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gigabyte-flare · 1 year

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Insatiable (Part 1)

Summary: You are a researcher for D.S.O. who is responsible for studying Leon Kennedy as Las Plagas overtakes him, maybe even finding a cure. He starts to take a liking to you, too much of a liking to you.

Word Count: 2k

Pairing: yandere plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: Extreme violence and gore, biting, dubcon, forced breeding, gross las plagas-y things, death, mentions of un-aliving. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT.

A/N: Heavily inspired by this artwork by @chanif-art on Tumblr along with Project Scorpion by @tagzpite. Literally could not get this idea out of my head until I wrote it down. Definitely going to be another series. We're also going to pretend D.S.O. was founded way sooner than 2011 k byeeeeee

“I fought a war and I learned how to win, but how do you fight when the enemy’s within?”

You step out of an elevator led by two armed D.S.O. operatives in tactical gear deep underground at HQ, your white lab coat flowing gently as you walk forward. Grasped in your right hand is a voice recorder. You and the operatives go through a series of heavy steel doors leading you into the bowels of the underground facility.

Is all this really necessary? you think to yourself as you’re led deeper into the abyss.

Finally, you’re brought to a single cell enclosed with clear polycarbonate panels with steel reinforcements. In this cell was a man sitting in a chair that was bolted into the floor, his hands chained behind his back and his legs chained to the legs of the chair. This man is Agent Leon S. Kennedy. You approach one of the panels closest to the steel door keeping him in.

Switching the voice recorder on and bringing it to your mouth, you state your name before continuing, “The year is 2004. The subject is field agent Leon Scott Kennedy, currently 27 years old and exhibiting the late stages of Las Plagas infestation, his body is covered in dark, vein like marks. Subject is currently slumped over in the chair. He appears to be catatonic.”

Bringing the recorder away from your mouth, you motion to one of the operatives to guard the door. You input a passcode into a key panel next to the door. It lets out a hiss as it slowly swings open. As you step in, the door swings closed and locks.

You bring the recorder back to your mouth and continue, “Agent Kennedy?”

You watch as Leon slowly lifts his head, his face completely covered in the dark veins, his once blue eyes now have a slight red tinge to them, it makes your stomach twist in sorrow, he used to be such a handsome man.

“Subject appears to still have some cognitive ability left as he immediately recognized his name. We’re still trying to understand how he hasn’t broken down now that the alpha Plagas host, Osmund Saddler, has been destroyed--”

“I’m right here, you know,” Leon suddenly spoke, making you jump.

“Ag-Agent Kennedy!” you reply, eyes wide in shock that he’s able to speak.

“Please, just call me Leon, sweetheart.”

His dark gaze seemed to pierce straight into your very soul. You collect yourself, clearing your throat.

“How are you feeling, Leon?”

Leon looks down at himself, tugging gently at his restraints before looking back up at you, “all things considered, I actually feel pretty damn good.”

“That’s… good, I guess,” you reply, your nervousness clear in your voice.

You hadn’t prepared for this, every researcher that attempted to interact with him got absolutely nothing out of him, hence why they sent you down. You argued with them, not seeing the point but now you began to realize that the difference was they were all men, you were a woman.

“Awww… there’s no need to be so nervous, sweetheart, it’s just me, Leon Kennedy. I promise I don’t bite,” he says, a small smirk appearing on his lips, “hard.”

“Do you know where you are and why you’re here, Leon?”

He lets out a chuckle, “yeah, I’m in D.S.O.’s research facility because I’m turning into a monster.”

“That’s putting it rather bluntly, but yes, that’s correct.”

“About time they sent someone cute down here to visit me, the rest were much too dull. If I wasn’t chained up, I’d ask you out to dinner and a movie.”

You feel yourself blushing, “that’s… very kind of you Leon, however that won’t be happening anytime soon, I’m afraid.”

“That’s a shame, because I’d love to take you to bed and make you scream my name,” he growls, a sinister grin overtaking him.

Your heart is pounding out of your chest as your eyes widen at him. This wasn’t like Leon at all, the parasite was clearly twisting his thoughts. You panic, turning around to motion the operatives to open the door and let you out. As soon as you’re out of the cell, you briskly walk away from the cell as fast as you can, not once looking back. You could have swore you heard Leon’s laugh echo after you.

“I am not going back down there, are you insane?!”

“You’re the first person he has actually spoken to since he got back from Spain,” the lead researcher, Bryan said, setting your voice recorder down onto his desk.

“So? Your point? I’m not doing it and that’s final!”

“Look, this recording gives us valuable data on him, it’s clear that the Plagas inside him is mutating into a more dominant strain. It must know it’s the last one left,” Bryan said, pleading with you.

“So we’re just going to poke and prod him like he’s some guinea pig? Leon wouldn’t have wanted that! Are you sure there’s no way we can cure him?”

“If we attempt to remove the parasite now, it will kill him--”

“Then let’s put him out of his misery, this isn’t right!”

The silence between you was deafening. After a few minutes, Bryan finally spoke.

“Judging by this recording, the Plagas has one thing on its mind.”

“Which is…?”

Bryan looked up at you, letting out a heavy sigh, “reproduction.”

“All the more reason I shouldn’t be going back down there!”

“He’ll be restrained and you’ll have at least two operatives with you at all times, you’ll be safe,” Bryan leans forward on his desk, folding his hands together, “the data you collect from Agent Kennedy is invaluable in finding out how the parasite works, just… go down and talk to him. I know yesterday was unnerving but there is one thing he said that is true, he’s just Leon Kennedy. He’s in there somewhere, even if the Plagas is influencing him.”

You cross your arms, staring at the floor, letting out a frustrated sigh before looking back up at Bryan, “fine. But I want hazard pay.”

“Consider it done, here’s your recorder back,” Bryan says, sliding the recorder across the desk towards you.

You grab the recorder of the desk, turning on your heel to walk out of Bryan’s office.

“You are to report down there in an hour, you hear me?” Bryan calls after you just as you walk out the door.

You fight the urge to flip him off, thinking better of it. You walk down the hall into your office, getting your lab coat back on and sitting at your desk. You press play on the recorder, listening back on your interaction with Leon several times. There was one part where you repeated it several times, sending chills down your spine.

“That’s a shame, because I’d love to take you to bed and make you scream my name.”

How long had Leon been locked down here, chained to this chair? How many men in lab coats came and tried to talk to him? He knew he was a lost cause, why were they keeping him alive? How many times did he wish death would come and take him in his sleep?

But then you came, awakening something in him.

Your natural scent filled the cell completely, so many hours had gone by and he could still smell you and you smelled absolutely divine. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, the way your voice was so sweet yet filled with drive and intelligence. The way you blushed when he flirted with you. The way your heartbeat began to race at just the mere mention of taking you.

God you were so cute when you ran off, all flustered, he couldn’t help but laugh; he hadn’t felt alive like that in so long. His reminiscing was interrupted suddenly when he could hear footsteps coming down the hall. Lifting his head, he practically began to salivate when he saw you had returned.

You came back to me, baby, where you belong…

“The subject appears to be conscious and alert, he watched us as soon as we were in his line of sight,” you say as he watches you speak into the voice recorder.

With a hiss, the door opens and you step inside. Leon breathed in deep, taking in the smell of you, you smelled even better than you had yesterday. He feels his cock twitch in his pants in excitement. He watches as the door behind you closes and locks, just like it had yesterday, trapping you in here with him.

Curse these fucking chains…

“You’re more lively today, Leon, care to tell me why?” you ask, your voice flat and void of any emotion.

“How about you tell me why you smell so nice,” Leon replies, grinning at you, drool running from his mouth down his chin.

He watches you shift uncomfortably before you continue, “I’m not answering that.”

Leon scoffs, shaking his head, “then I’m not going to talk to you, sweetheart.”

You take a deep breath, “if I’m going to be honest, I don’t know why I smell so nice to you, Leon.”

His red eyes scan up and down your form, imagining it without all those needless clothes. Imagining himself pinning you to the floor and fucking you stupid. A strange, clicking sound came out of him from the back of his throat as he pulled aggressively on the chains holding him to the chair. He watches as the two men with guns outside become alert. Leon lets out a low growl as he glares at them.

You turn to face the men, signaling to them to stand down. He watches them both relax before you return your attention to him.

“The transformation appears to be progressing faster than expected,” you say into the recorder, “are you in any pain, Leon?”

Leon slowly shakes his head, “no, just unbelievably horny, doll.”

“We have reason to believe the subject is displaying an increased libido due to the fact that the parasite inside him knows it’s the last of its kind.”

“Stop talking about me like I’m not here, that’s awfully rude.”

“Fine,” you say, lowering the recorder away from your mouth, “what do you want to talk about, Leon?”

“You should ask those nice boys out there to take these chains off me,” Leon purrs, staring at you longingly.

“Absolutely not, Leon,” you reply, crossing your arms, “those chains are there for my safety as well as your own, at least until we can get the Plagas out of your body.” “I think I’m too far gone for that, don’t you think, sweetheart?”

You take a deep breath and exhale loudly, the sorrow clear in your eyes, “I am so sorry that this is what you have become, Leon.”

“I’m not,” Leon says as that sinister grin overtakes him again; he starts to chuckle.

“Leon,” you begin, stepping closer and kneeling down to be eye level with Leon, “I know the real you is in there, somewhere, you have to fight it.”

Your scent was almost enough to drive him crazy, you were delectable. He licks his lips, that clicking sound coming out from this throat again. His eyes are locked on you and he sees you glance down briefly before looking back into his eyes. He knew what you were looking at, you were looking at the noticeable bulge in his cargo pants.

“You’re so pretty, you know that?” Leon says, his body visibly trembling.

You don’t respond, you simply stare at him with that same sad look in your eyes. How could you not want him as much as he wanted you. His lips curl into a snarl.

“Let me FUCK YOU!” he growls, lunging forward, the bolts in the chair letting out a loud screech as they’re bent slightly.

You stumble back, falling backwards onto the floor as Leon continues to struggle violently. The two men with guns come rushing in, one of them grabbing you off the floor while the other shoots a tranquilizer dart into Leon’s thigh. Leon feels the effects almost instantly, his body becomes limp as he becomes sluggish, his mouth hanging agape as he watches you get led out of the room by the two men, the door shutting and locking behind them as you’re led away.

“Mine,” he whispers in his last moments of consciousness, “all mine.”

Part 2

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader smut #yandere!leon kennedy #plagas!leon kennedy #gigabyte writes #insatiable

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stevieschrodinger · 3 months

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I don't know, ficlet AU sort of thing.

Alpha Steve has a YouTube channel that, kind of, started by accident. Steve is not the most confident reader, like, at all. The words get kind of muddled and he got into a habit of just sort of trying to rush it, figuring he was going to mess it up anyway, so get it over with, right? And then he just sort of stops reading, even though he enjoyed it, because he couldn't get his brain to slow down and the muddling got worse and...yeah.

So one day, his platonic soul mate bestie suggests he read out loud. To someone. If he reads every word out one at a time, knowing it has to be clear enough for the other person to follow, that'll slow him down.

So, he tries it, but only for Robin. And it sort of works, kind of, and then she hits on him using something so he can only see the line he's reading, like a bit of card with a letterbox cut in it, and...Steve is on fire.

The words don't get muddled up so much, and his reading is slow and even, and he needs to read to someone, and Robin can't always be there. It becomes his own pet project, he reads out little bits of books he likes, parts of articles he has enjoyed, poems, whatever, and starts his own little you tube that has like, five followers, and they're all people he knows.

And then suddenly, almost overnight, Steve finds himself with four thousand followers. A very large portion of them are very clearly Omega, from the comments, and Steve suddenly finds himself with a lot of fans who are using his videos for white noise. He's literally reading thousands of Omegas off to sleep.

Which is...nice. Steve likes it. The hits and followers on his videos seem to settle down after a couple of weeks, and then, after having so many comments about how settling Steve's voice is, how the Alpha is relaxing and safe. Steve thinks fuck it.

As a test, he makes a ten minute video directly for that audience. He builds a nest, films it POV. He films the view of someone walking through the bedroom door, of what they would see as they climb into the nest, then resting the camera on his own chest.

Then he starts talking. Tells the omega how perfect they are, how much he cares for them, wants to protect, keep safe. How soft they are as he pets them, how warm and cosy they are in their nest. How snuggles with the omega are Steve's favourite thing.

He deliberately keeps everything as vague and gender neutral as he can. The video fucking explodes. Goes viral. Millions of hits, thousands and thousands of followers. Robin and the kids think it's hilarious, and encourage him to keep going, claiming he's doing a public service.

Hundreds of copycats spring up, but no one pulls it off quite like Steve.

He knows there are Omega out there getting off to his videos, despite there being absolutely nothing sexual about them, but Steve figures, whatever makes people happy.

He gets so many positive comments, omega telling him how much comfort he brings them. He has some regular commenters that he gets to know, too, which is nice. Sometimes he even takes requests, small things, the colour of his shirt, the time of day he shoots his videos, certain words and phrases.

One supportive commenter always stands out though : EdDio86. Steve's pretty sure he's male omega, and he's always so grateful when Steve posts a new video. The guy clearly has a lot of trouble sleeping, and apparently Steve really helps. They have a little back and forth in the comments, learning little bits about one another. Steve likes this omega.

Steve also gets the impression the omega is sorely lacking any comfort in his life. Considering the length of his comments, the guy never asks for anything.

Until he does.

At the end of a comment, always ever so politely thanking Steve, EdDio86 admits he's 'in a bit of a pickle' and could Steve, please, do a video where 'the omega' is with pup? Could Steve tell the omega that the pup is fine, and healthy, and that the omega is doing good and the pup is okay and everything will be okay...but cool if not. Bit of a weird request, I know, sorry to be a bother.

And Steve suddenly doesn't give a shit about the consequences of just,,,dropping his personal email out into the world like that, because he wants to tell this guy these things personally.

#eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie #alpha steve harrington #omega eddie munson #omega eddie because hes so pretty #you tuber steve Harrington #au

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rileyslibrary · 1 year

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Nice shot

Summary: What happens when, in a moment of absent-mindedness, you accidentally slingshot your hair tie straight in Ghost’s eye as he briefs you and the team on a critical mission?

Relationship: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Word count: 1,149

Notes:

Platonic(ish?) fluff *wink wink*

I admit the following fic could have easily ended up into something spicy, but I wasn’t feeling it when I wrote it so

Want more?

———————————————————————

You’re all seated around a large wooden table in the centre of an otherwise empty room, illuminated only by a flickering projector suspended from the ceiling.

Ghost stands at the head of the table with his back to a projected image of a wanted fugitive. His signature skull balaclava casts an eerie shadow over his face as he speaks, describing the mission’s objectives, the obstacles you’ll face, and the risks involved.

“Our objective is clear,” he says as he walks around the table. “We must take out a high-value target and retrieve vital intelligence.”

“Alpha Team will establish a perimeter around the target’s refuge,” he explains, “while Bravo will execute an aerial rooftop landing.”

But, despite your lieutenant’s confident demeanour, you emit the exact opposite. The upcoming mission is dangerous, and anxiety gets the best of you. Your mind begins to race as you consider the implications and the impact it might have on your job and—worse—on your life.

As the briefing continues, it becomes increasingly difficult for you to sit still. You find yourself absentmindedly twisting a hair tie around your fingers. It was a nervous habit you picked as a child, a coping mechanism for whenever you felt overwhelmed.

You take a few deep breaths to calm yourself, but they are useless. So you continue to tangle that hair tie in your fingers as if trying to imitate the knots you feel in your stomach.

Stretching, twisting, turning it around…

Stretch-

The hair tie suddenly slips from your grasp and flies across the table, slingshotting towards Ghost’s face and striking him square in the eye.

You’ve just hit one of the most notorious and feared lieutenants with a hair tie.

The enigma of Task Force 141. Your superior. In the eye. With a hair tie. During a briefing. For a critical mission.

Gasps fill the room as everyone shifts their attention from the lieutenant to you, then back. Your heart drops to your stomach. What have you done?

You brace yourself for his reaction.

Ghost, however, does not react; he doesn’t even turn to look at you. Instead, he kneels, picks up the hair tie, places it in his pocket, and resumes the briefing. Everyone is silent but as stunned by his reaction as you are.

You sink into your chair and take as little space as possible. As Ghost continues, you try to forget the incident, focusing on the mission’s details. However, concentrating is challenging since you can still feel everyone’s eyes on you. You turn to look at Soap, who mouths an inaudible “you’re fucked” as he looks at you dumbfounded.

The briefing ends, and everyone begins to pack up their stuff. You grab your belongings and dash for the door. Perhaps Ghost forgot about it. Maybe he brushed it aside. You wouldn’t find it surprising if he didn’t even notice who—

“Y/N, report to my office in 10.” He commands as he fills out the attendance form without looking at you.

Well, shit.

As you approach the lieutenant’s office, your heart is racing. Worry and embarrassment are fighting within you to see which emotion can make you feel the worst. You try to make up excuses to explain what happened, but what is there to explain? Scenarios fill your mind—bad ones. You might get heavily penalised. You could even lose your job. Not only that, but the thought of being chewed out by the lieutenant is enough to make you break out in a cold sweat.

The hallway walls seem to close in; the fluorescent lights shine straight into your eyes, making you feel dizzy. Each step feels like you’re getting closer to your execution.

The door to the office stands before you, and you pause, gathering your courage. You take a deep breath, exhale slowly, and knock on the door.

“Enter!” Ghost shouts from the other side of the door.

You push the door open and step into the room. Your heart threatens to escape your chest.

The room is small, and the only furnishings are a worn-off desk with a pair of hard-backed chairs. The lieutenant sits at the desk with his arms crossed over his broad chest; his gaze feels like a spear that pins you in place. He makes you feel like a bug under a microscope. Your legs feel unsteady.

“Take a seat,” he says, motioning with a flick of his wrist to the chair across from him. You settle into the chair as he orders. The leather creaks beneath you, and you nervously twist your fingers in your lap. Thank God you don’t have that hair tie in your hands.

Ghost leans back in his chair, never breaking eye contact. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I called you here,” he murmurs. Even now, he’s been sarcastic.

You lower your gaze, avoiding to meet his eyes; your mouth is too dry to speak. He seems to understand your nervousness but continues anyway.

“Nice shot,” he says with a chuckle. “Not many can catch me off guard like that.” Despite his concealed expression, you can hear the smile in his tone.

You sit there shocked. You expected a stern lecture, but instead, he is having a laugh.

“I-I’m so sorry, sir—it was an accident.”

But Ghost waves his hand and dismisses your apology. “Next time, please use that aim on the battlefield,” he replies. “Just make sure to aim at the enemy; I won’t be accepting any more friendly fire from you.”

You chuckle, the tight knot in your stomach slowly unravelling.

“You’re dismissed,” he says softly, and you thank him for understanding.

As you grasp the door handle, you turn to face him again. “Lieutenant Riley,” you say, “may I please have back my hair tie, sir?”

He shakes his head. “Negative, soldier,” he replies, his focus shifting to his computer screen. “Who knows what else you might attempt with that deadly weapon of yours?”

You shrug it off. Who cares anyway; you have plenty of “deadly weapons” in your vanity kit.

You take one last look at Ghost as you close the door. His eyes smile as they lock with yours, and he gives you a wink. He retrieves your hair tie from his pocket and begins stretching, twisting, and turning it around.

———————————————————————

#simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #cod ghost #simon riley #cod mw2

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beesspacedotorg · 4 months

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Dibs

Summary: You get close with your new pack, especially the Luna. 5.5k words

Warnings: it's omegaverse. guys. it's omegaverse. there's gonna be omegaverse in it. reader is an omega, so is lino. there's mommy kink. towards lino. uh. there's s3x. what else. readers genitals and pronouns are not specified or elaborated on at all B). one (1) piss joke. poly ot8 and it's implied they all bone but there's no actual boning that happens. there's boning described once for two seconds.

Notes: I have almost all of the legendary fish in stardew. this was inspired by this ask that @hyunsvngs got like two days ago. it was also finished yesterday, but I was busy so I didn't post it. thanks to my friends who read it and gave me feedback. uhm. that's all.

Hyunjin is the one who finds you. You’re both in the same class at university, a filler class, something to do with philosophy, and you group up on a project to discuss the differences in the eastern and western versions of the practice.

“Do you think the whole ‘Alpha Mindset’ that’s going around these days could be a facet of modern philosophy, or is it just omegaphobia repackaged?” You’re dicking around on your laptop in class. After assigning the project, your teacher gave up on doing their job, which would be great, but attendance is still mandatory.

“Probably repackaged, hey I have a question for you.” Hyunjin sets his phone down when he asks, tilting in his seat to face you and your heart skips about seven beats in your chest.

He’s pretty, almost pretty enough that it’s annoying, that and he smells nice. It took you two weeks of classes to muster up the courage to ask him on a date only for him to say that he has seven boyfriends but he’d be more than happy to be friends. You would sell your soul to the nearest evil spirit to be lucky enough to have one boyfriend, much less seven, but you aren’t going to let a good opportunity slip out of your hands, so you took his offer of friendship even though you wanted- want- more.

