tumbles from your chest, rattling you, your overly sensitive eyes and brain and head and fuckin’ everything, at this point. “Refer to the doc on duty, now.”

The nurse nods, once. “Have a good night, doctor.”

You bid farewell—a kind apology with a promise to make it up to them, to bring them coffee, maybe, or some cookies—, and you take the slow walk home. The sky is dark and the fireflies are out, the gentle glow illuminating the path. With nothing but your own thoughts and the night to accompany you, you feel your headache gradually ease. It throbs, still; but each bump in your skull is gentler, now: it’s easier to ignore.

Although the porch light is too strong—the lantern bright and attracting the nighttime bugs and moths—, the foyer of your home is dark. Your aching head is grateful for the reprieve—for the silence that envelops you in totality the second the door clicks quietly shut behind you—, but something other than tiredness pulls at your heartstrings: your sweet boyfriend, clad in only a shirt of yours, toeing into the entryway.

“Honey?” He wipes the sleep from his eyes, softly smiling at you. “Hi.”

“Ga-ming, honey—” honey, because Ga-ming unabashedly stole the pet name from you, first, “—you didn’t have to stay up for me.”

As if on cue, his jaw cracks open in a yawn: this, you do not need the lights on to see. Your heart aches with your head, knowing that he had stayed up just for you. “Honey,” you repeat, sliding off your jacket and stepping up to him. You take his waist in your hands, bunching up the shirt he stole from your closet.

“Quit with that,” he murmurs, tilting up his head for a soft kiss. You grant it; but when you go to pull back, to keep the kiss gentle and chaste, Ga-ming presses forward, darting that little tongue out to lick at the seam of your lips; his hips, too, come bumping against yours, pressing into your thigh, pant to skin—

“Ga-ming?” you repeat, breath leaving you in a low huff. “You’re—” bare.

Utterly, wholly bare: an expanse of warm, slick skin against your clothed leg. “‘m ready,” he mumbles while he takes to mouthing at your throat. His lips soothe you, somehow; it’s a reprieve, a stark contrast, to the pounding at your skull.

“Ready?” you whisper, tilting your head back, letting your hands guide the steady roll of his hips onto your lap.

He nods. “Ready for you,” he enunciates as he softly whines.

Ga-ming—your Ga-ming—, your boyfriend, your love and light of your life: right here in front of you, on you, all needy for you, offering himself to you, wholly ready for the taking.

“So please,” he continues, his cock dragging heavy across the seam of your pant; “fuck me.”

“Oh, honey,” you murmur; then again, an “oh, honey,” because you’re still half-dressed up in your clothes—though they’re only soft and bland, made to fit under the rough scrubs you had abandoned at the office—, and Ga-ming is naked save for the shirt draping across him, the low hemline covering the absolutely sinful way he grinds down. It’s a dirty move, a down, down, down that gives his sensitive cock friction against your pelvis.

“Please, please, ‘m ready, I said—” his words abruptly drop off, a high cry in his throat that sends him to hide his overly-warm face in your neck. His skin burns against you, a feverish-hot that makes you chuckle, makes the throb in your head go away, just-so. “I said I-I was ready, so, please!”

You coo, quiet, bumping your hips up once. The jerking motion makes him cry out, but he manages to keep himself upright, right-side up but entirely unmoored on your cock. “Go on then, little lion. Take what you need, yeah?”

Whimpering a quiet, “Y-yeah,” he begins riding you, slow, steady—but slightly off-balanced—rolls of his hips that makes him whine, makes you groan low n’ deep in your chest. You let your hands rest on his hips, the fabric of his shirt falling over your wrists, and gently guide his motions. Once you’ve helped him establish himself, he begins riding you harder, more desperate.

Silent tears—though, are they truly silent, loud as he is moaning out for you?—dribble down his cheeks, falling to his shirt and soaking the collar of it in salty evidence of his abject pleasure. His abdomen is tensing and relaxing and tensing and relaxing again, all in a rapid loop, in and out and in n’ out, and then there’s a fucking bulge right below his navel when he sinks down hard n’ deep on your cock; and you’re sent over the edge at the sight, moaning through your teeth as you fill Ga-ming up with hot, sticky cum.

“Oh, oh—” he cries, grinding down harsh to get all your cum in as deep as possible, deep ‘nuff to breed him— “bred me, bred me so well, oh—” You groan at his desperate babbling as his thighs jerk around your hips, just before they give out on him entirely. He falls bodily into your chest, heaving through his own orgasm as weak mewls tumble from his prettily parted lips. Each sound is smeared into your throat while you laugh, light and breathless, jostling his overly-sensitized body and making him flinch.

“Sorry, honey.” You kiss at his temple, and, the whole while, his small cunt is left to unconsciously milk your cock, left to assure that loud, insecure part of his brain that he’s wanted, that he’s bred all nice n’ full because he is loved. You’re long done, now, but the undulations make your body warm, soft, safe—just like Ga-ming is, comfy in your lap and wholly protected. “Thank you.”

He shakes his head against you, nuzzling into your throat with a heavy sigh. “You don’t have—hafta thank me,” he mumbles, a lick at your Adam’s apple to seal the deal. “I wanted ta.”

Tucking up the blankets around him, you grin. “Then can you warm my cock, lil’ dragon? Just for me?” You run your fingers lightly up his clothed spine, delighting in the shiver you can feel, one that runs the length of your cock as he’s snug on it. “Since earlier was all about you?” You raise the end of your sentence in a lilting tone, meant to tease, and Ga-ming huffs at you.

And, n further retaliation, he clenches around you; the soft squeeze—all wet n’ warm, smearing your own cum across the base of your cock and leaving the mess of both of yours to dribble down the minute space between your bodies—forces you to calm your breathing, to take in the delicate scent of what is undeniably Ga-ming mixed with the smell of your own shirt, your own cologne.

You laugh, then. “‘m sorry,” you say again amidst giggles, ones you’re careful you confine only to your upper chest lest the movement be too uncomfortable on both of your oversensitive groins.

He doesn't reply, snuggled up comfy on your lap and stuffed full of your cock n’ cum both. Instead, he only noses into your neck further before his breathing steadies, lulling you to sleep, too.

It’s in your final moments of consciousness that you realize your head no longer hurts.

(You suppose you now have the evidence that, yes, an orgasm is sufficient enough a cure for headaches.)

Under Lyney’s palm, a small floor lamp clicks silently on. The light is admittedly dim, but, to your sensitive eyes, the bulb is blinding. You cringe and cover your eyes; but it only serves to shield you slightly, because you’re still upright in the foyer, and your body is rather weak. “Lyney,” you tiredly murmur, lifting your palm just enough to see the ground lest you trip.

You bump into him, laughing lightly, but his worried hands jump to your arm. “Hey—”

“I’m okay.” You’re quick to calm him, placing your free hand on his in a tender gesture as you make way to the living room. “Just a headache, ‘s all. Ya shouldn't have stayed up f’r me.” Earlier, it hurt to even think; but here, with him, the pain is easy to ignore, in the face of his own self destruction.

He grumbles at you, though, says something you can’t quite catch and drops his hands, pads over to the lamp to flick it off. The return of darkness is soothing.

He smiles at you, then; or, at least, you think he does. It’s difficult to see in the dark, and you can’t strain your eyes without hurting yourself. “I wanted to!” He takes three long strides before he’s standing in front of you, draping his arms across your shoulders. The position makes his (your) shirt ride up on his belly, and— ”I missed you, y’know,” he murmurs, suddenly all soft n’ deep, looking up at you and bumping his forehead against your chin. “A lot, really.”

“Lyn—”

He quickly silences you with a kiss. Against your lips, he pulls back, murmurs, “I missed your cock, especially.”

Laughing against him, you lean up ‘til he can no longer reach you. He pouts at you when you reply, faux-snark, “only my cock, huh?” Your bottom lip juts out—a mirror of Lyney’s own, a magic trick of his you took for your own; it’s a devilish trick, one you play right alongside puppy-dog eyes you know he’s soft to. “How cruel.”

He huffs at you, pulling you down by the collar of your shirt to kiss the mirth off your lips. “I was tryin’ to be seductive,” he grumbles, knocking against your chin and beginning to push you backwards into the living room. “But nevermind!”

You want to say, “Hey, now:” disagree with him and keep on pouting and go, “hey, hey, hey,” all offended, but the backs of your knees come into contact with the edge of the sofa, and you’re well and sufficiently distracted from that idea.

“Sit,” he gently commands you—merely the illusion of choice—, giving you no choice in the matter with the way he’s pressing you down into the cushions. You go easily; you sigh in relief when the softness begins enveloping you—a pillow’s snug right in the middle of your back, and you briefly wonder if Lyney had planned this. He murmurs, “there you go,” quiet n’ soft, and you’re taken by the way this man gives to you.

He wears his heart on his sleeve, truly; except, right now, the sleeve is yours (just like his heart belongs to you and yours to him in turn), and it's bare, and so is the expanse of his long, pale thighs, the hem of his boxers peeking out beneath the shirt. He stands in front of you, between your legs, makes sure you’re down and that you’re gonna stay down, but your eyes aren’t really tired, not anymore, staring at Luney—your Lyney—before he huffs and sits bodily onto you, straddling your lap with his knees sinking into the cushions on either side of you.

“Lyney,” you murmur, reaching out to take hold of his thighs. The position makes the shirt rise up on his belly, exposing the soft, rippling muscles there; but, in the dark, all you can go by is what you feel against your own stomach, his bare skin pressed to your thin shirt. “I was kiddin’, sweetheart.”

“I know you were,” he snaps at you, mean-like, but he brings his arms around your shoulders all sweetly and nuzzles into the side of your head. “But I wasn’t. I—I really did miss you; and your cock. If you—if you wanna, of course.”

“Of course I want to, Lyn,” you mutter, tilting your head up to kiss beneath his chin. “I’m just a little tired.”

“A little?” He huffs, again, before sighing. “Just—let me do the work, alright? I’m already...” he pauses, tilts his head to the side, breathes in and out sharply.

You hum at him to go on.

“‘m already prepped.” Oh.

“Oh?” You grin, bringing your tired arm up to cup his cheek. He leans into your palm and his eyelashes flutter, brushing against your skin. “Go ahead then, sweet thing.”

And go ahead he does, smiling into you before he abruptly leans back ‘nuff to chuck off the shirt. You whine, say, “hey!” but there isn’t any bite left on your tongue when Lyney starts tugging his boxers down, too. He’s impatient, pulling at the seam and groaning curses at the fabric—as if it’s the damn boxers’ fault that he’s in a position that prevents him from taking them off.

He relents, tilting this way and that and finally—after painstaking minutes later, ones that, under no circumstance, should be arousing, but the anticipation, the wait: it all makes your dick chub up in your own pants—Lyney’s left naked in your lap. The fabric hangs off his foot, and you reach down to tug it the rest of the way off for your sweet boyfriend as he busies himself unbuckling your own belt, loosening the tough leather enough for your pants to droop and enough for him to reach a hot hand into your briefs.

“Eager, huh?” you tease, lifting your hips—and, subsequently, him—to let him get your dick out of your pants. Neither of you bother pulling down your own pants, not after Lyney spent so long on his boxers alone. He doesn’t dally. “My sweet Lyney.”

He sighs, again—he’s rather dramatic tonight; but, then again, when isn’t he? It wouldn’t quite be your Lyney without some theatrics—, spitting into his palm and lathering up your cock with it while he makes to straddle you more fully. “Thought you were tired,” he grumbles, hovering his, indeed, wet n’ slicked up and entirely prepped cunt over your thick cockhead.

“Mhm.” You set your hands on his plush thighs once he hooks the head of you into his loosened hole, groaning low and pleased in your throat while he softly whimpers at the barely-there stretch. He prepared himself well. “But when you’re lookin’ so pretty for me, I can’t help being wide awake. Wouldn’t wanna miss this sight for the world.”

With your eyes now adjusted to the light—and, oh, you consider how the throb of your head is a bygone memory now—, you can see the way his cheeks darken just-so, puffed up in exertion as his groin meets yours. You’ve got your cock stuffed up balls-deep in him, and he leans into you once he’s fully settled.

He moans, less out of outright pleasure and more out of total contentment, comfy and warm on your lap as your arms knead at his thighs. His arms squeeze around your shoulders, and he quietly asks, “Gimme a minute.”

Nodding, you simply bask in the steady heat of him, letting him adjust and recognize that, yes, you’re home, now, and you hadn’t really left him at all. “I missed you,” you murmur rather suddenly, your voice quiet but still stark in the silence of the night. “Thought about you durin’ my shift.”

“You did?” His voice is rough but wispy, a little out-there and entirely gone. He’s slipping into that mindset he always does when he’s left to warm your cock—regardless of if it were by his volition or your own—, but he begins to subtly grind his hips against you, mewling at the hot sparks of rapture from his cock rubbing just right against you.

“‘Course I did,” you continue, moving your hands to his hips instead to help move him along. His arms tighten around you and he moans directly into your ear.

From then on, it’s quiet: quiet, that is, save from the obscene slick noises of the lube Lyney used to prep himself earlier with his own slick, your pre-cum mixing up and making a mess of thick liquid between both of your thighs. His moans are barely audible, these soft, gentle lil’ uh, uh, uh’s punched out of him with each tender grind down.

You think, even, that you’ll both cum like this: quiet, nothing but the sounds of your connection and heavy breaths, moans, groans as you fall over the edge. But then Lyney starts bumping his groin against yours even harder, grinding down deep on your cock and rubbing against your full balls, and he starts babbling for you to “breed me! Please—”

“I-I’ll breed you,” you groan, leaning your head back into the sofa cushions and chasing your release, chasing the release you both want, the one he wants so desperately stuffed up deep inside him. “Gonna fill you right up, just like you want, sweetheart.”

He babbles more—a mix of syllables and words, more pleas for you to breed him—until he’s silenced by his own high-pitched whine, cumming around you and slathering you in creamy-white. The steady clench and release of his cunt forces you to your own end, thick cum slowly leaking out from the edges of his cunt and your cock. (You can hardly tell what’s your leaking cum and what is his own.)

“Thank you,” he mumbles, already beginning to doze. “Th’nk you:” quieter, more muddled against your ear.

You grab the throw you have across the sofa’s armrest, rucking it up around the two of you; you cocoon Lyney safe in your arms and on your softened cock. He’s nodded off, now, and he misses your words: “You don’t have to thank me,” you say anyway, even if he doesn’t hear you, “I love you.”

The cum’ll be sticky, later, when you wake up; but for now, it’s perfect. It’s perfectly warm and entirely cozy, wholly snuggled up with the love of your life. Your headache, the stressors of the day—they’re all forgotten in his presence.

You’re so, so glad to love him.

“Hi, puppy,” you coo. The sound of your own voice grates you, but you ignore it to sweetly smile at your beloved. He stands there, motionless for a moment right there at the threshold before the foyer, until he shakes his head with a barely-there laugh. “Gorou?”

He tilts his head to the side—this you can see, the silhouette of him in the moonlight—before he takes a tentative step forward.

Then another. And another. Another, another, another, ‘till he’s standing in front of you and leans up to kiss your jaw. “Hi,” he repeats, voice ruff (hah!) and hoarse, a little too much so. “Missed ya.”

You tilt your head back to let him mouth at you, and your hands subconsciously come to clutch at his hips, and— “Oh, Gorou,” you mumble, pleasantly aghast, because your hands come into contact with bare, slick skin. “Pent up?”

With a quiet whimper, he tilts his hips forward, into you, pressing against the contact of your fingers on him. You slowly slide your one hand around, sneaking a large handful of his ass before you dip into his cleft, shuddering when your fingertip easily glides across his slicked, open cunt.

“I-I wanted you, so bad,” he starts to mumble, shy, tucking his head into the meat where your shoulder meets your neck. Without any prompting, you adjust your stance, pressing your knee into his cock and making him jerk forward with another whimper high in his throat. “Oh!”

Slowly, his hips begin grinding—it’s a weak movement, testing, making sure you're really okay with this, right now. He moves unsure against you until you begin bumping your knee, letting his slick make a mess of your pant leg. “Go on,” you goad him on, soft, holding him snug against you. You can feel his cunt clench even through the fabric of your pants, a rapid rat-a-tat-tat against you that is oddly reminiscent of the headache you can feel begin to dissipate. “Take your pleasure, pup.”

He nods vehemently against you, beginning to hump as his tail swishes side to side, side to side, hypnotizing you just slightly. It’s hard to parse it out in the dark, but the shadow of it is undeniable behind him. Each bounce of your leg makes Gorou whimper, and he’s quick to crane his neck up for a kiss to muffle himself. You grant his request easily, but only for a minute; after, you gently part from him to murmur, so quiet that only he could possibly hear, those big, soft ears of his twitching as he strains, “What else do you want, honey?”

“Want you,” he whines, grinding harshly once, twice. “Want you inside me, want you to breed me.”

You didn’t expect that, but you’re a doctor, after all; it’s kinda in the job description to roll with the punches, so you do. “You wanna get fucked full of pups?” you ask, teasing and light, but Gorou’s mouth parts as a loud whine crawls out of his chest.

“Yes! Please.” Thick tears begin to drop from his eyes, saltwater dribbling onto the bare skin of your throat. “Now, now—breed me now,” he begs, and you coo at him, bringing your hands to curl into his hair, rubbing soothing circles into the base of one puppydog ear.

“Patience, pup.”

And, because he’s Gorou, and Gorou is nothing but a good boy, he nods, rapid-quick movements of his head, and begins to slow on your thigh. Heat shimmers low in your belly as he steps back from you on shaky legs, a wet splotch across your leg from his cunt. You bring a hand down, meaning to scoop it up off your pant, but your finger brushes two distinctly different textures: his natural slick, and fuckin’ lube. “Did you prepare yourself for me?”

“Y-yeah,” he mutters, tail tucking itself between his legs. You almost cringe at that, knowing he’s smearing himself into his own fur, but if he doesn’t mind, then you won’t either; besides, it’s hard to truly care when your boyfriend is so bashful in front of you. “I—I missed you, ‘nd wanted to be ready for you.”

The image of Gorou, ass up on the bed with four of his fingers stuffed up inside of himself flitters across your mind, makes your cock throb in your britches. Your erection was easy to ignore, earlier; but now it’s abject torture.

However, it’s not nearly as torturous as it was for your boyfriend, and you know this. You know he didn’t cum, know his fingers are far too short to truly reach in deep and press against his g-spot, know his wrist can’t comfortably bend to jerk himself off and finger himself at the same time. So you coo, soft, “Sweet boy. Where’s your toy?”

“Charging,” he mutters.

You grin at that: it’s perfect. “Can you go get it then, puppy?”

With an audible swallow, he nods, rushing for your bedroom. You follow behind him, lethargic but so, so turned on; and while he’s grabbing the vibrator from the corner, you shuck off the rest of your clothes and plop yourself down on the edge of your bed.

He must not expect you to have followed him, however, because once he turns around, he jumps, ears flattening to his head in embarrassment. You only laugh and pat your lap. “C’mere.”

Quickly—and toy in tow—, he shuffles over to you. He stands awkwardly in front of you for a moment before you murmur, “I said c’mere,” and tug him to straddle your lap. The position immediately forces his cock—slick n’ thick, out of its hood and throbbing incessantly—against yours, and he mewls helplessly for a moment, grinds once, twice again, before he grabs the lube to the side of you.

You hadn’t even noticed it there, but now that he’s grabbed it, pointed it out, you feel other wet spots beneath you. He fuckin’ masturbated here, right on the duvet you both sleep under, thinkin’ about you and only you. You’re taking out of your musings when he slathers up your cock in lube, messy and sloppy, and then he’s rising, positioning you, and sinking right on down.

“Mm!” he cries out, swiveling his hips to take you in deeper, deeper, deeper. You groan at the lube-slick combination that smothers your cock in Gorou, Gorou, Gorou. “Breed me, breed me!” Each meak plea makes your cock pulse inside him, and he mewls at each throb inside him. “Please!”

“I got you, pup,” you murmur, your edge so close you can taste it on the tip of your tongue. “Just make yourself feel good, and I’ll breed you, okay? Okay, puppy?”

“Okay, okay—”

You grin. “Good boy,” you say, and then he’s tumbling over the edge and bringing you right down with him. You groan into his throat, feeling the vibrations of his whimpers n’ whining moans as he’s getting thoroughly bred. Your hands ruck up his shirt to hold his sides and soothe him down from his high. “You did so good for me, sweetheart. Bred you just like I promised I would, hm?”

He weakly nods. “Thank you,” he mumbles, nosing at your throat.

And, well. You’re bloody exhausted, and you promised to breed him, and he can’t keep on being bred if you pull out. You tell yourself you’re only upholding your promise as Gorou falls asleep on your cock, breathing deep on your lap: tell yourself that it’s the lingering tiredness that suddenly seems to hit you in full-force that keeps him warm and snug on you.

Really, clean-up can wait.

i got a lil' carried away on lyney's part ,, o(*^＠^*)o also, none of these were really cowgirl 'cos reader was sitting up for it . . . i couldn't think of how to have him lay flat in these scenarios LOLL

13 MAR. 2024, @rosedom, rosey .

#ㅤ✦【 ASKS 】#i used to have very frequent headaches and the only way i could abate them was:#1) midol (god's gift to earth i stg)#and 2) jrking off.#so !!#sub genshin #genshin smut #genshin x reader #sub gaming #gaming x reader #sub lyney #lyney x reader #sub gorou #gorou x reader #lord .#top reader #dom reader #amab reader #male reader

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drpeppertummy · 9 months

Text

[hunger, stuffing, tummyache, tummy rubs]

Sunny's belly rumbled loudly. He looked up at Laurie with puppydog eyes, arms wrapped around his aching stomach. The two had been out running around all morning trying to accomplish what seemed like an endless list of tasks, and Sunny, who'd woken up late and hadn't had time for breakfast, hadn't eaten a thing all day. Now, it was nearly noon. He was absolutely starving, and beginning to get a headache. Laurie, who'd had the foresight to eat before picking up her diminutive friend, wasn't hungry in the slightest, but he'd been begging her for the past hour to stop somewhere for lunch. With a sigh, she finally agreed.

"Let's make this quick, alright?" she said as she pulled into the diner parking lot. Sunny's stomach growled in response, as if to make it clear that he had no intention of fooling around. Once they were seated, however, it became apparent that lunch wasn't going to be a simple task. He was quick to order the most absurd sandwich on the menu. It was a cartoonishly enormous heap of assorted meats--from the picture, Laurie could make out at least two hefty burger patties and what looked like a massive hunk of pork--generously decorated with just about every topping in the book and stacked precariously between two thick slabs of bread. The waitress seemed amused both at the idea of a tiny thing like Sunny eating that monster sandwich, and at Laurie's exasperation when he ordered it.

"Sunny, we still have stuff to do. Don't eat the whole thing, alright?"

"What?" He looked sadly at her. "I'm dyin', Laurie! I haven't eaten anything all damn day!" His tummy growled pitifully in agreement.

"That thing's gonna be bigger than your head! You're gonna give yourself a stomachache," she said. "Save half for dinner, it'll probably still be too much."

Before Sunny could argue, the waitress returned with their lunch: a simple basket of chicken tenders for Laurie, and the sandwich of Sunny's dreams. The two of them stared wordlessly at it for a moment, astonished. In addition to what was easily enough meat for a family of four, there were two fried eggs, a revolting amount of cheese, and several unidentifiable sauces oozing down the sides, as well as a variety of healthy vegetables peeking out among the greasy mess. His stomach rumbled again, and he just barely caught his drool before it began dripping from his mouth.

"Sunny."

"Huh?" He looked up at her, pulled from his trance. "What, you want some?"

"Listen," Laurie said firmly, taking him by the shoulders. "Do not try to cram that entire thing into your stomach. It's bigger than you are."

"Since when are you the boss?" He gave her a defensive glare.

"Since right now. I'm declaring myself boss, because I know how you are. Here's what's gonna happen. You're gonna take that as a challenge, because you're a complete child, and you're gonna eat as much of that sandwich as you can just to spite me, and then you're not gonna be able to do anything else all day because you're gonna make yourself sick like an idiot. Right?"

"I am not!"

"So cut it in half," she said. "You're still gonna have a bellyache, but maybe you won't be totally useless." Sunny looked grumpily at her.

"Fine," he muttered. "But only because I wanna have leftovers. Not because you told me to."

"Whatever," said Laurie, rolling her eyes. She picked up a chicken tender and left Sunny to his business.

Cutting the sandwich was a task in itself, as was picking it up. His stomach growled in anticipation as he tried to get a grip on it. Even half of the sandwich was far more than the average person could possibly eat in one sitting, but Sunny didn't care. He felt like he could eat a horse. At long last, after starving the entire morning, he shoved the gooey, meaty mess into his mouth. The feeling of the first bite hitting his empty stomach was divine, and he began wolfing the sandwich down as though his life depended on it.

With the massive onslaught of greasy meat and bread filling his belly, it wasn't long before Sunny was full. In fact, it was only about halfway through the enormous piece of sandwich that he found himself feeling stuffed. His stomach didn't hurt yet, but it was beginning to look and feel bloated. Still, the sandwich was as delicious as it was messy, and he knew if he put it down now, it would fall apart entirely. Additionally, he had no intention of wimping out in front of Laurie. He felt confident that he could put away the entire half, and he was determined to do so.

Laurie, still working on her own lunch, glanced over at Sunny. He was still wrestling with the sandwich, and didn't seem like he was giving up just yet, although he certainly looked stuffed. She looked down at his tummy. He was dressed in his usual fashion: a snug, colorful button down tucked into high waisted jeans, complete with a big flashy belt buckle to tie the look together. His tummy was bulging firmly against the already tight shirt, and the belt buckle was starting to press uncomfortably into it. Laurie sighed. She knew it was a mistake to lecture Sunny about the sandwich; she'd known it before even opening her mouth. He always seemed to feel like he had to prove something. She wasn't sure whether he was desperate to prove himself or just stubborn as a mule. Probably both. He was certainly stubborn, there was no denying that, but there was a certain insecurity underneath that stubbornness that she just couldn't figure out how to handle.

As he ate, Sunny's long-since-full stomach began to ache. The ravenousness that had gotten him here was long gone, and he had slowed down drastically. Each bite pushed him deeper into discomfort. Not wanting to quit, he pushed on, but eventually, he forced his stomach to his limit. He paused. There was only a little bit of sandwich left in his hands, and as badly as he wanted to, he wasn't sure he could finish it. He felt unbelievably bloated, as if the contents of his stomach were pushing out in all directions as hard as they could. Even inhaling was uncomfortable; his drum-tight belly could barely stretch to accommodate the breath. He glanced sheepishly up at Laurie, then back at his sandwich. Reluctantly, he set it down.

Laurie was surprised at Sunny's willing defeat, but refrained from making any comments, at least until the rest of the sandwich was safely packed up. The waitress brought him a box--you look just about ready to pop, she'd teased, and Sunny had blushed brightly--and the two were on their way. Although he'd quit willingly, Sunny had still failed to quit soon enough. Now, as he trudged alongside Laurie back to her decrepit minivan, he had to face not only the shame of being unable to finish his lunch, but the shame of proving her right as well. They got into the car and buckled up, but Laurie didn't drive. Instead, she turned to look at him, arms folded.

"You are absolutely ridiculous, you know that?"

"And?"

"And what? Look at yourself!" She prodded his distended belly. He winced and held his arms defensively over his stomach.

"And what nothin', I was hungry," he protested.

"Yeah, and now you're gonna be useless all day!" He looked up at her, hurt, and she immediately regretted her choice of words. Sunny could be many things--foolish, mouthy, cocky, immature--but useless wasn't one of them. In fact, he tried very hard not to be useless. He had a way of making himself annoying while doing it, but he was often willing to drop everything to help Laurie when she asked.

"I'm sorry," she sighed, her expression softening. "I didn't mean that." He looked away, unconvinced.

"Let's just go," he muttered. "We got stuff to do."

"No, we don't," she said. He looked at her again. "I've been running you around all morning. I think we both need a break. And your tummy looks like it could use some time to settle." Sunny couldn't argue with that. He felt queasy and bloated. In addition to being just plain stuffed, he'd eaten far too fast, and the greasiness of the meal was beginning to upset his already sore belly even more. Laurie reached over and undid his belt for him. He blushed, surprised, but didn't argue. He hadn't realized how tightly it had been squeezing his stomach until the pressure was relieved. She gave his belly a gentle pat and started the car.

Laurie drove back to Sunny's apartment, and the two went inside. Sunny immediately dropped himself onto the couch. Laurie sat beside him. His stomach let out a miserable gurgle. She looked at him for a moment, feeling sorry for him, then reached out and placed her hand on his belly. He looked up. He nearly opened his mouth to say something, but she began gently rubbing his belly, and he felt himself begin to relax. As cuddly as he was with his other friends, Sunny often found himself feeling nervous when it came to contact with Laurie. He adored having his tummy rubbed, though, and the touch was especially comforting when he wasn't feeling well. He sat still for a moment, then let his head rest against her shoulder. Laurie paused, surprised, then carefully pulled him into her arms, still rubbing. They sat together, silent apart from the occasional gurgle of Sunny's aching stomach, and as she continued softly massaging his tummy, he slowly melted into sleepy bliss.

#writing #belly kink #tummy kink #stuffing #stuffed belly #xsunnyx #xlauriex

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shatterthefragments · 2 months

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.fuck

Is it. Worth it? Re: birthday cake

“You should probably cut down on this kind of sweet though”

As if I don’t think about this enough.

As if it’s not sitting heavy on my tongue begging me to throw up. (I don’t. Actually purge. Just the urge is there. The gag reflex is working when it really doesn’t need to. I gag/retch all the time bc I’m sensitive but I don’t really throw up so much anymore unless I’m very ill.)

“Oh I was thinking about making sweet and sour ribs but it uses two tablespoons or so of sugar” [for apparently 3lbs of ribs. Which. To me seems very reasonable]

As if I don’t consider the balance between living life and making it a life worth living and the balance of what needs to be balanced so that there are potentially less complications in the future.

And it would be nice to lose weight. “For my health”, if weight cycling wasn’t a thing. It would be nice to be smaller. And I’ve worked towards being OKAY with my body. It does so much for me.

Even so (and idk how accurate a scale is) I have lost weight since having Covid. I assumed it was all muscle because I had no energy and had extreme fatigue for longer than ever before. (*I don’t remember my high school grad year depression slump well enough to say but I was also dealing with daily headache) but even though I have also lost muscle SUPPOSEDLY I have a higher percentage of muscle bc it wasn’t just muscle I lost apparently. It’s about 10 lbs last time I checked. Which. Of my height is a lot (even though I don’t know. Have I noticed? All my clothes are the same? I’m still right in between the sizes I tend to measure as. *maybe* my mask has a tiny bit more space at my double chin? I don’t know!) potentially but argh?!?

Also it’s a bit creepy that the scale remembers and transmits this to the sister’s phone when she’s back

And. Top surgery would do double duty. Affirming me. And also it would put me under my Spite Weight. (“You’ll never be able to get under that weight if you cross above it”)

But we don’t exist to lose weight.

Sometimes my tummy is cute. Sometimes I love my body. Mostly it’s just there. Disconnected. Some other person’s. dysphoria. (Disconnected by dysphoria and distorted by dysmorphia)

I… when I work I usually get about 10,000 steps in. It’s still many several thousand steps even when I’m being held up by compression socks and my ankleskneesthighships everything aches to the bone and I want to collapse into tears. (I refuse to worry about the stuff I do without my phone in my pocket quantifying everything is the devil and I shall not listen)

I choose to do things.

I am at an activity level that I’m fairly comfortable with. (Though with my days off separated for school right now I’m a little hesitant to say. Go with the queer hiking group for a 10k hike when I don’t have a recovery day after)

I refuse to starve myself. (Mostly bc of what I know it could do)

Doesn’t help when my throat closes up and doesn’t allow me to consume anything or if I try to force myself I just gag until I spit it out anyway. But I’m still able to eat enough I think. Of course you do you’re

I’m fine. I’ll enjoy a bit of cake. I’ll prepare my lunch for tomorrow. I’ll go to bed.

There are some healthier choices I try to make sometimes.

But the best food is the food you can eat (and keep down)

And tbh. Maybe it’s just getting older and that it’s winter. But like. Even though I’m lighter now than I have been for years my joints are at their worst (I should start doing physio exercises before I have to pay for them…)

#vent #food #cake #tw #disordered eating #weight mention #specific numbers mention #ed #emetophobia #there’s. a joke in there about gender affirming weight loss via top surgery but maybe it’s only funny to me bc I’m fucked up #body image #purging mention (idealogically but not reality)

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wilted-sylleblossom · 2 years

Text

August 6, 2022

Dear diary,

I haven't been feeling myself lately, and today wasn't any different. Waking up, it feels like I was bound to my bed. My body felt heavy, and I couldn't get up as much as I had to. I got to at least sit up and start working on my computer.

But to top it all off, I had a terrible headache. My guess was food poisoning because my tummy was aching and the headache felt funny. So I opted to take aspirins and slept, while having to take bathroom breaks in between my sleep, all after telling my colleague that I couldn't make it today.

My favourite uncle, who had been sleeping over at our place finally went home as well. It made me a little bit sadder. I always enjoyed his company, which is funny considering I used to hate his guts in my childhood. Guess that karma really bit back at me, as my mom used to say "If you hate him so much, careful you'll end up loving him."

I tried cheering myself up by buying my favourite ice cappucino, though, along with raspberry hibiscus lemon tea for my sister.

And then I finally replied to my old friend's chat on Discord. He's a good friend from uni and he was checking up on me because he noticed how down I had been lately just from my tweets. We ended chatting for hours and I learned a whole lot more about him. We weren't that close during uni due to some circumstances but both of us had a feeling we'd make great friends if we had the chance to talk with each other more, and we were right. What spurred this on was learning that he was already divorced. While our friendship was platonic, it was that fact that made me no longer hesitate talking for hours with him. Before, I couldn't do it out of respect for his wife (now ex) as I feared I might give her the wrong idea, even if nothing happened between him and me.

It was great reconnecting with him. And I suppose it should make me feel better. And while I did feel better, I was still overwhelmed by this lingering sense of sadness and suffocation and anxiety. I don't know if it was the barrage of new information I got after finally being able to talk for hours with him (after all, during those conversations, I learned about what I was like in uni, how he and his friends viewed me, and not to mention recounting the painful things that happened back in uni, etc).

This thick fog or cloud of negativity wouldn't go away, so much so that I had to function the whole day pretending I wasn't that miserable. And every smile or laugh I tried to make to avoid my mom and sister getting worried was like a stab to my chest and a prick behind my eyes. My sister probably could sense it. We sleep in the same room, the same bed, and I made copious amount of self deprecating jokes as well as how tired or demotivated I feel. But my mom. I didn't want my mom to worry.

I don't know what was or is wrong with me. I kept thinking I got better, but every time, I still relapsed and every relapse seemed to get worse. I wondered sometimes if I'm just not meant for happiness, because even happy moments felt painful now. They felt fleeting, and that made me sad. Or, I felt like I didn't deserve them, which also made me sad. Or, maybe it was simply because I was miserable that I couldn't accept when my surroundings were happy or when I was supposed to be happy.

I couldn't help wondering what it would be like if I really had taken my life. All those people I failed to reconnect or maintain relationships with- everyone who hurt me in the past or had simply forgotten my existence. Would they mourn for me?

I know it's not worth actually doing it because now I have friends. Better friends who would be there for me. But even so I can't shake away this feeling. It's not that I'm ungrateful either. I just feel so lost. I feel so behind in life. I don't know what to do. I don't know how to plan for the future. I don't even know how I would be able to survive that long. I am filled with dread of what's to come. I don't know how to function normally. Society scares me. Jobs fuel my insecurity and anxiety.

I feel like I'm in a long, long nightmare. I just want this to be over. I want to be able to feel like myself again. But at the same time, I'm too tired to even try. I don't even know if it's worth it. Words of comfort and positivity feel empty to me. I'm an empty shell of a person I used to be.

I wish I could disappear. Not die. Disappear. Like I never existed. Like there would be no trace of my existence. If people, some people, decided to forget me anyways, why can't I just be completely forgotten? Disappear altogether?

#dear diary #august entry

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lewisyellowhelmet · 2 years

Note

Girl can you write something smutty for Lewis + pregnancy sex🥰🥰 either him finding out or like a horny pregnancy moment would make my dayyy

okay bestie i have to do horny pregnancy moment(s) because it's freaky friday and you know its gots to be freakyyyy

submit ur own freaky friday prompt here!

Lewis loves you. In all your forms. In blotchy, ragged breathing, post-cry form. In glamorous, perfectly anointed Met Gala form. In sleepy, please carry me to bed, Lew, just finished a movie, under a blanket on the couch form. But pregnancy form is limited. It has a due-date, an end point. And he wants to make the most of it.

The first few weeks you’re too sick, really, and he feels bad, like he’s just taking valuable energy from you. He’s always been able to help you in the past, would do anything you asked, but now you’re on your own, it’s not like he can give you an hour off and just nourish a baby for awhile. You and his Mum wax lyrical about nausea and headaches and heartburn and he just feels incredibly guilty.

But then something happens in the second trimester, some hormone kicks in, and it’s like you just want him, all the time.

And this is. Like. This is Lewis’ moment. He feels like he’s been preparing his whole life for this. Because this he can help you with. This he can make better for you.

It's almost a constant, now. Sex. Whenever you can find time.

When you wake up, a pillow under your hips to help your back, the sunlight making him shine gold, the stretch of him inside you so good, such a nice wake up gift, his hands gentle on your swollen breasts.

On the kitchen counter, the bump almost in the way, so you have to lean back on your hands, your back arched, gasping when his mouth finds your neck, teasing teeth, a soothing tongue. Lewis still in his jeans between your legs, your skirt pushed up, because you just couldn’t wait anymore. Needed him here, now. Hopefully the pancakes don't burn.

He spots you wriggling in the passenger seat, trying to find a way to sit that didn’t encourage the throb between your legs. Laughs at you, but it’s fond, and then he’s only got one hand on the wheel, one hand in your underwear, fingers in you, growling when you rub your clit, helping you get yourself off in broad daylight on the drive to the supermarket.

So there’s fast times, when something surges through your body and you just need him inside you, like, right now.

And there’s other times, when you’re overwhelmed by the gentle way he touches your belly even with his cock inside you, on your hands and knees, his chest against your back. One hand around your throat so he can fuck you good and proper, and the other holding your tummy, so the weight is off your spine, and you don’t feel the ache for awhile. You cry a bit, after, because of the hormones, but also because he always just knows what you need, and when, and how to do it.

He researches positions that are best for pregnancy, sends screenshots while you’re at work, makes you blush with the dirty words that accompany the texts. You’d look so hot when I have you bent over like this and bet I could make u cum with just my hand if we did it like this and can’t wait to see what sounds u make when I fuck u like this.

It’s tricker, when you’re really pregnant, when the baby kicks at your ribs and sits on your bladder. It’s comfiest in spoons, with Lewis’ arm cradling your belly, your leg thrown back over his so he can slip inside you, fuck into you, his mouth on your neck. Can’t believe we made a baby, he whispers, gonna be such a good Mum, can't wait to make another one.

#lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton smut #f1 smut #f1 imagine #*#freaky friday

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muffindaddystyles · 3 years

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Soft dom harry makes subby reader upset subspace?

MEANIE ANGRY H :D BUCKLE UP FELLAS

Y/N's day is been shitty so far. It started with an ache in her lower abdomen from Harry’s morning stiffy bulging against her asscheeks fattening everytime he snuggled into her to hoard her warmth and blankies and to stuff his face in her neck with incoherent blabbering.

She wanted to wake him up with her hand, mouth, hole— anything around his cock and to please him and dull the burny feeling in her tummy -- but -- she had an important workshop at UNI that was must needed to be attended.

The time she managed to knock herself out of her needy and lusty headspace, she was getting late and whirling around the room and closest like a thunderstorm -- burying a snoring Harry under the heaps of clothes and littering the floor with her shoes collection, the kitchen got treated much more worst with maids being not around (she’s used to Harry waking up earlier than her and making her a full course brekkie) after making a laughable ruckus of cabinets all she stuffed her mouth with was a chocolate protein bar.

The stars were still not in her favour. She was grabbing onto her hair until far when she missed the bus (she usually don’t take buses, Harry makes sure the driver drop her off safe and secure) and it started raining leaving Y/N with nothing but a bare head to take all of it as she already left the bus shelter to stop a taxi.

If all of that wasn’t much of a tragedy and humiliating, Y/N slipped the moment she stepped out of the vehicle and on the slippery curbs of the building, she saw her life flashing right infront of her eyes as the papers tucked in her armpit fled everywhere and landed on the rainy mud sadistically along her. It gave her a serious hit in her ankle and completely yanked her hip, still being a stubborn-head she picked herself and went inside despite how many glares the cleaning staff threw her way for bringing the dirt with her feed all over the shiny floors.

She felt bad.

Stupidly bad.

Her workshop teachers were kind enough to accept her late arrival, but her designs for fall got rejected and they’d have been a huge milestone for her to get her dream internship.

Y/N felt awfully, teeny, pathetic and little while slumping into the corner of the bus and holding her breath to refrain from crying these little liquidy bitches out of her eyes.

Reaching back home she was met with pure chaos, bumping into petrified and agitated employs from Harry’s company scurrying out of their main foyer and she could persist but to ask what happened only to be informed in stammers that the staff messed up big and caused a loss of million dollars— making Harry terribly mad and fire people left and right.

It wasn’t a joke at all.

Because once, she steps inside, bag falling from her shoulder as she sighs in exhaustion feeling her muscles stiffening everywhere but one particular spot's hurting wrenchingly— her foggy mind couldn’t figure it out yet. She peeks into Harry’s home office to be met by a very annoyed, aggrieved, furious Harry pacing in his office all whilst with a phone against his ear shouting at someone who was destined to be humiliated today just like her and she pouts gingerly seeing his features skewered tightly into displeasure, the vein that curves along his temple prominent with blood pumping erratically in his body.

His head snaps up at the door’s creak and albeit his eyes softens a little, the kink of brows and the scowl on his lips is still there and he watches her paddle towards him carefully knowing anything at the moment would burst his chimneys out and she wants to be good for her daddy.

“Hi.” She speaks timidly, pout getting more rusty when the greetings not returned and instead he keeps all of his attention on the phone keeping a loose arm around her.

She grumbles, when he gestures down at her to give him a sec and untangles himself from her walking away and huffing and puffing into the phone.

How could he!

She feels so denied and rejected and kicked like it’s done to those affection starved lil puppies.

Her clingy tendencies flying high drunk and wooly. The needy beastie inside her wanting nothing more than take a bath where Harry could cream her back in her favourite berry bubbles, massaging her head and whisper sweet nothings into her ear, then lots and lots of cuddles, maybe he'll be generous enough and let her keep him snug inside her while they watch movie because she had such an awful day.

But, No! He's trying to escape free from her because she’s such a burden for him now.

Her eyes turns glassy, her shoulders slumping sadly and out of nowhere she’s feeling cold and barren as Harry’s voice becomes a wafting fume for her— an indication she has gone under too much.

“Daddy . . .” She stomps behind him, circling his footsteps like a whiny puppy and grapples at his dress shirt gasping sullenly when he swats her dainty hands away and glares down at her in dominance, his tone harsh as he blocks the receiver with his palm and mouths at her with a huff, “Stop being needy fo’ once. I’ve clearly some important issues to care for, Y/N.” Poor Y/N's deathly grip on his shirt loosens sorrowfully and her chin wobbles as she nodded still wanting to be good for him and if it wasn’t enough to give her the biggest heartbreak of the year— he even rolled his eyes at her too grumping under his breath about something how he turned her into a spoiled brat himself.

“Okie. . .” Her voice strangled and small. She shrinks into herself but wasn’t paid any heed from Harry and without another word she leaves him as to be it.

Having a huge breakdown in her room didn’t help at all. A painful headache hitting her like a train as she clumsily strips down, wearing one of his t-shirt heavily drenched in his scent he keeps for her under her pillow anytime she needs it and hides under the blankets with tears still running down her swollen cheeks— slipping into a light slumber from all of weariness and crying.

Once the smoke cleared from Harry’s mind and his capabilities of rational thinking coming back to him, he was reminded of how he denied his baby of his littlest of affection and tenderness when she clearly looked so glum and sad and upset.

He wanted to whip himself in head.

He’s such a twat that he let work come between them.

He curses himself. Making a sprint to his bedroom, knowing he’d find her none other than there and he was right puffing out a disheartened sigh when his eyes falls over his princess buried under all of these layers of blankets, he crawls up towards her carefully not to startle her awake.

Grunting at himself when he finds she’s been crying, he strokes a thumb up her blushy cheeks and her wet lashes, kissing her puffy eyelids and her little sad unhappy pout away.

He frowns. Feeling her feverish and flushed under his hand, “Hey puppy . . .” He thumbs down her throat getting a little fretful when she doesn’t stirs, however she’s such a squirmy little one and he moves the blankets away to let her body cool itself smiling proudly at his shirt swallowing her whole is when she snuggled herself more into her stuffie letting the shirt ride up her thighs and hips exposing a ghastly bruise of red and purples and he frowns not remembering it being there before.

Now. He feels shittier. Wanting to jump of the cliff for being a shitty sadist boyfriend to his only beloved.

“No!” Y/N whimpers loudly, squirming away from his touch as he examines her gently and it sent shockwaves to each of her tissues and lions causing her an undeniable pain.

“Puppy, shh, shh. ‘s just me, making sure if y'okay.” He scrambles closer to her towering her to cradle her face and kiss the tip of her nose—- his face falls drastically and his heart cracks miserly when Y/N pushes him away with a sorrowful mumble not even letting him wipe the drool away from the corner of her mouth as he usually does.

“’M okay . . .” She tries to knuckle the sleepiness away with shivery hands, “No you’re not —...” He’s cut off by her angry pout and her silly efforts to keep as much distance between them as possible, “I don’t need, Daddy . . ‘m big and I could take care of me self.” At her puny waver realization dawns upon Harry and his brows shoots up to his hairline feeling nauseous and terrible for not taking care of his babylove earlier.