“Yeah, what’s up?” You can feel that this conversation is bordering on serious, a topic that you and Hyunjin broach often. He’s the poetic type, and often you find yourself discussing the intricacies of human emotion with him. He seems nervous though, nervous enough that you temporarily pause Papa’s Pizzeria and boot up 2048 instead, giving him as much attention as you can offer.

“So. Okay wait. Give me a second, I have a list of questions to ask you. Seungmin made me a flowchart.” You smile at him, he’s cute. Seungmin is one of his boyfriends, Hyunjin spends more time than is strictly necessary talking your ear off about how smart and cute and talented Seungmin is. You’d be jealous if you hadn’t seen Seungmin pick Hyunjin up from school one time. Your pants filled with slick so fast you had to hide in the bathroom for half an hour pretending to be sick until you calmed down enough to head home.

“Okay. Uhm. Would you consider us to be good friends?” His voice sounds slightly robotic as he reads from his script and you laugh slightly before confirming.

“Oh, that’s great. Me too. Uh. Do you have a boyfriend?” He pauses. “Or a girlfriend, or a partner?” He adds those last two as an afterthought, rushing through them and you laugh again.

“You would know if I managed to pull that off, Hyunjinnie.”

“What about that pretty girl from your math class?”

“She only dates Alphas unfortunately.”

“Damn.” He doesn’t sound very sorry as he says it, but you can tell he’s trying to be nice. It irks you just a tad, but you think this conversation is leading up to something so you drop the irritation and motion for him to continue.

“Okay, if ‘no’, the next question was,” he’s mumbling to himself and you snort slightly. “Do you have a pack?” You blink. He’s never asked you this before and you shake your head. Where you’re from, people have moved away from forming packs, something about a post World War 2 culture shift and traditional values and homophobia and what not. Your generation is working to bring them back, but the only pack you have is your immediate family. You haven’t gotten close enough to anyone on campus to try and start one, and the one time you felt the need you were swiftly friendzoned.

“Ah. No. I don’t.” He hums sadly.

“Okay. Would you like one?”

“Hyunjin…” You’re starting to feel slightly defensive, and you’re not sure if you like where this is going.

“Wait. Wait. Let me finish.” He huffs. “I told Chan these questions would weird you out, but what do I know?” He sets his phone down and grabs the hand that was busy moving the 2048 tiles around on your computer screen.

“I have a crush on you.” You blink, rapid fire. “And I would like to date you. And also so would my seven boyfriends. But we can get to that later. I got here first, I call dibs.”

In the version of this you tell your friends and family, you accepted immediately and you and Hyunjin went on your first date that afternoon. In reality, you stood up so fast you almost passed out and hightailed it to the bathroom to have a mild panic attack. Hyunjin was kind enough to grab your things and wait for you. He was also kind enough to wait the months-long process of you being generally distrustful of him and his intentions until you decided he was actually serious and that you wanted to give it a try.

Which leads you to where you are now, in the passenger seat of Hyunjin’s car, hands outrageously sweaty as you prepare to meet the rest of the pack for the first time.

“Listen, we don’t have to.” He says. “I’ve talked it over with the rest of them, it can just be you and I. I like you, I want to date you.”

“No, no. Even if it does work that way, I’d have to meet them eventually.”

“Yeah, but meeting ‘my boyfriends that you have no commitment to’ would probably be easier than meeting ‘my boyfriends who might also become your boyfriends.’”

“I can guarantee you it wouldn’t.”

“Jeeze. You should talk to someone about that.”

“Insurance.”

“Channie has good insurance.”

“I’m not legally dependent on him.”

“Oh.”

He grabs your incredibly sweaty hand in his huge and not-so-sweaty one and holds it for the rest of the drive. When he pulls into the driveway he kisses said hand and bats the other one away from the door handle.

“Don’t worry. I got it.” Usually, he would just walk around the car to open it for you, today he bodily throws himself over the hood before doing a weird roll and a cartwheel. You laugh and he opens it and helps you out. He smiles.

You’re still laughing at him as he guides you to the front door and opens it, you’re laughing as he helps you take your shoes off, and you’re laughing through introductions.

“What’s so funny?” Jeongin asks, and you burst into more laughter as you remember the way Hyunjin chucked himself over the car. You’ve calmed down enough to tell him just as you hear yelling from a different room.

“Hwang Hyunjin! How the hell did you get dirt on your shirt? We told you to pick them up, not stop for mud wrestling!”

(You do, eventually, tell Jeongin what happened. He demands a live demonstration and almost cries at it.

“It’s just so dumb! He’s usually graceful and he just- How did he move his body like that?”

“That was the ugliest fucking cartwheel I’ve ever seen.”)

The pack is nice and touchy and, best of all, they want you around.

Heeelllloooooo

hi jisung

Jisung ??? Are you mad at me or smth?

hi jiji

Okay great

WHat are you doung today

And don’t say “your mom”

your mom

ah shit

uh. nothing. sleeping. eating. pissing.

In my mouth?

????????????

Ignore that.

Anyways.

Come over :D

You can do all of that here

In my bed >:)

I was over there yesterday

Idc. I’m sending over Changbinnie with the car <3

I’M NOT PREPARED TO LEAVE THE HOUSE

Good thing you’re just coming to hang out with me then

So, you like them. You’re comfortable with them, there’s only one problem.

“He doesn’t hate you.”

“How do you even know that?” Seungmin levels you with a stare.

“It’s physically impossible to hate you-”

“Not true.” Seungmin stares again. You stare back. He rolls his eyes.

“He doesn’t hate you.”

“He doesn’t talk to me.”

“He’s shy.”

“Well! So am I! Only one of us can be shy in this relationship and I call dibs!” Seungmin huffs and smashes his head into a pillow.

“Kim Seungmin, if you mess up my nest, I’m kicking you out.”

“This is my bed.”

“Not anymore.” He fixes the pillow and holds your face in his hands.

“He doesn’t hate you.”

“What if he does? What if Luna doesn’t like me?” Seungmin plants a kiss to your nose and lets you cry.

haihai

Minho?????

I’m the only one without a cute nickname

rectify that immediately

what should I call you then

Idk. I’ve never had to give myself a nickname.

anyways

a little puppy told me that you think I don’t like you

kim seungmin is dead to me

say your goodbyes

kkkkk

no need for that

I could smell your tears on him after you went home

I thought he scared you away

it took a very long time to get him to fess up >:)

what did you do

nothing he doesn’t enjoy

anyway

Luna is sorry

for making you think he doesn’t like you

come over tomorrow

I’ll make it up to you >:)

???

I’m not really up to boning rn, sorry to say

>:( that’s not what I meant

Jisungie says you like this game

Stardew Valley

he says it has multiplayer mode

I downloaded it on our switch for us to play together

just us

everyone else can suffer

oh.

just us?

unless you’d rather have company

I think Channie is free

NO THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT WE CAN PLAY IT ALONE

chan is free you say >:)

Yah! I called dibs on you!

I’m kicking him out of the house tomorrow

teehee

Stardew with Minho is surprisingly fun. You put him in charge of fishing while you spend your days toiling in the mines. He starts beef with Harvey, the local doctor, after you tell him that Harvey is your go-to love interest when you play the game solo.

“He’s pixels! Code and pixels!”

“I don’t care! This stupid doctor wanders onto our farm and charges me money for passing out on my own land. And! He’s stealing my Omega. He needs to go. How do I replace him?” You let out a laugh and ignore the flutters in your stomach when he casually lays claim on you.

“Do you get this upset when Felix or Ji talk about their media crushes?”

“... I don’t see how that’s very relevant to the conversation.”

“You’re silly.” He huffs at you.

“Why is this fish ugly?”

“That’s a- You just caught a legendary fish. Do you know how hard that is?”

“It’s ugly. I’m selling it.”

“No, don’t! Let me buy a fish tank! We can display it on our farm!”

“Why would you want to display this?”

“You can only catch one per save file.” He rolls his eyes but dutifully places the fish in the tank when you return to the farm. You kiss his cheek and watch his ears turn red.

After that, spending time with Minho is easy. You can’t really imagine what it was like being in the pack without having his attention on you. Felix starts joking that he’s been replaced as Minho’s favorite. (He stops because it starts to make you mildly upset, but also because you’re pretty sure Minho sucked the soul out of his dick right after he first made that joke.)

It comes to a head around exam season, this time, you and Hyunjin don’t share any classes, and annoyingly, Chan is too busy to eat much less help you settle, so you end up floundering with anxiety and stress and lack of sleep.

“Jagi? What’s wrong?” It’s Minho, his scent lavender and undercut with something sugar coated.

“Everything.” Your head is in your hands and you’re shoving your palms into your eyes to push back tears. Minho hums, hand coming to the back of your neck to scruff you just slightly.

“What’s your schedule like right now?” You shove your calendar at him and he hums, considering for a second before he’s hauling you up by your armpits.

“Wait- I have to study. I can’t just-”

“You have to eat.” This is the harshest you’ve ever heard him speak to you, but strangely enough, you don’t feel scared. “You have to eat and sleep and maybe shower and cuddle with Luna because he misses you and then you can get back to studying. Yeah?”

His suggestion makes you whine and struggle in his hold a bit. His hand returns to your neck to re-scruff you.

“Settle. I’m not asking, jagi, I’m telling.” You huff and pout at him, but he’s the pack’s head Omega for a reason, and who are you to question his authority? So you listen, going limp in his hold and forcing him to bear your weight.

“I see why you and Seungminnie get along so well. You’re listening, but not without struggle, hmm? Brats. The both of you.”

“‘M not.”

“You are. But that’s okay, Luna will train it out of you some other time. You’ll learn to behave.”

You can ignore how his words sent a spike of heat to your belly, but you can’t ignore the way he smirks at the change in your scent.

“Oh? Do you like that?”

“... I thought I was supposed to be eating.”

“Nice subject change. But yes, you are. Sit there and let me handle it.”

He feeds you and helps you shower, despite your many protests that you’re gross and can handle it yourself he refuses to back down.

“Let me do this for you, hmm?” His eyes are soft. “I don’t have to if you really don’t want me to, but I want to take care of you. Let me take care of my baby.” So you do, melting under his soft gaze and softer words, and he must be doing something with his scent, because you feel mildly scent drunk as he drags you into his nest.

“I’m allowed in?” You’re surprised. You’ve never been in his room before, most of your hangouts happening in the living room or Chan’s room when he’s not home because Minho thinks it’s funny to bother the Alpha. So you’re slightly out of it and a lot surprised and Minho looks a little upset that you asked but he takes your arm and shoves you onto his bed, rearranging his nest around you before climbing in himself.

“Of course you’re allowed in. You think Kim Seungmin is allowed in here and you’re not? You think I let a sweaty, post-gym Changbin in here but won’t let you? You’re silly. Hush.”

“But-”

“Hush.”

“Okay.” He hums, satisfied at your submission and wraps himself around you.

“Luna will give you a reward when you finish exams.”

“What if I don’t pass?”

“You still deserve a reward for trying.” He kisses your head and you fall asleep like that, curled around each other, comfortable in his bed and warm in his arms.

“I’m finished!” You wander into the house the next week, fully prepared to spend your break doing absolutely nothing.

“Yay! With what, exactly?” Changbin asks. You hang your self off of him, forcing him to drag you along as he putters around the kitchen.

“With exams! Didn’t Yongbokkie and Minho ban you from the kitchen?”

“Well, yes. But what they don’t know won’t kill them.”

“What who doesn’t know?” It’s Minho, and you giggle as you push your face in between Changbin’s shoulder blades. He’s so big and warm. You want to bite him and also want him to hold you against a wall for unholy acts. Your hands wander around while he’s stuttering out a lame excuse to grope his chest.

“Wh- Hey! I’m busy getting threatened here!”

“Yes. I’m busy celebrating being a genius. It seems we both have full schedules.”

“Celebrating,” Minho steps next to you and taps you until you look at him, cheek still smushed against Changbin’s back. “Are you finished with exams then?”

“Mhm.” Your eyes are closing. Changbin really is comfortable, he smells slightly like chocolate and raspberries, and you could do with a celebratory nap.

“That’s great!” You’re being tugged away from your napping spot. “Come, Luna promised you a reward.”

“My nap.”

“You can’t sleep standing, you’re not a horse.”

“You have no idea what I’m capable of.”

He crosses his arms after closing the door to his bedroom.

“Do you want to nap before or after your reward?”

“What’s my reward?” The sentence hasn’t been out of your mouth for very long before he’s cupping the back of your head and kissing you.

“Oh. Oh. This is a good reward.” He smiles against your mouth, gently pushing you back towards his bed.

“Yeah? I thought you’d like it. I can smell you, you know.” Your back is hitting the mattress and there’s a shirt by your head that you think Hunjin was looking for a little while ago. “When you stare at me for too long, I can smell how needy you get. We all can, but I called dibs.”

“Dibs?” Your hands are under his shirt squishing his pecs.

“Mhm. Dibs. Hyunjinnie got to date you first. Kiss and hug and hold your hand. But do you know what I get to do first?” You shake your head and he gives you a wicked smile before he leans down next to your ear. “I get to fuck you first. Not Channie, not our Alpha, not Hyunjinnie who found you first. Me, your Luna. I get you first.” You inhale, shaky, and your legs shake slightly with the way blood rushes away from your brain. You can smell how your scent spikes and you can smell how Minho’s spikes in return. He smells so good, you want to get your mouth on him, so you do. You pull him down until his neck is in reach and seal your lips around the scent gland there, licking the sweat from his skin and letting your lungs fill with nothing but him.

“Jagi,” his voice is breathy, he pulls your head away from his neck and you whine. “You’re gonna get yourself scent drunk and I want you to be present for the things I’m going to do to you. Be good for me.” You pout slightly at him but nod, you’ll be good for him, you’ll do anything he wants. But you want to kiss him again, you want to kiss him so badly that you think you’ll die without it. You throw yourself up, arms circling around his neck as you press your mouth on his and you knock him off balance a bit. You’re upset when he tilts, separating your mouths and you push and push until suddenly he’s on his back under you, but you’re finally kissing so you don’t care all that much.

“Eager.” He’s too busy trying to talk to kiss you and you nip at his lip lightly until he gets the message.

“You’re only getting away with this because this is the first time,” he warns. “Next time, I won’t be so lenient.” You think he might be lying, that he’d let you do whatever you want regardless of how many times you fall into bed together, but you aren’t in the habit of letting other people know you have an advantage so you let it go.

You’re grinding down onto him, chasing friction as your pants fill with enough slick that you worry you might be in heat, whimpering with every movement when he grabs your hips, stopping you.

“Minho, why?”

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. Don’t you wanna get your pants off? Hmm? Feel me bare?” And suddenly, you do. He’s so smart for knowing that, you think. You let him slide your bottoms off and tug at his until they’re gone and there’s nothing separating the two of you save for the fact that you can’t fuse into one person.

You settle yourself back over him and oh. Omegas are supposed to be small, in the dick department, and you suppose compared to an Alpha, he might be. But he feels so good against you, he’ll feel so good inside of you, that you don’t much care, pawing at him desperately. He chuckles and grabs your hand, flipping you back over so he’s on top again.

“Baby, don’t tell me you’re already gone?” You are. You’re so gone. If you’re being honest, you were gone the second he kissed you. He does it again and you whine into his mouth.

“Noisy little thing. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you. Make sure my pretty Omega is all satisfied before you leave my bed.” He smiles and then he’s kissing his way down your neck and grumbling about the shirt you’re still wearing before his mouth is on the place where you’re leaking slick and suddenly your brain is falling out of your ears.

Your hands grab onto his hair and pull, hips arching up into his mouth. You think the sound that you let out could be heard from outer space, but in your defense, he’s good with his tongue.

“I knew you’d taste good.” You have no idea how he’s still talking, but the vibrations feel nice enough that you don’t want to stop him, that and you don’t think you could stop Minho from doing much of anything at this rate.

“We talked about it, you know.” You didn’t know. The pack talked about you? You quickly lose your train of thought as he slips one of his fingers inside of you. Small, he always says. They don’t feel small.

“It was all Jeonginnie could talk about during his last rut.” Minho huffs and you can see him roll his eyes despite the fact that yours are closed. You weren’t there for his last rut, too nervous and too busy with school to stay. It had caused quite the fuss and you had to spend extra time with Jeongin before and after to soothe him.

“Knuckle deep in Yongbokkie and all he could talk about was you. How good you’d taste, how warm you’d be. He’s lucky that Yongbokkie has the hots for you too, otherwise he’d be down one appendage.” The implication of the youngest Alpha getting his dick chopped off by Felix makes you laugh, but the knowledge that the pack desires you knocks the wind from your lungs. Either that, or the thing Minho is currently doing with his fingers.

He licks you again, and then places his mouth around your hole and sucks, like he’s trying to drink the slick straight from your body. The sound it makes is absolutely obscene, and your face heats at it, hands coming up to hide.

“No, no. Move your hands, jagiya. Let me see you.” He’s moving, mouth no longer on you and you hate it, but your embarrassment outweighs everything else so you don’t move your hands and instead shake your head at him. He pauses, hand stilling inside of you.

“No? Did you just tell me no, sweet thing?” You shake your head again.

“You didn’t? It seems like you did. Seems like you still are.” He’s laughing, or, he was.

“I thought you were going to be good for me. Do I have to turn this reward into a punishment?” That’s the one that does it, your eyes go wide and your hands fall from your face to grab at him, head shaking violently.

“No! No! Mommy, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it, I was just nervous, please. I’ll be good. I’m good.” It takes you a second to register what you’ve said, and when you do your hands move up to cover your face again. Minho catches your wrists.

“Mommy? Yeah? Am I your mommy, sweetheart?” He drops your wrist to cup your face and you’ve lost all coordination. He taps your cheek, just a hint of a slap, but it’s enough to have you looking at him with wet eyes.

“I asked you a question, jagiya. Answer mommy when he talks to you, okay?” You nod, still in a daze and he huffs and takes a hold of your hair.

“What did I just tell you, doll?”

“To answer you.”

“Mhm, and what are you not doing?”

“Answering.”

“So what do you say to me?”

“I’m sorry, mommy. I’m sorry, please let go, it hurts.” He lets go of your hair and gently massages your scalp.

“Hmm. That’s better. And, it’s supposed to hurt, baby. That’s how you learn to listen to your mommy. That’s what a brat like you needs to learn their place.” You choke slightly on your own spit, hands coming up to rest in his hair, playing with it. He smiles at you.

“Good. Now, be good for your mommy, yeah? Be good for your Luna and I’ll make sure you get everything you need. Can you do that?”

“Yeah. Yes. I can.” He hums and suddenly his fingers are in you again and he manages to take one of your nipples into his mouth, and you’re already so keyed up that you feel slightly embarrassed when you’re cumming on his hand a moment later.

“Oh, sweet thing. Did I take too long? Hmm? Did mommy tease you too much?” You shake your head.

“No, ‘m sorry, mommy.”

“Nothing to be sorry for. Don’t worry so much. You used your brain so well this past week, let mommy do the thinking for you. I’ll tell you when to apologize, how about that?”

“Sounds good.” You’re hot, overwarm, and you're shoving your shirt off the rest of the way and chucking it somewhere. The shirt’s only over your eyes for a second, but somehow Minho has managed to coat his fingers in his own slick and shove them into your mouth. Your eyes roll so far back into your head you’re worried they might stick but he tastes so good that you would suffer blindness for eternity just to have this.

“Mommy, mommy, you taste so good-”

“Shh, I know.” He shoves his fingers far enough back that you gag a little and your eyes water and he coos and wipes at your tears with the hand that was in you, smearing slick across your cheekbones.

His fingers are out of your mouth and he’s between your legs, shoving them apart to get at your hole and then he's sliding in.

“Oh God.”

“Just Minho is fine. Or mommy,” he giggles at you, “since you seem so fond of it.”

Your glare slightly at him, less than pleased with the corny joke, but he shifts his hips and hits a spot that has you keening, arching up into him for more.

“There? Yeah? Jesus. You're leaking so much that I'd think you're in heat if you didn't know any better.” He's right, but it's unfair of him to single you out.

“You are too.” It comes out a lot more whiny than you wanted but he’s nice enough to look offended anyway.

“I thought I took care of your attitude. It seems I have my work cut out for me.” His pace picks up at that, and suddenly you don't have enough brain cells to think, let alone talk back.

You're not wrong though, there's slick everywhere. From you and him, it's soaking through the sheets, it's sticking your thighs together every time he thrusts forward, it's coating his hands and everywhere he touches you. It's loud, the slapping of your bodies accompanied by a wet squish every time either of you moves. It's messy and sticky and slightly gross and you want more. You want to be covered in him and he in you until you smell so similar not even the best drug dog would be able to tell you apart.

Your hands wander searching and searching until you’ve found the place where he’s leaking too and you're coating your fingers in it and smearing a hand over your chest before sticking them in your mouth. You hear Minho gasp and his hips stutter before picking back up.