He’d have never let her be away from him if he knew she was in her subspace.

“Y/N baby . . . I didn’t mean it, darling —--...” With gentleness he tries to approach her but she wraps her arms around her petite figure in a protective manner, haziness taking best of her and Harry’s chest suffocates into itself, being a dom it’s your responsibility to make your subby feel protected, loved and happy and he even failed at that.

He quickly cups both of her hot cheeks in his nippy palms when she hiccups sadly, a sob threatening to slip out, “Yes you did! You meant it. Said you spoiled me, I don’t want your money, promise! I just want you and y'shooed me away saying Y/N’s too needy . . .” Harry flinches at her words. He never even spared a thought to this negativity that she chooses to be with him for his money because he knows out of all the people she’s the only one who loves him out of the boundaries of status and money.

He realises how stabbing they'd have been to her when she was so sensitive and floaty wanting nothing more, just him.

How deep she has gone if she’s taking her own name in third person.

“’M sorry baby. So sorry. Swear on myself, didn’t mean to hurt my baby, knows tha’ work shouldn’t be an excuse t’ make y'feel unloved—- but those bastards got a tick outta me.” He rambles on frantically. Afraid she’ll think he’s lying and would finally make up her mind to leave him.

“You didn’t?” She asks with so much innocence Harry nearly cries out, “’Course I didn’t! How could I? You could never be needy, Bab. I love you so much and you’re my whole word, forgive me please?”

“You’re forgiven,” She let a small smile flutter up her features, a tinge of gleam in her previous dull eyes brightening the whole room and Harry immediately bunches her up in his lap.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks her, not sure if she still needs space from him and would rather be better without him but she bobs her head shyly and he chuckles softly before touching their lips together into a tender loving kiss and brushes their noses up and down murmuring sweetly coy to her.

“Now, could y'tell daddy how y'got this bruise baby? How did ya get hurt?” He coos, brushing her sweaty hair back and rubs her sweet gland behind her ear delicately, “Oh yeah . . . this, was raining and slipped.” She murmurs, hissing a gasp jolting away when Harry glides his fingers gently down her hip bone and fresh tears springs in her eyes as she buries herself in his chest, “Daddy hurts. . .” . “Oh babypie. Daddy’s g'na take care of his love.” He lays her down gently kissing her forehead when she whines for him to keep on holding her, “’M right here darling. G'na prep us a bath, make my baby alright.” Saying this he quickly disappears inside the washroom and next their room’s sursuring with marble tub filling with warm water, Harry throws in her favourite pink coloured bath bombs and rose essences and throws their towels in the warmer coming back with her as he left her to be, he has decided he’s gonna love on her whole night, “My baby’s the best, ain’t she? She’s my bestest girl.” He coos down at her sweetly and slides his forearms under her knees and back picking her up carefully and brings her to his chest securely.

She closes her eyes, biting down a whimper when Harry dips them in the water some it sloshing down the edges of bathtub and it envelopes them and gives a stingy feeling to her bruise before soothing it down.

He rubs her arms, and circles smoothing patterns on her tummy and kisses her a gallons as she melts in his embrace and he let’s her sink into him more, nibbling and sponging wet ticklish kisses on her neck making her purr and become a puddle of softness in his hold while she takes her time to mumble all the bad events that happened to her and he felt so guilty of not asking her how she’s and how her day went when she came to him, in need of some of his lovin.

“I love you so much, bab.” He suckles her earlobe, toying and plucking her bottom plush lip, “Was prick to me love —.. you deserve all my lovin,” He noses at her jaw, not forgetting it to mark it with his pecks and sloppy bites.

“’S okay daddy, y'had a bad day too.” He’s grateful to have her in his life. She cares about him, maybe more than he does for her and he feels himself lucky for it.

“You want me to help you relax?”

“Can I have you?” Her tone bashfully desperate and coy, Harry meanders their fingers together and kisses her knuckles softly.

Considering her wound still being sore and pulp, having sex would be painful for her and she might not grasp it in her hazy mind but Harry doesn’t want to hurt at all.

He plants a little noisy smooch to her shoulder when she nods, she mews and purrs when Harry glides his palm all the way down her body and cups her pussy digging his palm into her mound and coats his digits with her arousal dipping the pads of his fingers into her entrance, “All this wet f'me?” Palming her tits while whispering sweet nothings into her ear when she gasps and closes up on Harry scratching nails into his bended knees.

“Shh, shh puppy, jus' relax hmm? Feel yourself.” With sputtery inhales she does as he says, soon two of his fingers slips inside her and he strokes her pussy and pulls them out making her all whiny and pushes them back with a squelching noise, fucking her with it smiling and stopping when her thighs parts falls again his’s completely.

“Daddy!” She writhes and whines, trembly hands trying to bring Harry fingers back to her pulsating wetness, “You’re the cutest.” He smiles against her lips giving her cheeks several squishes and pats her head loving to see his adorable princess all flustery for him.

On her demands. He slicks his fingers back inside her and caresses the insides of her thighs while she pants and sinks onto his knuckles blabbering out daddydaddydaddy weepily.

“Cum fo’ me, puppy. Feels good? Yeah? My baby feels nice?” He rasps in her mouth, curving and petting the soft spot inside her pussy and sucks onto her upper lip when she moans and mewls loudly gushing all over his finger and he keeps on fucking her till she’s all sleepy and balmy against his chest.

Harry coaxes her tenderly, smoothing his hands all over her twitchy spots and patches sloppy kisses all over her face that makes her all giggly and shy—- the amount of endorphins spiking high in her system.

“Love you so much, daddy.” She mushes puckering her lips into his throat.

“Love you too, pup.”

#dom harry x subby y/n #dom harry x sub reader #dom!h x sub!reader #dom!h x sub!y/n #dom harry #harry styles fanfic #harry styles story #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #cute harry #harry styles #harry smut #harry styles fanfiction #fluff #harry angst #hsh

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fightmechimchim · 3 years

Text

BTS Scenarios - They react to your touching habit.

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None (unless you’re uncomfortable with butt touching)

Word Count: 3421

Kim Namjoon:

‘’Why do you always do this? You have pockets too.’’ Namjoon jested, nodding towards your hand that was currently occupying the right pocket of his jeans.

‘’My pockets are crap. Look how tiny they are! You can’t fit anything in them.’’ You whined, using your free hand to grip at the useless fabric, only pretending to be a functional pocket.

Namjoon chuckled, watching your lips curl in frustration as you continued to criticise your incompetent jeans.

‘’You can buy new clothes.’’ He suggested, which earned him a roll of your eyes. He often felt that these kind of things were simply beyond his understanding.

‘’It’s just not that easy to find clothing with properly sized pockets,’’ you answered, pouting. ‘’And besides, maybe I’m just subtly asking for you to hold my hand,’’ you cooed while shaking your hand inside his pocket.

‘’Oh?’’ Namjoon wondered, looking down at your hand buried deep inside his spacious jeans. A softness encased his features, and he immediately reached inside his pocket to take hold of your hand. He pulled out your intertwined hands from his pocket and began swinging them back and forth at your sides.

The day was cold, but Namjoon’s warm hold was enough to warm you from the toes up. You grinned as you made your way towards a peaceful little café you both liked to visit.

After getting your drinks and leaving the café, you glanced at Namjoon walking in front of you. A sly smile crept on your face. You ran up to him, careful not to spill the drink in your hand, and slipped your free hand in the back pocket of his jeans, giving his precious behind a loving squeeze. Namjoon startled and almost dropped his drink. He looked at you over his shoulder and began chuckling in embarrassment. You admired the soft pink layering his cheeks.

‘’Uh, you won’t find my hand in there,’’ he quipped with a playful glint in his eyes.

‘’I know.’’ You winked, and he laughed aloud, leaning in to kiss you.

Kim Seokjin:

Dragging a chair to where Jin was seated, you sat down and lifted your legs so you could place them on his lap. He gave your legs a gentle squeeze before resuming with his game. Five minutes later, your chin was on his shoulder as you toyed with his earrings, and in the next five minutes, you were practically sitting on him as you traced the veins on his hands. You played with his fingers, traced his knuckles, drew circles on his fingertips, and even brought his palm to your face to feel his warmth whenever he freed his hand away from the keyboard.

‘’Are you bored?’’ He asked, glancing at you swiftly before looking back to the screen. The corners of his mouth lifted in a small smile. He’s been very well aware of your actions, finding them immensely adorable.

‘’No, are you?’’ You yawned, poking at his cheek, he pretended to bite your finger, and you pulled it away with a giggle.

‘’I’m not bored, but you always play with my hands when you’re bored,’’ he informed you absent-mindedly while his gaze shifted through the content on the screen.

‘’I didn’t notice. I just love your hands, I guess,’’ You uttered, continuing to idly stroke his fingers.

Jin chuckled, his eyes glowing with tenderness, ‘’I’ll quit playing, and we can do whatever you want,’’ he said and closed the game.

‘’No, it’s okay, you can keep playing,’’ you protested and tried to take the mouse, but Jin closed his hand over yours.

‘’I need both of my hands to play, and I can’t play if you keep groping me,’’ he laughed, poking at your sides.

‘’I wasn’t groping you!’’ You chastised him, but he only laughed.

‘’Okay, okay, how about we do something else…’’ He said suggestively, winking at you. You rolled your eyes, slapping his shoulder lightly.

‘’Later, let’s just cuddle for now?’’ You said, taking his hands in yours, urging him to stand up with you.

You laid down in bed and immediately intertwined your limbs with his in an escapable hold. After some time of peaceful quiet, you found his hands and began playing with them once more.

‘’Is cuddling boring for you?’’ Jin asked, faking irritation, which made you laugh.

‘’No, I didn’t lie when I said that I love your hands,’’ you smiled, pulling his hands to your lips where you planted plenitude of kisses along his knuckles to prove your point. You felt his chest vibrate as he laughed, but he let you resume, and soon enough, you fell asleep, hands intertwined and hearts full of love.

Min Yoongi:

‘’What’s on your mind?’’ Yoongi asked, tilting his head to look at you.

‘’Hm?’’ You tensed, staring at the back of his neck where your hand rested, and your fingers pulled at his hair, delicately so as not to hurt him.

‘’Something is on your mind, isn’t it?’’ Yoongi asked again, leaning back on his chair. He lifted his head to look at you, who stood right behind him. You turned your gaze to his loving eyes and tried to smile.

‘’Nothing,’’ you mumbled, shifting your gaze to his computer screen where an array of boxes, whose language you were unfamiliar with, sat occupying the time and attention of your hard-working boyfriend.

‘’You sure?’’ He probed gently, but you just shook your head. He took your hand away from his neck and turned around, silently inviting you to sit on his lap. You accepted and immediately melted into his embrace as he hugged you. He set his chin on your shoulder, and you turned slightly to give him a brief kiss on his temple.

‘’I miss you,’’ you said, giving in to the nagging feeling inside your chest. His comforting touch was an irresistible key that was bound to unlock every strand of thought and emotion hidden inside you.

‘’I’m right here, though,’’ he said, smiling softly into your shoulder.

‘’I know, and I’m probably just being clingy but staying at home sucks, and I just want to be around you all the time… is that bad?’’ You confided with him, letting your thoughts stream into the air, hoping they won’t awaken the insecure voice inside your head.

‘’No honey, I know how you feel,’’ Yoongi spoke softly and brushed his lips across the side of your cheek.

‘’You do?’’ You asked, turning to face him.

He nodded and leaned in to press a reassuring kiss on your lips, slowly as if he had all the time in the world to cherish you. You smiled, and the longing in your began to settle.

‘’Do you want to go home?’’ He suggested.

‘’You still have a lot of work to do, don’t you?’’ You said, looking over his computer.

‘’There’s nothing I can’t finish tomorrow. I don’t want to worry you anymore,’’ he smiled, reaching to caress the side of your face.

‘’I’m not that worried. You don’t have to leave for me…’’ You pouted as a snip of guilt found its way into your gut.

‘’You always play with my hair at the nape of my neck when you’re worried about something, and that’s enough to let me know you need me,’’ he said, glancing backwards at your hand, which somehow found its way to the back of his head again. You let go of the soft strands that tangled between your fingers and looked at him sheepishly.

‘’Thank you, Yoongi,’’ you beamed, hugging him, happy with the content peace that settled over you both.

‘’I don’t want to get up anymore,’’ you giggled.

‘’Me neither. Do you just want to sleep on the couch?’’ He said, as you looked over at the small couch in the corner of his studio.

‘’Yes,’’ you smiled.

‘’It might not be comfy,’’ he reminded.

‘’It’s okay, you’re a great pillow,’’ you chuckled, poking his tummy.

‘’Is that all that I am?’’ He teased, poking you back.

‘’Of course not, you’re the love of my life,’’ you said, kissing him on the forehead.

‘’I’m honoured,’’ he grinned, his gummy smile making an appearance.

‘’The honour is all mine,’’ you laughed, dragging him to the small couch where you laid your head on his chest and relished the feeling of Yoongi’s fingers brushing through your hair.

Jung Hoseok:

You eyed the numerous sheets that littered your desk, heart sinking with every unchecked paper that glared at you. The harsh light of the computer screen has been burning your eyes for the past hour, and you no longer had any strength left in you to work through another few minutes. Your head was pounding, and your joints ached.

Stepping away from the table, you made your way into the kitchen in search of your boyfriend. Despite the soreness in your muscles, you did not protest against the steps that took you closer to the warmth of Hoseok’s figure standing at the kitchen counter making you dinner.

You circled your arms around his waist and rested your cheek on his back. The warmth radiating from his skin seeped into you, and you relaxed against him, turning your head to set a multitude of lingering kiss on his shoulders. You felt him shake as a leisurely chuckle sounded in your ears. You hummed in pleasure, feeling his hands rub soothing circles along your arms that rested on his stomach.

‘’You okay?’’ He asked, trying to turn around.

‘’Mhm, just don’t move please,’’ you whispered into his back, and he stilled. He continued to caress your hands which you shifted to pull him closer to you.

‘’You’re warm,’’ you remarked, eyes closing.

‘’Are you cold?’’ He asked, pulling your arms tighter around him as if to give you more of his heat.

‘’No,’’ you smiled despite the headache.

‘’You put too much pressure on yourself. You need to rest and take better care of yourself, or at least let me take care of you.’’ Hoseok spoke, and despite your protest, he turned around to face you. Your arms remained circled around him, and he gently cupped your face stroking your cheeks as if he could wipe away the exhaustion eating away at you.

‘’I don’t even do that much work, no matter how long I sit at that cursed table, it seems like nothing gets done, and no matter how hard I try, I just can’t get the results I want,’’ you sighed, dropping your forehead to rest on his shoulder.

Hoseok reached his hand to gently lift your chin so you may look at the sincerity in his eyes when he spoke, ‘’hey, you’re the most incredible person I know, and I know you put all that you have into your work even if you don’t think it’s enough. I can see how much you care, and I wish you could see just how much I admire you for all that you do. You should admire yourself too.’’ The softness of his voice was enough to invite the heap of tears that have been welling up inside you. Not worrying about shielding your stress from him, you let yourself cry.

Hoseok tugged you closer to him, engulfing you in his arms as he murmured loving words to you. He let you cry for as long as you needed, and once you sniffled past your last sob, you thanked him.

‘’How do you always know what’s wrong with me?’’ You croaked out, your throat thick from crying.

Hoseok smiled, placing a kiss on your cheekbone.

‘’I realised that your way of seeking comfort when your upset is by giving me a back hug and showering me in kisses,’’ he said, petting your head as you gazed at him.

‘’I’m glad you noticed that,’’ you whispered, feeling warmth swell in your chest.

‘’Let’s eat and go to sleep, okay?’’ He wiped away the wetness underneath your eyes and planted one more affectionate kiss on your lips. You nodded and followed him to the table set for you to eat, thankful that you always had him to care for you.

Park Jimin:

The click of the lock had you springing from your seat and rushing to the door to greet him. Jimin was barely a foot in the house before you embraced him in your arms and nestled your face in the crook of his neck, and heaved in a deep breath. You missed him all the way from his scent to the press of his hands on your back.

‘’I missed you too, angel,’’ he smiled into your temple before setting a soft kiss. The feeling of his lips on your skin, the sound of his voice fluttering down your back, and the tenderness of his arms around you had you pulling him even closer to you with aching effort. If Jimin felt smothered, he didn’t show it. He was more than happy to be swallowed by your embrace.

You did not care for time as you stood with him in the narrow hallway, simply adoring the feeling of his body so close to your own. You began brushing your nose back and forth against his neck to soothe the ache that’s been haunting you ever since Jimin left for tour.

‘’Is something wrong?’’ He asked, pulling you away gently to gaze at you. Concern lined his eyes, causing something to stir in you.

‘’What? How did you know?’’ You looked at him, startled that he caught on when you didn’t even give him a chance to see your face before tackling him to a hug.

‘’You always brush your nose against my neck when you feel upset… just something I’ve noticed over time,’’ he explained, a smile gracing his beautiful face.

‘’Oh…’’ You blushed, glad to welcome back the familiar stammering of your heart that only ever appeared when Jimin said something to make you feel loved and noticed.

‘’I just missed you… It feels good, to finally feel you close,’’ you said, reaching to stroke his cheek. He leaned into your touch with a bright smile and pulled you back to him. You felt him bury his face in the crook of your neck, and soon enough, the gentle touch of his nose, brushing against your neck back and forth, warmed your skin. You laughed, glad to finally have him home.

Kim Taehyung:

‘’I’m going to get something to eat from the kitchen. Do you want something?’’ You asked your boyfriend, nudging him with your foot, where he sat in front of the computer playing video games.

‘’No, I’m good,’’ he murmured, completely mesmerised by whatever was happening on screen.

You hoisted yourself from the bed and set a chaste kiss on Taehyung’s cheek before leaving the room. Frustrated exclamations followed you out, which made you laugh.

After finding some snacks, you trudged back to your room, eyes glued to your phone screen where a random video stole your attention. You sat on the bed, snacking while continuing to scroll through random posts.

‘’Are you mad at me?’’ Taehyung asked suddenly, and you almost dropped your phone, surprised to see him peering at you from the foot of the bed.

‘’Huh?’’ You asked, confused. Taehyung looked at you cautiously and then slowly glanced towards the kitchen.

‘’Did I forget to wash some dishes? Did I leave the fridge open? What did I do?’’ He asked, inching closer to you, each question leaving you more confused.

‘’No? I’m not mad at you, Taehyung,’’ you giggled at his unconvinced expression.

‘’You called me Taehyung,’’ he said, pointing at you accusingly, ‘’you are mad at me!’’ He exclaimed, standing up and rushing to the kitchen.

‘’I’m not mad at you! What are you talking about?’’ You yelled after him, and eventually got up to follow him into the kitchen.

You saw him standing there, turning in circles as he scratched his head.

‘’What are you doing?’’ You approached him and placed your palm on his forehead to check for temperature. He took your hand into his and stared at you deep in thought while you raised your eyebrows in silent question.

‘’If you’re not mad at me, then why didn’t you kiss me?’’ He asked, tilting his head in wonder.

‘’Kiss you?’’ You repeated, bemused.

He nodded before explaining, ‘’you always give me a kiss when you leave or enter the room,’’ he said, pointing at random parts of his cheek and the top of his head where you’d usually place a kiss. ‘’And you didn’t kiss me when you came back from the kitchen… the only time you don’t do it is when you’re mad,’’ he finished. You stared at him in bewilderment.

‘’I do that?’’ You asked, feeling humoured by a habit you never noticed you had.

‘’I didn’t realise, but don’t worry, I’m not mad at you,’’ you chuckled, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek, parting away with a loud ‘mwah’ sound in exaggeration. He smiled, taking you in his arms.

‘’Now take back that other part,’’ he said, eyes beaming with delight.

‘’What other part?’’ You questioned.

‘’The part where you called me Taehyung! I’m not Taehyung. I’m honey, babe, or love,’’ he exclaimed, offended though a smile bloomed on his face.

‘’Oh, okay, sorry I take it back, honeeyyyy,’’ you laughed while exaggerating the word.

Taehyung raised his eyebrows as a playful gleam flashed across his eyes. You ran before he could tackle you and start tickling you, although it was futile. Not even a minute later, you were begging for mercy as sounds of laughter rang from your room. Taehyung had you pinned on your bed, his hands travelling up and down your sides, demanding that you never call him Taehyung again.

Jeon Jungkook:

The heat of the morning sun was slowly but incessantly burning your cheek, and you whined for Jungkook to close the curtains so you could continue your slumber. After some time, the sun was still heating your face, except this time it was accompanied by someone poking at your forehead.

You open your eyes begrudgingly and met Jungkook’s gaze. He was watching you sleep with a soft smirk shaping his lips.

‘’Good morning,’’ he whispered, brushing his fingers through your hair. You sighed at the sensation but then frowned.

‘’Why didn’t you close the curtains when I asked?’’ You whined, stretching your legs underneath the warm blankets.

‘’You didn’t ask me,’’ Jungkook chuckled huskily, still not fully awake.

‘’I thought I did… maybe I asked you in my dream,’’ you yawned, biting down gently on Jungkook’s finger that he tried to slip inside your gaping mouth.

‘’Babe?’’ He asked, poking your forehead once again. You hummed in question.

‘’We need to talk about something,’’ he said, looking at you sternly. You opened your eyes wider in question, and Jungkook flipped the covers off of your bodies despite your protests that it’s cold.

‘’Look,’’ he said, directing his gaze to where your hand was… on his ass, where it has been sneaking to all night, and no matter how many times Jungkook pushed it away, he always woke up with it right there. You laughed, squeezing his behind as Jungkook just rolled his eyes and pulled your hand away.

‘’You’re welcome?’’ You teased him while poking at his butt.

‘’Why is it that every time I wake up, your hand is always there?’’ He asked, taking your hand in his own, giving it a playful shake.

‘’Well, why do you have such a nice butt?’’ You retorted back, trying to slip your hand back to where you had it, but Jungkook quickly rolled on top of you, pinning your hands to your sides.

‘’No more butt touching,’’ he said, failing to sound serious as a rumble of laughter escaped your lips, causing him to laugh as well and release your hands. You took that opportunity to place both of your hands on his behind, securing him against you.

‘’Hey!’’ Jungkook protested, trying to wiggle out of your hold. You only laughed in joy.

‘’Don’t pretend like you don’t like it,’’ you teased, squeezing his butt once more. He groaned in response, but his lips were stretched wide in a smile. He laid his head down on your chest and began to hum, and soon enough, the both of you fell back asleep. When Jungkook woke up an hour later, cuddled next to your side, he found that your hand never moved away from his behind. He could only laugh because you were right, he absolutely did not mind waking up with you like that.

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callsignavalon · 3 years

Text

Published: 2/20

Bakugou X Chubby insecure gf

I wrote this in my notes so I don’t know the word count lmao

Warnings: specific warning for body insecurities, and a little bit of sexy time at the end,, if there’s anything else please comment and I will add more warnings

Bakugou’s first time seeing his chubby gf naked

You and Katsuki had meet each other at the pro hero agency he started working for after graduating at UA. You were fresh and new, and he had been there a few years and was really into his hero work. He had made a name for himself.

And you, you were small and tiny and curvy and squishy, you were someone that a pro-hero like Bakugou Katsuki, Dynamite, should have never, ever noticed. He was big, and tall, strong and muscular.

You weren’t a hero, you weren’t quirkless either, but never had any chance at being a hero. You weren’t physically fit, your quirk didn’t allow you to use your fatness as an advantage and you probably couldn’t run for longer than 30 seconds without feeling like death. You had to face the odds once you got into high school, and certainly didn’t pass the hero course exams.

Yep, you were the fat girl with the dream of being a heroic, but settled for working for a top hero agency instead.

You weren’t exceptionally smart, but your quirk was definitely needed at hospitals, hero agencies and schools like UA that offered a hero course. It was a healing quirk that easily found its way to being needed just about anywhere. Luckily for you, this agency was impressed with just how well your quirk worked.

You graduated from UA with average grades, someone who didn’t really stand out until they had seen you got to work directly under Recovery Girl. Which landed you the job you now have, the exceptional recommendation from the older woman being enough to send you almost anywhere.

You had spent a lot of late nights nursing the hero’s back into good health, and every once in a while you would get to see him. You couldn’t help the little crush you had, you admired his hard work ethic and his ability to literally scare the hell out of everyone. He was loud and tough and almost never came to the medical ward until he met you.

Bakugou Katsuki had a fucking school girl crush on you. He found himself coming in when he had a headache just to lay back and talk to you during his breaks. Katsuki often found himself in you office, having lunch together or being company on your late night shifts.

He would admire your soft thighs or think about what it would be like to squeeze your perfectly squishy skin. He admired your stomach and your squishy cheeks, the way your jeans were always cuffed because you were too short for regular pants. It took him 6 months to gather the courage to ask you on a first date, which he then asked you to be his girlfriend in the same night.

Of course you said yes, how could you not? You had admired him before you ever even met the man.

Now, you were 7 months into dating. I love you’s were said pretty early on, both of you being completely obsessed and in love with each other.

You were shy and gentle, Bakugou the complete opposite of literally everything you were. You had never dated, never been intimate with anyone. You had experienced sloppy car sex and was always in the dark. You weren’t used to guys like Katsuki.

He adored you. Always wanted to see you, always loved the way you looked. He kissed you, told you were beautiful, loved squeezing your soft plushy skin. Loved watching your ass jiggle when he smacked it or when he fucked you from behind. Made sure to get hoodies and shirts that were a bit too big for him and wear them around just so you could wear something that had his scent.

Neither of you had ever felt this way about anyone, and that was saying something considering Bakugou hated everyone. You on the other hand, had never been in love, and gosh, you loved your handsome, big and tough never scared of anything boyfriend.

The only problem between the two of you was that you were so damn self conscious. He didn’t understand why you always insisted on covering yourself from him. It was either shirt on and pants off, or pant on and shirt off. Either way, you had never intentionally let your boyfriend see you fully naked.

He never made a big deal out of it, but tonight he was determined to see you completely nude for him. He wanted to see all of you at one time. Wanted to cherish every dip and curve of your body. He wanted to show you how perfect you were in his eyes.

“C’mon pretty girl.. let me see ya..” he whispered against your neck, his hands under your shirt and teasing your breasts.

“Katsu..”

“No, baby.” He whispers, staring down at you with love in his eyes. “I wanna show you how beautiful you are to me.” He whispers and leans down to kiss you, holding you close as his lips met you in a passionate moment.

You knew he deserved to see you fully naked, you knew your boyfriend had been patient, had been loving, but deep down you were scared. You were scared that once he saw you fully, even though he had seen each part of you on separate occasions, he would be disgusted. Deep down that’s all you could think about. He’d see every stretch mark, every scar, every crevice and fold of your body. He’d see the extra rolls on your tummy and how your breasts weren’t perky, and it would be repulsive.

You pulled quickly away from the kiss, tears falling down your cheeks as you looked at your concerned boyfriend. He cupped your face, wiping the tears away gently.

“I can’t.. I can’t. You’ll hate me and I can’t..”

“Shh.. shh.” He whispered, rolling onto his back and pulling your soft, shaking form into his lap.

“Baby I would never make you do something you’re not comfortable with.” He mumbled gently.

“I just want to worship you.. hold ever curve, kiss every mark and tell you how beautiful you are. I wanna lay between your thighs and rest my head on your perfect tummy, kiss it and squeeze and just love you..” he said as gently as his rough voice could. He didn’t let you speak, continuing his soft rant, fingers squeezing and holding parts of you that you hated.

“You are the entire world to me, and I wanna show you that. I want you to love yourself as much as I love you.”

Bakugou made you feel warm. He made you feel loved and it pained you to hear his voice crack, his face hiding between your neck as he gave you soft kisses. He was so gentle, unlike himself in every perfect way when he was with you. Katsuki Bakugou was truly in love with you, and you were deeply, crazily in love with him.

“Promise.. promise me that you’ll still love me.”

He turned your body to face his, chuckling as he looked down at your face. “I promise.” He says, minty breath fanning against your face.

He loved you. He loves you. You love him.

“Okay.”

You scratched the back of your head for a moment, before reaching your hands down and pulling your top over your head. He gently removed your bra, admiring your breasts he had seen many times before. “So beautiful..”

“So perfect..”

Next he laid you back, hovering over your frame as he undid the button on your jeans, looking up at you to make sure you really wanted this.

A small nod of the head and he was gently pulling your jeans down, kissing back up your body, mumbling every perfect word he could think to describe you.

He kept his eyes on you, warning you a few times that he was gonna tie your hands up if you didn’t stop covering yourself. “Wanna see all of you..” he mumbled, rubbing and squeezing, kissing and mumbling praises as he made his way to your lips again.

There was just one article of clothing left, one thing keeping you from being fully, completely exposed to your boyfriend. “You ready?” He asked, nipping gently at your ear, smirking as he felt you shiver underneath him. The pink flush hadn’t left your face since your shirt had been taken off.

“Yes..”

“I love you.”

He smiled at your words, grinning as you brought him down for another kiss. You were nervous, shaky and anxious, but all you could see was love from this man. He adored you, insecurities and all, he adored you. His eyes met yours as he pulled away, nuzzling your nose for a moment before the man went back to kissing down your body.

He was overwhelmingly happy to finally see you, to finally see his girlfriend beautiful exposed to him. His cock and his heart ached at how much he fucking loved you. He was bound and determined to show you that every fucking day of his life if he had to.

In one swift movement Bakugou had pulled your soaked panties away from your body, smiling as you squeezed your legs shut. “Aw princess, did you not want me to see how wet you are?” He teased, gently spreading your thighs apart as he admired you. All his. He grinned a bit, devious and in love, he’d make sure you knew that.

“All this praise making you wet for me?”

A small nod of the head was all he needed for encouragement, “Gonna make sure my princess is happy and taken care of..” he purrs, kissing back over your body, still taking his time to admire you. He had left little marks all over your thighs and neck, over your breasts.

Happily, Katsuki got down on his stomach, wrapped his long arms under your thighs and pushed his tongue right into your aching pussy, ruby eyes never leaving you. His thumb met your clit and kept a steady rhythm on the little pearl, his tongue going as far as he could reach. He was quite literally devouring your cunt.

Soft mewls of pleasure and little pleas of more were keeping him going, feeling a nice high from your legs squishing around his head. Fucking hell, you drove him insane. He pulled away before you could cum, anxious and ready to fill your pussy with his cock. A loud whine of protest flew from your lips, but was quickly silenced as you noticed your lover finally getting undressed.

“I love you so much princess.. thank you for letting me see you.” He said, leaning between your thighs and pulling you into a kiss.

“I love you too...” your voice trailed off, loud moans ripping through you as he pushed deep into your aching core. “You’re so tight and warm baby..” he moaned, wrapping your legs around him as he kept his forehead against you, lovingly fucking you.

Right now, all you felt was pure bliss. You were high on love, high on Bakugou. He made you feel perfect, made you feel warm and fuzzy. Even as he pounded his cock into your cunt he let you know how fucking perfect you were.

You still had your bad days, but you stopped being afraid of what your boyfriend would think. He loved you, curves, insecurities, every stupid little thing about you, Bakugou loved. And he always made sure to show you that. Katsuki gave you a new found confidence, and you made sure to share that confidence in your perfect, beautiful relationship with him.

He loves you. You love him. No insecurities were ever going to take that way.

a/n: yes my lil chubby self wrote this based on how I would like for someone to admire me,,, I will cry now

#bnha smut #bnha x reader #my hero academia #mha x y/n #anime fic #bnha bakugou #bakugou imagine #bakugou headcanons #bakugou x reader #katsuki x y/n #boku no hero academia #bnha fluff #mha fluff #bakugou fluff

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malfoysbtch · 3 years

Text

Different With You

Draco Malfoy x Female Ravenclaw Reader

Request: @dracosathenaeum I have a request! You're playing quidditch when you get hit with a quaffle or something and Draco freaks out/gets over protective? It's been collecting dust in my idea's list so I want to see someone bring it to life! ❤️❤️

A/N: I hope it’s okay that the reader is in Ravenclaw, I wanted to make it a little bit different than my others :) I hope you love it, I’m so happy I could write something for you!❤️

Quickly putting on your blue quidditch robes, you talked excitedly to Cho about the game that was about to begin. You were playing against Slytherin and you were slightly nervous, as they needed this win to make it to the finals against Gryffindor; they were notorious for playing dirty and you were sure their need to win would only cause it to worsen. As your anxiety and excitement increased, your team grabbed your brooms and made your way onto the pitch, a mixture of excited screams and boos greeting you from the stands. Your heart raced with adrenalin as you looked around the stands, a powerful feeling taking over your body; you were a chaser for the team and nothing made you feel more powerful than the wind rushing through your hair as you raced across the pitch to score a goal.

The captains of each of your teams shook hands before Madam Hooch blew her whistle. Mounting your broom, you immediately took off and raced towards the quaffle that soared into the air. You leaned forward on your broom, increasing your speed and catching it before the Slytherin chaser could; you were quickly weaving in and out of players, trying to avoid losing the quaffle or getting hit. Even as Slytherin players bumped harshly against you, you refused to lose speed and continued to focus on your goal that was becoming closer and closer. Throwing the quaffle, it soared past the keeper and through the middle goal, earning Ravenclaw ten points.

The crowd once again was a mixture of cheers and boos, the game continuing on and each team scoring points repeatedly, making it a very close game. You were shocked when, over an hour into the game, your team was 60points ahead of Slytherin. You could see the team becoming angry and frustrated, their players getting increasingly more aggressive as the minutes passed. You struggled to focus on your grip on the quaffle as the Slytherin beaters pressed against you on either side, trying to knock you off your broom or throw you off course. While you could handle the team being physical and aggressive, you soon found yourself being the target of the beaters. Multiple times they ‘accidentally’ hit you with their batsand hit the bludger in your direction, clearly trying to knock you off your broom. The fouls they received for their actions didn’t seem to faze them, as they continued release their aggression on you and it was becoming rather painful.

You knew you were covered in bruises and you were beginning to worry that very soon you wouldn’t be so lucky as to avoid one of their bludgers again. Your captain called a time out and you noticed that even the Slytherin team gathered around, the beaters looking very proud even as Draco Malfoy, their seeker, seemed to be angrily talking to them. Part of you wondered if he was angry about what they were doing, but you quickly shook that thought out of your head; the two of you merely shared smiles in the hallway and a quick ‘hello’ when nobody was around, hardly ever having had a full conversation.

You shook your head and began to focus on what your captain was saying, “We need to end this game quickly, someone’s going to get hurt; they’re close enough to knocking Y/N off her broom.” Everyone on the team agreed and the captain began talking directly to your seeker, Cho, about quickly finding the snitch and ending the game. She looked determined and ready to end the game; to earn Ravenclaw a win. Everyone mounted their brooms once more and the game began with full force.

You weren’t sure what Malfoy had said to his team, though it seemed to only make things worse. They had begun to get more forceful with their swings at you and before you knew it, the bludger was racing towards you with more force than you could honestly say you expected. This time, however, you hadn’t saw it coming in time to avoid it and felt the force collide with your shoulder and roll up to hit the side of your head. The last thing you felt was the crunch of your shoulder and the wind rushing through your hair and sharpening the pain as you fell from your broom, the world going dark.

“He got into a fight?” you asked your best friend Luna. Your brows were furrowed as you tried to imagine the encounter. She had just explained how Draco Malfoy got into a fight with his teammate, Bole, and about how he was yelling about you. You weren’t sure you heard her quite right and asked her to say that again. “It was quite strange really, it sounded like he was defending you. Are you friends?” she smiled at you, almost as if she knew the answer already.

Your cheeks tinted as you looked at your hands. Yes, the two of you actually were kind of friends, you supposed. “I don’t really know,” you mumbled, sighing slightly. The conversation ended there, as she went on to discuss Transfiguration class the day before. You couldn’t really focus on what she was saying, as your head began to ache; you couldn’t stop thinking of why Draco would’ve done that for you. Especially in front of everyone.

“I’ll let you rest, I think I’m talking to myself now,” she smiled, seeming not to care that you weren’t listening. After apologizing and saying goodbye, you were left alone with your thoughts and the throbbing pain in your head. You couldn’t help the flutter of butterflies in your tummy as you thought about him defending you. Your face flushed and you felt giddy; you’d never felt this way about someone before. You weren’t usually one for little crushes, as you mostly kept to your small friend circle. Your thoughts were interrupted, as Madam Pomfrey came over with a potion for your pain. The potion tasted terrible, but the relief was nearly instant, as your muscles relaxed, and a dreamless sleep took over.

You groaned as Snape called you to stay after potions class; it had been nearly a week since the accident, but your headaches were only just subsiding. Madam Pomfrey said it could be up to a month before they went away completely. You knew you had done poorly on the assignment, but you found it difficult to focus once the headache took over.

“Miss Y/L/N, I understand the circumstances, but I cannot continue to excuse your work.”

The words added to the pounding in your head, echoing as you walked slowly up the stairs to the Great Hall, your muscles tense with stress. In a haze, you found yourself sitting alone at the Ravenclaw table, not really wanting to socialize. You were trying to eat as much as you could, as you knew you couldn’t continue to skip meals; you often found yourself sleeping through mealtimes.

“Why all alone?” Your head shot up much too quickly, causing you to grab onto the person to keep from falling. When your head cleared from the dizziness, you confirmed your assumption: the voice belonged to Draco Malfoy. Your heart thumped in your chest, making it difficult to regain what little composure you already had before. “Headache,” you paused for a second, studying him; he was completely serious and didn’t seem to care about the people that were staring. “Did you really defend me?” You spoke quickly, finally asking him the question that had eaten away at you.

Draco’s lips turn up in a small smile, “Yes. Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?” Your heart skipped a beat; he actually noticed you were avoiding him. You made eye contact with him, thinking of an appropriate response. “I don’t particularly want to talk about this here,” you crossed your arms, wincing at the pain in your head. You thought maybe he would get up and leave, not caring if you explained yourself or not. You were shocked when, instead of leaving you, he held out his hand to help you out of your seat.

He noticed your confused expression and laughed, “You don’t want to talk about it here, well I have a perfectly private prefect’s dorm.” Your eyebrows raised in shock, a flirty grin taking over your features. “Well alright then,” you let go of his hand once you were on your feet and gestured for him to lead the way. It was a rather interesting walk back to the dungeons, as he seemed rather concerned and asked you questions about your injuries, specifically your head.

You had just finished explaining everything when you reached his dorm. You were more interested than you cared to admit as you followed him inside, looking around at his decorations and random possessions. You enjoyed the green and silver theme and, while his room wasn’t anything crazy, you learned a little bit more about him by seeing it.

Once you were done looking around, you found yourself awkwardly standing in the middle of the room while he stood leaning against his dresser. Oh my god, you thought to yourself, I’ve hardly ever had a full conversation with him, let alone been alone in his bedroom of all places. You felt your face flush a deep shade of red at the thought. You weren’t willing to admit your feelings, but they were undeniable as you made eye contact with the boy standing a few feet away from you. You could tell he was trying to decide what to do or say next, while you tried to figure him out. Why was he being so nice to you?

“You can sit, you know,” he motioned to his bed shyly, “I know your head was bothering you.” You quickly accepted the invitation, getting comfortable sitting with your legs crisscross. “What made you care all of a sudden? We’ve never even had a full conversation,” you narrowed your eyes at him playfully, trying to cover how nervous you really were. Laughing a little, he crosses his arms defensively, “I didn’t see you trying to make conversation either.”

You find yourself giggling at him, knowing you can’t argue. He spoke before you could, a small smile playing on his lips, “It’s not that I didn’t want to talk to you and, really, I’ve always cared. I’m just not good at these things.” Smiling, you found yourself staring at the boy a few feet away from you, enjoying the way he looked at you. He seemed to have a gentle tone when speaking with you and, while you never truly talked to him, you knew it wasn’t his usual tone.

“Yeah, I’m not very good at them either…,” you found your voice drifting off as he came to sit next to you on the bed.

He was very close to you, causing your cheeks to flush. “I’ve been avoiding you because I think I like you and I didn’t wanna face that,” your eyes widened as you blurted this out. Before you could do anything else, he laced his fingers with yours. “Why do you think I fought him? I told him not to mess with you. Even if you’re not mine no one is allowed to mess with you.”

You couldn’t help but smile as you looked at him, taking in his words. Leaning closer, you pressed your lips against his, easing into him and relaxing into the kiss. His hands quickly made their way to your waist, pulling you to straddle him. You were giggling again as you broke apart, “I could be yours, you know. You just never asked.” His lips formed a big smile, pulling you closer by your hips and planting a long kiss on your lips before whispering in your ear, “Well you’re mine now.”

Over the following weeks, you and Draco spent all of your free time together, learning more about one another and quickly falling love. You couldn’t be happier to be Draco’s and he felt the same about you.

It was close to a month after the two of you became official and you were currently trying to sneak into his dorm. You were giggling as he pulled you behind him, walking quickly so you wouldn’t be around others long enough to be questioned. Everyone was used to you being around anyway, and they all knew better by that point than to mess with you; you were with Draco.

As soon as he closed his door, you were lifted off the ground and his lips were on yours. His lips moved quickly against yours, his tongue slipping past your lips to move with your own. As he placed you on the bed he pulled away before connecting his lips with your neck. This didn’t last long, as you were soon pulling him to meet your lips again. “I can’t believe you’re mine,” he breathes, letting himself plop down beside you.” You pulled him close, cuddling into his chest. Your Draco was sweet, loving, protective. He wasn’t what everyone thought he was, and you felt so lucky that you got to see that side of him. He wasn’t hateful, rude, or careless. He was your Draco and you were happy to stand next to him, to be next to him through everything life threw at the pair of you.

“I could say the same.”

#Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader #slytherin #slytherin imagines #ravenclaw #ravenclaw imagin #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagine #slytherin x ravenclaw

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chickensarentcheap · 3 years

Text

Never Gonna Be Alone- Chapter 73

Title: Best Laid Plans

Warnings: some profanity, talk of domestic abuse, child death

Tagging: @tragiclyhip, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @ocfairygodmother, @lokitrasho, @miss-smutty, @raith-way, @ocappreciation

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28860450/chapters/85024549

He’s up at quarter to six; throwing on a muscle shirt and a pair of work out pants and slipping into the well worn sneakers he keeps by the back door. A run on the beach as the sun peeks over the horizon is exactly what he needs; his bad knees cushioned by sand beneath him, a steady, cool breeze blowing in off the ocean, and the sky painted in vivid orange and gold and stunning pink streaks. The two dogs run on either side of him; their tags clinking against their collars, each carrying a tennis ball in their mouths in hopes of play after the hard work is done. The excursion to his body is calming to both brain and soul; pushing all thoughts of Mark and his devious intentions onto the back burner and concentrating on nothing but his breathing and his heart rate and the sights and sounds around him. And once at the finish line, he bends at the waist and places his hands on his thighs; eyes closed as the sweat trickles off his forehead and runs down his nose and his temples and gathers at the nape of his neck. Chest heaving and burning; a familiar discomfort that serves to remind him of just how far he’s come. Fighting against the odds to complete the long and painful recovery after the incident with Nathan and coming out almost as good as he was before; strong, agile, his health better than it's ever been. He’d somehow survived and he’d long ago swore he'd never take another minute for granted; always grateful to wake up and find himself on top of the ground instead of below it.

After a half an hour of entertaining the dogs, he returns home; splashing cold water on his face and neck and running wet hands through his sweaty hair and then heading for the kitchen. Busying himself with the morning routine; brewing his coffee and the three shots of espresso he always adds to it. The smoothies are next; a wide selection of fresh fruit and various supplements and vitamins recommended by both his doctor and Esme’s fetal and maternal medicine specialist. And the moment he hears her footsteps above -small and light, but just heavy enough to NOT be a child- he begins preparing her breakfast; kettle boiling for her tea while he throws a couple of slices of bread in the toaster and gathers up a container of plain yogurt and a handful of different fruits to chop. He glances over his shoulder and smiles in greeting when she joins him; messy hair held away from her face and out of her eyes with a sparkly purple headband stolen from one of their daughters and her tiny frame clad in a pair of baggy Hello Kitty night shorts and one of his t-shirts. And before he can open his mouth to offer up a ‘good morning’, she’s wrapping her around his waist from behind; yawning loudly and rubbing her cheek against the fabric of his shirt before laying her head against his back.

“Babe…” he warns. “ I probably stink. Gonna make you pass out. Give the baby in utero PTSD.”

“Bullshit. You smell good. You smell like a man. MY man. “

“All the kids still asleep?”

Esme nods. “You already went for a run?”

“Just a small one. Took the dogs with me. Tired them out.”

“I thought you said Sunday was your ‘set in stone rest day’?

“I did. But that’s just for lifting heavy.” Turning around to face her, he takes her face in his hands, turning her head up towards him as he leans down to kiss her. “I’m still going to run every day.”

“You know how I feel about this; when it comes to you pushing yourself too hard.”

“I know you worry. I know you don’t blow out my knee or fuck my femur up somehow. I’m taking it easy; I’m not going full tilt and I’m not ignoring my body when it starts screaming at me. I’m doing a lot better; when it comes to recognizing the signs and paying attention to them.”

“I just want you to be careful. I don’t want you hurting yourself. And you've been spending a lot of time in the gym. You went from one three hour a work out a day to TWO. That’s a lot, babe. Even for a bad ass like you. I know you feel this need to be bigger and stronger and…”

“I’m past that. Maybe just looking to put on another ten. That’s it. That’s probably as big as I’ll ever get again. Sorry. No return to the thicc, lumberjack stage that you enjoyed so much.”

“I DID enjoy it. You had the big muscles and the extra weight in your tummy and your hair was short and your beard was really thick. It was a good look on you. A VERY good look.”

“But…”

“But I love you EVERY way. And how your body is right now? That’s how you looked when we met. When I fell in love with you. So it tends to be my favourite. It’s very sentimental to me. And you know what would make it even MORE sentimental?”

“If you want me to get the haircut, I’ll get the haircut.”

“You would do that for little old me? You’d do that to keep your pregnant and extremely hormonal wife happy?”

“I would do anything for you. Pregnant or not.”