“Dirty, that’s dirty, Omega. You want me to make a mess of you?” You nod. Of course you do. You want your mommy to do whatever he wants to you. He coos and guides your hand back to his hole, guiding you into fingering him while he’s rearranging your guts.

“Mommy, it’s- you’re so warm.” He hums at you, breath finally turning ragged.

“Yeah? You wanna fuck mommy sometime? I bet you’d be good at it. Such a good little Omega for me, for us.” You do. You would like to fuck him sometime. Anytime really, you bet he’d be so warm. Tight and hot and wet. You have him on your fingers now, but you’re too overwhelmed to really enjoy it the way it should be enjoyed, the way he should be enjoyed. You want to eat him out, drink his slick straight from the source for the rest of time. You wouldn’t need water or food anymore if you could just have him.

“Yeah, I would. Mommy, please. I’ll be good. I’ll do so good.” You’re babbling at him, out of it and barely able to speak. He has to strain to understand you properly.

“You would. Mommy knows you would. Such a sweetheart, you’d make your Luna feel so good, hmm?” And you tighten around him with a loud moan and there’s a bang on the wall connecting Minho’s room to Chan’s and Minho bangs back.

“Yah! Just because you’re too busy to get your dick wet doesn’t mean I am! Leave us alone and go jack off or something!” He huffs and looks back down at you, kissing your nose softly in a stark juxtaposition to the way his hips are probably bruising your own.

“Why don’t you go ahead and cum, baby? Hmm? Mommy’s right behind you.” He shoves his fingers in your mouth again and this time, this time, his fingers are coated in a heady mixture of yours and his slick and that’s what does you in. That’s what makes you cum so hard your legs shake and makes Minho take his fingers out of your mouth lest you choke. He follows not too soon after, and when he pulls out you can see the mixture of cum and slick slide out of you.

“Next time,” Minho’s looking down at it too, “I’ll make sure that stays in. Can’t have it go to waste, can we?”

Despite his earlier promise, he doesn’t let you nap yet.

“But you said-”

“I know what I said. And now I’m saying that you can’t sleep like this.”

He bodily drags you to the shower, again, and changes the sheets before he lets you lie down.

“My hair is gonna be so dry.”

“Where’s the stuff you put in it?”

“At my house.”

“This is your house.”

“I still rent an apartment close to campus.” Minho pauses, shifting so you’re face-to-face.

“Don’t. Come live with us.”

“There aren’t enough rooms.”

“If privacy is what you’re worried about, Luna will build you a room right next to his with his bare hands.” You giggle at him.

“Yeah. But I have to pay a fee for breaking my lease.”

“Luna will take care of it.”

haihai

hi minho what’s up

>:( still no cute nickname?

I feel like it’s inappropriate to call you mommy in a casual setting

oh >:)? that’s my nickname now?

if that’s okay

whatever you want

as long as I have a cute nickname before kim seungmin I don’t care

then why did you harass me about it??????!??!?!

kkkk I had to get you in my bed somehow

“Can you guys stop texting when you’re right next to each other? All of your weird flirting is really interrupting movie time.” Jisung is complaining from where his head is rammed into your stomach.

“Dude. You’re literally not even watching it.” It’s Jeongin now, reaching over to smack Ji’s head.

“And? You’re the one who’s always complaining about how loud they are.” This is news to you.

“Is it really that bad?” Your voice is small and immediately Minho’s hands are touching you.

“No. They don’t know what they’re talking about, they’re just mad that they haven’t figured out how to get you to make such pretty noises yet.”

The room erupts into shouts as people defend themselves from Minho’s claim, you smile at him and tuck yourself further into his side, kicking Jisung out from his spot in your lap.

“Hey! I called dibs on your lap! You can’t take that away!” He’s shoving at your knees, trying to shove them back off the couch so he can lay comfortably again.

“When did you guys even call dibs on all this stuff?”

“It used to be while you were on the drive here,” Felix says, “now we do it while you’re getting a blanket from your room.”

“Do I get a say in this?”

“Sure. Just call dibs first.”

#bee blurbs #ft.lino #ft.ot8 #🌵anon #a-bee-o #skz smut #skz x you #skz x reader #lee know x reader #lee know smut #lee know x you #lee minho x reader

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the-californicationist · 6 months

Text

✨Masterlist✨

This is the masterlist for The Californicationist's Tumblr & AO3 texts.

All works should be considered 18+ only. MDNI - no exceptions.

CALL OF DUTY

Novel-Length Works

Gunslinger Price/Reader - AO3 - 100k - Complete You open your home as a safehouse for the 141, and your relationship with John Price unfolds into an epic love story.

Guardian Konig/FemaleOC - AO3 - 45k - Complete Konig, inexplicably working with SpecGru, clears out a Konni base and finds a hostage with amnesia, only to fall hopelessly in love with her.

Guile & Guilt Soap/Reader - AO3/Tumblr - Complete Your best friend has warned you to stay far, far away from her younger brother — infamous party boy, Sergeant Johnny MacTavish. However, when she asks you to be her maid of honor in her wedding, you and Johnny end up closer than you ever expected.

The Sin-Eater Price/Reader - Co-Author: @vampirekilmer - AO3 - WIP Captain John Price is a loving husband, a dedicated soldier, and a good man. But, that’s not all he is. Underneath his controlled exterior lurks something dark, something hungry, and something wholly inhuman. You’re his only solace during his wrath, and only you can consume the sin from his shifts.

One-Shot Works

Gauntlet (Kinktober 2023) [External Post] Price/Reader - AO3/Tumblr - 58k - Complete TW: too many to list here 😈 A collection of 30 kink-focused one-shots

Budapest Price/Reader - AO3 - 1.2k - Complete TW: major character death, explicit sex Captain John Price comes home to you a changed man.

Going Home Gaz/Nova - AO3 - 4.3k - Complete TW: explicit sex, voyeurism Gaz and Nova spend their leave together at his childhood home. This is set in the Gunslinger universe.

Gravitational Shift Price/FemaleOC - AO3 - 2k - Complete TW: Space AU, includes the Force from the Star Wars fandom, force-bond sex Captain Price senses a disturbance in the force, and when he bonds with her, he decides he's never letting go.

Ground & Pound Konig/FemaleOC - AO3 - 5.8k - Complete TW: NC/CNC, bondage, violence Konig's ex-girlfriend shows up to the base, and Konig loses his absolute mind over her...and takes things too far.

Growl Price/Reader - AO3/Tumblr - 2.5k - Complete TW: pegging, femdom When you agreed to come over to John Price’s house for drinks, you had no idea it would escalate so damn swiftly.

The Orchard Price/Reader - AO3/Tumbr - 3.8k - Complete TW: CNC, primal play, bondage John Price chases you through the woods to make sure you learn your lesson.

The Fisherman's Knot Price/FemaleOC - AO3 - 2.9k - Complete ABO AU - Captain John Price rescues a pretty Alpha from a kayaking accident in his fishing cove, his body betrays his gentle nature.

The Honest Man Mace/Reader - AO3/Tumblr - 2.5k - Complete TW: Breeding kink Mace tries to convince you to build a life with him again, especially if it means adding another baby into the mix.

The Missed Deadline Gaz/Reader - AO3/Tumblr - 2.7k - Complete TW: Virginity loss You and Kyle had a virginity pact.

The Fourth of July Alex Keller/Reader - AO3/Tumblr - 3.5k - Complete TW: Blow job You and Alex get a little carried away in the pool house.

The Fox & the Hound Soap/Reader - AO3/Tumblr - 4.5k - WIP(?) TW: Literal porn, exhibition Your first porno shoot doesn't go exactly to plan. Your co-star, Johnny "Dangerous" MacTavish, sets his sights on you and makes you his personal project. (Labeled WIP because I'm considering a Chapter 02 moment).

The Green Light Price/Reader - AO3/Tumblr - 1.8k - Complete TW: Dubcon/CNC John Price comes home with only one thing on his mind: you and those bright green panties. Even though you're sound asleep, he just can't stop himself.

The Dealer’s Choice 141/Reader - AO3/Tumblr - 4.4k - Complete TW: Gangbang The 141 are stranded and you’re the safe house manager. You have fun playing strip poker.

The Simple Mistake Ghost/Soap - AO3 - 1.4k - Complete Soap and Ghost have to hide together, injured and desperate in a shelter until their rescue party arrives.

The Devil's Summer Konig/Named Reader - AO3/Tumblr - 3k - Complete TW: Rape, non-consent, assault, corpses, violence, named reader A tall, foreign stranger comes to town with his masked crew of bandits. They rob the train station and the bank, but the big one… he has his sights set on a different sort of prize: you.

The Advent Calendar Ghost/Soap - AO3/Tumblr - 1.9k - Complete Soap gave Ghost an advent calendar this year. It's a little more romantic than he realized.

The False Alarm 141/Reader - AO3/Tumblr - 1.9k - Complete TW: Gangbang Cleaning the pole in the firehouse was hard work, but someone had to do it. But, when your harness broke and you were left dangling there, free to use for a firehouse full of men… you were in charge of cleaning a lot more poles than you bargained for.

There’s more, but I ran out of room! I’m trying to figure out how to fix it. Sorry 😣

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ronwestbreeze · 8 months

Text

you’re gonna go far | 1

pairing: jake sully x neytiri x tsu'tey x fem!human!reader summary: a scientist arrives on pandora (unwillingly) a year after the exile of the rda. now she must deal with the likes of a clan leader, a great warrior, and a thanator rider. . . word count: 7.k

read on AO3

15 October 2146

Dear Joan Reeds,

Hi Mom.

I know we’ve been sending video diaries to each other since you went to Pandora a year ago and this might be a little strange, but I thought writing this to you would be a lot less impersonal than sending a video. I don’t know, watching myself emote on camera has always made me uncomfortable—so when I respond to your video diaries, know that I’m actually excited to see them and not incredibly bored as I appear.

If that’s why you’ve stopped sending videos, because you think I’m bored of them, I promise you I’m not. And I miss your videos…

Year 2150

“—Unfortunately, your mother, along with the rest of the twelve other scientists had died before we were able to get them into quarantine.” One out of the three in military uniforms said.

You don’t quite remember how you got here.

Last you checked, your mother, Joan, was leaving for a huge project located on a discovered moon in the Alpha Centauri System. Pandora. An inhabited planet that the human population hoped to relocate. To find a newer home. Instead of the dying planet they created.

Joan had been accepted into the Avatar Program, a branch of the big project that had less to do with taking and more so giving. She, an esteemed scientist herself, would get to work with others like her. To explore a planet you only saw in dreams.

Dreams that would remain that way for a while.

You were only an apprentice at the time, ten years before 2150. Therefore, unqualified to accompany your mother on this new adventure. All you could do was be happy for her, even if she would be gone for a long, long time. But it was hard to be angry at that fact, remembering vividly how your mother looked before she left.

Identical eyes staring lovingly and worriedly back at you. Manic worry if anything.

“I want you to watch over the forest while I’m gone.” Joan laughed at your stunned expression. “You’ve been studying under me for years now, don’t be so shocked! You’ve followed me like a loyal shadow. My little shadow. You are the Head of the Amazon Division now. I trust you’ll continue my work.”

“Mom—I—are you sure?” A younger version of you asked. Ten years earlier you. “What if—how do you know? That I’m even ready? Surely there are more qualified scientists—”

Joan grinned, another identical trait you shared with her. “You have as much love for the Earth as I do. You have this determination, unlike any, to save it. To save what is left of this dying world, our home. Some might find it naïve. Others might discover a whole new planet to live on.” You smiled as she chuckled at that. “Yes, you will work with my second-in-command, he will show you the ropes—not like you already don’t know it—but he will be by your side until you are old enough to officially take over. But I have no doubt you can do it. And I need you to believe it too.”

There was a certain glow in your eye that matched your alight and determined face. This childlike wonder. This unyielding ball of hope that was you.

You nodded surely, holding her hand tightly, “I’ll do it. I’ll keep it safe for you.”

“Promise?”

You pressed your lips into a line, “Do you wanna pinky swear on it?”

Joan gasped, her face lighting up instantly. “I thought you’d never ask!”

Rolling your eyes at her excitement, you locked your pinky with hers. Tight and sure.

“I haven’t done this with you since I was five.”

“You’re never too old to make a promise!”

Joan then pulled you into a tight hug. Small drops of wetness fell onto your shoulder.

Neither of you said anything for a while.

She finally pulled away and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll come back for you. My little shadow.” That was her promise.

Then she walked out of the door. And all you could do was smile for her. You couldn’t even be sad.

The woman in uniform spoke up next. “Dr. Reeds? I know this is difficult information to process—"

You still didn’t remember how you got here.

Last you checked, Joan had been on Pandora for nearly five years now.

During those years, you managed to keep your promise in the beginning.

There were more trees planted, the water was becoming cleaner as the days rolled by, and you managed to gain some military protection for the forest—along with more researchers joining the cause.

During the first year of her in Pandora, your mother would send you video diaries of her time on Pandora, which prompted you to send videos back in reply. Showing your progress so far and everything you have accomplished.

One time she sent a video of her crying dramatically while holding up a picture of you as a toddler.

“Look what I found in my suitcase—sniffles—you were so small and cute back then—sniffles—guys look how cute my baby is!”

You remembered cringing and smacking your head against the table. Some of your colleagues also enjoyed a chuckle or two.

Tell me about the creatures and the plants. Take me on one of your treks through the forest in your avatar body. I enjoyed those videos the most. I always looked forward to them, even if you think I thought it was boring or too much of a lecture. I promise you it wasn’t.

I wasn’t mad about the baby picture by the way. Yes, maybe embarrassed—I was fourteen, Mom—but it’s nice that you took something with you to remember me by.

Also don’t worry about the forest, everything’s fine here. I saw all your emails asking about it. And I don’t want you to worry too much, not so much that it would ruin your experience up there. I have everything under control, Mom…

Sometimes the videos had nothing to do with talking. Joan one time sent a video of her sleepily talking to you about anything until she eventually fell asleep. The rest of the video would be of her sleeping.

You told her she didn’t have to send videos when she should be resting.

“I just want to see you, honey.” She would respond back. “Plus, talking to you is always a perfect end to my day.”

So you didn’t complain. Talking to her, seeing a new video arrive in your inbox always made your worst days just a bit brighter.

After the first year, Joan stopped sending videos. You didn’t think anything of it at first. All you assumed was that she was buried in her work. Which meant that whatever she was doing, must’ve been important. Life-changing even. And you weren’t going to interrupt that.

One year turned into two.

Two turned into three.

Four.

Four years of radio silence.

Scarily, you allowed yourself to wonder if she forgot about you.

And before you knew it, that thought abruptly left your mind in place of another.

The forest was on fire.

You remember rushing around the lab, grabbing every research hard drive, journal—anything important and belonging to your mother’s long hardworking years of work before it could be destroyed by the fire.

But. But none of it mattered.

The forest burned to the ground. Everything your mother worked for. Gone.

Gone. Gone. Gone.

“Dr. Reeds?”

Your hands were covered in ash and blisters.

She was dead. Her forest burned down a day ago.

Now the three in uniform stood with you in what was left of the forest. The grey daylight haunting in the smoke.

The mask you wore protected your facial expressions. “When did she…?”

One of the men cleared his throat. Two men and one woman. “Four years ago. A few months after she first arrived on the planet. Their lab was compromised with a deadly toxin—”

“You said that already.” You pointed out impassively.

The male nodded, “Right—We were sent straight after, unfortunately, the journey from Pandora to Earth takes…”

You turned away from them. You wanted to throw up. You want to scream and call them liars.

But you were older now. Emotions controlled. Face restrained.

There was a certain dullness in your eyes that matched your worn and solemn face. This beaten and bruised resolve. This unyielding wave of resentment that was you.

Your mother had been dead for four years.

Without you knowing about it until now.

Everything you had thought. Had assumed. It meant nothing.

You thought she had abandoned you. You thought you were alone.

Turns out she was already gone.

And you were still alone.

Blinking away ash—tears maybe, you couldn’t tell—and looked back at the three in uniform. “Alright. You told me. Thank you for coming.”

With that, you begin to walk away and continue cleaning the spot you’d been working on before the uniforms had approached. Dumping the burnt bark and ash of what used to be trees into a plastic bag.

“There’s one other thing, Dr. Reeds.” The woman spoke next. You tried not to scowl in irritation and reluctantly turned back to them. “Before your mother passed, she asked that you take her place.”

Your heart lurched and your body grew stiff.

“The late Dr. Reeds had made a lot of progress on some research that could’ve been beneficial for our organization and project.” The woman tucked her hands behind her back, back straight as she continued in a matter-of-fact tone. “We need someone like you who can continue the work without fail and who knows Dr. Reeds…particular work ethic.” You frowned at the wording. The woman—she seemed to be leading this small crusade. “We have an avatar waiting for you. All you need to do is come with us to Pandora.”

And there it was. Anyone would’ve seen this as a second chance. Another opportunity to fix your mother’s legacy. To keep your promise.

But all you saw was something else you could screw up. Something else for you to destroy by fire. Another way to fail her. The forest was gone. You had killed the forest. Now they wanted you to take your mother’s place—possibly to work on something shady that they have full control over. When was it enough?

When would people stop expecting you to be Joan Reeds? When would they see that you were nothing like her? That you weren’t their savior, that you weren’t someone to turn to whenever the original goal didn’t work? You were nothing. Everything you touched ended up destroyed. So why?

Why would your mother want you to take over her perfectly structured sculpture? When all you were was the hammer that shattered it down to pieces.

You tightened your jaw, “I’m good here. Again, thank you for coming.”

Once more, you tried walking away.

“Unfortunately, Dr. Reeds, it is not a request.” Now you were scowling at the woman, not bothering to hide the expression this time. “We’re in dire need of your mother’s expertise. She can identify resources that the RDA has collected—better than anyone. And we could use these sources to put those…our enemies in place. Heal poisons we have little information about. Your mother—”

“My mother, it seems, had no idea what she was getting into when she accepted that job for the Avatar Program.” You sized all three of them up with a quick resolve. “You’re RDA, correct? Hmm, my mother may not have seen it but I do. I see right through you all.” With that, you raised your chin and steeled your back. “So, for the last time. Thank you for coming. Now if you’ll excuse me, I just learned my own mother’s fucking dead. I’d like to take the time to grieve if you don’t mind.”

As you turned to leave again, your mind wandered. Your eyes stared bleakly at what used to be a beautiful forest. It used to be so life-like. So, so beautiful.

Your mother was gone. And so was her forest.

Maybe you should’ve seen it as a sign.

Mother dead. Forest gone.

And where were your tears?

You stopped walking suddenly when something sharp hit the back of your neck.

Instantly, without warning, your body crumbled to the ground with a thud.

Breathing was difficult. Your body couldn’t move. Black shoes filled your vision.

“Apologies, Doc. But I did say it wasn’t a request.”

Slipping from your control, everything went dark.

If you must know, your forest is making amazing progress. We planted exactly thirty more trees in the past two months and they’ve grown healthily! I’ll send you pictures of them once I’ve sent this letter.

But as I said before, there’s nothing for you to worry about here. If I wanted your help, I would’ve asked and you know this. You should be focusing on making life-changing discoveries on Pandora. Also, have you met Dr. Grace Augustine yet? I’ve just finished her book and I have many questions! Can you, possibly, maybe relay my questions to Dr. Augustine? If you’re not busy of course…

Year 2155

It had been a good day for Jake Sully.

A long and grueling hunt had ended with many other warriors succeeding in their finds, just enough to feed their families, enough to feed the entire clan.

His pride only swelled more when his mate and the current Olo’eyktan grinned proudly at him as they started their way back home.

“You’ve gotten better, ma’tiyawn.” Tsu’tey had said with a smirk.

Jake’s heart warmed, “Well, I had an amazing teacher.” Tsu’tey looked even more smug then until Jake added. “Tell Neytiri I said thanks.”

A huff left his mate's mouth and Jake laughed at his reaction. “Tell her yourself, skxawng!”

When they both returned to their new home—a new location after the Hometree was destroyed last year—it wasn’t long before their third mate, Neytiri made her way back from a hunt as well. And Jake was right. She had to be one of the best hunters of the clan as she came carrying back a rather large sturmbeest at her tail. Large enough for tonight’s celebration. She yipped loudly, raising her bow up in a cheer as she returned to the clan.

Jake and Tsu’tey couldn’t take their eyes off their mate.

Once she managed to get to them, Tsu’tey was the first to meet her in a warm and tight hug—careful to watch for the baby carrier strapped to her chest.

“And how was our boy’s first hunt?” Tsu’tey smiled down at the one-month-old child, their firstborn, Neteyam, who smiled at the sight of his papa. His smaller hands grabbed onto one of Tsu’tey’s fingers.

“He will make a great hunter.” Neytiri smiled down at him, grabbing Tsu’tey’s other hand. “And you? Did you find anything?”

Jake chuckled, looking back at the sturmbeest a few warriors carried by. “Not as good as you, babe. Let’s just say if we had made it a bet, you would’ve won easily.”

“What’s a bet?” Tsu’tey questioned, with a furrow in his brow.

“I’ll tell you later.”

When they made it back to their hut—Jake did a quick look around to find that it was empty. Sending a silent prayer to Eywa, which he found himself doing a lot more recently, he was relieved to find that Tsu’tey’s mother was nowhere in sight.

Artsut, who had been a frequent visitor to their home ever since Neteyam was born. Before then she had steered clear of their hut—not wanting to go anywhere near Jake. He was a demon, a false body, the stain on their clan. Jake was fine with her being away from the hut—that was when he could tolerate her the most.

But after Neteyam was born, after the perfect Na’vi baby had come out of Neytiri, Artsut came around more to care for her grandson. Which meant Jake had to deal with more of her comments and sneers—and he would. For his son.

Forcing Artsut to not see her grandson would’ve been too cruel—not just for his son but for Tsu’tey as well. Tsu’tey—who wanted to keep the peace between his mates and his mother. Tsu’tey, the only male in his family who is able to stand up to her and not take any of her shit.

So, Jake wasn’t worried for the most part. Artsut would play nice for Tsu’tey—her favorite son. Omatikaya’s rightful Olo’eyktan. And Jake would ignore her presence. A fair compromise.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to worry about seeing her now. Otherwise, his very good mood would be ruined.

“I went to see my mother today,” Neytiri said as she took Neteyam out of the carrier and gave him to Tsu’tey who was standing right next to her.

“For more training or something else?” Jake questioned, analyzing her body in a quick scan for any injuries he might’ve missed. “Are you okay?”

She smiled softly and pressed her hand to her stomach, “She told me that Eywa has blessed us with another child.”

Tsu’tey’s eyes widened and Jake’s mouth hung open. Neteyam watched them all quietly.

Neytiri looked down shyly, her ears fluttering, “I wanted to tell you at the celebration for a surprise but I couldn’t wait so—”

She didn’t get to finish as Tsu’tey launched himself at her, wrapping her in a tight hug, earning a joyous laugh from her. A large smile Jake hadn’t seen for a minute. Not since they first discovered Neteyam was coming.

Jake rushed over after placing his hunting equipment down, “You’re pregnant?” Neytiri nodded as Tsu’tey pulled away with a smile of his own. A grin broke out on his face as he pulled her in for a loving kiss, “Oh baby, I love you so much.”

All three of them joined together then—including Neteyam who giggled at their smiles. Sharing kisses, long hugs, and large smiles that they couldn’t contain.

Happiness was simple. That was what Jake believed.

He never thought he could achieve something like that. Not on Earth. Hell, no even on Pandora. Not after everything—but he worked hard for it. He kept going, wanting to prove to himself and his mates that he belonged there. That he was one of the People. That he would be a good mate. A good father.

And not something that destroys everything by a single touch.

Happiness was as simple as it was rare.

Whenever it came, Jake grasped onto it as tightly as he could. Because he never knew when he’d ever have it again.

He held on tight when Tsu’tey survived the battle against the Sky People. Nurtured it when Tsu’tey soon joined him and Neytiri in their union as mates. Loved it when Neteyam was born with his eyes and Neytiri’s markings.

But even then, even if he had a well-adjusted life a year into being on Pandora, Jake still had a long way to go. A long path to make up for all the strife he had caused.

For now, he would enjoy this night. He would enjoy being with his mates. He would enjoy this joyous celebration of the sturmbeest and the new life that would be here in nine months’ time.

It had been a good day for Jake Sully.

That night, Neytiri laid between Tsu’tey and him. That night he watched Tsu’tey’s body carefully as he usually did during the other nights. That night he couldn’t shake the warmth in his chest.

Happiness is simple.

At some point, Jake turned onto his back. His eyes trailing up to the sky. Stars. There were always stars here. And every night, Jake counted them until he fell asleep. Every night he had one arm around Neytiri. Every night he reached his hand out just enough until his fingers brushed against Tsu’tey’s bicep. Every night he would be the last out of the three of them—or four if he counted the heavy sleeper that was his son—to fall asleep.

Only this time there was a moving star in the sky. For a moment, Jake thought he was dreaming.

But the star kept moving. Closer and closer toward Pandora. Until Jake knew that it wasn’t a star anymore.

A body shifted, Jake instantly got up and placed gentle hands on Tsu’tey’s shaking body, trying his best to calm his mate down from the nightmares. Not knowing what he would do if he had to tell him—to tell Neytiri—that they were about to wake up in one.

It had been a good day.

Until it wasn’t.

Do you think I’ll like Pandora? I still dream about it. Being there with you. Do you still want me to come one day?

You woke up on a ship.

“Hold her down boys.”

At the moment, you hadn’t realized your body jerked roughly or that you were now being held down in your seat by a bunch of hands, far stronger and firmer than you. Never mind the tight seatbelt across your lap, no, they wanted to make sure you couldn’t escape.

So, you screamed. A horror-filled cry that sucked in all sound in the ship. Leaving the rest of the passengers with nothing but silence and your scream.

“Calm down, Doc.” The woman sat across from you spoke. The very same woman that approached you in your mother’s forest. “We wouldn’t want you harming yourself before we even get to the planet.”

With as much strength as you could muster, you tried pulling away from the two men sitting on either side of you, whose grips were practically steel. “What did you do?! Where the hell am I?!”

“I already told you five years ago, it wasn’t a request.”

You didn’t need to ask what she meant by five years. Your mother had told you about the process that got her to Pandora in one of her video diaries. You didn’t have to figure it out in your hazy state without getting pissed.

“You stole five years off me! What the fuck is wrong with you people!?” You seethed.

The woman looked unconcerned toward your outburst. “Your mother’s work is too important to give up, Doc. She and her group of scientists were close to probably giving us the one edge we needed against the Na’vi. The inhabitants of Pandora. With your mother gone along with the rest of her group, we were desperate for a replacement. Which is why we needed you. Which is why we wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“Why the hell would I help you?!” You snapped, still fighting against the two male’s hold on you. “Get off me!”

“Boys.” The woman gestured for them to let go. After a pause, the hands were gone from your arms. And that was when you began to notice your surroundings.

Yes, you were on some type of ship with a few other soldiers. All of you strapped down to seats. And instead of your ash-covered clothes, you were now in a simple grey tank top, borrowed camouflage pants, and black combat shoes.

Slight groans and whines along the walls told you that the ship was still flying.

So you couldn’t escape even if you wanted to. You had been practically kidnapped by the military—the RDA.

And you were trapped.

That is, until you reach Pandora.

“Now if you’re done throwing a fit,” The woman brought out a tablet and held it toward you. “I’m Captain DeVoe, by the way. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Doc.”

You didn’t take the tablet.

Captain DeVoe sighed before pulling the tablet away and began typing on the screen. “Your mother had been close to finding a way to create an antidote for the neurotoxin those savages use on the tip of their arrows. It’s dangerous for us humans. And our goal is to get this small obstacle out of the way in order to proceed with our mission.”

You let out a short laugh, your body still tense and trapped. “Like I said. Why the hell would I help you? What my mother does has nothing to do with me.”

“Oh, but it does, honey,” DeVoe smirked while you scowled. The captain had to have been in her mid to late twenties. Her hair was cut short into a blonde buzzcut. Toned muscles underneath her long-sleeved shirt. She looked like she could break you in two without even breaking a sweat. So there was no point in trying to fight her. At least not in this confined space.

She held out the tablet to you. And again, you didn’t reach for it. Instead, you pressed your back against the wall behind you. DeVoe didn’t lower the tablet. From your spot, you could see on the screen a light blue rectangle and a digital lock above it.

“She’s kept everything we need behind a lock. Her last words were for you to unlock it and finish her work.”

You raised a brow and crossed your arms, “Those were her last words?” Another brittle laugh left your lips. “Wow, you all must be very desperate.” You continued to laugh, unafraid of the glare the captain sent you. “Fuck you. Fuck everyone on the ship and fuck the RDA! I haven’t even gotten to see her body yet—did you even bury her? Or did you toss her aside when you didn’t find any use for her anymore?”

DeVoe blinked and frowned. She then sighed, “I am sorry for your loss, Dr. Reeds. Really, I am. And I know emotions are quite high right now—”

“Fuck you.” You snorted humorlessly before leaning back against the wall again. The two men on either side of you shifted. You ignored them.

“Yes, you’ve said that already.” DeVoe tucked the tablet down next to her right thigh. You glanced at it briefly before directing your scowl back to the woman.

A speaker suddenly came to life above all of you. “We’ve entered the atmosphere. Landing in twenty.”

You sat up straighter as everyone suddenly began placing what looked like advanced oxygen masks on their faces.

Through all your righteous anger, you hadn’t truly realized it until right then. You were on Pandora. You were going to land in the place of your dreams.

And you refused to be happy about it.

DeVoe handed you a mask as she grabbed bags from under her seat. “Quaritch was always good at being persuasive. He’ll convince you. He always—"

A loud boom rattled your ears.

The ship suddenly flipped—if not for the seatbelts, you would’ve flipped too—and then it felt as if you were falling.

Falling.

You put on the mask in hopes of helping bring the air back into your lungs.

Falling.

Thud!

Do you remember your second-in-command? JJ? Well, he retired recently. We threw him a really big party. Plus, he just had a baby too. I think it’s a girl last I checked, I’m going to have to ask Cheryl about that—you know her. Always being in the know with her coworkers…

There was no light. Heat closed in all around you, suffocating you and fogging your mask—or was that your quick breaths? No, that was the smoke.

Your ears rang terribly. People were moving but you couldn’t see who. Someone suddenly grabbed your arm, cut the seatbelt from your lap, and practically hauled your body from the seats and through the smoke.

You weren’t walking. A striking pain in your thigh prevented you from doing so.

Suddenly there was light. Lots of it. Your vision was somewhat clear enough to see that you were now outside. Enough for you to see that the one dragging you was a feral-looking DeVoe.

“Shoot them all down now!” She screamed. There was a long gash along her toned arm. “Contact base! We need backup ASAP!”

Finally, you realized what was happening.

There was fire—why was there always fire?

The large, winged creatures flew above the damage with people riding them. There were yips and hollers from the people on the creatures mixed with the explosions and shouts from DeVoe.

As your senses began coming back, as the world began to set around you, your instincts finally kicked in.

While DeVoe was distracted giving orders, you searched the ground until your eyes landed on a nearby rock. Quickly, you lunged for it, grasped it, and smacked it in the back of her head without wasting another second.

And the impact was hard too. You were sure you heard a loud crack from it.

When DeVoe ducked and stumbled, her grip on you loosened, giving you the chance to run. Or rather, limp through the wreckage and away from the fight happening around you.

But because of your leg, you didn’t make it too far.

A sudden weight knocked you down, a cry leaving your lips as you hit the ground. Wincing in pain from the burning in your left leg. When you tried getting up, the weight kept you pinned down. Whatever landed on top of you made sure you wouldn’t be able to move.

“I already told you!” Roughly, you were turned onto your back. DeVoe was on top of you, snarling. “You have no choice! Not when it comes to saving your race!”

“Get off me!” You cried out, trying to push her off. But DeVoe remained as firm as iron.

“That was a cute little stun you pulled back there. But make sure to remember this.” Instantly, she yanked your mask off.

Your eyes were wide and a loud gasp left your lips,

DeVoe grinned, a mad glint in her eye. “Your life is in my hands! That means I protect it or take it just like that! Don’t be stupid, Doc. Don’t make this more difficult than it has to be. Pick! I protect you or you die!”

You held your breath. More booms sounded around you. More winged creatures flew above you. More yips. More hollers.

Briefly, you glanced at the mask in her hand and considered everything leading up to now. Because you didn’t have much of a choice.

None but one.

Finally, you stopped fighting. Your limbs fell loose against her.

DeVoe nodded with a smirk, “Good choice.” She gave you back your mask and stood up. You kept holding your breath. “Back up should be here soon. We’ll have enough numbers to take down these savages—”

She abruptly cut herself off when you slammed the mask down on your good knee, shattering it.

You then started breathing in the air.

“What are you doing?!” DeVoe screeched, grabbing you by the front of your shirt.

You grinned now, struggling to breathe, “You need me. I don’t need you.”

To them, you were valuable. DeVoe knew this. Which was why you knew she wouldn’t go through with killing you herself. It was like they said on the ship. You were too valuable. And they were desperate.

And that value would be lost once you’re dead.

“Damn you brat!” DeVoe growled as she took off her mask. “Selfish bitch—”

Blood splattered across your face when an arrow found its way through DeVoe’s head.

She slumped against you, the mask falling from her hand and skittering onto the ground a few feet away from you.

Your mind had not realized that DeVoe was killed. Was dead now. All you cared about now was grabbing the mask.

So once you got the dead weight off of you, you began crawling toward the mask. Your breathing becoming a struggle with every passing second.

You hadn’t realized—just like with DeVoe—that someone was watching you. Curiously and quietly following you as you crawled. You didn’t realize you weren’t alone until blue feet appeared in your line of vision. Until four fingers took the mask off the ground and away from your grasp.

A whimper left your lips through hollow breaths as you looked up to find a tall, blue alien woman standing over you. With guarded, yet silently curious yellow eyes.

A Na’vi. You had seen them in your mother’s videos. You had seen her avatar.

“Mom.” You rasped, lying on your back. You didn’t know how much time you had. Might as well stick to the original plan then.

Become invaluable.

But Mom…

“I-I just want my Mom.”

The Na’vi woman just stared at you. Her fierce gaze turned into something somewhat contemplative. You weren’t even sure if she understood you.

Black spots covered your vision.

There was barely any oxygen left to grasp for.

“Demon.”

The Na’vi woman hissed just as you lost consciousness.

This had to be the second time you’ve woken up from passing out.

Only instead of a ship greeting you, it was a white ceiling. And somehow instead of lying dead in the ship wreckage, you were instead lying on a cot. With a bandage wrapped around your injured thigh.

It was slow—slower than before—but everything came back to you. You were on Pandora. DeVoe was dead. At least that’s what you remembered happening. The arrow through her head certainly wasn’t a hallucination.

But why weren’t you dead?

For a while, you just say on the cot. Trying to figure out what exactly happened.

The Na’vi woman. Did she…Did she give you the mask?

No. She’d have no reason to. Something must’ve happened while you were passed out.

You were in some type of cell—perfect—no bars but no doubt some type of impenetrable glass in front of you.

A groan left your lips, dropping your head into your hands.

How the hell did it get so much worse?

A door opened further away from your cell. A thin-looking man stepped through it. A human man.

You watched him carefully and silently. The human male nodded to you. “You must be Dr. Reeds.”

Instantly, you tensed and the words tumbled out of your mouth, “I already told DeVoe I’m not helping the RDA. So torture me all you want but you’re not getting shit from me.”

He raised his brows both curiously and observantly. “The RDA hasn’t been allowed back on Pandora for a year now. Not after the war.”

War? You carefully stood from your cot, “Then why am I here?”

“Because you were on an RDA ship—” You move to protest, “Before you say anything or curse me, I already know about Joan Reeds and your supposed arrival. But unfortunately, you arrived at a pretty bad time. The People are skittish. They think it’s best to keep you here for now—”

“What the fuck?!” You screamed. The resolve was broken. There was no composing anything anymore. Your face was heated. Your muscles ached. Your throat hurting. “I didn’t even want to come here! Those fuckers kidnapped me and now I have to be imprisoned in a cell because of them?! I’m not RDA! I have nothing to do with this! All I want to do is see my mother who I couldn’t even bury!”

Toward the end of your rageful sentence, your voice quivered.

“Is she even buried yet?” You asked him, your voice now quieter.

After a pause, the male nodded. “She was buried. She…She was one of the few humans the Na’vi got along with. They gave her a burial years before. She—I’m sorry for your loss.

Everything was so—heavy. You were just exhausted.

You hadn’t even been able to grieve for her. Cry for her.

“I didn’t even know she was dead.” You sunk back down on the cot. “Not for four years. I didn’t she was dead for four fucking years. And now I’m here. On a planet I’ve been dreaming about since I was young. But now it’s just some fucked up nightmare.”

There was a long silence between the both of you. The male rubbed the back of his neck before saying cautiously, “Yeah, this isn’t ideal—um, I’m Norm, by the way. Norm Spellman. I work in the Avatar Program. I—well, I didn’t know or meet your mother personally but she was an amazing and intelligent scientist. Her work here and on Earth is very admirable.”

You almost scoffed at that but said nothing.

Norm moved to say more but stopped instantly, pressing a hand to his ear. For a beat, you watched him bleakly, as if he were listening to something.

He then turned to you, “Hold that thought.” And as soon as you blinked, he was gone out of the room.

For a moment, it was silent.

And then you cried.

And cried.

Until your eyes offered no more tears left to give.

I had to clean up cow shit yesterday. And I’m definitely smiling when I tell you this. It’s progress but you probably get to see and interact with creatures we don’t even have here. So, at least you’re up there…

Norm came back a little later after that. He approached your cell, typing something against the wall. A second later, the glass came down.

You straightened.

“They want to talk to you.” He said.

“Who?” You frowned tiredly as you slowly got to your feet, wincing at your thigh.

Norm thought for a bit, “Some representatives of the clan nearby.”

Reluctantly, you followed Norm out of the cell. He led you through a hallway until you approached a door where Norm grabbed a mask for himself and you.

“They’re right out there.”

When you walked out the door, you were startled to find three winged creatures and tall—really tall—Na’vi waiting at the landing strip where you were sure ships would’ve been. But instead, it looked a bit abandoned.

“Dr. Reeds this is the chief of the Omatikaya Clan, Tsu’tey, that’s Neytiri, and the last one is the clan’s Toruk Makto, Jake Sully.”

You analyzed all three of them. The Na’vi woman—Neytiri—you recognized from the crash. The one that had been standing over you before you passed out. Long braids, warrior paint on her face—matching her body posture she instantly took as soon as you came out of the building, and a bow clutched in one hand with a fierce expression. She was sizing you up. Same as you did.

The next one—Tsu’tey—watched your movements carefully. Out of the three he looked like the one in charge, a leader, someone that of importance. His snarl was severe, even making Norm shift uncomfortably despite it not being directed at him. He gripped a spear tightly in his hands, his eyes following every slight movement you made. As if readying himself to take you down the moment you step out of line. Dangerous beast.

Then there was Jake Sully. If you hadn’t learned his name, you could instantly tell that he stood out somewhat among the three. Compared to Neytiri and Tsu’tey, Jake’s stance was different. More human-like. Like a Marine—which you had been around back on Earth. They were mostly the ones hired as military protection, so you were around them often. Jake was exactly that. But it didn’t make him any less fierce or severe.

Then of course there was the gun that he held—another huge thing that stood out among the three of them.

“And this is Dr. Reeds. She was supposed to replace the late Dr. Joan Reeds, a friend of Grace—”

“Why is she here now?” The leader, Tsu’tey interrupted with a scowl. “We need no more demons here.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek but didn’t say anything. Norm, fortunately, continued talking so you didn’t have to. “The timing’s off, I know, but it’s on record that she was supposed to arrive here upon Dr. Reeds' last request. And confirmed by Dr. Augustine herself. She’s only a scientist, that’s all. We even have an unused avatar waiting for her.”

Tsu’tey didn’t look convinced, not surprising. Neytiri’s eyes never wavered from you. Jake’s tail swished behind him, but his expression was unreadable.

Norm cleared his throat, “If Grace approved of it—”

“Where’s my mother buried?” You asked. All four eyes snapped to you. Norm gave you a look that you ignored. “Spellman told me she had a burial here. I just want to see her. That’s all.”

“And then what?” Jake questioned, eyes narrowed. His face was still guarded.

You didn’t care for it. “I don’t know. Maybe then I’ll go back to Earth and die with the rest of the planet. Does that suffice?”

Tsu’tey frowned, clearly not liking your response while Jake lowered the gun slightly. Neytiri slowly eased out of her defensive stance.

Norm chuckled nervously—attempting to save your sardonic response, “You hear that? She said she’ll leave.”

You breathed out a sigh. God, you were so tired. “I just want my Mom. Please, that’s all I ask.”

Another beat went by before Jake, spoke first but in another language. Tsu’tey didn’t look happy at whatever Jake was saying, his ears were pinned to the sides of his head. Neytiri, on the other hand, looked contemplative.

Eventually, Jake turned back to you with a stern frown, “We’ll have a few warriors take you to your mother’s burial.”

“And after you do not return.” Tsu’tey hissed, his violent eyes pinning you in place. If I see you on my grounds again, I will kill you, demon.”

Jake breathed out through his nose, closing his eyes. He then looked at you, “Understood?”

You huffed, “Loud and clear.”

You’re far away from this mess and I think that’s good. Not that there is a mess, I’m just saying metaphorically….You know what never mind. I hope you’re having fun, Mom.

Please respond. I miss your videos. And it’s getting pretty lonely down here.

I still want you to have fun so don’t put too much energy into trying to respond.

I’ll leave you now.

Love,

your little shadow.

PS.

Remember how you said I accomplish more stuff than you could ever imagine? I kind of get the feeling you were only saying that to make me feel better. It’s pretty clear by now that out of the two of us, you’re gonna go far. Farther than I can reach.