“Best husband ever,” she declares, and stands on her tip toes as he kisses her once more; hands tightly grasping the sides of his t-shirt.

She’d long ago gotten used to that ‘after work out’ stench; the potent tang of sweat , the lingering remains of laundry detergent, and the cool, brisk, freshness of antiperspirant. It’s HIS smell. One that reminds her of safety and protection and love. Of HOME. When he’s away, it’s those combined, familiar scents that offer comfort; bringing solace to her aching heart and effectively relieving at least some of the fear and worry nagging at her. Sleeping with his pillow every night and often wearing one of his t-shirts or bundling herself up in one of his hoodies; soothed by the smell of him clinging to the sheets and clothes and subduing her rattled nerves just enough for her to fall asleep.

It never gets easier; kissing him goodbye at the front door or the airport and then wondering -as he walks away- if she’ll ever see him again. The job isn’t a life you ever really get used to; lying to yourself when you tell others that you’re completely fine with your husband being thousands of miles away, putting his life on the line in the hopes of saving another. But she copes; knowing he can more than handle himself when it comes to the physical aspect and that he’ll do whatever it takes to get back to her and the kids. But the ache is real when he’s not under the same roof; both her and their brood feeling his absence and both saddened and angered about it. And the worry and fear never disappear; feeling as if she’s holding her breath the entire time, never releasing it until the moment he walks back through the front door. Safe and sound.

Pressing his lips to her forehead, he turns towards the counter once more; snagging a knife from the butcher’s block and preparing the only breakfast her stomach has been able to handle. Dry toast accompanied by chunks of fresh fruit, a smoothie containing all the vitamins and supplements recommended by her doctor, and a tea that helps with calming both her tummy and her nerves. While the nausea lingers throughout the entire day, the mornings have been especially horrendous; unable to keep even the smallest sips of water down and struggling with both weakness and dizziness. All of the pregnancies have been the same in that respect; losing weight before actually managing to put it on, suffering from headaches and queasiness and even a handful of scares that sent them running to the hospital in fear there was something terribly wrong. But the sixth pregnancy is turning out to be an even bigger struggle; half a dozen different medications fighting to keep her blood pressure down, help her sleep, and keep her eating and drinking properly.

“I’m surprised you’re up,” Tyler remarks, as she moves to the stove to tend to the boiling kettle. Offering a mug with the tea bag already in it; his hand briefly resting on the small of her back as he places a kiss on her temple. “You were sleeping pretty good when I went on my run.”

Sighing, she sets the mug down on the stovetop and fills it with water. “I probably still would be if your spawn didn’t wake me up out of nowhere and send me on a mad dash to the bathroom. I’ve come to expect SOME sickness, but this?”

“This one’s giving you an extra hard time, huh? What did the doctor say? Something about making too much human growth hormone? I don’t know. She completely lost me when she broke out the science speak.”

“A variant of it. And it’s too much of ALL the hormones. Kind of weird; that the last pregnancy would be the worst. You’d think it would be the easiest; your body totally used to everything, able to push that sucker out with only two tries. I swear to Christ, Tyler. If this is another Millie labour…”

“You’ll cut my dick off?”

“That’s a little extreme. You need your dick. It’s still very useful. I’ll just chop your balls off. So you can’t make any more swimmers.”

“How about we not do that and just let the surgeon handle things?”

“I want a goddamn guarantee from him that this isn’t going to happen again; your penis remarkably healing itself and letting those swimmers of yours have free reign.”

“I’m going to jump in here for a second. You realize your body fucked up too, yeah? That it took BOTH of us to make this baby? Your tubes were tied. Right after you had Kota and Brookie. You’re not supposed to be able to get pregnant in the first place.”

She stares at him over the rim of her mug. “Even if I hadn’t gotten them tied, you weren’t supposed to be able to produce any sperm. Ever again. For the rest of your natural born life. But low and behold…”

“You…” He points the knife at her. “...need to accept some responsibility in all of this.”

She huffs, taking a sip of tea and then setting it on the stove; hands on her hips in a show of defiance. “I will do no such thing.”

“Come on, this can’t all be pinned entirely on me. Both our bodies had to screw up for this to happen. So be a big girl…” snagging her by the front of her t-shirt, he gently pulls her into him. “...and take some of the blame.”

She stares up at him; a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth and those enormous, dark eyes sparkling mischievously. “No. You can’t make me.”

“Listen pocket wife, I’m a foot and three inches taller than you and almost a hundred pounds heavier. I can make you.”

“I’d like to see you try. You don’t intimidate me. Your muscles and your resting asshole face and all those tattoos and scars. They don’t scare me a bit.”

“You realize I have ways of convincing you, don’t you? Ways that don’t involve intimidation. “

“Yeah?” Both hands clutch the front of her shirt as her body leans into his. “What kind of ways are we talking about then?”

He swipes the tip of his tongue across his bottom lip. “Sexual ones.”

“You realize that sounds more like pleasure than punishment, right?”

“You remember that thing we did back in New York City. In the bathtub. The thing you claim to hate but always seem to love? The one thing that I always can count on to make you squirt? Do you know what thing I’m talking about?”

“I know EXACTLY what you’re talking about.”

“Well next time around, when you least expect it? I’m going to do that twice as much. Only this time there won’t be a happy ending. For you, anyway.”

Her eyes narrow. “You wouldn’t.”

“Yes. Yes I would.”

“You’re evil.”

“Most evil husband out there.”

“You may be the most evil, but you’re also the sexiest out there. So at least you have THAT going for you,” she chides, giving a tiny yelp when he brings a palm down on the cheek of her ass in a ringing slap. Giggling when his hand reverts to lightly pinching and squeezing before drawing her into him; body pressed against his and her hands tightening their grip on his shirt as he leans down to kiss her. Long and slow and deep; the brief contact between their tongues finding her curling her toes and sighing into his mouth.

When he pulls away he’s smiling down at her; blue eyes sparkling with a mixture of unbridled lust and pure adoration. Hand moving from her ass to the side of her cheek; knuckles grazing over the soft skin before gentle fingertips clear wayward strands of hair away from her face and tuck them behind her ear. “You’re beautiful.”

“You need glasses.”

“I already knew that. But needing them doesn’t mean you’re not beautiful.”

The smile she gives is shaky; tears welling in her eyes as a lump of emotion wedges firmly in her throat. It’s overwhelming at times; seeing his love, adoration, and affection laid so bare. This big, strong man with his myriad of tattoos and scars and a lifetime of trauma, guilt, and regret. So brave and fearless yet so vulnerable at the same time; possessing a heart that he’s even bigger than his body and a beauty to his soul that not even his father, Asif, Mahajan, or Nathan had been able to rob him of. Working as a team, she’d spent years helping chip away at the seemingly impenetrable walls that he’d built around his heart; patiently urging him outside of his comfort zone and encouraging that humanity lingering inside of him to make itself fully known. In the end, the reward was far beyond anything she could ever imagined; a man that loves her so wholly and completely. And profoundly. So much so it often takes her breath away; and all consuming and often leaving her feeling unworthy of such devotion.

He frowns when he notices the tears in her eyes and the tell tale wobble of her lower lip and chin. “What’s the matter? Why are you gonna cry? What…?”

Her voice comes out as a childlike whimper; reminding him of Addie when she’s been scolded or has had a particularly rough run in with Millie and the teasing was just too much to take. “I really need a hug right now.”

Setting the knife on the counter, he gathers her in his arms. One arm circling her waist as a hand settles on the back of her skull; palm lightly pressing her head into his chest. And when she stands on the top of his feet and perches on her tiptoes in order to return the embrace, he crouches down until she’s able to successfully wrap both arms around his neck. His beautiful, tiny wife; his best friend, truest confident, and his rock during his darkest and most dire of times. Always sticking by his side no matter how difficult he sometimes makes things; forever patient and attentive during the long and painful recovery after Nathan, always forgiving him for his sins and mistakes even when he can’t forgive himself. Suddenly seeming so weak and vulnerable herself; her entire body trembling and her tears seeping through the fabric of his shirt.

“You’re gonna be alright,” he promises, and presses a kiss to her ear. “It’s gonna be okay. It’s ALL gonna be okay.”

*****

He hates seeing her like this; face lined with worry and exhaustion, shoulders drooped as if carrying the weight of the world upon them, eyes dark and downcast instead of sparkling and playful. He’d long ago gotten used to her morning persona; overly cheerful and extremely talkative compared to his grumpiness and need for complete and utter silence until he’s at least finished his coffee. So it’s unsettling when she deviates from the norm; missing the familiarity and the routine of her chattiness and her teasing and witty banter. Instead completely silent as she sits across from him at the table on the back deck; her feet resting in his lap as she merely nibbles at the dry toast and moves the pieces of various fruits around on her plate.

He gestures at her plate with his fork. “You need to eat. Start putting weight on instead of it dropping off.”

“It’s not like I’m NOT trying.” She spears a chunk of watermelon and brings it to her lips, taking a tiny bite before setting it back down again. “I WANT to eat. My body is BEGGING me to eat. But it’s kind of hard when you just feel...I don’t know...off.”

“Something we need to worry about? Something to do with the baby?”

“No. I feel fine that way. Other than being crazy nauseous and already having insane heartburn. How much hair is this kid going to have? Because the only other time I suffered this bad…”

“We ended up with Addie. Hairiest damn kid I have EVER seen. Hands down.”

She manages a smile, then nibbles at a slice of dry toast. “Remember how it was practically head to toe? Because she was a preemie?”

“She looked like a little monkey. A cute one, mind you. But a monkey.”

“Don’t ever say that to her. It’ll be her new obsession; monkey this, monkey that. None of our other babies had much hair. If any at all. Well, Declan…”

“I will never forget seeing that head of hair. Bright red.”

“You looked so confused,” Esme muses, as she once more pulls her plate towards her and attempts to eat. “When he was crowning. It was like he had two heads or something.”

Tyler winks at her from across the table. “I was trying to figure out when you had time to get busy with me AND the cable guy.”

“Baby, he is all yours. Without a doubt. The cable man didn’t stand a chance getting close to me. So unless you can get pregnant just by breathing the same air as someone…”

“I hope you’d have better standards than that guy. If you’re going to do something like that, can you at least have the respect to go a notch higher than I am in quality?”

“That’s not even remotely possible. You’re already on the very top rung of quality. In fact, you’re in another league all your own. All by yourself. If you have the best, why settle for less?”

A grin plays on his mouth. “You are so good for my ego.”

“Besides, we both know I’m the last person that would EVER do something like that. I am way too hopelessly and madly and wildly in love with you. Always have been. Always will be. So unless you’re planning on going somewhere, you’re stuck with me. For the long haul.”

“I’m perfectly happy where I am. And with who I’m with. You know that, yeah? That I’d never do something like that. No matter who’s trying to get with me? I would never...EVER..cheat on you.”

“This is stemming from my insecurities, isn't it? Those women yesterday.”

“I just wanted to get it out there. I don’t care about any of them. There might as well not even be any other women on earth. The only one that matters? The only one I want? Is you. And that’s not going to change.”

“And you say I’m good for YOUR ego?”

“I mean, maybe it doesn’t need to be said. Maybe you already realize all that. Or maybe you’re going to tell me that you don’t need the words; you can see everything in my eyes anyway. I just think sometimes I should say it. Who knows, maybe I need to tell you more than you need to hear it.”

Well…” She reaches for his hand that rests on the tabletop, running her fingertips along his forearm and over his palm before lacing their fingers together. “...a girl DOES like to hear how much she’s adored and worshipped.”

“I thought you like it better when I SHOW you how much.”

“That too. But sometimes it’s a nice little bonus; hearing the words.”

Pushing his chair away, he stands and leans across the table; free hand reaching out to cradle her cheek in its palm. “I worship you. I adore you. I love you. And I can’t live without you.”

While tears sparkle in her eyes, her smile is genuine; filling out her cheeks and crinkling the bridge of her nose. “And you say you’re not romantic.”

He bends down to kiss her; the soft press and languid movements of closed mouth upon closed mouth. “I do have my moments,” he says with a grin, running the tip of a finger down the bridge of her nose, playfully tapping the end of it before returning to his seat.

They sit in companionable silence. Enjoying the crisp, refreshing breeze that rolls in off the ocean and the familiar yet calming sounds of the outdoors. The waves rolling up onto the shore, the rustling of the trees as they sway in the wind and the different melodies that come from Esme’s collection of wind chimes attached to the awnings of the pool house. It’s home. The familiar yet never boring sights and sounds of the where they’re the most comfortable; where they grow and nurture their family and take advantage of the many spoils given to them by such a beautiful and expansive piece of land.

Returning to Australia had been the best move they’d ever made. The start of strengthening not only their marriage, but every aspect of the life and relationship they share; making sure to nurture and grow each separate component that makes them, THEM. Often having to pull back from the chaos and stress of everyday existence to remind themselves that they’re not just spouses and people raising kids together; they’re each other’s confidants, best friends and devoted and faithful lovers. Two unique individuals that share a bond unlike many could ever fully understand; broken and in tatters when they’d first met yet somehow managing to comfort and heal one another. What had happened in Dhaka will forever remain the foundation their life together has been built open. A rather odd concoction of many things; shared grief and regret, adrenaline and fear, profound lust accompanied by the pangs of the heart that remind you that you’re still human. And a lot of blood, sweat and tears. All combined with the unforgettable stenches of raw sewage, blood and sweat, and spilled gasoline.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He breaks the silence first, pushing away his empty plate and reaching for his smoothie. Satisfied with her attempt to get food into her belly; her own meal almost completely finished save for a couple bites of toast and a small handful of grapes. Her feet once more resting in his lap; both hands curled around the plastic tumbler that contains the thickened ‘super shake’ he’d made for her earlier.

“By ‘it’ I’m assuming you mean Mark?”

Tyler nods.

“What more is there to say? He’s in town. Not like there’s anything we can really do about it. Not until he at least makes a move.”

“I’ve got guys trying to track him down. Looking into every hotel, every bed and breakfast, every short term rental within a fifty mile radius. Unless he’s gone totally off the grid and he’s holed up in a cave somewhere, my guys will find him.”

“Is that really what you were doing last night? Taking care of all of that stuff? Getting people going on all this?”

“It was some of what I was doing. Not all of it. When you came in, I was doing exactly what I told you I was. I’d already gotten it all set up; guys already starting to dig. Told ‘em not to leave any stone unturned; Mark’s crafty and he’s slippery and he’s going to do everything he can to avoid me catching up to him. He wants the element of surprise; get to you when my guard is down. I’m hoping to get to him before that happens.”

“When do you ever let your guard down?”

“Even I slip up, Esme. You know that better than anyone.”

“Tyler Rake doesn’t make mistakes when it’s family on his line. He rarely makes them when it’s complete strangers he’s looking out for. You’re not the type to fall asleep at the wheel, babe. Especially when it comes to the kids. And ESPECIALLY when it comes to me.”

“I can’t be around you twenty-four seven. There’s going to be times I can’t be with you. As much as I’d love to be glued to your hip…”

“Do you trust the guys you picked? You don’t exactly hand that out lightly, Tyler. And you’ve always been very careful about who you bring into the business. You’ve always had the strictest hiring practices I’ve ever seen. You don’t just bring anyone aboard. And if you’re willing to put them in charge of keeping an eye on him…”

“I trust them when it comes to the job. They’re some of the best I’ve ever seen, actually.”

“Other than yourself, you mean.

“They’re good, Me. They’re quick on their feet and they’re strong as fuck and they will not back down. From anyone or anything.”

“But…”

“But I don’t fully trust anyone when it comes to you. That’s not something I can give; just hand over your life like that. No matter how well I know someone or how good of a merc they are. But I don’t have a choice, do I? It’s not possible to be around every second of every day. I wish it was. I wish I was the only one taking care of you. But…”

“If your gut tells you that these guys can handle it, then that’s what you go with. I trust you, Tyler. Whether it’s protecting me on your own or making the decision to hand it off to someone else. Your instincts are so strong. Some of the strongest I have ever seen. And if they’re telling you that this is right...that these men are right…”

“They’re telling me that I don’t have any other choice. That I NEED to trust these guys. And I want to Esme; I want to be able to sit here and tell you that I trust them one hundred percent. But other than you? There’s no one I trust that way.”

“If you say this is the right decision and that these are the right people, then I’ll go with that. Because I trust YOU. I always have. I always will. So if this is the move you need to make and you’re confident in it…”

“As confident as I’m gonna be.”

“Then there’s nothing more to talk about. If you trust them, then so do I. Simple as that.”

He nods slowly as he considers her words, then offers a small smile and once more takes her hand; lifting it to his lips and pressing a kiss to the inside of her wrist.

“I know you don’t have any answers. And to be honest, I don’t expect any. But I just don’t understand. Why is he doing this? Why now? If it’s a revenge thing, why wait this long? I haven’t been married to him for fifteen years. Why wait that long?”

“I don’t know, Me. I don’t even know if that’s his angle.”

“Everything says it is. What else could he possibly want? Do you think he’s a threat? To me?”

“Yeah,” Tyler reluctantly admits. “I do. He wouldn’t come out of the woodwork after all this time and play all those little mind games in New York and then make it a point to show up here IF he wasn’t planning something. I just don't know exactly what it is. Or when he’s gonna make his move. And hopefully the guys I have trying to find him will track him down. Sooner the better.”

“What will they do with him? If they do find him?”

“Found a little out of the way place in the northern territory. Somewhere they can keep him; until I can get there. Off the beaten track, no through roads, heavy bush. Not a single soul around. Figure that’s for the best, yeah? Keep him somewhere no one can hear screaming and pleading for his life.”

“You’re going to handle that yourself?”

“Hopefully. Told my guys that they can rough him up, but I want him very much alive. So he can feel every goddamn thing I do to him. And I know you’re probably thinking this is a throwback to McMann; taking him hostage and torturing his ass. But…”

“You do what you need to do, Tyler. You do whatever you feel he deserves. I’m not going to think any less of you. And Lord knows that I’ve had quite a few fantasies about how brutal I would love you to be if you ever got your hands on him. I’m not going to ask how and I don’t expect you to tell me. You just do what you need to do. To make him suffer and make him pay for what…” Her voice cracks; tears of both rage and insurmountable pain welling in her eyes. “...just make him pay. Promise me you’ll make him pay.”

Sliding his chair away from the table, he’s at her side in only three long strides; dropping to a knee in front of her and taking her trembling hands in his.

“Promise me, Tyler. Promise me you’ll make him pay.”

“I’ll make him pay, Esme. I promise.”

“Everything he did to him. Everything he said. It’s just all coming back. All those horrible, mean, degrading things he called me. All the times he forced me to do disgusting, horrible things to him. All the nasty, gross shit that HE did to ME.”

He feels the rage that immediately begins to take hold; his jaw setting and tightening and the blue of his eyes becoming much darker. Bile settling in the back of his throat; acrid and burning. He hates hearing about it; the horrific things that she’d been subjected to at the hands of someone who was supposed to love her, protect her, and give her a good life. The person he loves more than anything else in the world and would gladly lay his life down for. Not just his wife, but his best friend and the mother of his children and the centre of his universe.

“You don’t have to talk about this,” he says, and tightly squeezes her hands. “Nothing good will come from going there. Nothing…”

“He is an evil, sick, demented person,” she continues, words struggling to make it through the sobs. “He used to make me clean the baseboards and the grout with my toothbrush and then he’d force me to use it afterwards. If he was in a mood and didn’t like what I made for dinner, he’d throw it on the floor and he’d make me get on my hands and knees and force me to eat it. Like I was a dog! And when I tried to fight back, the beatings just got worse and worse and worse and…”

“That’s enough,” he gently orders, and releases his hold on her hands in favour of drawing her into his embrace. An arm wrapped around her waist and a palm resting on the back of her head; pressing a kiss to her temple and her cheek before drawing her face down to his shoulder. “No more. Don’t do this to yourself. Don’t go back to that place.”

One of her hands clutch desperately at the back of his shirt, the other clamping down on the nape of his neck. “How do I ever get over it? How do I ever fully leave all that behind? I thought I was doing okay with it. I thought I was finally putting it all past me. I thought…”

“Sometimes there’s things we don’t really get over. Not completely, anyway. And that was fucking hell; the shit that he put you through. I’m sorry, Me. I am so fucking sorry.”

“Is it weird that sometimes I think about ‘what if’? That I’ll wonder what it would have been like if we’d met some other way? Some other time. Some other place. Before all the bad shit ever happened. Imagine? If we’d met before all of that; if we’d found each other and healed one another sooner?”

“There’s nothing wrong with thinking about that stuff. But babe….listen to me….” He pulls away and cradles her face in his hands; thumbs swiping at the tears that continue to fall “...you can’t live the rest of your life thinking about that. Because if none of the bad ever happened? We wouldn’t have met. Because all the loss and the bullshit put us on the path that led us to each other. And yeah; it was fucking painful and I wanted to put a gun in my mouth and pull the trigger so many times. But in the end, all that crap? All the hard stuff? It brought you into my life. You know that. I KNOW you know that.”

“What if it was all for nothing? You spent YEARS trying to make up for all his mistakes. You didn’t care how messy I was or how messy my life had been before you. You just picked up the pieces and you put me back together. And you never complained ONCE; You just did it.”

“I did it because I love you. Because I couldn’t exactly go and find the guy and kill him with my bare fucking hands. And believe me, I’ve thought about it many times. About how I’d do it. And how I’d make it as slow and painful as possible.”

“All the time and the work you put into fixing me. What if Mark puts me over the edge and I become a big mess again? What if all of a sudden I’m in a million fucking pieces again? What then? It will all be for nothing?”

“No. It won’t. And you know why? Because even if you fall apart a thousand times, each time I’m going to pick those pieces up and I’m going to find a way to make them up. I love you, Esme. More than I ever loved anyone. More than I even thought was possible. And if it DOES happen...you do fall apart...I’m just going to be here to pick you...and all those pieces….back up.”

“I don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve YOU.”

“Baby, you deserve the fucking world. And I’d give it to you if I could. Come here…” Pressing a kiss to her brow, he tangles his fingers in her hair and draws her head down onto his shoulder; other hand moving in slow, comforting circles in the middle of her back. “...everything’s alright. There’s nothing to be scared of. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“It’s not that I’m scared. Not of him getting a hold of me. I know that you’d never let him get that close. You’d do anything to protect me. I’ve never...ever...doubted that. I just hate what it’s doing to me; him being back in my life. I feel like I’m drowning in all this stuff from the past and that there’s no way you’ll be able to pull me out of it. Like it’s going to suck me under and you won’t stand a chance of getting me back.”

“That’s not going to happen. I won’t LET that happen.”

“I don’t know how much more of this I can take,,” she admits. “Worrying all the time about the baby and trying so hard to take care of the other kids and now this crap with Mark and him being so close to us.”

“I know it’s really overwhelming right now, Me. I know it’s a lot of things being heaped on your plate. And believe me, I am taking as much of it off as I can. And this stress with Mark is just making everything else seem even worse. But I got you. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I just need you to trust me.”

“I do. I DO trust you.”

“You got lots of help with the kids. You got me, you got Stel, Riley’s always willing to drop everything and lend a hand. And you know how much grandpa Koen loves to spend time with them. He’s always ready, willing, and able to step up.”

Managing a laugh, she pulls back and swipes at her tears with the back of her hands. “He was in fine form last night, huh?”

“He was definitely on top of his ‘shit talk Tyler’ game.”

“Everything he says, he says with love. He’s a wreck, you know. When he showed up in Dhaka. He was all laughs and jokes at first and I’m sure that was just to calm his nerves, because when he got to your room? He just lost it. Totally broke down. I’ve never seen him get that emotional since.”

“I guess he’s got a little bit of a soft spot for me. Considering I was an enormous shit head when I first met him and he threatened to beat the attitude out of me. And believe me; he tried a couple times. Tough love, yeah? He’s the guy that turned me into the solider I became. And tried to stop me from destroying myself after everything fell apart. Spent years trying to talk some sense into me. Never stuck.”

“Guess you just weren’t ready for that yet. You just had a bit more of your journey to take. I’m sorry it was as crappy as it was. That you had to go through what you did.”

“Lost my kid and my sobriety. And probably most of my sanity.”

“It’s not fair. That you had to go through so much. Starting right from you were a little boy. Not a single step of your path has been easy.”

“No. I guess it hasn’t. But every one of those steps was worth it. ‘Cause look where I am now. I’m a long way from The Kimberley.”

“Leaps and bounds,” she smiles. “Even in the last five years.”

“It was worth it. It was ALL worth it. And this? Whatever the hell THIS is? With Mark? That’s just another bump in the road we gotta get past. I just need you to trust me. That’s it.”

“I’ve always trusted you, Tyler. Always.”

“Everything’s going to be alright,” he promises, and once more gathers her into a tight, protective embrace. “I didn’t lose you in New York and I’m sure as hell not gonna lose you now. Especially not to him.”

The scrape of the screen door opening upon its track captures his attention, and he glances up in time to see his oldest son step onto the porch. Hair mussed from sleep and sticking up in several different directions; barefoot and clad in only a pair of blue, red, and white plaid pyjama bottoms. And it’s the first time that he’s noticed just how grown up that his namesake is becoming; only ten, but tall and athletically built with well chiselled ab muscles and noticeable definition in his arms and shoulders. All long limbs and torso and tanned skin; brilliant, expressive blue eyes and his once shoulder length dirty blond hair now chopped short. Despite his issues with impulse control, his diagnosis with ADHD, and his volatile temper, he always seems much older and wiser than his actual age; independent and detail and routine oriented and always willing to step up and lend a hand with his younger siblings or with chores and repairs around the house. And it’s bitter sweet; his first son after losing Austin growing up in what seems like the blink of an eye. Proud of him for the person...the man...that he’s becoming but missing the little boy he was; the one who’d be attached to his hip and who explored the world with wide eyed, breathless abandon and wanted nothing more than to exactly like his old man.

“Dad?” Worry tarnishes the ten year old’s voice; eyes darkening and narrowing as he observes the sight in front of him. “What’s going on? What…?”

“Nothing, mate. Your mum and I were just having a chat. She just got a little...worked up.”

“About what?” He finally approaches, a hand on the back of his mother’s chair as he leans in to check on her. “What were you guys talking about?”

“Just some adult stuff. Your mum’s just a little emotional today.”

“Mummy?” TJ lays a palm on her shoulder, gently squeezing and then pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Are you okay? What happened? What..?”

“I’m alright,” Esme assures him, and turns her face into his, pecking his lips. “Daddy and I were just talking and…”

“You don’t look alright. You’re crying. Why are you crying?” A mixture of panic, worry, and the beginnings of anger creep into his voice. And he fixes his father with a steely glare. “What’s wrong with mum? Why is she crying? What were you talking about that would upset her?”

“Just a couple serious things,” Tyler informs him. “ADULT things. Things you don’t need to worry about.”

TJ’s jaw clenches. “What did you do to her?”

“I didn’t do anything. Why would you…?”

“Daddy didn’t do a thing,” Esme assures him. “Like he said we were having a chat and things turned a little serious and I got emotional. That’s it. He didn’t do anything or say anything wrong. I got upset and I started to cry and he was just trying to comfort me. That’s it.”

“Are you sure? ‘Cause if something else happened…”

Turning sideways in her chair, she clasps her son’s face in her hand. “Tyler James. Listen to what I’m saying. Daddy did nothing wrong. I started crying and he got worried and he was trying to calm me down. He didn’t say or do anything. He was trying to help. He wanted to cheer me up. That’s all.”

“Mummy…”

“That’s all,” she insists. “I appreciate you worrying about me, but we’re telling the truth. I just got emotional about some things we were talking about. That’s all. Daddy would never...EVER...do anything to make me cry. Unless it’s happy tears.”

TJ sighs heavily. “If you’re sure…”

“I’m sure. But thank you.,” she presses a kiss to his lips and smooths a hand over his unruly hair. “I’m okay, baby man. There is nothing for you to worry about, okay? And good morning, by the way. Thought for sure you’d sleep in a lot longer; all the running around you did after the littlest yesterday.”

“Dad said we could go surfing. Before everyone else got up. I set my alarm.”

“Well the water looks perfect today. Or as you would say, the waves looking ‘bitchin’.”

Excitement replaces worry and simmering anger. “Dad checked the surf report last night. They said it was going to be perfect conditions. And that it could just be us. I like when it’s just us. It’s a lot more fun. And we sit on our boards and talk. A lot.”

“Then I’ll let you guys get to it. I’m sure you have a lot of boy stuff to talk about.”

Tyler pushes himself to his feet as his wife slips out of her chair; hand on the small of her back as she stands. “You good?”

“I’m good,” she assures him, standing on her tiptoes to return his kiss. “I’ll take the dirty stuff in and I’ll grab some towels and throw them out here for you guys. And maybe I’ll even crash on the couch; until the rest of the hoodlums wake up.”

“If you need anything, you know where to find us.”

“I’ll be fine, Tae. Everything will be fine.”

Nodding in agreement, he offers a small smile and presses his lips to her temple. Watching as she gathers the dirty dishes, mugs, and cutlery and carries them into the house. TJ gallantly holding the door open for her; a broad, beaming smile spreading across his face as she plants a kiss on his cheek.

“IS mum okay?” The ten year old turns to him once Esme is out of ear shot.

“She’s fine, mate. She’s just going through some stuff.”

“Bad stuff or…?”

“Just some stuff. Nothing you need to worry about. You’re mum’s alright. And you know I’d never hurt her, yeah? That I would never...ever...say or do anything to break her heart. Tell me you know that.”

“I do. But you used to. Do stuff like that. I know I was just little then, but…”

“I’m not that guy anymore, TJ. I haven’t been him in a long time. I would never hurt your mother. I love her in ways you can’t even begin to understand. And I would do anything to make her happy and to keep her safe.”

“Is there a reason to? Keep her safe?”

“No,” Tyler lies. “There’s not.”

*****

From the moment he first held Austin in his arms, Tyler had pictured these moments; introducing his son to surfing and forming a tremendous bond over their shared love of the water. Teaching him how to not only handle the waves, but to give himself over to the release and the escape that comes not with conquering them, but being submissive to them; gliding smoothly and confidently yet remembering that nature always has the upper hand and should never be questioned or underestimated. When he had first found out he was going to be a father, he’d often daydream about sharing his passions with his offspring; surfing, fishing, hiking, and camping trips. But military life had been all consuming, as had been his commitment to it; putting fighting the battles of others higher on his list of priorities than his wife and soon to be born child. And having the baby home hadn’t changed a damn thing; signing up for extra tours whenever he got the chance, putting his be all and end all into the army and having nothing left to give his family.

For his fifth birthday, he’d gifted Austin with two things; a custom made surfboard and the promise that he’d change his ways and become the dad that his kiddo needed and deserved. Neither of things ever came to fruition; Austin diagnosed with cancer just three weeks later and the board going unused and Tyler’s promise dying the moment the news had been dropped into their laps. And when Austin had died, so had all of the dreams and the hopes that Tyler had had as father; the loss tremendous and robbing him of both his heart and soul. The grief composed of many things. Not just the loss of his boy, but of all of those expectations, and fantasized moments, and the memories that would have been made during them.

He never dreamed that he’d ever be a father again; his marriage and his military career both disintegrating and finding him throwing himself headlong into mercenary life and a battle with booze and drug addiction. Wracked with so much guilt, regret, and profound grief that he truly believed he deserved his self imposed exile from the rest of humanity. He was a monster and not deserving of any form of a normal life; taking the most dire and dangerous of jobs in hopes one would kill him, drinking and popping pills in hopes of not just numbing the physical pain, but the mental anguish as well.

In the blink of an eye and in the midst of his deepest and darkest moments of suicidal ideation, everything changed. In the form of a tiny, tattooed and pierced brunette with the most beautiful smile and dark eyes he’d ever seen. Since then, every blessing has come with great sacrifice. Ones that he’s willing to pay over, and over, and over again for even a slice of the life that he has now. It’s a normalcy that isn’t normally rewarded to guys like him; a wife and children and a beautiful home in an even more beautiful place. So many bridges burned and toes trampled upon; exuberant coin in your pocket in exchange for scars that litter your body and enemies within all four corners of the world. It’s generally a short existence; catching a bullet in the midst of all the action or a bodyguard or a mercenary -contracted to take you out- catching you by surprise. Most never even attempt any form of domesticity; preferring the company of random women -or men- instead of committing and settling down. The job follows you. Stays with you. Remains embedded in your soul. Accompanied by long lists of evil people you’ve crossed and will forever seek revenge, debts that you can never repay and will forever be held over your head, and addiction and mental health issues. You’re never fully away from it; it will follow you wherever you go, keep you up at night, have you constantly looking over your shoulder or being wary of the smallest of bumps in the night. It’s easier to not get someone else tangled up in the madness; half the time it’s hard just to keep yourself alive, let alone a spouse and children. They’d be the first to pay the price for your misdeeds, and bringing them into that kind of world would be considered not just risky, but selfish as fuck.

Sometimes he still sees himself that way; a weakened, pathetic version of himself that opted to put targets on the backs of others instead of just dealing with his issues and his loneliness in a healthier, SOLO way. But love had found him. Somehow. In the midst of all the darkness and ruin and decay of his life, something...someone... so beautiful and bright had stumbled into his path. She’d effortlessly and easily saw past the hardened and fearless facade he’d created through an endless cycle of self loathing, sorrow, and regret; slowly chipping away at the walls he’d built around the remains of his heart and making him feel alive again. Opening his eyes to a different future and sparking a longing and a desperation and a hunger that he had felt to his very soul. Wanting her...ALL of her...in a way he’d never wanted anyone else. Trusting her in a way he hadn’t since the death of his mother; finding himself both soothed and ignited by the compassion in her voice, the kindness in her eyes, and the gentleness of her hands whenever she touched him.

His heart had been hers long before he’d ever gotten the nerve to tell her so. And he’d been both terrified and filled with hope when he’d even dare to think about a life...a future...with her. He has always felt that his time with her has been far more than he deserves; that kind of existence reserved for those who are morally stronger AND superior. But for some reason, fate had smiled upon him; giving a woman that so plainly wears her heart upon her sleeve and remains stalwartly devoted and faithful. Bearing him seven...eventually eight...children and building a home and a life beyond anything he could have ever imagined.

He’d spent the better part of an hour feeling tremendously grateful and unabashedly proud as he’d watched part of that life so confidently handling the waves below and around him. Ten years old but sometimes so wise and mature beyond his years; misunderstood by so many and not given the credit or the attention that he so rightfully deserves. A fearless, tough kid with an enormous heart; so much love caught up inside him that he’s sometimes unable to express or even cope with it. Exploring the world and the elements with near reckless abandon; always looking for adventure and forever staring challenge straight in the eye. And it’s bittersweet; the act of making the memories with THIS son that his mind had created with for the boy he’d lost years before.

“What do you think it feels like?” TJ asks, as they sit side by side. A hundred yards from shore where the water is calmer; perched upon their boards with their legs dangling over the sides. “To get bit by a shark.”

Tyler glances over; noticing small inklings of his wife inside the ten year old. The way his namesake tilts his head to the side and his eyes narrow as he contemplates a question. The smooth bridge of the nose and the shape of his jaw. But he’s definitely a ‘chip off the old block’; the brilliant blue eyes and the broad shoulders and the long, lanky body, the cheeky smirk and the smile that brightens his entire face. And there’s more. So much more. A strikingly similar personality; dry witted and quick with the sarcasm and the smart ass comments. And the temper; volatile and unpredictable, always seeming as if it’s on a permanent, slow boil.

“I don’t know, mate. But I can guarantee that it does NOT feel good.”

“Mick Fanning...the surfer that mum likes...he got attacked by one. During a competition. A great white. Hit him right in the face with its tail! Can you imagine? I would have been shitting bricks for sure! It would be kind of cool to see one, though. We’ve only ever seen a couple of dorsals in the water. When we’ve been hanging out on the beach. Kinda weird we’ve NEVER come across one.”

“I’d rather not if it’s all the same to you. I’ve spotted a few in my time. Long before you were even a twinkle in your mumma’s eyes. Wasn’t close enough to go one on one with ‘em. Thank Christ.”

“Sometimes I get this really weird feeling in my stomach. When we’re out here. It’s like something is just moving around in there; kicking at your insides and tugging at them and stuff. Like my body is telling me that there’s something underneath me. Maybe even WATCHING me. You ever get something like that? Where you just KNOW something is there?”

“Had that happen a lot. Always been too chicken shit to look down, though.”

“I like that, you know. That you’re not afraid to admit you’re scared of things. Lots of guys are. They act all big and bad and like nothing bothers them, but you know it’s all bullshit. You’ve never been like that. Even since I was little. You’ve always talked about being scared of things and how it’s okay to be afraid of stuff. And that we shouldn’t be embarrassed to get emotional. Cry and stuff. Do you still feel that way?”

“I do. I feel even stronger about it now. Nothing wrong with a guy being vulnerable. Doesn’t make them weak or pathetic or less of a man.”

TJ grins over at him. “Just makes them human.”

“You know, you sound a hell of a lot like your mum sometimes.”

“That’s a good thing, if you ask me. ‘Cause mum’s pretty awesome.”

“Yeah…” Tyler smiles wistfully, then glances towards the shore; his wife up from her nap and getting the littles settled for breakfast on the deck as the older kid’s lend a hand. “...she certainly is.”

TJ’s expression turns serious. “You meant it, right? When you said you didn’t say or do anything to make mum cry.”

“Everything we both told you was the truth; we were talking about some adult stuff and she got emotional. All I was trying to do was comfort her. That’s it. You know how your mum can be; when she’s feeling overwhelmed and hasn’t been sleeping well and she tries to take too much on.”

“She needs to learn how to rely on other people . And ask for help when she needs it.”

“It’s hard for her. Even after all the years she’s been with me. She finds it difficult to ask for help. Guess she’s so used to people letting her down, that she just can’t shake that part of her. We’ll just keep an eye on her and just chip in where we need to and hope for the best, yeah?”

TJ nods, then gives a bashful smile. “I’m sorry, dad. For kinda flipping out on you earlier. But I saw you kneeling in front of mummy and then I could tell she was crying and my brain just immediately went to think you’d done something wrong.”

“We’re a lot like, you and I. In a lot of ways. I tend to react a little too quickly, a little too soon. Old habits die hard. But I would never…EVER...hurt your mum. That is the last thing I want to do. Intentional or not. I love her, mate. In ways you can’t even understand. In ways I can’t even understand sometimes. I just hope that one day you get to feel that way about someone. Or close to it.”

“I just worry about her,” TJ sighs. “I don’t like when she’s upset. Especially when she cries. I hate seeing it; mummy sad. I wish I could find a way so she’d never be sad EVER again. Wouldn’t that be nice? If we could find a way to make sure mummy NEVER got sad again?”

“Yeah, mate. It would. But life isn’t like that. We gotta go through the good AND the bad. Unfortunately.”

“Mum’s been through a lot. I mean, I know you have too. But mum...I don’t know...she’s different. She’s...well...she’s my mum. I know you’re tough and strong and brave and all that. That you can handle things better. But mum puts on a good show for people I think. She lets on that she’s okay and she’s totally fine with taking care of everything one else. But sometimes? Sometimes I don’t think she’s okay at all. Do you ever think that? That she’s just pretending to be alright?”

“I don’t just don’t think. I know she’s doing it. And believe me, I’ve tried to get her out of it. But your mum…”

“And she has the nerve to call US stubborn? She is way worse.”

“She’s got a hard head,” Tyler agrees. “And in some ways, it’s a good thing. She never gave up on me. Even when everyone around her was telling her she should. She just ignored them. Had my back no matter what other people said.”

“It’s ‘cause she loves you. And you’re the first person to ever really love her. Other than her dad and he died when she was young, so ....” TJ rakes a hand through his wet hair. “...sometimes it must feel like it’s just you and mum against the world, huh?”

“I’ve felt that way. A few times. But then all you guys started coming along and our team got even bigger. I like to think we ALL have each other’s backs.”

“Of course we do. We’re family. We’re all in this together. And we’re Rakes. Means we’re tough and we don’t back down. From anyone or anything. We might be scared, but we’re still standing up for what’s right. That’s what you taught us. That even though we might be afraid, we gotta do the right thing. Always. A man isn’t measured by the things he has, but by the people he’s helped.”

Tyler grins. “Where’d you hear that?”

“I read it in a book at school. One of the grade eight kids left on the playground and I was bored and I found it and I just started reading it. I guess I liked that line for some reason. It stuck in my head. Even if there isn't much else up there.”

“Don’t you do that,” Tyler gently scolds. “I don’t want to EVER hear you do that. Talk shit about yourself.”

TJ frowns. “It’s kinda hard when everyone around you is doing it.”

“At school?”

He nods. “I’m the dumb, crazy kid. That’s what everyone thinks. Especially the teachers.”

“They ever say that to you?”

“Not to my face. But I walked by the staff room once and they were talking about that ‘Rake kid’. About how he’ll probably end up in juvenile detention by the time he’s thirteen. And in and out of jail when he’s older. You can’t tell me that it was about Takota or Declan. I might be stupid, but I’m not THAT stupid.”

“You’re not stupid at all. And I don’t want you ever calling yourself that again. You just need some help. Find different ways to learn. Not everyone learns the same way. I was like you in school; couldn’t focus, got ignored when I asked for help, that turned into me goofing off or getting frustrated. Lots of times I put a fist into a locker or a wall. A LOT.”

“Is that why you didn’t go to college? Like mum? Is that why you went into the military?”

“I suppose that’s part of it. Guess I liked the danger and adventure of it too. Going off and fighting bad guys and getting to shoot guns and all of that shit. Never thought about actually having to kill people and what that would feel like.”

“What does it feel like?”

“Not good, mate. Not good at all.”

“Even if it’s bad people? Like that Nathan that hurt you?”

“People like him are exceptions. But for the most part? I don’t like doing it. Not even if it’s in the course of helping someone else. But sometimes…”

“You gotta do what you gotta do,” his son finishes for him. “Sometimes it’s you or them, right?”

“Exactly. And don’t worry about school, alright? I’ll give them a call. Ask for a meeting. Get things sorted and get you the help you need. And deserve.”

“Man…” TJ grins. “...they are going to shit their pants when they hear from you.”

Tyler reaches out to ruffle his namesake’s hair. “Maybe. Hungry?”

“I could eat.”

“Wanna head in? See what mum’s cooking up?”

“I don’t know." The ten year old's nose crinkles in disgust. "Do you think it’ll be edible?”

“Is it ever?”

TJ laughs. “Dad…”

“Whatever you do, do NOT tell her I said that.”

“Don’t worry…” Leaning across his board, the ten year old wraps both arms around one of Tyler’s; squeezing tightly and laying his head against his dad’s shoulder. “...your secret’s safe with me.”

#Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Extraction #chris hemsworth #extraction fan fiction #Tyler Rake fan fic #Extraction fan fic #Chris Hemsworth Extraction #Tyler Rake x OFC #Tyler and Esme series

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pixie-cocaine · 4 years

Text

ATEEZ Reaction To: Their sick S.O. throwing up

Hello sunshine, I love your Ateez writings so much! Can I request an Ateez reaction to you waking up in the middle of the night being sick and you throw up?

Ohhh this is a good one, your mind. This is a non-gender specific one, so there’s there’s that, as well :)

Songs Listened To: My bird’s chirping

Hongjoong ♡:

• Snoozin woozin when he felt the bed shake as you struggled to throw the covers off of you

• In his post-sleep haze, he’d still be very concerned as to why you were so frantic

• “What’s wrong?”

• You wouldn’t be able to answer though, because, well, just as you hopped out of the bed and began to run to the open door...

• Blurghwaggbleghughagh 🤮

• Immediately rushed up to go steady you because gorl- you were HEAVING

• Holding onto that wall for dear life, eyes tearing up and everything. Yikies, here’s a glass of water or sum

• Tried scrubbing the vomit off your shirt, also went to fetch a wet rag and water

• “Fuck..,” You’d still be queasy, unconciously holding your stomach and staring down at the multi-colored puddle of your mushy dinner, trying not to look at Joong out of an odd sense of embarrasment, “I’m sorry… it got everywhere…”

• “Hey, hey, no一it’s not your fault at all, honey,” He’d frown and guide you back to bed

• Helped you change into different jammies and cleaned up with you, as well as got you a bucket

• Wouldn’t stop cuddling you and asking if you still felt gross ;(

Seonghwa ♡:

• You’d already felt your gut stirring when you went to bed, but you weren’t expecting to wake up in a cold sweat and experience the disgusting nausea that was happening in the same bed as Hwa

• You let out a pained whimper, head aching like it was being pounded on, and attempted to sit up

• You suceeded, but not without waking up Seonghwa

• He made a noise that you couldn’t quite register in the pain you were in, cuz damn you were trying your hardest to not pass out from the horrible headache-bordering-on-migraine

• “Mm… Baby…? Are you ok?”

• “I-… Ow..,” Was all you could get out. Your voice wavered, cracking, and the copious amounts of saliva that began to coat your mouth was a clear sign your stomach was readying to empty its contents, not to mention the lurching of your intestines

• The best word to describe it would be ‘agonizing’

• One second you were trying to slide the covers off you, the next, you were leant forward and throwing up all over the comforters and mattress

• It was literally horrible, dawg. Your throat felt like it was forcing itself open, and the yellow chunder that expelled from your mouth burned the inside lining of your trachea. You wanted to game end, maaan 😔🤙

• But it all turned out ok, because Hwa was there to help :))

• Acted fast after he got over his initial shock; bundled up the blankets and ushered you off the bed, gently pushing you towards the bathroom with a kiss to your forehead so you could go take a shower, and cleaned up the bed hella quick

• When you came back, he’d gave you a bunch of kitheth all over your face except your lips and slipped a hand under your shirt to gently rub/pat your tummy while you relaxed into his chest cuz he knew you still felt groggy (I’m gonna start crying, bro..)

Yunho ♡:

• Freaked the fuck out when you stumbled out of the bed and into the bathroom

• Though, since that bitch was sleep, it looked kinda like 😵

• “____..?”