Okay, bye now.

yes, another series! this time i'm going full force with the poly than i do with my other fics. and you guys have this beautiful fanart to thank! also i listened to you're gonna go far by noah kahan the whole time i wrote this chapter so it's probably obvious i was inspired by that song. anyway, i hope you guys enjoy this new mini series of mine for anyone that's still out there in the fandom lol. i hope you guys will give this a chance--and tell me your thoughts when you're done! i love hearing from y'all. full rants and everything!

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jenosbigtoe · 6 months

Note

i for one would love to see alpha jaem😁

mdni. nsfw 18+

pairing: superior!alpha!na jaemin x office worker!omega!reader

warnings: office au, abo, jealousy, reader is kinda bratty, fingering, tummy bulge, unprotected sex, creampie

you seriously wanted to throw your entire desktop at her stupid fucking head.

she was the new hire, an omega intern being trained by your superior, alpha na jaemin. she’d only been here for 3 weeks but she was already trying to sink her claws into your alpha. well, he wasn’t officially your alpha but everyone in the office knew the special bond you held with him. and she was sure as hell intent on getting in between that.

he was your superior but he always treated you so special, like you were really his omega. he brought you a coffee and muffin every morning from that coffee shop he knew you loved so much. he walked you to your car every evening, no matter how much longer he had to stay when you were working overtime. and he always spent his lunch breaks with you, sharing his homecooked meals when he felt you didn’t bring enough food for yourself.

you never progressed past more-than-friendly hugs after work or the light hand holding every so often with him but everyone knew he was your alpha. he was still courting you and you were basking in the attention.

until this bitch showed up and stole away all his attention.

it was bearable at first. she would have some sort of dilemma and he wouldn’t be able to eat lunch with you that day because he had to help her. he’d apologize profusely when he had to use his lunch break to go help her with whatever problem she was having that day. you would give him a reassuring smile and rub his back as you told him it was perfectly fine for him to do his job and not worry about you. or she would have to stay after hours because she needed help with a project and jaemin would have to stay with her to show her what to do.

but then she started being all touchy feely with him. with your alpha. she’d call him over to her desk for whatever reason and grab onto his arms as he stood over her desk. she would bring extra lunches “accidentally” and give him the extra lunch she brought, jaemin being too nice to decline. she would bat her stupid fucking eyelashes at him and beg him to do this and do that for her, all while you watched with a murderous look on your face.

she wasn’t stupid. she knew what relationship you had with jaemin. but she wanted him too and was going to milk all the attention she got from him, while rubbing it in your face in the process. sly smirks and pointed looks in your direction when jaemin would come running over to her whenever she had a problem.

jaemin was so busy with training her and doing his other responsibilities as a superior, he barely had any time to spend with you. and you were not happy with that. you could only take so many “sorry, y/n but she-“ before you would lose your mind.

so you coped with the lack of attention from your alpha the best way you knew how—by ignoring him back.

“hey, y/n i got your favorite,” jaemin gave you one of his signature grins and held up a coffee and muffin for you.

you pretended to not see him and brushed past, leaving him to stare in confusion at your passing body.

“y/n, let’s eat lunch together. i made that dish you always love.” he cornered you into a wall to prevent you from escaping again.

you gave him a sour expression and sighed exasperatedly. “no thanks.”

jaemin was so confused. he knows he’s been so busy for the past few weeks but did he do something wrong? why did it seem like you’re upset with him? he missed hanging out with you.

the next day, he tried going over to your cubicle to find out what he did wrong but right as he approached your desk, he was stopped by the intern.

“oh jaemin!! perfect timing i need your help with this document,” she barreled into him and grabbed his arm to yank him away.

jaemin stuttered in protest but she was too determined to get the alpha away from you. you watched that whole interaction and rolled your eyes, a deep frown marring your face.

who needed that stupid alpha anyways, you grumbled to yourself. it’s obvious he’s found his new omega plaything. he doesn’t need me anymore.

and it went like this for the next couple weeks. he would try to talk to you like normal but you would ignore him or find an excuse get away while the stupid intern took him away. you didn’t want to let your heart be vulnerable anymore for this alpha.

he was getting tired of the lack of attention from you. he missed his omega. jaemin didn’t like the cold shoulder you giving him. he knew he’d been so busy lately and you were probably feeling neglected. but now the intern’s training period was finally over so he could finally direct all his attention back to you. right before you were set to clock out, he called you into his office.

you stomped in with an irritated look. “what?” you snapped. “i’m ready to go home, mr. na.”

he raised an eyebrow at your attitude. he leaned forward in his desk. “mr. na?”

the frown on your face deepened. “yes, that’s your name right?”

“baby, you know you don’t call me that. especially when we’re in private.” he got up from his desk chair and walked around to stand closer to you.

you inched away slightly, an action he did not miss. “what do you need, mr. na?” you emphasized the formality.

he crossed his arms over his chest. “i want to know why you’ve been upset with me.”

you sighed and looked anywhere but at him. “can i leave, if it’s not an important issue?”

he walked over to stand just inches away from your body. even in heels he towered over you. you looked up to see his concerned form. “is my omega being upset with me not an important issue?”

you stared hard into his face, eyebrows wrinkled and eyes alight with stubbornness. “your omega? since when?”

“since i’ve been courting you.”

your heart was pounding in your chest. “what are you talking about? i’m not your omega. you’re crazy.”

you started to turn away from him to walk towards the door but he was quick to grab your arm and pull your body against his, trapping you in with his strength. you tried to break from his grasp, wriggling and beating at his chest, but he easily overpowered you. your legs turned to jelly at the contact.

“let me fucking go! stupid alpha get away from me!” you grunted in frustration. it was useless, he was too strong.

“oh you know exactly what i’m talking about, omega. just because i’ve been busy for the past few weeks you want to ignore your alpha? act like you’re brand new?” you could feel the red hot anger start to radiate off of him. you subconsciously rubbed your thighs together.

“fuck,” you whispered to yourself. then you straightened yourself out in his arms and jut your chin out defiantly. “so now you want to act like i’m your omega? when you’ve been prancing around with your new toy for weeks, ignoring me and all we used to do together to be with that new omega bitch?” your eyes watered at your outburst but you stood your ground.

jaemin held you firm against his body, grabbing your chin to force you to look into his eyes. “so that’s what this brattiness is about, huh. you’re jealous?”

you attempted to kick him in the groin and make your escape but he stopped your leg with his. “not fucking jealous! let me go you stupid fucking alpha! i can report you for this!”

jaemin chuckled lowly. “silly omega. i can see right through you.” he used one arm to keep your struggling body pressed against his while his other snaked down to cup your warm cunt. “i’ve been a bad alpha, neglecting my omega. letting her think i wanted someone else. when all i could ever want is right here.”

you stopped fighting against his grip, gasping at the feeling of his big hand on your achy cunt. you whined, lightly bucking your hips against his hand. “oh fuck,” you whimpered.

he caught you in a deep kiss, shutting you up real quick. sucking on your lip and sticking his tongue in your mouth. you whined against his mouth and started to grind against his hand. his fingers crawled up your skirt and pushed past your panties, teasing your wet folds and sliding past your dripping hole.

he broke contact to leave kisses up and down your jaw, fingers rubbing up and down your dripping cunt. “aw, what happened to my fiesty omega now?”

you whimpered. his fingers kept playing with your pussy and left you needing more and more. “stop teasing, jaem.”

he grinned widely at your words. his fingers pushed past your folds. you groaned. he started pumping his fingers in and out of your dripping hole and rubbing up against your sweet spot, slowly increasing his speed.

“ahhhh, alpha!” you whined out.

he suddenly removed his fingers from your hot cunt to stick them in his mouth, licking and sucking on your juices lewdly. you protested at the lack of contact but he quickly shushed you with a hot kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

he unbuckled his slacks and pulled down his boxers to reveal his achy cock, so big and red and veiny and ready to be sheathed inside your warm cunt. you attempted to reach down to stroke him off but he stopped you, lifting you up by the ass and placing you on his desk.

“baby, as much as i would love to let you stroke my cock, if i’m not balls deep in that pussy within the next 10 seconds i might explode.” he spread your legs and placed them on his shoulders. he used his cock to rub against your dripping pussy and gather your juices to spread up and down his length before lining the tip up with your entrance.

he bottomed out with one deep thrust and paused, heavy balls touching your ass. you both groaned at the sudden feeling. “oh fuck, baby you’re so fucking tight,” he moaned, gripping your waist tight to prevent you from squirming away. “my perfect omega, made just for this cock.”

he started pounding his hips impossibly fast against yours. your pussy clenched and spasmed around his fat cock dragging against your walls. arousal was dripping down your thighs and onto the desk below as lewd noises filled the tiny office with sex. “oh my god, alpha!! please, harder!” you cried, wriggling around and scratching at his back desperately.

“my omega. mine,” he grunted from above. it felt like he was trying to break you in half from his fat cock’s deep hard thrusts into your tiny pussy. “say you’re mine. say you’re my omega,” he accented his words his a particularly sharp thrust into your cunt, cock so deep his tip kissed your cervix.

you were quickly melting in a pool of putty underneath him, losing your mind from pleasure. “ahhh, alpha! yes, yes, yes!”

if possible, he went even harder with his thrusts. his cock was driving so deep inside he pressed a hand against your lower belly. “feel that, omega? that’s your alpha, deep in your guts. claiming your pussy for his.”

he grabbed one of your hands to place against your tummy and feel where his cock bulged out. you could feel every thrust, every time he bottomed out, all of it.

“say. it. say you’re mine, omega.”

“oh god, i’m yours, i’m yours, i’m yours!! alpha, i’m your omega, please oh god,” you were shaking like a leaf, tears welling up and rolling down your face. you buried your head into his chest, inhaling his deep intoxicating scent. this was your alpha making you his.

when you left the office that night, hot cum dripped down your legs. panties were missing. you had a strange limp. hair wild. neck littered with marks. and a smirking alpha wrapped around your shoulders.

a/n: i was halfway done with this but lost motivation conveniently when i told everyone it was coming soon☠️mb

#nct dream smut #nct smut #nct dream x reader #nct x reader #nct dream #na jaemin x reader #na jaemin #jaemin x reader #jaemin smut #na jaemin smut #jaemin

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seeingivy · 19 days

Text

death by a thousand cuts

satoru gojo x f!reader

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

an: a wild taylor as gojo has appeared. enjoy. satoru as taylor swift anon who is always in the asks, this is for you. i see you and i hear you.

“holy shit. there’s no way you’re on his fucking linked in during class?” megumi whispers.

you feel your eyes widen as you look to your left to find a very, deeply distraught megumi staring at you. and it’s almost like clockwork, the way he abandons his accounting spreadsheet – and quickly slides into the messages app on his laptop.

the three consecutive buzzes of your phone thrum under your thigh come before you see nobara and yuuji turn their heads back, two rows ahead of you in the lecture hall, and looking awfully more distraught than megumi.

“you’re kidding.” nobara mouths.

“freak!” yuuji whispers, earning you a set of weird glances from the group at your right.

you glare at the two of them, before turning to megumi and bringing your foot down on top of his. megumi winces, giving you a very characteristic and unbothered eye roll, before he returns to finishing up his spreadsheet.

you pull your hood up over your ears, cheeks warm and pink from embarrassment, before you focus back on the screen.

you know that he’s right. that there is really no point at looking at his account – not when you have all of the details memorized.

Satoru Gojo Senior Data Science Student @ Tokyo Technical Institute

three work experiences. data analytics intern for the justice project. hackathon project lead. meadow investments development engineer.

two degrees under his education. because he’s dual enrolled and set to get a bachelor’s in computer science and a masters in engineering by the end of his term next year.

and one organization. alpha kappa psi, the business fraternity.

the only reason you were at the scene of the crime.

it was all miwa’s fault. and partially yours, for being so willing to come to her aid – at all times. when she asked you to accompany her to the bid party – just because she wanted to support mechamaru fresh in their new relationship and didn’t do too well in social situations – you had all but obliged. at the most, you would get a cheap shot and brownie points to get miwa to run the errands for the entire month.

except when it came to it, miwa wasn’t nervous at all, only because mechamaru had spent the past few weeks hyping her up to his pledge class. which left you alone, stuck to roam around until she was ready to leave at the end of the night.

the floor was sticky with beer, there was an almost rancid, putrid smell lingering in the air that you couldn’t pinpoint, and you were stuck with sixty of your peers – shitfaced to a point you didn’t even know was humanly possible.

and with miwa long gone, doing god knows what with mechamaru and you were stuck leaning against the fridge, bored out of your mind. that’s when he found you – pawing your way through the food.

his smell was the first thing that caught your attention, second to the fact that he was hovering over your shoulder, cheeks brushing against each other. it was almost minty and stark – almost eradicating the lingering smell of weed that was burning your nose.

the skin on his cheek was soft, featherlike when it brushed against yours.

“whatcha doing, dollface?”

you immediately curl your nose, turned off by the unnecessary sweetness. you had your fill of dirty frat boys during orientation week, three years ago, and knew damn well that you had to steer clear of whatever was happening here.

“playing where’s waldo, genius. i’m obviously looking for food.” you state.

you reach for the closest box, a perfectly cut slice of cake, encased in a wrap. the plastic is covered in messy scribbles on the top – spelling out satoru in loopy letters.

“you’re just going to eat someone else’s cake?” he asks.

“how do you know it’s not mine?”

“intuition.”

it’s only then that you stop yourself to look up at this stranger whispering in your ear, only to find glimmering blue eyes, peering over the top of a set of sunglasses. the sunglasses are god awful – even worse with the combination of the tanktop and the snapback he’s wearing backwards.

you swear there’s a faded, glittery pink lipstick mark indented at the top of his cheek.

“you-you’d be shocked.” you stutter, as you pull the box out of the fridge and place it on the counter.

he momentarily walks away – which is when you take the second to ogle him in full. a toned back, a tattoo on the top of his shoulder that you can’t entirely make out. white hair, veiny arms, and a silver necklace hanging against his collarbone.

he returns back, two forks in hand, before making a dramatic display of handing you one.

“for you, my sweet lady.”

“i’m not sure why you brought two forks. who said i was going to share with you?”

he grins, leaning his head back to laugh like a little kid, before he scoots closer to you – the sweet scent coming back.

“c’mon.”

he reaches for your hand, before lifting it to place it against his chest. you can feel his heart beating under the feeling of your fingertips, his eyes wide and expectant as he waits for and answer.

“do me a favor, yeah? let me share my cake with a pretty girl at a party. there’s only a limited amount of joys in this life.”

you scoff, before pulling your hand back.

“you’re corny.”

he shrugs.

“you’ll get used to it.”

you groan, as you slam your computer shut – the image of his shiny headshot staring back at you getting burned into your eyes.

stupid. stupid, stupid, stupid.

one stupid joke, a slice of cake, and somehow you woke up in his bed the next day being spooned by him. and one thing led to the next because he was somehow taking you to brunch, then settling his head in between your legs before dinner, and then back at your house the next day.

it was an arrangement at that point. the dinners, what happened in between, and the morning after.

you’re not sure what the terms and conditions are in a predicament like yours – with a guy like satoru. you know for a fact that he still flirts with other girls, because you’d see him walking with a different one every time you stopped at the coffee shop. but then he’d invite you to dinner, honey sweet words falling from his lips before he tucked you in for bed each night.

friends with benefits. but he buys you gifts and takes you to dinner. and calls you beautiful. comes to your house after frat parties, with the faintest scent of a flowery perfume on his neck that you swear you’re imagining.

letting him walk out of your apartment was your own personal tourture, of death by a thousand cuts, because every step farther away from you was closer to someone else.

and that sinking, deep rooted dread, only got worse as time went on.

you feel a hard smack against your head.

“do your fucking homework.”

satoru gojo has distinct features that you always find yourself staring at. a mole on his shoulder, a scar on his pointer finger, and the rings he wore. sometimes, you find yourself asking them about him.

you reach forward, locking your fingers in on the chain around his neck, and using it to pull him closer. it's of a little postage stamp, though the silver looks rusted – like he’s worn it to death. he’s quick to oblige, a warm kiss on your cheek, before you yank again.

“what, baby?” he whines.

“where’d you get your necklace?”

he leans back, looking down at the chain, before his eyes meet yours again. there’s a dim fluorescent glow coming in from the blinds of the window, sun far gone in the horizon, and it’s the only thing that makes this bearable.

that his piercing blue eyes somewhat subdued from the lack of light.

“you want it, princess?”

“what? no. i just like it. i wasn’t –”

it’s a boyish giggle that comes out of satoru’s mouth as he quickly unfastens the clasp from his neck before tangling it in his fist.

you’re not an idiot – because it’s his freezing cold fingers pulling your shirt over your head – before he pulls you into his lap.

this was one of satoru’s favorite things to do. pull you close, till you’re straddling him in his lap, and you can feel his breath tickling against his collarbone as he whispers sweet nothings to you.

you wonder if he can see your blush in the dim light. if that’s part of why he likes it – seeing the effect he has on you.

he reaches forward, pulling your hair to the side and pressing a kiss to your collarbone, before he fastens his silver necklace around your neck.

“you know. when i said i liked your necklace, i said i liked it on you. i wasn’t asking for it.”

“but i like seeing you wear it more.”

satoru’s eyes are focused as he fixes the tangles in the chain, letting the little charm hang right in the little divot where your collarbone ends. and then he brings his hands in around your face, nearly squishing the softness of your cheeks together, before he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“will you wear my hoodie?” he jokes.

you scoff.

“are we in sixth grade? also, it quite literally says ‘yuuta’s big’ on the sleeve. that’s not obvious at all.”

satoru rolls his eyes.

“you would love yuuta, though. he’s your pseudo little brother, because you’re with me, you know?”

you shake your head, as you crawl out of his lap, and reach for the water bottle on the side table. you try to ground yourself, head spinning as you try to decipher what that means – and tap your feet on the floor.

you can feel him at your side, his observant blue eyes burning holes into your skin, as you note the steady, almost cautious tone in his voice.

“you okay? something i said?”

you shake him off.

“yeah, yeah. sorry. got out of the mood there for a second, just have a lot to do this week.”

satoru hums, before bringing his hands around your torso, leaning his entire weight against you as he settles his chin into the crook of your neck.

“you ever think you work too hard, pretty girl?”

“working hard or hardly working?” you joke. even his corny jokes were rubbing off on you.

you hear satoru scoff, before he starts rubbing circles into the bare skin of your stomach, as the goosebumps start to trickle over your skin.

“oh, don’t be like that. you’re the smartest person i know.”

“is this a clever way to get into my pants?”

“no. it’s me telling you that i think you’re very intelligent, you’re very driven, and you don’t have to worry about if you’re working hard enough. i know the only breaks you take are to go to that dumb movie theater downtown with your grumpy friend or when you scream my name every –”

“satoru.” you whine.

“don’t say my name like that. it turns me on.”

you grin.

“satoru.” you hum, teasing him.

“fuck off.”

he pauses, before pressing a lingering kiss to the side of your neck.

“but really. you’re a clever, you’re pretty, and irritatingly very accomplished. slow down so i can catch up, okay?”

“that’s rich coming from you. mister three internships, two degrees in four years.”

it’s quiet.

“how’d you know that?” satoru asks.

you can hear the smile in his voice. and the dread pooling in your stomach.

“what?”

“how’d you know it was two degrees?”

“you-you told me.”

“no, i didn’t. i just got accepted a few weeks ago, i haven’t even told some of my friends yet.”

you groan, before bringing your hands up to your face. you bury your eyes into the sockets of your eyes, getting caught embarrassedly red handed.

“where?”

you sigh.

“i stalked you on linked in.”

satoru grins wide, before pulling you back onto the bed and into his embrace. you can hear his giggling in your ear as you try to pull away.

“oh, baby you didn’t.”

“i had to make sure i didn’t apply where you worked!”

“no, you didn’t. we don’t even work in the same field.”

“you don’t know! i could change my mind!”

satoru laughs, before leaning forward to press a quick kiss to your lips.

“you have a crush on me! angel, you should have just said so!”

you give him a hard push, before crossing your arms over your chest.

“quit teasing. so i’m a stalker! so what? i just want to make sure i’m not putting out for a loser. you could be coding some AI for the government for all i know and i don’t want to be –”

“okay, okay. relax. i’m just teasing, i just think it’s cute you keep tabs on me.”

you glare.

“i don’t like you.” you state.

he rolls his eyes, before flopping his head down on your pillow and tapping the space next to him. you crawl into the space, before nestling yourself into his arms. you can feel your brain spiraling – instant regret for saying too much, being too weird, too harsh, and not saying what you felt – as you focus on the feeling of his hands running through your hair.

“i can tell that the hamster in your brain is working overtime. just go to bed, okay?”

“okay, lock the door when you leave?”

“i don’t have plans tomorrow morning. if you could humble yourself to eat breakfast with me, i’d actually like that.”

you frown, stomach jolting in your guts.

he had never stayed for an arbitrary reason – like spending the night just to sleep next to you. you shut your eyes, burying your face deeper into the sweet smell of his skin, and throw the thought away.