• Followed you haphazardly out of pure worry, and was like “Oh! 😧” when he saw you bent over the toilet and just adujadhbauidbuaqbduw into it

• The sounds also made him feel worse

• Nasty as hell, why do you sound like you’re throwing buckets of water into a kitty pool and burp right before it splashes

• Anyways

• It was hell for you :)

• While the ceramic of the toilet’s sides as well as the cold tile floor helped cool your feverish body and hands down, the smell of the water made your nausea worse. You could feel the sweat gather at your forehead as you banged your hand down on the lid out of strain and need to get bearings, gorl, you looked a literal mess

• You’re lucky Yunho doesn’t judge since he’s sweetness :D)

• Was genuinely really concerned; eyebrows knit in regard and a hand rubbing your back with each retch you made

• “It’s ok.. It’s ok,” He’d repeat, not really knowing any other way to comfort you

• When you were done, he’d kiss your temple and help wash your mouth out, praising you for getting to the bathroom in time and being so strong

• Scared puppy eyes the entire time [insert a crowd of awes]

Yeosang ♡:

• Had no idea what was going on when he opened his eyes upon the sound of your staggering footsteps in the hallway

• Then he heard you vomiting

• Was like ‘word? I know they did not just...’ and got up to peek his head out from the doorway

• Saw you bent over, only a couple feet from the bathroom, and holding onto the wall for dear life as you spewed ALL OVER the floor

• Couldn’t help but make a ‘😬’ face

• Like, you’re his baby, dawg

• He doesn’t wanna see you like that 😔

• Nervously laughed before moving over to step around the puddle, coming back with cleaning supplies, a cold rag, and a bucket

• “And here I was, telling you that you had a stomach bug and should get a bucket just in case”

• “I don’t need your bullshit right now, Yeosang,” You flipped him the bird but still smiled at his teasing, then cleaned up the mess with him

• He’d tucked you into bed and put the rag on your forehead (kithed your eyelid for good luck UwU), and was about to roll over and go back to sleep when he realized the face you were making

• You looked kinda sad bro :(

• “What’s wrong?”

• “I feel kinda guilty. You were right, I should’ve gotten a bucket so I didn’t have our hallway all nast-”

• “I was just kidding, baby,” He grinned and put an arm above your head as he turned on his side to face you, caressing your cheek, “It wasn’t your fault. Plus, it was a... bonding moment?”

• “You literally got puke on your big toe, Yeosang-”

San ♡:

• When he felt the bed dip as you stood up from it, he cracked an eye open at first, but then he heard you gag and the sound of you spilling your fucking stomach out

• Shot up from his original position with wide eyes

• Now he was fully awake lol

• “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me..,” You said to yourself, wiping your mouth with the back of your sleeve and looking back at San with an expression that apologized before he could ask if you threw up

• “Did you...?”

• “Yeah.. Just go back to sleep, I’ll clean it up,” You didn’t give him time to reply before you already left the room to go get napkins and a cleaning agent

• In the end, he still helped with wiping it up :)

• Gave you some pepto bismol before you both laid down

• “Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling bad... I could’ve gotten you medicine..”

• “WHY ARE YOU CRYING-”

Mingi ♡:

• Panicky ;(

• He was wondering where you were when he woke up because he was thirsty

• So on his way to the kitchen, he got his answer

• Bitch- you’re so loud and for what lmao

• I get it, I get it. You’re going through a horrible experience by literally regorging both stomach acid and everything you’ve eaten the day before, but like, why do you sound like you’re dying

• Shit, maybe you are, nvm

• Pushed the already ajar bathroom door open the rest of the way and got an unwanted eyefull of you hurling into the toilet bowl

• Bb was so worried about youuuu *sobs*

• Didn’t know what to do with himself for a sec, so he kinda just bounced in place and messed with his fingernails until he finally realised that it’d be helpful if he got you some medicine

• “I got you something for your stomach,” He stood beside you by the sink counter, where you were rinsing your mouth out, and held out the round pink tablets for you to sit on the surface of your tongue and wash down with some water

• “Thanks, babe,” You mustered a weak smile, ruffling his hair in adoration for the boy

• “Oh, you look like a zombie, ____!”

• A crybaby

• Literally flung himself onto you and squeezed you half to death, nuzzling his cheek against your own and ready to cry for you when you put a hand on his chest and let out an exhausted groan

• “You’re gonna make me throw up again, Mingi...”

Wooyoung ♡:

• Omgomgomg it’s my favorite gang member 😍

• Disqusted

• Was woken up by you shaking his shoulder

• “Huh...?”

• Sat up from his side, then saw the huge puddle of puke in the center of the covers

• Was like “Dawg.... I loved this comforter 😞,” and took a moment of silence to weep on the inside

• Then he clowned you about it :D

• “Ewww, dude!” He whined, pushing your arm slightly and looked towards you, a shit-eating grin on his face as he waited for your reaction

• “I can’t help it, asshole!”

• You were ready to rip his head off lol

• The auDACity of this wench 🙄💅🏽

• Teased you, yet still helped clean everything up

• Two-faced ass

• Be’d make fun of the situation a lil bit, but he understands :)

Jongho ♡:

• Ah, he looks so soft in this gif UwU

• No judging from bb

• He understands you’re not feeling good, and that’s ok ;(

• So when he opens his eyes at the sound of you know, BLAKBURGHWHAGABLEGH 🤮, he’s already figured that you got sick

• You’re next to the bedroom door, holding onto the wall for leverage and clutching at your stomach, still shaking from the sudden action

• “Uh-oh, did you throw up?” He mumbles as he slides off the bed and makes his ways towards you, rubbing his eyes

• “Yeah...”

• “Go sit near the toilet for a bit just in case more comes, I can clean this up”

• You sigh and frown, appreciating the offer but not wanting your boyfriend to fix a mess that you made. Especially a gross one.

• “Jongho, you don’t have to...”

• He presses a kiss to your forehead and doesn’t answer, instead, placing his hands on your hips as he pushes you out the door and to the bathroom before heading to the kitchen

• “You don’t need to worry about me, just make sure you’re ok”

• The absolute sweetest ;((

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padfootagain · 4 years

Text

A Sunday Kind Of Love

Here comes a new request for my 4.7k followers!! Thank you for your request, anon! The following prompts were requested for Harry Styles!

19. "Huh... is that my shirt you're wearing?"

81. "Well… that… was a good kiss…"

I wrote them in italics in the fic. This is absolute fluff. Nothing but pure cuteness, so much cuteness that even I feel like it's almost too much. But can there really be too much cuteness? I think not.

I hope you like it!

Pairing: Harry Styles x reader

Word count: 2322

It's Sunday morning.

There is rain pouring outside, but it's Fall already in England, so there is nothing surprising with the pouty weather, really. The rain makes clapping sounds as it hits the roof of your house and the windowpane of your bedroom. Through a corner of the curtain that isn't placed quite right to cover the glass, you can see the droplets rolling down the cold surface, tracing unrealistic patterns against the window. There's a little bit of condensation around the frame, blurring the dark clouds outside and the top of the orange leaves from the tree in your garden. There isn't much light in the room, because of the dark clouds, but also because it's still early, and beyond all the water darkening the sky, the sun is only shy for now.

Along with the sound of rain, you can hear the wind blowing from time to time, getting caught in the branches of your tree.

It's warm under your duvet, but you are well aware that it must be cold outside. Your nose feels a little cool, unprotected by the blanket you have tugged under your chin. Your whole world, it would seem, smells of rain, your sheets perfumed with the orange blossom of your detergent, and Harry's scent.

His Tom Ford cologne tickles your senses, familiar and warm and reassuring. It envelops you in a tight embrace, almost like a cocoon. It's your favourite scent in the world, really, because it means that he's here, by your side, instead of halfway across the globe.

And he's here alright, lying next to you in bed. For once, you're the first one awake despite Harry being an early-riser. Having a difficult time sleeping has at least one good side, you reckon. You can watch him sleep then.

His eyes are barely moving under his eyelids, but they slightly tremble still. His features are completely relaxed, and the calm he wears then makes him angelic. His eyelashes trace two dark lines above his cheekbones. He hasn't shaved in a few days and a stubble colours his cheeks, chin and space between his soft lips and cute nose. His parted lips move a little in his sleep, as if he was about to mutter something, making the tip of his nose bend to follow the movement. He's lying on his tummy, his face turned towards you and a hand hidden under his pillow. His hair is a wild and yet glorious mess of brown curls that both his night of sleep and your hands have tangled. You can barely hear his soft, regular breath escape through his nose above the sound of the rain, but it's a reassuring sound nonetheless.

You reach to rest your fingers upon his bare arm, his skin velvety under your fingertips. His body is warm and inviting, and you barely think as you snuggle closer to him, looking for his nearness like a planet is pulled towards its star.

You absentmindedly trace patterns over his arm, but stop when he shifts under your touch, the muscle of his shoulder flexing and then extending as he pushes his hand further under his pillow.

You don't want to wake him up just yet. You want to keep staring at him, enjoy the fragile moment and use it to carve the sight of him in your mind: a luminous memory to remember by.

So, you stop moving altogether, barely breathing, hoping not to disturb his sleep for a little longer, and merely stare at him, watching him lost in peaceful slumber.

Tomorrow, there will be a thousand tasks awaiting you at work. Tomorrow, there will be an early rise to get ready and hurry through crowded buses and trains to get to work. Tomorrow, there will be the stress of failure and the rush of too many things to do. Tomorrow, there will be a sandwich swallowed in a hurry to avoid losing time for work. Tomorrow there will be aching shoulders and headaches by the middle of the afternoon. Tomorrow, there will be a journey home, spent trying to fight back your exhaustion to keep your eyes open in public transports. And tomorrow night, there will be an early fall on the bed because you are too tired to do anything and gentle hands guiding you towards your pillow, and finally the scent of the Tom Ford cologne drowning you in a feeling of peace.

But this morning, there is nothing but this bed. Your stressful job is far away for now, and it almost feels as if you could forget that it exists altogether.

If only you could stay like this forever…

But eventually, after a long while – is it a few minutes or an hour, you truly can't say – Harry starts moving around a little more, and you recognize the first signs that he's about to wake up in his quiet shuffling.

And what better way to be accompanied out of slumber than with kisses?

You move your hand across his arm to rest on his naked back instead, your hand resting flat between his shoulder blades while you lean closer to kiss the cheek that is exposed to you. You drop gentle kisses there, his stubble tickling you a little, moving your lips across his cheekbone, his jaw, and finally the tip of his nose, which makes him smile.

You pull away, waiting for him to wake up, but he doesn't open his beautiful eyes like you expect him to. Instead, he frowns, and groans at you, his lips turning into a small pout.

"Don't stop," he complains, his voice rough and raspy with sleep, the sound sending electricity through your spine, despite the pillow shushing his words.

You laugh at him a little, but can't help but comply nonetheless, leaning to brush feathery kisses across his eyelid. He heaves a content sigh this time, his smile returning to his plush lips as your touch moves to his temple and forehead. You kiss the remnants of his frown away, and by the time your lips rest upon the tip of his ear, he has a grin on his face.

"Enough?" you ask in a teasing voice, having kissed every inch of his face you could reach.

"Hmm… there's one spot you've missed," he answers, opening one eye to look at you.

"Really? Which one?"

He shoots you a ridiculously bright smirk, turning his head a little more to face you, before he points to his lips.

You laugh again, but have to admit that he is right, his lips being previously out of reach for the most part, pressed against the pillow instead of facing you.

His eyes are finally open, mostly, at least, for sleep is still heavy on him. He hasn't chased the last fragments of it away yet, but it doesn't stop him from looking at you expectantly, waiting for you to yield, which you easily do. There's no way you can resist from kissing him, especially now, when it's a cold Sunday morning with rain pouring outside and you're cuddled in bed against his warm frame.

So, you kiss him, slow and deep and loving – adoring, one might even say. It's a little sleepy, but it's intimate in the most perfect of ways and it makes both of you feel warmth spread through your hearts until it feels like the organs are radiating love. It's peaceful, and complete, and it feels and tastes like home. It's all you'll ever need, really, and Harry feels just the same.

The kiss lingers, lasting until both of you are desperate for air. You're not sure when has Harry shifted enough to pull his hand away from under his pillow to wrap around you instead, but it feels good to be held by him. Safe. Sheltered. A place where you're sure you'll never get hurt, whatever may happen in the rest of your life.

When you eventually pull away, both of you out of breath, it takes him a few seconds to lazily open his eyes again. He has a dreamy look on his face.

"Well… that… was a good kiss…" he tells you, a stupid grin breaking his lips.

"Hmm… yes, it was," you nodded, brushing the tip of your nose against his.

"It was a very nice way to wake up," he praises, and it's his turn to scatter tender pecks across your cheeks, making you grin too.

"I bet it was…"

"You know what would make it even better?"

"More cuddles?"

He opens his mouth to answer, but considers your proposition first.

"Yes, actually that too," he admits. "But I was thinking about breakfast instead."

"You want me to make you breakfast?"

"I'll help too!" he defends himself.

"Will you? Cause that's what you said last weekend already, mister! And you ended up falling back asleep and not helping me at all."

"I didn't do it on purpose!"

"I know… I'm just teasing. I'll get the coffee going."

He grinned, kissing your lips again.

"Thank you. I love you, you're the best. The best!"

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you even closer and buries his face in your neck, kissing all along your skin there, nipping a couple of times to make you smile even brighter.

"Well, if you want breakfast, then you have to let me get out of bed and make it!"

He falls back further in his pillow, letting you move more freely again.

"Alright, I'll be down in a minute."

"Don't abandon me this time!" you warn him, poking at his side for good measure, making him squirm away from you and let out an adorable giggle.

"I won't! I won't! I promise!"

You kiss him one last time, before sitting up, looking for something to wear. After the activities of the previous night, you didn't bother putting on some clothes. But now, you need to go to kitchen, and you reach for the closest shirt you can find. It's the shirt Harry was wearing the night before, his Enjoy health, eat your honey t-shirt that was left disregarded on the floor as you found kissing much more important than tidying your clothes.

You put it on, turning to take a look at Harry's reaction. But your boyfriend has closed his eyes again, and you guess you'll have to wait till he gets to the kitchen.

You walked down the stairs to the kitchen, the rain still going strong outside. It's warm in your house though, and as you prepare some coffee, you admire the rain falling on the pavement. It has made puddles in the driveway already, and it seems to you that the sky is darkening.

You decide to put on some music while you gather the ingredients needed to make some waffles. You turn on the radio, and some random tune you don't recognize fill the room, covering the tapping noise of the rain.

" Huh... is that my shirt you're wearing?" Harry asks, a smug smile on his lips while he appears wearing nothing except a pair of black underwear.

He loves it. You know he does. He loves when you wear his clothes, and the way he wraps his arms around your middle from behind as he joins you in the kitchen is the final proof.

"I might have borrowed it," you answer with a grin.

"Hmm… borrowing is fine, but don't steal this one. I like it too much."

"Don't lie, you love seeing it on me."

He drops a sweet kiss on your hair.

"I do. Looks good on you."

"Better than on you?"

"Now, don't push it…"

You both laugh, while he moves to the side to grab a couple of apples and a knife, and he starts cutting some fruits for you both.

It's quiet between the two of you while you cook and listen to the music and to the steady rain. It's comfortable, the way you and Harry can stand next to each other in silence, intimate.

The tune changes to Etta James's voice. Warm and deep, her voice echoes through the kitchen and you start humming along the melody.

Without warning, Harry's hand comes to rest upon yours as you were mixing your ingredients for your waffles. You look up at him questioningly, but he merely smiles at you, pulling you close to him without letting go of your hand. His fingers are a little sticky with the juice from the apples he's been cutting, and yours are covered with sugar and flours, but none of you seem to care, and it still feel just as nice to be holding hands. His arm wraps around your waist, and before you can truly understand what's going on, the two of you are swaying across the kitchen. When you finally realize that you're dancing with Harry, you beam up at him.

"Perfect song for today," he whispers in your ear. "Don't you think so, darling?"

You hum in response. Your heart skips a beat every time he calls you with such pet names, no matter that he has done it thousands of times before.

"Yeah, I reckon it is."

He hums along to the song, and you can feel the vibration of his chest against yours. His voice is a real lullaby that could lull you back to sleep. You're safe in his arms, and he's safe in yours. Your hand is lost in his messy curls, leaving white powder in its wake, and he can swear that he's never felt more like he has finally come home.

When the voice on the radio changes, and the beat picks up to another melody, you both silently agree to ignore it. Instead, you keep on slowly swaying to the same rhythm, unwilling to let go for now.

And if the world is cold outside, there was never a place safer and warmer than your shared embrace on this lazy Sunday morning.

**********************************************

Taglist: @ponycake27 @horsesreign @xinyourdreamsx @jbluevelvet @notkeppeki @daynigt-dreamer-stuff @fudgeflyss @stuckupstucky @snek-shit @suchatinyinfinity @i-padfootblack-things @buckybsarmy @heyohheyitsgabi@jigsawlover10 @emyyjemyy @addictedtofictionalcharacters @staringmoony

@cronias13 @stylesfics-xx @mellamolayla

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #fanfiction #fanfic #imagine #writing

107 notes · View notes

clowndensation · 2 years

Text

weaver - thinking too much about free will gives me a tummy ache :(

quite literally i could go around and around in circles all day trying to make sense of just how in control people are of their owm actions. how much of what makes up a person is intentional? how much is just the result of a person receiving a specific type of input under a specific set of variables, and outputting the response that they're supposed to? how much do we really choose in our life, and how much is pre-determined by factors well out of our control? do any of us actually have any say in who we become? and does it matter? what if we are all just actors following a script we're unaware of? does that necessarily mean our lives are meaningless? or does the meaning we draw from what we experience matter more than our choice in the experiences themselves? and is the meaning we draw free will? or yet more pre-ordained script that we can't help but feel? does that invalidate the fact that we feel it? am i following my script by wondering all this right now? is it pointless to wonder, if so?

i'm giving myself a headache.

anyways, it is fascinating to me that jon finishes reading this statement, and the conclusion he draws is that the web is on his side. it's the only tolerable conclusion to come to, given what the web is, but the fact that he does so without any real complaint is interesting, and reflects meaningfully on how much he actually believed he was being controlled. jon isn't very good at denial, for as much as he'd like to live in it.

also hehehe wow, i sure hope this exact issue doesn't come up again layer:

Ranking: 7, annabelle my love, you make my stomach hurt.

#tmags #tmags ranking #7 #s4 #ep 147

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soundwavefucker69 · 3 years

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Baby Tal'ika: Mace takes one look at this kid and kisses any peace goodbye

ohohohohoho let’s have some fun with this. I think it’s gonna be long, so I’m putting in a break

-----------

It took a grand total of three seconds for Mace to come to the conclusion that this was his future padawan, and another three seconds for him to come to the conclusion that he was never going to know another moment’s peace in his entire life. Really, it wasn’t hard. The tiny initiate was somewhere between adorable, achingly sad, angry, lonely, scared, and something else Mace had rarely, if ever, seen on a child their age: resigned.

They were resigned, and he could see it in their eyes.

They were also like a dying star in the Force, and already knew how to trick the perceptions of sentients to pass unnoticed and unseen, which brought him to the question of why someone had taught them that at an age when that was the last thing you wanted a youngling who was not supposed to go missing to know.

Mace felt a lot of things when he looked down at one Tal’ika Fox-Kenobi, and not all of them were positive, but they were all very, very sure. Confident. Aching, in their own way.

And the child just looked at him, set their stubborn jaw, and flopped down on the grass of the Room of One Thousand Fountains before reaching up with one tan hand to grasp his own.

“I want to meditate,” they announced, and Mace felt something in his heart ache, because what child their age wanted to meditate?

“Alright,” he agreed, and sat down with them. “But can we speak first?”

They were old, but they had also been raised by a Jedi. And apparently a whole cluster of clones, but that was neither here nor there. So, realistically, they were a youngling, and didn’t need to be initiated into the Jedi, but they also needed to be verified. For a lot of reasons. The way Qui-Gon had brought Anakin into the temple had been a hot mess, ignoring a variety of regulations that were in place to protect a prospective initiate, spouting off about prophecies and things that a child shouldn’t have to worry about, but Anakin had been a lot of things. And Tal’ika had been a lot of things, too. He wasn’t going to do this in the council chambers, which were big and terrifying for someone so young. No, the fountains were a far safer place, far more secure and less scary.

“Yes,” Tal’ika replied, but they hadn’t let go of his hand. Raised by clones, indeed. They were probably used to contact, and constant contact, at that.

“Alright,” he said slowly, and let his big hand lay out on his knee so they could trace over the lines in his palm and pick at his calluses. “You can’t answer wrong, so just be honest with me, and I will be honest with you. Is that fair?”

Tal’ika paused, tilting their head in consideration as they looked for loopholes in that statement, before they nodded, firm and sure.

“Yes. That’s fair,” they decided, firmly, with confidence that made his heart sing. This was a child that was young, and well adjusted, and well loved, for all the turmoil he sensed in them.

“Thank you,” he said seriously, because he always made a habit to thank young ones. “Can I ask you about where you’re from?”

“A ship,” they replied. “The last one blew up, so Cody called help, so we’ve been on the Havoc Marauder.”

Okay, that was concerning. Mace knew that name. No wonder Tal’ika already bit three people. He couldn’t even blame them.

“Not on a star destroyer?” He hedged out, and they scrunched up their nose as they turned his hand over to trace the curves of his fingers.

“Why would I be on a star destroyer? Plo saved me from the Empire, why would I be back with them?”

The what now?

“Why did he save you?” He asked, and they looked up at him like he was stupid.

“Because they killed people like me,” they replied, like it was obvious. “They killed you.”

“I see,” he said seriously, as something uncomfortable settled in his gut. “How did they manage that?”

“You tried to arrest the Emperor, and then he killed the whole council and the Order and threw you out a window,” they replied and frowned. “You don’t take care of your cuticles, Master Windu. That’s not healthy. Plo makes a good cream for cuticles.”

“I’ll be sure to ask him for it,” Mace promised, because Plo did make good cuticle cream, and was constantly harassing Mace in that polite way about how he kept leaving his cuticles cracked and bleeding, and that was a bit easier to focus on than the whole Order being killed. “How long ago was that?”

“Uh... thirteen years? I think? I wasn’t born yet. There’s chips in my bavodu’e’s heads, and they had to kill you. Plo likes to kidnap them so he can take them out. He even taught me how! It’s fun. Better than staying on the ship, anyways,” they responded and rubbed at his cuticles with a little furrow in their brow. “Your cuticles are a mess.”

“My apologies. I’ve been too busy to take care of my cuticles,” Mace said, because they were really liking to circle back to the cuticles. Chips? What on earth? “Tell me about how you’ve been living.”

“We have to travel around a lot, on account of me and the bavodu’e being Impir-icle property that stole ourselves,” Tal’ika responded and shifted their little fingers to start pushing back the offending cuticles. “And Plo is supposed to be dead, so they’re pretty mad about that. He’s very proud that he keeps making them mad. He won’t say it, of course, but he’s very proud.”

“Who do you live with?” Mace prompted, and Tal’ika sneezed. He didn’t even flinch at the flying bits of snot that splattered his hand. They had at least tried to do it into their arm, and they wiped his skin off with their sleeve before going right back to getting his cuticles presentable.