“mimosas?”

“you want to drink that early in the morning?”

“it’s saturday. gives me a good kick to start my day.”

“aren’t mimosas made with champagne? i hate champagne. and it makes you really handsy.”

you smile.

“you like when i’m handsy.”

“i mean, yes. but we can just do pancakes and go to the library together so we can do work. i’ll keep you accountable and find you snacks when you get inevitably cranky. then when you come home all tired, we can be as handsy as we want. it’s more satisfying when you have to work for it.”

you groan, burying the complications of spending yet another day with him in the back of your head as you try to flutter your eyes shut – in futile attempts to quiet the thoughts racketing around in your mind.

“okay, okay whatever. we’ll see tomorrow, i just – i’m really tired right now and –”

“shut up, dollface. just sleep.”

you get invited to the alpha kappa psi formal. miwa – who found out from mechamaru, whose pledge class brother is very close with satoru’s little yuuta – said that satoru wanted you there.

then why didn’t he ask you?

you bite the bullet anyways, borrowing one of kugisaki’s pale blue slip dresses – and attend as mechamaru’s pledge brother – todo’s date – to get in.

he’s a strange guy, who doesn’t pay you too much attention. it’s one polite wave and a cardstock ticket he hands you before you don’t see him again for the rest of the night. and you’re stuck with miwa and mechamaru, who are bigger fans of pda than you are.

“how’s satoru, y/n?” mechamaru asks.

“ah. he’s good. you know as much as i do, right?”

you can feel yourself sweating.

would satoru leave if you said too much? if you embarrassed him in front of one of his brothers? did they know you guys had an…arrangement? was it an arrangement? were you seeing each other? why did they think he invited you?

“dunno. aren’t you guys really good friends?” mechamaru asks.

“um, yeah.”

“yeah, he was telling us you studied together at the library the other day. figured he’d want you to meet suguru and ieiri.”

suguru and ieiri.

“yeah. i’m gonna go get a drink. do you guys want anything?”

“i’m good, love. we’ll be here.” miwa states, giving a reassuring squeeze to your bicep before you drag your heels to the makeshift bar.

you walk over to the bar, straight to the open bottle of rosé that has your name on it, as you lean against the wall. you pour way too much into your flute, nearly spilling it over the back of your hand, as you curse.

“do you want help?”

you look up to find a boy looking at you, wide eyes, with his bangs sweeping down the side of his face. he has tired eyes, but it’s a seemingly bright smile he offers you.

“sorry, yeah. i’ll clean it up, i swear.”

“no, no. no problem.”

he hands you a handkerchief from his pocket, before he pulls your hand in his and wipes the excess pink stain on it. you cringe at the stain on the cloth before he tucks it back into his pocket.

“i’m sorry about that. that’s really kind of you, i just –”

“no problem! you seemed…kind of frustrated there. happy to help.”

you shoot him a polite smile, before nervously sipping – maybe a little too fast for comfort. but the warm feeling is enough to temporarily curb the nerves, which is perfect for your sake.

“are you a brother?” you ask.

“yeah! is this your first formal?”

“yeah. i’m seeing someone in your frat and he asked me to come. well, he didn’t ask me to come, he told someone else he wanted me to come so i came as one of the other brother’s date. but not really his date, because i haven't seen him since then. or the guy i’m talking to.”

he leans back, eyes wide.

“right. do you like him? if…if you mind me asking.”

“my date? i can’t even remember his name. he’s like a tall, muscular guy. man bun?”

“no, yeah. his name is todo, i figured that’s who you were talking about. i mean the other guy.”

“oh. well, yeah. but he’s so…i don’t know. he’s a frat guy. and a chronic flirt. the first time i met him he had a lipstick stain on his cheek. and he smells like girly perfume every time he comes to see me, so –”

he sucks his teeth in.

“idiot.” he murmurs.

“what?”

“no! oh my god, not you! i meant…me! just thought of something. gotta run for a second, i’ll be back.”

“wait, you didn’t even tell me your –”

you watch as he rushes off, in a speed walking fervor, as mechamaru and miwa join you at your side. they give you a polite smile, which you return, as you swirl the glass in your hand.

“mechamaru. do you know that guy who just walked away? tired looking, the long hair?”

“oh, yuuta. yeah, what about him?”

“yuuta?”

“yeah, you’ve never met him? he’s like gojo’s pride and joy.”

you sink against the wall, embarrassment coursing through you, as you down the rest of your glass. and then three more, which is accompanied by weary looks from miwa. and after finishing off the entire bottle – an hour and a half into the party without seeing satoru – you’re set on leaving.

and it’s only on your rageful stomp out the door, well past tipsy, that you find the godawful man of the hour, leaning against the wall.

it’s enough to fill you with a rage. because he’s leaning against the wall, shirt slightly unbuttoned, and smiling brightly at whichever girl he’s talking to. you’re almost positive that it’s probably her flowery perfume that you’re smelling on his neck at the time, that she’s who he sees when he’s not with you, and it’s like pins and needles in your stomach.

and you almost make your escape, before he catches you on your way out.

“y/n? wait, y/n!”

you’re one step out the door, before he grabs your bicep, and pulls back, giving you a bright grin.

“i didn’t know you were here yet. i’ve been waiting, come here, c’mhere.” satoru mumbles, quickly rushing you over to the group of three people standing by the door, who all turn their heads for you.

you groan as you turn to the group of them. it’s the same tired eyes as before – that you now know belong to yuuta – and two strangers you’ve never seen before. a guy almost as tall as satoru, with swooping bangs and a manbun, and the girl – who you can’t stand to look at, with perfect beach waves swooping past her shoulders.

and what you can’t help but notice is a sparkling, silver postage stamp necklace around her neck. the same one around yours, that you had been fidgeting with since satoru gave it to you weeks ago.

“here’s your drink, satoru.” the girl states, handing him a glass of white wine that he takes.

it’s enough to make your rage bubble to the surface.

“the lady of the hour, guys! this is y/n, she’s my –”

you scoff.

“are you kidding?”

“hm?”

“lady of the hour? for what, your jokes?”

you watch as satoru’s face drops, before he sets the glass of wine down on the closest table.

“huh? what do you mean? i wanted to introduce you to ieiri, i know you’re going to love her.”

you can feel the tears accumulating in your eyes, that you’re almost positive that satoru notices, because his face visibly droops even more, this time replaced with genuine concern that sends a pang in your chest that has you wrestling your wrist out of his hold.

“you…you’re so mean, satoru.”

“baby, what?”

“don’t…why are you calling me that? every morning you wake up next to me and you’re still not my baby. that’s not exactly fair. you smell like a different girl and you still…you still flirt with other people.” you whisper.

his eyes go wide.

“no, i –”

“every time you walk away i’m half convinced you’re just going to someone else you’re stringing along like me. i’m sitting there thinking about how you’ve walked hundreds of steps away from me hundreds of times and it feels like a thousand little cuts every time you do and it kills me that you don’t even care.”

you can feel that whatever is coming out is word vomit, like it’s started and now it won’t ever stop.

“i see you everywhere, because you literally come everywhere with me just to leave. any song you’ve sang is now our song, any movie, literally anything you’ve even touched. i can’t even wear certain clothes without thinking about how you complimented me in them and i’m stuck thinking about how you probably say that to everyone. you don’t even drink wine and you’re over here drinking some with this random girl at this party, when that’s my thing that we drink wine together. you gave her the same necklace as me, and you apparently asked me to come to but didn’t even tell me about to my face? then you sick your little frat brother to ask me if i like you just so you can….i don’t know, i don’t know what you’d do with that information!”

you watch as satoru pinches the bridge of his nose, only to turn to the three of them at his side, who are all shaking their heads dismissively.

“suguru. i fucking told you he had to be leaving something out.”

“well, i didn’t realize it was going to be like this, shoko. no wonder she won’t date him.”

you swallow hard, as you seem to sink deeper in the pits of your own embarrassment, which seems to be a record low.

“fuck. you…you said her name is shoko?”

geto offers you a smile.

“that’s right.”

“like satoru’s hometown friend? the…the lesbian?”

“that would be me.” she confirms.

you cringe.

“oh my god. i’m really sorry, i’m really drunk. i drank an entire bottle of wine after i accidentally talked to yuuta and i just –”

“well, i’d get drunk if i were you too. he smells like other girls? and flirts with them?” shoko asks.

“i do not! i don’t even know what you’re talking about. i didn’t even know she even liked me back till twenty minutes ago.”

“the necklace is a nice gesture. satoru, geto, and i all have these matching postage stamp necklaces from this shitty place in our hometown. we got them together when we graduated so we wouldn’t forget about what was important when we all go to college.”

you turn to satoru.

“and you just gave that to me?”

“well, i knew you’d take care of it.”

“that’s like…that’s like sentimental, satoru. you literally gave me your childhood best friends memento and that’s so-”

“well, obviously that seems like a little much if you think we’re just friends with benefits!”

you scoff.

“you’re the one who wanted to be friends with benefits.” you clarify.

“what are you talking about? you literally cringe away from any affection i give you!” satoru retorts.

“because you flirt with other girls!”

“not since you! why would i flirt with other people?”

“you tell me. i smell the perfume.”

satoru groans.

“that’s your perfume, dipshit. you left your hoodie at my house and it smells like you so sometimes i sleep next to it and then i smell like it. how do you not recognize your own smell?”

you pause.

“you do what?”

“not in a fucking weird way. i just miss you when you’re busy. you smell nice, it’s –”

“hopeless.” yuuta states, earning him a nod from suguru.

“you didn’t even ask me to come here with you.” you state.

“shoko had to be my date so she could come. i had to make yuuta drag maki in through a window because geto was his plus one. i just wanted you here so you could meet my childhood friends, who i care about. they’ve heard about you for so long that i just thought –”

“you talk to your friends about me?”

“an insufferable amount. though most of his agony seems self inflicted now, because he’s a fucking idiot.” shoko confirms.

“okay, let’s get y/n some water, yeah?” yuuta suggests, before shuffling the two of them off, to which satoru sends a grateful smile before turning back to you.

he crouches down a little, just so your eyes are level, as you frown at him.

“is this what that hamster in your brain is doing up there? overthinking literally everything?”

“you –”

“if you asked, i would have clarified for you. we’ve always been exclusive and if you talked to someone else while we were talking, i’m going to have to kill him.”

“don’t be stupid.”

“i’ll just send a threat! sign his emails up for scientology. he was talking to my girl!”

you glare at him.

“you…you’re so stupid, satoru. you confuse me so much and i just…you take up too much space. you’re everywhere – literally no part of me that you haven’t taken up and i just…”

satoru frowns, before pulling his hands around your face, and angling up by your chin to look at him.

“don’t give up now. it just got good.” he whispers.

“satoru.”

“cmon. let me lick all thousand of your cuts clean.”

“ew. you’re…you’re so gross, satoru.”

“okay, that was just a dirty joke. but let me make it up to you, really. i didn’t realize you…you were thinking all that. i thought you just liked me because i was sexy and because i eat your –”

“satoru!”

“please. let me into that hamster ball in your brain. i deserve some space.”

“it’s all boarded up. the hamster ball house burned down.” you groan.

he leans back, like he’s inspecting your face, before he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“dunno. i’m seeing some flickering lights in there. i can tell your hamster in there really wants me.”

“quit….quit calling me a hamster! you’re so…ugh. i have a headache and i’m drunk and i’m really confused and i just –”

satoru mimics a little salute, before he loops his hand around your waist and walks you towards the little bar.

“okay, test run. i’m on boyfriend duty. if this goes well enough, you give me a chance tomorrow.”

you squint your eyes at him.

“okay, water first. then i have two baby aspirin for you in my pocket. three kisses on the cheek if you won’t insult me after and a compliment if you won’t kill me.”

“really?”

“yuuta told me you downed a whole bottle. since you’re too mad to be handsy, you have a headache. but don’t worry, i came prepared. meaning i forced yuuta to find some baby aspirin or else. and also, kisses because you smell good and you’re wearing this pretty blue dress that’s the same color as my eyes and you’re about to meet my favorite people ever and you’re my favorite person ever, so this is a big deal.” satoru responds.

he’s rambling so hard that you feel like you can see the hamster in his mind working overtime.

“what’s the verdict?”

satoru’s voice is like a thousand bullets in your head as you smack him in the face, trying to silence the chattering coming out of his mouth.

“satoru. what…what time is it?”

“six in the morning. but it’s the next day and i need to know how my test run went.”

“your….what?”

satoru whines.

“no, no don’t tell me you’re too drunk to remember? my test run! to be your boyfriend?”

you groan, flickering your eyes open to the alarm clock on your bed, spelling out the time. 6:07 am.

“no, i remember. you need the answer at six in the morning when i’m hungover?”

“this is agony! i really get this whole thousand cuts thing now, this hurts. tell me.”

you push his face into the pillow, before mumbling it as quietly as you can.

“you pass.”

“huh?”

“you heard me. you passed. just…shut up, please.”

it’s his giggles you hear before sleeping and a warm kiss on your forehead, before you pass out again.

satoru as taylor swift songs masterlist

taglist: @invisible-mori @porridgesblog @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @luna0713hunter @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @gojoswifeyyys-world @cutiejg @chilichopsticks @torureadz @dreamxiing @mamamamamarga

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sailoryooons · 1 year

Note

Request: Alpha Yoongi x omega reader. Werewolves. Smut and fluff. Dom Yoongi and sub reader. Starting with non-sexual dominance like her kneeling at his feet. Then, kind of a fear/primal chase in the woods as foreplay. Smut. And then aftercare with nesting.

❀ Pairing: Alpha Werewolf!Yoongi x Omega werewolf! F. reader

❀ Summary: Your alpha wants to go on a hunt through the woods. Who are you to deny him?

❀ Word Count: 8,727

❀ Genre: A/b/o, werewolves, supernatural, established relationship

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Warnings: I have never used the word scent and smells this much in my life please forgive me for I have used it a million times, alpha/omega dynamics, Yoongi chasing through the reader for fun, light predator/prey play, sexually explicit content including unprotected sex (f. receiving), breeding kink, mention of ruts, oral sex (f. receiving) not a lot of foreplay, a ton of being in subspace and hormone drunk, reader is pretty much a pillow princess/borderline free use for Yoongi, a lot of slick and soft dom Yoongi/sub reader, hint at aftercare and nesting

❀ Published: April 11, 2023

❀ A/N: Hi okay so I re-wrote this like three times because every time I did it, I wasn’t getting what I wanted out of filling this request, but I think I finally have something that I am happy with! It went in a little bit of a different place, but I hope that you like it! I am super unused to writing werewolves and a/b/o and I had such a good time dipping my toe in - it’s something I want to write in the future where I have some room to world build and go crazy on word count hehehe. Enjoy!

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

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Trees flash by you as you run, hands pumping at your sides, heart thundering in your chest. A pack of rabbits startle as you run by, bolting into their little dens. The earth is damp beneath your feet, still saturated with morning rain. You almost loose your footing more than once as you spring over a fallen tree, dry-rotted and full of ants.

The pine trees are packed tight, shafts of moonlight painting the forest floor in spotlights of silver as you run. The low-hanging branches catch you on your flight, needles stinging your skin but not drawing blood. Still, you snarl as a branch cracks under your barefoot, sending a sharp pang through your sole.

You don’t stop, moving blindly toward the south of your territory. You don’t look over your shoulder to see where he is - you don’t need to. Even with a small head start, Yoongi is far faster than you are, and you swear the land changes at his command, putting tangled vines where you don’t remember them being, adding a hole to trip you up as you sprint through the trees.

Yoongi isn’t magic, of course. He cannot change the lay of the land any more than you can, but he walks among these trees and hills every night. Plus, you’re frantic in your runaway, your human instincts bluring, somewhere between wolf and person.

Run, little omega, Yoongi had whispered, pupils blown out, scent heady and hypnotizing. You’d only just come through the door to find him standing in the living room on the edge of pre-rut. Run and don’t let me catch you.

Except Yoongi is going to catch you. You can hear the squirrels in the trees chattering angrily at him as he crashes through the woods behind you. He doesn’t have to be quiet - he is the top of the food chain here, he has nothing to fear. And neither do you, really. You’re a predator too, a wolf born and bred in these woods.

There is only a single thing you are prey to and he is laughing manically behind you as he hunts you down.

Movement to your right catches your eye. Yoongi’s trying to cut you off, coming from the west of the woods to intercept you as you scramble south. You snarl and change direction, swerving southeast to put distance between the two of you.

“Ah, come on, omega!” he hollers behind you, voice closer than you expect. You move faster, desperate to outrun him.

This far south of your house is a ravine. You know that if you slide down the side and run east, you’ll end up in Jungkook’s territory. A place your’e definitely not allowed to go, especially right now. You throw caution to the wind anyways, making a line for the ravine, singularly focused on making the slide down.

You never make it, Yoongi slamming into your side and knocking you off your feet. You scream as you go down hard, but not hard enough to do more than jar your bones. Yoongi takes the brunt of your fall; you pressed against his chest, his back hitting the ground hard before he rolls.

Gasping for breath, you claw at him, scraping to move from where he has you pinned. He laughs, catching your hands in one fist and slamming them above your head. His grip and the sound of him snarling your name has you snap to attention, going boneless.

Yoongi is panting heavily against you, filling your space with his scent. Your eyes flutter as your chest heaves, trying to catch your breath. Every inhale has your sense flooding with Yoongi’s scent: pine and sage, edged with something heaver and muskier.

Alpha near rut.

It makes your head spine and for a second, your vision of him goes a little blurry. He lets go of your hands but you don’t move. He knows you won’t, pinned under the heavy weight of him as he straddles your waist, sitting on you.

Blinking the heaviness from your eyes, you look up at him and it feels like the world stops.

Yoongi’s round face is framed by dark, black hair. It’s a little damp with sweat, clinging to his brow bone. His feline eyes are sharp and wild, pupils dilated with the frenzy of the hunt. A single, dark scar mars his right eye. You used to feel a pang of guilt looking at it, a reminder of what being an alpha had cost him.

Now, though, you think of it fondly. You’ve traced it hundreds of times with your fingers, know every smooth and knotted surface of the injury. Yoongi is beautiful with and without it, lips glossy as his tongue darts out to wet them.

“You smell so good,” Yoongi growls, leaning down. You hold your breath as he leans toward your neck, nosing the scent gland there. Stars burst behind your eyes and you shiver underneath him, let out a whimper. He laughs, the sound low and scratchy in your ear. “Could smell you all the way from the house.” Yoong’s hands runs down your hips, skirts your thigh, and slips between your legs. He presses his fingers against your jeans. “Could smell this perfect little cunt for miles.”

A high-pitched whine leaves you as Yoongi presses harder, fingers providing the barest amount of friction. The ache between your legs is growing painful, your stomach twisting in arousal in response to the smell of him, the touch of him. An omega responding to their alpha in pre-rut, nearly on the brink of instrictual frenzy.

Forming coherent thoughts is difficult, especially when you’re mind is in a state that’s more wolf than human. That’s the struggle with werewolves, toeing the line between human and animal. Instinct and choice. Your body does not choose to respond to him on a chemical level, but you don’t mind. It’s Yoongi. Your Yoongi. Your mate.

“I told you not to get caught.”

You huff, irritation stoking you. He mouths at your throat over your gland, making you nearly pass out. “You’re faster than I am.”

“That isn’t true.”

Yoongi distracts you with a wet, hot lick over your mating mark. You let out a loud moan, not even trying to hide it this time. He laughs as you squirm under him, silenced when he growls your name. “Is that true, omega?” He asks, mouthing at your jaw. You can hardly understand his line of questioning as your thoughts and feelings blur. “Am I really faster than you?”

For a few moments, you don’t respond. Everything feels heightened, the sound of Yoongi’s voice buzzing against the corner of your mouth as he brushes his lips across your skin, not kissing you exactly. You’re hyper-aware of the smell of him, threatening to drive you into madness. Feel the way his hips press to against yours.

“Omega.” Yoongi’s voice is final.

“No,” you admit. “You’re not faster than me.”

“So you let me catch you?”

“I thought about it.” Yoongi nose bumps yours. Your eyes flutter shut as his mouth barely touches yours and you speak against his lips, “But then I decided I wanted to win.”

“And you were running to Jungkook’s hmm?” You wince and he hums, knowing he’s right. “Bad omega. Little wolves running into another alphas territory while they’re being hunted isn’t a very good idea, huh?”

“Would you have followed?”

“Of course I would. You’re mine. I would follow you into a fucking fire. Little Jungkookie’s territory is nothing.”

It’s a simple declaration, but you know what it means for an alpha to boldly claim he would enter another wolf’s territory, to break a line of demarcation. You can’t help but smile, leaning your head upward to press a kiss to his lips, hungry and tired of running from him.

Yoongi lets you, though you feel the shape of a smirk through the sweet taste of his mouth, warm against yours. Yoongi sinks his hips heavily against yours and you moan into his mouth, spurring him further. Your hands remain where he left them, outstretched above your head as he licks into you, no longer content to let you kiss him the way you want.

His kisses consume you. He takes your breath away, hand leaving the apex of your thighs to snake up your front, loosely gripping your throat. You feel dizzy. He doesn’t squeeze, doesn’t do anything but rest his hand at the base of your neck, fingers pressed lightly to the sides of your throat.

It’s comforting, having him smother you like this. You get lost in the wet tangle of his tongue, your skin burning up from the inside out. He rolls his hips into you, but it’s not enough. You need him, a fire sparking to life that burns hotter than you can manage.

A feverish need comes over you. Yoongi senses the shift. His kisses turn to bites, teething gently at your skin as he works you out of your clothes. You still haven’t moved your hands and when he glances at them, he grins.

Your eyes are only for him, shrouded in darkness as he pulls your pants down, then your shirt. Your eyes are sharp in the dark, able to see the rippling muscle of his arms and shoulders. The dusty nipples, the swells and planes of his chest and stomach. See the way his gaze is fucked out when he’s barely touched you, shuffling down your legs, hands skimming and grabbing the soft meat of your thighs.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, eyes dragging from the wet smear down your thighs, to your hands above your head. You whine under his gaze and he grins, feral and sharp. “So obedient for me.”

“You like hands above head until you say so.”

“I do.” Yoongi bows low, grabbing your legs and hiking them over his shoulders. Your world spins, feeling his breath on your cunt as he makes a low sound in his throat. “Fucking wet, just how I like it.”

Yoongi licks a sloppy path up your pussy and you gasp, head digging back into the grass. It’s almost painful, the need for him pulsing between your legs. He hums, sucking at your clit hungrily. Your toes curl and you hide your face in your arm, the urge to squirm away from the stimulation strong.

You’re an exposed wire under Yoongi’s tongue as he eats you out, messy and wet. He laps at your hole, eager to taste you, nose pressed against your clit, teasing. You whimper his name, thighs clenching, fisting your hands together as you fight to remain still. It’s nearly impossible, this stillness he’s asked of you. You want to reach down and thread your fingers through his hair, want to dig your nails in and scratch, want to pull him close and shove him away.

The sounds he makes are obscene, alternating between sucking loudly and flicking his tongue against your throbbing clit. It’s pleasure-laced pain. You want him to fuck you, to sink into you as deep as he can until you can’t do anything but take it. But you like this too, the way Yoongi’s tongue works your clenching hole.

A high-pitched keen leaves your mouth. He looks up at you, eyes half-lidded as he sticks his tongue out, making a show of licking your cunt top to bottom. Your tongue is heavy in your mouth as you mumble his name, speech slurred.

“Hmm?” he asks, grunting against you as he works you closer to an orgasm, which hovers in the distance. He looks up at you again, sees the tears lining your eyes. “You can touch me,” he murmurs, saying the world between lush licks between your folds. “Greedy omega.”

And so what if you are greedy. Yoongi gives you everything you want. He makes a grumble about it, rolling his eyes and sometimes acting like it’s a little inconvenience, but you know he loves it- loves this. Loves letting you get away with things when you ask sweetly.

Yoongi’s hair is silky and a little sweaty as you run your fingers through it, nails scratching at his scalp the way he likes. His moan is muffled against your pussy and you wriggle beneath him. It feels so good, your stomach in knots. Your limbs begin to tingle and you feel that tight, squeezing feeling in your core, clenching hard.

You squeeze your eyes shut. Dig your nails into Yoongi’s scalp and he growls at the pain. You think your breaking skin, nails turned into claws, limbs shaking as your orgasm tightens and tightens until it feels like you can’t breath, like the world is going to crack in half.

And then it breaks. Your orgasm floods out of you in a rush, your muscle spasming so hard that you scream. Heels digging into the dirt, fingers tangled in Yoongi’s hair, head whipped to the side, cheek pressed into the ground and eyes squeezed shut so hard you see colors exploded behind your eyelids.

Heavy-limbed and feeling drunk, you drop your legs open a bit. Yoongi’s hands are on your hips, flipping you over. You don’t have the strength to hold yourself up, hands buckling under you, face pressed to the back of your palms. He says something that you can’t hear, your head still swimming in the clouds.

Every one of your joints feels melted, unable to lock together to support your weight. It doesn’t matter. Yoongi does it for you, lifting you up so that you’re on your knees, thighs spread wide. Air cools the wet mess on your legs. You realize you’re dripping past your knees.

Yoongi’s palms feel like fire on your flushed skin. He wraps and arm around your waist, pulling you back to his chest, the other looping under your arm so he can grab your neck firmly. This time, he does squeeze, fingers placed perfectly on the sides of your throat.

Everything around you feels like cotton candy fuzz, fluffy and sweet. Your head lolls back, resting on his shoulder as his teeth find your shoulder, nipping your skin. Behind you, his cock slides gently between your folds, making you hiss.

“Gonna fill up this pussy,” Yoongi murmurs. “Gonna fuck you full, yeah?”

You nod your head. “Yeah.” The word slurs on your tongue. “Please, want it.”

“You’re already fucked out from just my mouth, omega.”

“So?”

He chuckles darkly. His cockhead catches your clenching hole and you whine, hands going to clutch the arm on your waist and holding your throat. “Have you no decency, hm?”

“No. Yoongi please, it hurts. Please just - please.”

“Shhh.” Yoongi places a warm, wet kiss on your jaw. “I’ve got you. You know I’ve got you?”

Words are too hard, so you nod. Yoongi places another sweet kiss on your cheek before he shuffles and thrusts into you, smooth on the upstroke. You gasp, breath knocked out of you as he slides to the hilt. Yoongi’s cock is thick and though you’re soaked, the stretch is intense, your walls clinging to him in a vice grip.

Behind you, Yoongi curses. His hand tightens, and it gets just a little bit harder to breath. Slowly, he retracts before snapping forward again, stroke slow but hard. He groans, focused on setting a leisurely and smooth pace. Every thrust of his hips makes his cock hit deep, punching the air from your lungs. With his fingers pressing against your throat, it gets harder to take in more air, making you light-headed, the forest spinning.

It feels so good, this blooming pleasure inside of you. Every time he hits your soft spot just right, you feel closer to madness. Yoongi squeezes your throat tighter. His skin is warm and sweaty, sliding against yours, the friction making your eyes roll back.

Yoongi’s teeth scrape your shoulder. Sink in just a little, not enough to draw blood, but you feel the sting. It’s good, pleasure-laced pain. And then he’s telling you to let go, to come around him. You deny your alpha nothing, eyes fluttering shut as you squeeze tight tight tight.

“Fuck,” Yoongi snarls. You come so hard he has to stop thrusting, your pussy clenching around him with everything you’ve got. You’re not breathing, air stuck in your lungs, blood rushing in your eyes, stars behind your eyes. “Breathe,” Yoongi pants, letting go of your throat. You suck in a sharp breath of air, flooding your lungs. “That’s it. You can take it, yeah? Can take it til I fill you up?”

“Yes, alpha.”

It’s a mumble of words. You’re not even sure if it comes out right. Yoongi holds you to him, doesn’t mind that you're boneless. Your fingers thread his where his hands grip you, squeezing as your head cradles against his neck. You nose him there, drawing all sorts of feral sounds from him as he chases his orgasm, driven to the edge while you scent him. He comes with a loud sound, maybe your name or something else. You’re not sure.

Yoongi smells like home. Well - smells like earth and come and sweat and trees and pheremones. But his smell is there, pine and sage. Wild and gentle. Earth and cleansing. You love the smell of him, you have since you met him.

“Rest.” Yoongi’s voice sounds faraway. “I’ve got you.”

Weightlessness takes over. You don’t remember moving and you don’t remember Yoongi pulling out of you and picking you up. You’re drunk off his scent, hormones throwing you over the cliff and into a deep lake, where you float aimlessly. Comforted.

Soft sheets slide against your skin. You turn your face and breathe in, smelling Yoongi everywhere. It’s warm and you smell you too. Rosemary and mint. Your scents linger together, making you feel at home. Loved. Safe.

Something jostles you a little. You slow-blink an eye open, realizing you’re at home, tucked into the corner of your room you like to use for nesting. Blankets of Yoongi’s are piled eye and there are shirts and hoodies that belong to him. Some shirts that belong to you. Things that remind you of the two of you, that feel like you both.

Yoongi is tucked behind you, breath puffing against your ear. His eyes are closed when you curve your head to look at him. “Sleep,” he rasps, not opening his eyes. “And thank you for the hunt. I’m not done with you. But I’m tired.”

You smile and close your eyes, drifting to sleep in the safety of Yoongi’s arms.

#yoongi smut #suga smut #bts yoongi #yoongi fanfic #alpha yoongi #yoongi x reader #omega reader #yoongi x you #bts fanfic #bts smut #werewolf au

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heartthrobin · 1 year

Text

please love me, like the wave does the shore

aaron hotchner x female!reader

wc: 7.9k

warnings: fake!dating, SO much pining, mentions of murder, only one bed, Hotch is very whipped lol, this is so cliché it should be a crime

an: the moment y’all have been waiting for! i hope you kids enjoy! this will probably become a lil series so stay tuned for part 2 :)

summary: murders along the glistening white coast of Cape Cod was not a good look for anybody. especially not the BAU. the case needs a turn around, a big break, but most importantly: a Mr and Mrs.

Portraits of grinning faces watched you from the whiteboard.

Women’s eyes twinkling. Husband’s grinning to the camera. At their wedding, in the woods during a camping trip, on a birthday.

"We have fucking nothing!"

Names and dates lined the edges of what used to be treasured memories in red marker. Memories each couple was not around to remember anymore.

"We have the profile." Hotch's voice was stern. It made the hair on your arms stand on end.

Outside, the ocean crashed loudly against the shore. Seagulls gabbled in the distance near the dock.

"You know that's not enough."

Chatham was one of the most influential and wealthy suburbs in Cape Cod, if not the whole state. Discovering strung out bodies on the crisp white beaches almost five times that month wasn't fitting for the shoreline that housed some of the most elaborate mansions in the county.

The BAU had been in Cape Cod for nearly three weeks. Two weeks too long in the bureau's opinion: a view shared by the team.

Derek slammed his hand loudly against the white board, over a photo of a tall, cream, wood-boarded resort sprawled over the edge of the coast. Seagull's Rest: Couples Retreat and Spa.

"Seagull's Rest is the only place that connects them.” He huffed, pressing his finger into the printed photo. “Every day that passes is another honeymooning couple that's in danger."

Emily sighed somewhere behind you. David lingered by the edge of the desk where Spencer was driving his eyes over some Greek mythology textbook, working the human sacrifice angle he’d been insistent on sharing with you over coffee that morning.

Police chatter busied the space between you and the other agents.

"Morgan," you pressed, "we have no idea what that even means. It could be maids, spa staff ... for all we know, it could even be other guests."

The room was warm, bright: through the window you could overlook the ocean. A scene too beautiful to deserve the blood painted across it’s portrait.

Nights dissolved into mornings at the sheriff's station. Coffee mugs finding purchase in the maze of photos, medical reports, staff lists: all leading back to the one place all four couples were spending their vacation.

"You know what this means, don't you?" David's voice carried over from behind you. You turned to face him, his gaze set hard upon Hotch's.

The team leader's jaw was tight.

He looked like he was considering David's words closely, sucking in a breath like it hurt him to do so.

Emily's chair squeaked where she leaned forward in it, "What is he talking about?"

Hotch's narrow eyes turned to face the team again. "We need to go in. Work the case from the inside."

"Undercover?" You probed, jaw loosening in surprise.

The team hadn't worked an undercover project in almost two years. Everyone understood that they were a last resort, when general good-old detective work wasn't doing the trick.

Hotch nodded stiffly.

"We're gonna need a couple to go in. Two of us. The pair has to match the preference of the unsub."

There was a heavy quiet before a collective understanding, a collective resignation.

"Fine." Derek nodded. He turned to face the board again. "The husbands, what are we looking for?"

"Alpha males, domineering personalities." David lifted a photo off the desk, examining it closer. "All high-power careers, wealthy. They have a handle on these women. Other couple's in the course with them reported the husband being out of touch, unaffectionate."

Spencer rose to stand, "But no specific physical traits. Unlike the women, they share a specific appearance: the hair, the height, the body shape. They all look like—"

Cold passed over your whole body from the highest point on your head. Like ice water had flooded your shoes.

"Like me."

Teeth sunk into the corner of your lip, the metal taste of blood nipped at your tongue.

It was impossible not to feel the weight of the team’s gaze, how they flickered quickly between where you sat and the photos against the board.

Spencer shrugged, nodding slowly. "Yes, like you."

You chuckled softly, missing most of the humor in the situation as you sunk further back into your chair. "I guess that's settled then."

It wouldn't be your first time working undercover, but you couldn’t say you were as experienced as your colleagues.

You'd joined the BAU last, working every possible hour and chasing down every possible lead to try stay in one of the most coveted positions at the bureau.

It definitely wasn't the easiest thing you’d ever done.

Yes, the team was welcoming - Emily worked hard to make you feel at home, empathizing with you about the difficulty of transitioning into such a team: a team that knows each other's every move and every thought before they themselves have moved or thought - and Spencer was always a friendly face.

Derek was considerate and David was a genius in the line of duty, a marvel to watch work.

What really made it difficult, was Hotch.

In the beginning, he was wary of you. You could feel him lingering when you worked, every decision you made or observation you gathered was held under the magnifying glass of Aaron Hotchner.

With time, he eased up. Trusted you with more, scrutinized over less.

It was then that the next - considerably more concerning - problem began, when you began to miss having his presence over your shoulder.

When your eyes began to linger over his hands where they rested on his holster, or fixate quietly when he brought that steaming morning mug to his lips - sipping oh, so gently.

You were so sure he'd kiss with the same tenderness. The thought kept you up at night.

The feelings you so embarrassingly held for your boss were pushed deep into the corners of your brain.

You felt secure in the knowledge that you acted as casual as possible. Nobody had mentioned anything, and the thought of Hotch ever catching even an inkling of an idea would be enough to never walk back into BAU headquarters ever again.

The only person who really knew anything was Emily.

It had slipped after a drunken night out, on the couch in her apartment, your fat tears staining her blouse: "he's so fucking hot I can't do this!"

And there he was. Silhouette dark against the cast of the sunlight through the window, looking down at you from his towering height. "You're sure you're ready for this?"

His voice wrapped carefully around your throat and you almost choked on its softness.

You coughed instead. "Ready as I'll ever be."

He nodded once, turning back to Derek. "The male?"

Derek shook his head, "Rossi and I went over there a couple days ago to question the owners. They know we're FBI."

The room turned to Spencer, who blinked big hazel eyes at the room innocuously.

You did little to suppress the giggle that bubbled out from your chest. Your heart knocked loudly when you felt Hotch's eyes flicker over his shoulder back at you.

"You wanna be our dominant alpha, Reid?" Emily's lips tugged into a playful grin, clicking the end of her pen loudly.

Soft laughter permeated the room, David knocked Spencer’s shoulder teasingly.

Spencer flushed a light pink, his gaze finding purchase at the open space between his two feet. "Yes. Very funny."

It took more than a few seconds for you to realize that without Spencer, there stood only one other possible candidate.

Your eyes climbed the length of Hotch's long black blazer sleeve. When you reached the top you found him already looking at you. You shivered.

"I suppose that means it’s me then."

Purposefully avoiding his gaze, you found Emily staring right at you - a grin curling up at the corners of her mouth.

"Mr and Mrs Hotchner." David chirped, a mischievous edge to his words. "Congratulations."

You managed to squeak out a sarcastic "thanks Rossi" but Hotch stayed quiet. It made you want to sink into the crevice of your desk chair.

Instead, he turned back to Spencer.

"Get Garcia on the line. She needs to set up aliases and get us registered for the next couple's course as soon as possible."

Spencer nodded once before disappearing into the next room wordlessly.

Next, he turned to you - sucking all the breath out your lungs.

God, he made it so hard to act normal when he showed up in that fucking suit and that perfectly professional haircut.

"I want you to go over the backgrounds of the women again. Get a feel for the unsub's preference, there may be a personality type that he likes best. I'll do the same with the men." You nodded, going to stand and finding yourself always just a little too far from his chest.

"While we're away, the rest of you need to work off the intel we feed. Let's solve this before there's more bodies."

Agents began moving in every direction: out the door, back towards boxes of evidence, but Emily crossed the room to you: eyes wide and alight with mischief.

She grabbed your hand, pulling you from the room and leaving Hotch behind. "This is going to be so fucking good."

Your stomach churned.

Just shy of two days later, you found yourself sitting in the front seat of a Mercedes Benz - god knows the bureau has its ways - only two streets down from Shellshore drive, where tucked into the curve sat Seagull's Rest: the beautiful lodge on the Cape Cod coast that offered couple's courses for new and old marriages that delve into the depths of the soul and connect partners in love and touch.

At least that's what the pamphlet said as it stared up at you from your lap.

It sat at the top of the stack of case files, documents and photos hidden beneath. You pulled out the ID from the midst of the stack.

The photo you'd taken the previous afternoon glimmered up at you: Mrs Eleanor Thompson.

With less than a couple inches of space dividing you, in the driver's seat, sat Hotch.

Penelope was talking over the car speaker.

"I signed you guys up for the Honeymooner's Retreat. It's six days long, but I'm sure you'll be out by then. There are five other couples doing this course with you, you'll find their names in the documents I sent. All their records are clean."

"Garcia, I want you to cross reference all the course instructors with anybody who has—"

Hotch's voice faded from your surroundings, your brain stuttering electrically as your eyes raked over his outfit.

A tight fit black polo that was hugging his chest and chino pants begging for relief over those long thighs.

The last two days had been painful.

You'd slept almost nothing: tossing and turning for hours over the idea that you'd soon be in much closer proximity to Aaron Hotchner than you'd ever been. Too close.

Emily had tried to calm you down, "just ... focus on the case, okay? whatever happens happens."

It was easy for her to say.

Her legs didn't liquify every time Hotch sent small praise her way, like they did on you, and she didn’t have flashing images of taking care of him in the way he never does himself plague her in the small moments of quiet throughout her day.

Making him breakfast, or taking his blazer off after a long case ... undoing the buttons down his shirt—

"They're expecting you for check in at five o clock."

Your eyes found the digital clock on the dashboard, it blinked red at you: 16:47

"Thank you Garcia."

"Yeah," you added quickly, "Thanks Garcia."

"Good luck lovebirds." The teasing lilt in her voice did nothing to calm the high power washing machine your stomach had transformed to.

Heat rushed over your face.

You could feeling Hotch watching you from the corner of his eye. "Are you sure you're ready to do this?"

Sliding your stack of pages into the Louis Vutton handbag at your feet, you forced a smile to press up into your lips.

"To marry you, Hotch?" You feigned a soft sigh, "I've only waited all my life."

The bubbling in your stomach simmered only slightly when Hotch rolled his eyes, what was almost a smile teasing at his lips. "I'll take that as a yes."

The car rumbled to a start beneath you, the expensive engine purring.

"We know what to look for. Keep your eyes on the guests, the instructors, anybody we interact with."

It was hard to focus on Hotch's advice when his wide hands were gripping the steering wheel so tightly.

But you nodded anyways.

It felt like less than a few seconds before the car was being pulled into a luxurious white cobblestone driveway. A sign etched in ivory-coloured wood overhead marked the road: Welcome to Seagull’s Rest.

Bellboys stood in the distance under a grand arched entrance in cream uniforms, luxury cars stretched out in every direction of the parking lot.

The car rumbled to a stop. A valet attendant was already approaching before you’d even a second to gather what was left of your courage.

Hotch turned to you, slow and deliberate as was his manner, leaning precariously over the console. "Remember, we're being watched."

The door opened abruptly on your side, you glanced up to meet the face of the young man holding open the door. He couldn't be older than twenty.

He smiled. "Good afternoon and welcome to the Seagull's Rest."

Your eyes flickered back as Hotch climbed out from the other side, you smiled up at the boy before lifting the end of the olive-green sundress you'd been coerced into wearing and stepped out.

Hotch had rounded the car before you'd even straightened out. He tossed the keys at the attendant.

You were taken aback by how quickly he could escape his usually impeccable manners.

"Be careful with the luggage. There's things in there worth twelve times your salary."

You sucked in a sharp breath when he took your hand into his, sliding his fingers between yours. His palm was pressed so firmly you thought you might collapse.

He made matters worse when he cleared his throat loudly, "Come on, honey, let's go."

The reception was a bright open room, preceded by a tall oak arch, and a high ceiling loomed over the expensive wood of the front desk.

A small framed woman stood behind it, smiling as you approached. "Good afternoon, welcome to Seagull's Rest."

Hotch only nodded curtly in greeting, pulling you abruptly up against his side so that his hand wrapped over your waist. You only hoped he couldn’t hear your heart thumping hysterically against your ribs.

"James and Eleanor Thompson." He grumbled, "We're here for the Honeymooner's Retreat."

"Of course sir, if I could see some identification please?"