“Uh... Right now, we have Plo, Wolffe, Sinker, Cody, Rex, and we just kidnapped Gregor. Oh! And the Bad Batch. Echo is teaching me how to slice, and Hunter gave me a knife, and Crosshair taught me how to make a headshot. Cody was upset about that. Actually, Cody is upset about everything everyone is doing, because the Bad Batch are ‘gremlins’ and are making me ‘too feral and competentent’. Neyo just left, to join the Rebellion, and he took Thire with him, because Thire keeps getting sad about me, and Neyo didn’t want him to be alone. I think I made him sad, too. But they might be sad because Bly just marched on. He didn’t do well when we took the chip out and got sick. I mean, not sick like when I get a tummy ache, but sick like he didn’t want to get out of bed and just stared at the wall all day. He wasn’t doing well, and then he was gone, and Neyo was trying to take care of him, but Rex said sometimes other people aren’t enough to make you better.”

Mace knew Commander Bly, and the casual hints being dropped that Tal’ika didn’t fully understand was making his stomach sink in his gut. Empire, Order dead, chips that made the clones kill their Jedi, Plo kidnapping clones to take the chips out... It painted a morbid picture for Bly, and a morbid one for Aayla, and he wasn’t certain he wanted to confront the picture in the presence of a child.

“Sometimes people aren’t enough,” he agreed, as careful as he could manage, and Tal’ika looked at him with the big amber eyes he’d seen a million times.

“Is that why Plo is sad?”

“... Yes. That’s why Plo is sad,” because even now Plo was sad, and Mace hated to see it. He couldn’t imagine how Plo would be in the aftermath of a very morbid future Tal’ika was painting. “Can you tell me how Plo is teaching you?”

“Everyone teaches me,” Tal’ika replied dismissively, and went back to pushing back his cuticles. “But Plo and I do meditation in the morning. And before bed. It’s a little hard, with how everyone is sleeping on top of each other right now. Not much room. Lots of people. I have to share a bed with Echo and Tech, cause we’re the smallest. We do a lot of exercises, and he teaches me things.”

“Like how you hide,” Mace supplied, and they nodded firmly.

“Yeah. And the Code, but they also teach me the Resol’nare. Plo lets them, though, so long as I understand how to follow the Code.”

It would seem that in the aftermath of devastation, what few clones left were clinging to the Mandalorian diaspora. He didn’t know how to feel about that. Did that make Tal’ika the second Mandalorian Jedi in history? Force, that was going to be a headache when they got older.

“And your regular studies?”

“Uh...” Color rose in their cheeks. “Leia says they are ‘un-or-tho-dox, but Tech says they’re re-le-vant.”

In hindsight, he shouldn’t have expected much from a half feral Jedi youngling raised by some of the most unorthodox clones he had ever heard of. Cody was wonderful, but he had met Captain Rex, and he knew for a fact their educational modules had to be a hot mess. And then Plo had gone and tossed them in with the damned Bad Batch. Granted, it sounded like he was desperate, given the previous ship blowing up, but the very thought of Tech getting his hands on a hyper intelligent Force sensitive child’s educational requirements was headache inducing.

Yes, the Temple was going to be better for them. Much better for them.

“Can we meditate now?” Tal’ika asked, their voice barely pitching into a whine, and Mace decided he’d grilled them enough. The picture they painted was a bleak future, where the survivors fought for what little happiness a hard galaxy could afford them. And, well, he still had to accept them into the temple, and he had to actually examine their Force core in order to do that.

He knew they would pass, of course, just as sure as he knew they would be his. It was a quiet, uncomfortable confidence in his gut that he hadn’t felt since he first laid eyes on Depa, but this was going to be his padawan, Obi-Wan and Plo be damned.

“Yes. Of course. May I--- Oh.”

Tal’ika had simply climbed to their feet and plopped right between his crossed legs. Right. Raised by clones. Of course Plo would indulge their tactile nature in meditation, and of course they were still young enough to get away with it.

Tal’ika’s spine straightened, and then they breathed out, their eyes slipping shut as they crossed their legs to balance on his calves. Mace just came to the conclusion that this child was forceful, possibly a little too forceful, but there was little harm in it. They evidently had a good head on their shoulders, and far be it from Mace to ever tell a little one no. So, he just balanced his hands on his knees and relaxed into a meditation with their warm back pressed up against his chest.

“Do you need me to walk you through it?” He asked, and they firmly shook their head no.

“No. Plo says it’s time for me to start doing it on my own,” they replied firmly, and Mace’s lips twitched in a smile. Of course they were going to be advanced. This was a Kenobi child.

“Alright. Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

They were so firm, so sure of themselves. He didn’t think they’d ever heard a disparaging word from someone in their life, and he was quietly glad for it. There was nothing that gave him greater hope than a young child who knew exactly who they were and what they wanted, a child who had never once been given room to doubt themselves and their needs, who expressed things firmly and aggressively without a hint of shame. It was a good thing.

Slipping into meditation was as easy as breathing. Their little back pressed against his chest, and he followed each breath as they sunk into the Force together, their Force signatures tangling together as they steadily dropped their shields to share with him. Mace let them drift, cataloguing and categorizing the conflicting emotions that had risen up within himself and setting them aside. Anger was there, and pain, and confusion, and fear. How could he not be afraid? They had essentially spoken of genocides, of the clones and the Jedi, and this was his home. His family. He was the Grand Master of the Order, and he had evidently failed it in their time.

He would have to do better.

Tal’ika was still at an age where they needed a little help, and Mace set to the task with an age-old comfort as he helped them identify the emotions in their body that was too damn small for the burning Force presence that engulfed them. They were angry, and they were terrified, despite the cool exterior. They had communicated as much as they could, but someone, namely Plo, had evidently taught them extensively about when words weren’t enough, the Force would suffice. No wonder they had been so demanding about meditation. The fear of all the changes and confusion was a roiling core, and Mace nudged along at their shields, coaxing them into letting them down so he could help.

They did, easily, with only the trust of a child, and Mace hummed as he reached out to touch that fear and press forward with comfort and reassurance. Letting go wasn’t enough, sometimes. It took awhile to learn, and they were far too young to have it mastered. Being validated was important, too, and he made sure to acknowledge the fear and uncertainty overtaking them. It was only natural.

Inch by inch, they let go of the fear, and he buffeted them with warmth and acceptance as they did. The trust of a child was always an overwhelming sort of thing, and he couldn’t help but wish he could spend more time with younglings. It was a lot easier, even with time-traveling post-apocalypse younglings. Adults got wrapped up in their emotions and consumed by them. Younglings, though, did a lot better with letting comfort be comfort and fear be fear and anger be anger. They didn’t mix things up, took anger for safety and fear for a shield.

After helping them detach from their fear and pain and loneliness, which they let go with surprising swiftness, he spent a little time nudging along their shields and examining who the Force was telling him they were. Tal’ika Fox, the child of Obi-Wan Kenobi and Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard, was a lot more than their lineage. Sifting around, he could see that they were kind, at their core, not at all like their father, who Mace knew never hesitated to cut someone down if they stood in the way of justice. No, this was someone who would hesitate, and at any given opportunity. However, interspersed with that kindness and desire to help was an unsteady nature. No, even unstable, which could be attributed to the cloning techniques used to make them. Or perhaps they had been engineered to be more aggressive and unbalanced. He wouldn’t put it past the Kaminoans. Plo had been apparently doing his damned best to prove the difference in nature versus nurture, though, given how Tal’ika had just demanded meditation when they felt like they couldn’t keep it together for much longer. As they got older, they might need real medication to help balance them out, but for now they could do their best to balance them out in the temple and their upbringing.

Compassion was there, too. Boundless compassion, and forgiveness, which was going to be a given, given their Plo’s apparent proclivities for kidnapping and yanking control chips out of clones’ heads. They’d probably been shot at a fair number of the clones they’d saved, and probably had been scared by a good amount of them, but here they were. All of the tenants of the Order so entrenched in their being.

Yes. They would be fine for the Jedi.

It was almost nice, sitting in the grass with them on his lap, taking this meditation so seriously, serious as a heart attack. He could feel their single minded focus, and it brought a sense of fondness to the whole ordeal. He needed to do this more often, probably after he solved the problems presented by their little time traveling initiate. He almost lost track of time, just letting the Force flow around them as he let his mind drift, emotions rising up and being set to the side, correcting nudges given whenever their attention began to focus. In fact, he did lose track of time, right up until the moment someone cleared their throat behind him. He hadn’t even felt Ponds come up, more focused on fixing Tal’ika’s posture.

“Commander,” he said as he opened his eyes. Tal’ika let out a quiet noise of frustration at the interruption, and he patted them on their shoulder.

“You told me to collect you for the briefing, sir,” Ponds said, and Mace ignored the mild amusement radiating off the man at the sight of his general with a mini Obi-Wan in his lap.

“Well, we’ll have to drop Initiate Tal’ika off at their creche, first,” he replied as Tal’ika climbed to their feet and straightened their robes, which they seemed to be deeply displeased to be wearing.

“I can take myself,” Tal’ika declared, and Mace cringed at the thought.

“The last time you ‘took yourself’ to the creche, you ended up in the restricted section of the Archives with a lightsaber that did not belong to you,” he replied, and Tal’ika paused.

“Well, if you don’t want your weapons to go missing, you shouldn’t leave them laying around just anywhere,” they sniffed. “Cody told me Obi-Wan was always leaving his saber everywhere, so I was really doing a good deed. For Cody.”

Ponds was physically restraining himself from laughing, and Mace was just infinitely glad he had no bad habits, because he wasn’t sure he’d survive the humiliation of Tal’ika helpfully correcting his.

“I’m not sure Obi-Wan would agree with you, Tal’ika,” he said gravely, and Tal’ika crinkled up their nose.

“That’s because he doesn’t know what’s good for him, Master Windu.”

“Sir, you are going to miss the briefing,” Ponds cautioned, and Mace leaned over to pick Tal’ika up and set them on his hip.

“I’m the Grand Master of the Jedi Order. They can wait,” he replied, and Tal’ika snorted.

“That’s abuse of power,” they said, very seriously, like they had heard it many, many times before.

“We all have our vices, Initiate Tal’ika,” Mace replied, just as seriously, and Tal’ika took his face in two very small hands to turn it to them so they could look him directly in the eye.

“I don’t.”

Ah, yes. Their apprenticeship was going to be a nightmare. Mace couldn’t wait.

#realityhoudini #shrooms is writing #rex fox comes running #mace windu #listen Tal'ika would objectively be the PERFECT apprentice for him #especially temple raised Tal #this is turning into its own fic and I don't regret anything #tiny!tal'ika

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jae-daddy · 4 years

Text

Chubby (14)

Jaebum AU Series

one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven / twelve / thirteen

masterlist

pairing: im jaebum x reader genre: angst, romance, mature, drama plot: you are getting bullied and jaebum decides to help you a/n: i got too drunk and i have no idea what i’ve written. not edited. hope y’all like it.i was going to write another part, but i think i’d rather go cry

Everything is spinning when you wake up. Your head feels heavy, your throat so dry it hurts to swallow and a sour taste remains in your mouth. You felt your head hammer against your skull as your tummy unsettles uncomfortably as the urge to be sick threatens you.

But nothing happens. You don’t vomit, you don’t reach for the water bottle. You don’t even move your body as the uncomfortable position pushes against your spine. You lay on your bed, sideways, staring at the wall as your mind raced and blanked all at once.

You wished the memories of last night would have been erased. You wished you had experienced a blackout like everyone else in movies and books. But alas, you remembered everything, everything so clearly you would paint each and every second that happened.

Jaebum had kissed someone.

But then Jaebum was also there for you and got you home.

That was probably just him being a good friend.

A good friend; after all thats what you both were.

You groaned closing your eyes as your headache increased. You tried shutting your eyes and burying yourself beneath your blanket to hid from the pain and memories, but it didn’t help with both.

After a few minutes of defeat, you got up chugged a few gulps of water. You didn’t stop and kept moving because you knew once you stopped you’ll be filled with pain. Pain from the memories and from the spliting headache.

........................................................................

You stood outside Jaebum’s door. It was a bit past noon.

The pain in your head was refusing to go, and you couldn’t do much about it. But you could do something about the one you were pushing back.

You didn’t want to hide from Jaebum. You didn’t want to ruin this friendship between the two of you.

You love him; there is no denying that. You have loved him from the moment you had seen him. You continued to love him as your heart was yanked from your chest. And you love him now as you stand outside his door step with your bleeding heart.

But you didn’t want to lose him.

You wanted him in your life no matter what role he filled. He meant so much more than a simple crush to you. He meant so much that you could look past your aching heart and a blinded kiss.

You reached up and were about to knock on the door, but decided to ring the bell instead.

You heard heavy footsteps rush towards the door, before the door swang open revealing Jaebum.

He looked like a mess. Probably more than you even though you had a such a rough night.

He must’ve just stepped out of the shower, you guessed, as you took in his wet hair. It was slick back like last night, and it made your heart twist more.

It wrenched as you took in his puffy dark eyes, dim with dark circles surrounding them. His straightened shoulders slumping, as his whole body rigid posture melted away as he took you in. His lips parted in shock, his eyes widening and something glistened in them, but you didn’t try to read it.

Jaebum seemed relieved to have you at his door step, but shocked, at once.

He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it deciding against it. He stood there gaping and closing his lips unsurely like a fish making you chuckle.

You pushed away everything you felt from yesterday, and smiled at him shaking your head. Before wincing as the headache seemed to worsen by the movement.

“Do you have anything for a headache?” You walked into the apartment leaving him at the doorway. Jaebum’s body followed you like a magnet turning wherever you did; feet coming closer to you no matter which was you turned.

“Or should I say a hungover?” You gave him an excited look raising your eyebrows. “Damn, is this a hangover? This sucks.”

Jaebum continued to stare at you wide-eyed. He stood infront of you. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t do anything. He just kept his gaze on you, as you tried not to notice.

“Jae,” you shot him an impatient look, “I swear my head is going to explode. Please help me.”

You tried to keep light and friendly. Like none of last night happened. You wanted to move past it. You want to treat it all like a bad dream and pretend that it didn’t happen.

When Jaebum didn’t move, your voice softened as you focused on him. You didn’t want to say it out loud. It would make it all too real. it would be like you were back there; in that room with Jaebum under her, her lips on his.

“Jae,” you whispered. Please. I don’t want to do this. Please, let’s just move past this and pretend last night didn’t happen.

Jaebum sighed in defeat as if he could hear every word and went off into the kitchen. You settled onto the sofa, as Tuesday snuggled into your feet.

“Hi, Tee,” you cooed, lifting him up onto your lap. “How have you been?”

He didn’t reply. Instead he moved up and snuggled himself against your neck. He was hugging you.

You casted your eyes on the ceiling to stop the tears that threatened. You stroked his soft grey fur as you brought your face closer to him, snuggling back into him.

“Thank you, buddy,” you whispered.

It didn’t matter how okay you act. You still felt raw. You still felt like your heart hung bleeding out of your chest exposed to the whole world. You still felt stupid. You still felt so tired that you wanted to curl up into a ball and hide away from everything.

“Here,” Jaebum settled a tray infront of you. He sat beside you, as he picked up a tablet and a glass of water. “Have this, first. The tea is still hot.”

You removed yourself from Tuesday, as you held out your palm to him. He placed the tablet on it, his fingertips brushing your soft skin and you tried to ignore it.

But you failied.

Your tummy flipped, as your heart skipped a beat.

You took the glass, making sure you don’t touch him and gulped it down with the pills.

“What kind of tea is it?” You were talking more than normal, but you would rather talk about the colour of the wooden floor of his apartment then sit in silence and guess what’s going on in his mind.

“Lemon and honey,” he replied gently. His eyes looked at you, but they didn’t meet your eyes. They studyed your fidgetting hands on your lap, the puffiness of your cheeks. The reddness of your lips, nose and cheeks. The way your chest rose and fell, the movement of your neck as your nervously swallowed.

The messiness of your hair as you had pulled it into a bun away from your face. How that once strand of hair fell against your cheek, and how he wanted to tuck it behind your ear.

How he wanted to feel the softness of your skin. To run his fingertips over your velvetness. How he wanted to hold your nervous hands in his. How he wanted to look into your eyes. How he wanted to kiss you once to erase all the memories from last night, and then a thousand times more to create new ones. Good ones you both were proud and happy off.

His eyes landed on your knees, and his jaw hardened.

The scrapes from last night left your skin broken and red.

“Does it hurt?” He asked, keeping his eyes on your knees.

Your eyes snapped at him surprise. You didn’t know what he was talking about. Did he mean your heart? Why would he want to know? What to you say?

“No.” You lie, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jaebum meets your gaze, but looks away instantly as if it burned him.

“It looks like it would hurt,” He pointed to your knees this time as he got up. “I’ll go get the first aid.”

You got up with him. You bit your nails into your palm.

“It doesn’t hurt,” you told him, “but, if you want to, I’ll come to the bathroom with you.”

Jaebum smiled at that.

“Right,” he tried holding it back, but couldn’t. He shook his head at you. “You and your proper locations.”

Jaebum had learned a pet-peeve of yours was doing activities in places where they did not need to happen. For example, dressing wounds in the living room; especially where you both ate. It made sense, but your rigidness and physicial pain on your face made Jaebum find it more adorable than logical.

Jaebum led you into the bathroom. You sat on the toilet after putting the cover down.

He pulled out the box and turned towards you.

“I can do it myself,” you held out your hand. You didn’t know if you could handle caring Jaebum. “I can reach it.”

Jaebum hesitated. And then he held out the box.

Just as you were about to grab it he pulled it away.

“Let me do this,” he said softly, as he bent down infront of you. “Let me do something for you.”

“You do so much for me already,” you whispered, just as soft. You winced as Jaebum rubbed alcohol on the broken skin.

Jaebum looked up at you, before blowing on your knees softly as he continued.

He shook his head after as he reached for the ointment.

“It’s not enough,” Jaebum said, his jaw hard but his words so faint it almost disappeared. “It’s nothing compared to what you do for me.”

You shook your head as you felt them begin to burn and water.

“I’ve done nothing for you, Jaebum,” you told him, your voice harder, stronger making him stop and look at you. “I haven’t done a single thing for you. But you have. You’ve done so much for me.

“You helped me. You reached out. You made me happy. You adopted a kitten because I asked. You let me cook and eat with you. You became my friend. You tried to help me at school. You cheered me up. You took care of me. You took me to my first party-”

You stopped, and bit your lip at that. Jaebum looked away, and cast his eyes on the ground ashamed.

“The point is,” you sighed as you put your hands on the sides of his face and turned him to look at you. “Im Jaebum, you have done so much for me. So don’t ever feel like that.”

You felt Jaebum’s jaw harden, as removed himself from your hold.

“But I hurt you.”

“Jae,” you sighed.

Jaebum angrily ripped out two bandages from its wrapper before placing them on your knees.

“I hurt you. I made you cry.”

“Jaebum, I-”

“It doesn’t matter what you say,” he cut you off curtly. “I hurt you, and no matter how many things you think I may have done for you; none of them can make up for the tears I’ve caused you.”

You stared at Jaebum as you sat unmoving. Your heart shivered as emotions ran vivid through your veins. Your mind with a million thoughts as you looked at Jaebum. Your felt your heart crack a little more as you took in his defeated stance.

“Jaebum,” you whispered, as your hands gently fell onto your lap. Jaebum didn’t look at you. HIs hard eyes continue to be focused somewhere beyond the four walls of the bathroom.

You weren’t really sure what to say to him. You didn’t know what to tell him that would erase his guilt, and take away last nights memory like a magical spell. You didn’t know what you could do to make this moment, and the moments to come worth more than the bad ones that haunting loomed over you both.

“Jae,” you called again softer. Jaebum turned his head, his tortured gaze meeting your confused ones. You didn’t know what to feel. You didn’t know how to deal with your emotions from last night. You didn’t know how to balance your feelings against Jaebum’s guilt. Jaebum’s eyes reddened with anger; and your heart clenched.

Jaebum was so angry with himself. He was beating himself so much. No matter what you said could take away what he felt. It would remain with him. It was more than just guilt, it was something you didn’t want to understand. It was something that frightened you.

“Jaebum, tell me, and be honest,” you told him. Your hands clenched your skirts nervously. You wanted to hold his face, and look into his eyes and tell him it’s all going to be okay. That you would be okay, so he doesn’t need to feel this way. “Did you mean to hurt me?”

Jaebum’s took a sharp breath as his sharp eyes widened in surprise.

“Did you do it to hurt me?” You asked.

Jaebum shook his head.

“No.” His voice was low and heavy, but it was certain. He didn’t do it to hurt you.

“Was I on your mind when it happened?” You asked, and the image of her lips on Jaebum burned your mind.

“No.” Jaebum shook his head, casting his head down. “There was nothing in my mind.”

Except her. Except lust.

“I didn’t even know it was happening. One moment she was telling me about her parent’s divorce and the next she was on top of me. Before I could do anything, you opened the door and saw everything.”

You froze.

“I won’t lie to you. We used to do things back in the day. Maybe I gave her the wrong idea. I don’t know.” Jaebum sighed frustratedly. as he ran a hand through his dark locks. His jaw clenched as he looked pained. “I don’t know. I don’t know what to say.

“But all I know is that I would never do anything to hurt you. I would never do anything to hurt you if I can help you.”

You stared at Jaebum as his dark eyes looked into yours. The golden flakes in his dark brown eyes swirled as it glistened with desperateness as he peered into your eyes to make you understand. But he didn’t have to tell you. You knew he would never do anything to hurt you.

You knew that much. You had just thought that him kissing her was something that didn’t relate to you; and thats why it hurt. Because you didn’t mean anything to him. Nothing more than a friend.

But friends don’t do this.

They don’t stare at eachother, begging for them to understand. Begging for them to not misunderstand. They don’t make eachother’s heart ache and race as Jaebum made yours.

You casted your gaze down from his searching eyes.

“Then it’s settled,” you lifted your eyes to meet his with a small smile. “What happened last night doesn’t matter. You didn’t mean it, and I well...” You cast your eyes away, as your cheeks tinted red. “It doesn’t affect me.”

Jaebum nodded his head, falling back. But you could see something inside him sink at your words. You could see him falling down, deeper inside his head. You wanted to grab on to him. You wanted to hold him, and make him believe that it was all going to be okay.

But you sat there. You didn’t know what anything of this meant. None of it meant sense to you. Not even your heart as it ached. It didn’t help that Jaebum didn’t kiss her. It didn’t matter that it was her who misunderstood things. It didn’t matter what Jaebum’s past or actions were.

All that mattered was the now. The now where Jaebum was still not in love with you as much as you were in love with him. All that mattered that even in a small four walled room, it felt like there was a lifetime between you both.

Jaebum could never love you, at least not in the way you did. The only thing you both had in common was that neither could let go of eachother. While your reason was laid out infront of the world, bleeding red as every beat of heart sang Jaebum’s name. Jaebum’s reason remained closed and hidden away from everyone.

As Jaebum’s warm hands gently held your face, your body melted, but your heart tightened. As his lips softly touched your forhead, lingeringly, your heart ached.

You didn’t know what all of this meant.

#jaebum #jaebum angst #got7 #angst #fluff #chubby #bullying #jaedaddy #hope y'all like it #not edited #im jaebum #series #I have no idea what I wrote

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