Hotch slid over the two fake ID's and the woman began to tap away at the computer.

Your eyes slid up to the view from the window beyond the desk, how the sun was almost setting over the ocean visible through the crystal-clear window.

Unsure if it was driven by purpose or simply instinct, your arms snaked up to rest around Hotch's hips, letting your head lull against the side of his chest just softly.

His chest swelled. You tried not to read into it.

"Baby," it took a moment, presumable for Hotch to realize you were referring to him, but he hummed in response, not looking down at you.

"Hm?"

You motioned to the window, "Look how beautiful it is. You couldn't have chosen a better spot."

Instead of Hotch, the woman at the front desk spoke in response.

"We boast one of the best spots along our coast. The morning yoga sessions are spectacular if that's something you enjoy, and we have cocktail evening tonight at our restaurant on the beach." Her voice dripped in sugar, sliding the two ID's and the keycard to the room back over the counter.

"That sounds wonderful—"

Hotch's stern voice pierced through your own, "Yes, well, we'll see."

The woman - Leslie, as her tag suggested - glanced carefully between Hotch and yourself. She offered you a quietly sympathetic look before meeting Hotch's face again.

"Y-Yes, of course sir."

You stayed quiet after that, allowing her to direct James and Eleanor to their room. Second floor at the end of the hallway.

Hotch huffed dramatically, grabbing the cards from the desk.

His hand slid from your waist and you almost had enough time to mourn the loss of his warmth against your side before that large hand wove itself back between yours - simultaneously warming and chilling every blood vessel in your body.

Hotch pulled you in the direction of the elevator. Nothing was said between you, only the swish of your dress and the heavy step of his leather shoes against the floors.

You two followed the corridor as instructed, gaze flickering curiously up to your fake husband every few moments before your interest caught the better of you.

"You're a little too good at playing the asshole, James." Your hand squeezed gently against his, "Something you want to tell me?"

He shook his head, "Nothing comes to mind."

The luggage was already waiting at the foot of the bed when Hotch pushed the door open, allowing you to step in first.

A gasp escaped you.

The room had to be the most exquisite thing you’d seen in all your life.

It was lined in crisp white and cream decor, a velvet couch along the one wall and a sprawling balcony that overlooked the ocean - the sound of the waves filling every crevice of the space.

There was a thud and you turned to find Hotch opening his briefcase, pulling out the neatly packed pressed shirts that lay within.

"Hotch—"

Quicker than it took you to blink in fright, Hotch's hand closed over your mouth. He shook his head, tapping his ear. "Wires." He mouthed.

You nodded quickly, feeling stupid.

His hand dropped and embarrassment flushed hot over your neck. You looked away from him.

This wasn't a holiday and Hotch wasn't your husband.

Eight people were dead.

Unease burnt at your chest, the same kind that had been building with every passing day and every piling body. You moved in silent to unpack your own handbag where you'd placed your files.

Hotch watched you carefully, as you leaned over the bag - silhouette forming against the red and purple tones of the picturesque sky behind you.

He stared a little longer than necessary, capturing the view to his mind.

It was something he found himself doing too often. Whenever he could find a moment, an excuse. His gaze would linger on your frame, your face.

When your fingers would twitch against your necklace or when you laughed a little too loudly for the Quantico office when Spencer told his terrible, very specifically not funny jokes.

But he was Aaron Hotchner, BAU Unit Chief, and nothing if not the epitome of professionalism.

He planted himself far enough from the line to where he could go about his day and pretend like he didn't lose sleep at night thinking about you.

"James, did you pack the charger?" Your voice was loud, but wavered slightly. You didn't look up to his face as you usually did.

Hotch tried to convince himself that he didn’t notice.

"Yes, honey, it's in the side pocket."

There was no charger and definitely no need to ask about one besides making casual conversation in the case that wires tapped the room.

Reminded of the very real circumstance, Hotch abandoned the shirts on the bed to move around the room.

Behind him you were doing the same.

He lifted lamp shades, checked under drawers, desks and the headboard for any listening device that could have been planted before they came in.

You shuffled around behind the television stand and at the railings of the curtain before slipping into the bathroom.

Twenty minutes passed in silence before Hotch climbed back to his feet from where he was crouched down under the bed frame.

"We should be in the clear." He announced to you where you still occupied the bathroom.

"Check what I found." You emerged, sundress flittering around your ankles.

He cursed the sway of the material. Somehow you'd arrived in that green dress to the sheriff's station and it had made every nerve connecting his body to his brain turn fuzzy and the man of steel that was Aaron Hotchner was having a harder time than usual keeping his eyes to himself.

You waved a white envelope at him, "It was stuck to the window."

Hotch took it from you, it was addressed to a Mr and Mrs Thompson.

"That's us." He muttered, finger sliding to break its seal.

You stood against his side, close enough to read the letter where he slid it out but also just close enough to make Hotch's head spin from the waft of your perfume.

Good afternoon Mr J and Mrs E Thompson,

We welcome you to Seagull's Rest and want to thank you for choosing to participate in our Honeymooner's Retreat. The next few days will work to strengthen the bond of love and trust between any new married couple, and of course up the intimacy!

Tonight we will be hosting a champagne evening where you will be afforded the opportunity to meet the couples that you'll be spending the next six days with.

Meet us at the Pelican Perch Restaurant on floor 1 at six o clock. We look forward to meeting you!

Kindly, Seagull Rest Staff.

The page crinkled beneath his fingers.

"This is perfect." He muttered, looking sideways at you. "It'll give us a chance to see the unsub in a social environment if he's here."

The unknown subject (unsub) was clarified before you and Hotch had left the station that morning.

David's voice still rung in his ears:

"Someone who is calm and casual in social settings, easy to get along with but holds a position that allows people to trust them. It's what he uses to lure two people at a time to their deaths."

You glanced up at the antique clock on the wall hanging above the television. "That means we should leave soon."

Hotch nodded, "Leave the packing, we'll do that when we get back."

The sun was disappearing behind the glittering ocean surface when the door shut behind you and Hotch again.

His hand slipped down over your wrist before sliding into your grasp, between your fingers and over your knuckles.

Hotch could spend all night convincing himself that holding your hand was imperative to maintaining your cover because you were married and that was in the best interest of the case, but it would still do little to calm the way his heart began to beat from his throat when your grip tightened gently around his.

You made small talk on the walk down to the restaurant, as any couple would.

Mentioning the spa and the interior designs of the glamorous hallways you passed on the walk down to the Pelican Perch restaurant on the water.

The views of the lodging was almost nothing compared to when you two walked under the green vine archway into the restaurant.

Hotch heard your little gasp beside him and was sure it made his heart grow two sizes.

Above your heads hung a glittering maze of white fairy lights overviewing a large wooden floor with tables set in every corner. The bar glittered with bottles of every colour, size and shape that lined the shelves and the wide stacking doors were opened out onto the shoreline.

A soft jazz played and near the center of the room, ten chairs were stacked in a semi-circle around a small podium.

"This is so beautiful." You whispered, almost so soft he didn't hear it.

He looked down at you, enamored by the way the lights reflected off your eyes and your lips were parted in surprise.

"It is." But his eyes never left you.

Already, three or four couples had taken seats, keening over each other as if they two were the only people in the room.

It was almost six. Hotch tugged your hand gently in the direction of the expensive looking chairs, leaning down close to your ear: "Keep your eyes on the people."

You giggled as if he'd said something naughty, putting on a good show for the surrounding guests before leaning down to sit.

The lull of the music in the room almost convinced you that it was all real.

That as you sat and Hotch settled his arm over your thighs, pulling you close against him: that it was because he wanted, not needed, to be there.

Your eyes flickered over the people, a man and a woman were ushering people to take their seats and a tall thin waiter was sauntering around with a tray of champagne glasses.

You took two from his tray, handing the other to Hotch. He gave you a look to remind you to be careful, you could practically hear him chiding "remember, we're on the job."

The champagne was as close to velvet as you'd ever tasted, sliding down your throat far too easily as the man and woman took to the podium in front of you.

The room quietened.

"Good evening to all our lovely young couples!" The man's voice was smooth, warm.

He was older, every spit of hair from his body a stark shining white. The woman was the same, they matched the decor of the resort in the cream beach sets they adorned.

Wrinkles crinkled around her eyes when she smiled, "We're so glad to have you with us. Thirty years ago, we opened the Seagull's Rest to help any couple who felt they needed a place to connect with nature and each other, and since then it's become not only a home to us - but a home to every couple who steps through our doors."

You met Hotch's eye. Owners.

Laurie and Howard Ralph. The founders of the Seagull's Rest.

Howard spoke again: "every class is taught by a qualified, friendly and helpful instructor to make you feel safe in what Laurie and I like to call the education of love."

You'd seen their photos in files and on your tablet, somehow they looked even more pretentious in person.

While you knew you weren't looking for an unsub team, their demeanors didn't put them completely out of range for being possibly responsible.

At least that's as far as your brain could conjure up with Hotch's wide thumb rubbing circles into the side of your thigh - a motion you weren’t entirely convinced he realized he was making.

"We'd like to start off the evening with a few introductions, just to break the ice between you."

They were looking down the line of people, pointing to a Hispanic couple closest to the edge. "How about you two? Tell us your names, where you're from, how you met and your favourite thing about your partner."

The man stuttered, looking to his wife for support. She smiled up at him and you couldn't help the momentary swooping ache to have somebody to look at in that warm, soft way.

"Well I'm Alice and this is my husband Marco." She patted him fondly on the chest, "We're from New York."

"We met when we were kids, we lived next door to each other for fifteen years." The husband was a shyer speaker, but his adoration for his wife leaked through his words. "Before she left for college I asked her to be my girlfriend. The rest is history, I guess."

Laurie and Howard smiled plastically, like the grin was surgically attached there.

"That's lovely, and your favourite thing about one another?" Laurie pressed, before adding, "Remember ladies and gentlemen, this experience is about making yourself vulnerable to each other and to yourself!"

"I love how he can make me feel brand new after a terrible day."

"I love the way she knows me in little ways that nobody else does."

Slowly, the couples spoke down the line.

You were introduced to the Taylors, the Andersons, the Fletchers, the Schmidts.

As the line drew shorter, your breath grew faster.

Of course you knew your story, you'd had it drilled into your brain for the last two days, but your favourite thing about Hotch?

No, you corrected yourself, not Hotch. James.

Your brain fished for a lie, dipping past the bundles of things you loved about Hotch that could so easily be picked from the bush.

But would it be so out of line to admit something honest, something he'd never even realize was true?

Eyes fell on you.

Hotch cleared his throat, his grip over your thigh tightened.

"We're the Thompsons. I'm James and this is Eleanor. We're from Colorado."

His voice was strong, stern. Someone who didn't know Hotch might say it was how he always sounded, but there he held a jagged edge to his tone. "We met at—"

"Woah, woah," Howard interrupted, chuckling nervously. "James, you're running a bit away with us here. Why don't you let your wife tell us how you met?"

Hotch mustered the audacity to look affronted. "Alright."

You fought hard to suppress a laugh. Hotch was an abnormally good actor.

He turned to you, "Darling?"

You sighed, practically scribbling ditzy airhead over your forehead and lifting a hand to fiddle with the buttons on his polo, "Well, I met James in my last year at college—"

"Screwing the professor, very classy."

The whisper came from somewhere to your left and surprised you.

It was soft enough that you were sure Howard and Laurie hadn't heard.

The look on Hotch's face, however, proved that he had. He'd grown completely stiff under your hand.

You fought to regain composure, "H-He was working at a law firm that I was doing an internship at. It was love at first sight, right baby?" You patted his chest slowly.

He nodded, eyes darting anywhere but you.

The owners nodded, urging you to continue. "That's beautiful."

You looked up, met with the side of Hotch's face - he didn't look like he was going to speak first.

"My favourite thing about James is ..." your mind flickering between some cliché or just spitting out what you really wanted to. "The way he looks out for me. Always makes sure I'm safe, even if it's risking himself."

It was mild enough to pass off for just a casual comment but nearly specific enough that if he knew how you felt that he'd catch on.

He pulled his gaze from where it was fixated on the foot of the podium, sinking it into yours and making the room feel suddenly ten degrees warmer.

"My favourite thing about Eleanor is her laugh."

It was short and sweet and deep down you really hoped it was laced in truth.

By the time you looked away from your partner, the introductions had already moved down a couple. Judging by the way the tall blonde woman who'd just announced herself as Jade Atkins was staring at you, you could already gage that she'd been the one to make the professor comment.

You could still feel Hotch's anger radiating off of him. He was hard, tense and his jaw was set tightly.

Hotch was older than you, sure. You knew that.

It was one of the things that assured - plagued - you that he would never reciprocate your feeling.

He was mature and worldly, handsome in a way no man you knew could even remotely compare.

You were younger, not that much, but still. Enough that you could be looked at sideways by stuck-up bitches like Jade Atkins.

You knew you'd never be afforded a chance ... but then why did Hotch look so angry?

He knew he was older, but he also had to know that he left a trail of swooning women wherever he went?

"James ..." you whispered.

He looked quickly down at you, clearly of the impression that it was enough of a response.

"What's wrong?"

The word looked like they hurt forcing itself from his mouth. "Nothing."

You bit the corner of your bottom lip slowly, turning over his response in your mind.

Before you could find the sense to stop yourself, you reached up and took Hotch's jaw into your grasp, pulling it down closer to your face.

Following hesitantly until he was practically leaning over, you whispered into his ear: "ignore her, she just wishes her husband wasn't a cheating alcoholic."

You pressed a warm peck against his upper cheek, close to his eye and pretended that the brush of his almost-there stubble didn't make your heart swoop down into your stomach.

Letting go, Hotch straightened out again. He looked calmer, almost like he could smile.

His eyes flickered over the man, taking in his form. It took him a moment before he whispered back, "You're right."

Within a couple minutes, the last of the couples finished their introductions and the Ralph's were speaking again.

"Thank you all, again, for coming. Please, spend the rest of the evening getting to know each other, enjoying more of our champagne—"

"Imported straight from France!" Howard interjected and the couples laughed sporadically,

"—and savor the rest of your week."

Around you, couples rose from their seats. You detangled yourself from Hotch and did the same.

Initially, you had the full intention of floating around the room together, connected at the arm to analyze the guests quietly.

However, almost immediately, the women had dissected from their husbands to form a small group by the balcony.

The men had done the same, converging near the bar.

Blinking in surprise, you look up to Hotch for further instruction.

He nods towards the women, "You should go join them."

Your face crinkled in reluctance, "Don't make me go over there, James ... our friend isn't even supposed to be a woman."

Amusement was alight in his brown eyes, but his mouth remained a thin line.

"Then," he almost made you jump when his wide hand closed softly over your cheek, dragging the side of his thumb down your face, "go enjoy the company. I'll focus on the men."

Sparked by Hotch's warm touch, slightly dizzy on it, you nodded softly before turning to the women.

It was cool out on the balcony and the women greeted when you joined the circle.

You took a long gulp from your second glass of champagne, listening only half-committed to Patricia Anderson's story about their new condo on the Los Angeles beachfront.

"So, Eleanor was it?"

Recognizing the voice as the one who'd whispered brashly behind you not more than twenty minutes previously, you turned to the woman.

Your grip tightened around your champagne glass.

"Yes. Jenna, right?"

The woman gathered the nerve to look affronted, her tennis skirt swayed with the breeze over long bronzed legs.

"Jade, actually. Jade Atkins." She cleared her throat, "My husband is Richard Atkins, he owns all the Sonja Hotels north of the equator, I'm sure you've heard of him."

Another woman - Anne Schmidt - indulged her. "That's amazing, Elijah and I stayed there a couple months ago in Switzerland."

Jade nodded, looking proud, but seemingly intent on swerving the conversation your way.

"Speaking of husbands, yours is quite the catch isn't he?" The chatter of the other women dimmed slightly, the wives sensing the change of direction.

Taking another necessarily big gulp of your champagne, you nodded. "Indeed."

"He's very handsome ... how did you manage to tie him down?"

Her words dripped in condescension.

"Just got lucky, what can I say?"

Jade nodded, twisting a long golden strand between her fingers. Heat was beginning to curl at your cheeks.

"And he's so much older," she laughed airily, lifting her glass to sip at her drink, "but I guess that life insurance money makes him all the more attractive, hey?"

"Oh definitely. He also got a huge penis which helps."

Jade choked loudly around her glass and the women around you burst into fits of high-pitched laughter.

"Don't mind her," Imani Taylor pulled you aside, "All the Botox has gone to her brain."

You smiled kindly at her.

"So a lawyer you said, what's that like?"

Across the room, Hotch was sitting through a similar game of verbal tennis.

A circus of who's car is newer, bigger, better, who's company makes more money or sells more stocks.

He doubted he'd ever been so bored. That's maybe why his eyes flickered so often to where you were talking animatedly with a short woman in a hijab.

A heavy hand against his shoulder sucked him back into the conversation.

A sandy-topped man who Hotch quickly identified as Elijah Schmidt was patting him boyishly, "Don't worry about the girl, Thompson."

He didn't love the idea of you being referred to as girl but said nothing on it.

Clearing his throat, he shook his head vaguely. "Got to keep on eye on them. She can barely feed herself most days, only knows how to spend my money and crash my cars."

The words were bitter, like hot bile on his tongue but he insisted on maintaining a mutual expression. Nobody promised that playing an asshole was going to be any fun.

A handful of the men grimaced at his comment, while the rest just tutted offhandedly.

While the men were far from the nicest he'd met, in the couple minutes he'd spent with them, Hotch was almost sure that his unsub was not among them.

Despite most of their more than patchy backgrounds - mostly corporate scuffles, dug up by Garcia - none of them spoke with the ease that the suspect needed to have, the charisma and the trustworthy character. Hotch's energy was better placed elsewhere.

"Barely feed herself?" A gravelly chuckle filled the space, "Sure doesn't look like it."

Hotch's eyes narrowed on the short bald man laughing to himself, glancing over to where you stood across the room - a fat cigar between his fingers.

He recognized him as the man who sat with the woman who'd commented when you spoke. Richard Atkins.

Turning his whole body to the man, towering over his structure, Hotch's face twisted - his stomach contents boiling hot at the comment.

"I beg your pardon?"

Pulling at the cigar, the end lighting up, the man shrugged. "Just saying, y'know, she doesn't look like she's skipped a meal anytime recently—"

The expression curling onto Hotch's face must've been cause for alarm, if not the way his fist tightened at his side, because almost immediately two other men stepped in.

One at Richard's side, "Hey, hey, Richard, that's enough man."

The other patting Hotch's shoulder, "Thompson ... he's had a couple drinks, just let him go."

Richard seemed to find the situation amusing because he was chortling still to himself. "Of course, of course. My bad, just locker-room talk you know. No harm, no foul."

Seething white anger was tugging on every muscle in his body, and he fought hard to maintain composure - taking a cautionary step towards Richard Atkins.

"I'd watch how you talk about my wife if I were you. Otherwise we're going to have a problem."

Atkins only huffed, turning back to his friend and his cigar. The conversations started up again around him, but Hotch had lost interest.

His wrist watch told him they'd been standing there for almost an hour.

Cleaning out the bottom of his glass, he set it down on the nearest table before excusing himself, offering handshakes and a couple shoulder pats before moving towards the women.

A handful of men followed him, clearly keen to leave as well.

He found you by the railing, laughing gently at something the woman across from you said.

Hotch's arm slid over your waist from behind, dipping his head closer to your ear: "ready to go?"

You nodded, offering a quick goodbye to the woman and some others.

The walk back to the room was quicker than he remembered, or maybe it was the light buzz of champagne against the side of his head and how you were humming something that sounded like Etta James that made it feel too fast.

On return, the prospect of unpacking awaited.

"Anyone interesting among the husbands?" You asked from across the room, lifting shirts and dresses to stack into the open cupboard.

Hotch shook his head, dislodging the secret compartment at the bottom of his suitcase where the case files had been hidden. "The unsub isn't one of them. They're all, for lack of a better word, assholes. Nobody trustworthy enough to follow to your death."

You chuckled lightly, "The women were alright. Except for this one woman, that one who whispered that rubbish when we introduced ourselves."

Hotch's stomach turned at the thought of the woman's words. Screwing the professor, really classy.

The implication on your character made his blood boil.

"Let me guess, Atkins?"

You nodded, "How'd you know?"

"Her husband's a real piece of work too. I'm gonna find something to arrest him for before the end of the week."

Your giggle permeated the space and it worked to ease the knot in Hotch's stomach.

"Don't be so dramatic, James." You draped a towel over your arm, "Mind if I grab the shower first?"

"Of course." Hotch nodded, desperately trying to fan out the image that was quickly rendering in his mind of you in the shower. "I'm gonna phone Garcia."

The bathroom door clicked behind you and you sighed into the emptiness of the room.

You took your time showering, enjoying how the hot water eased the tension over your shoulders, before drying off and slipping into the most appropriate pair of pajamas you'd brought along.

It took some convincing to let yourself pack the silk shorts and tank top, after all: you would be sharing a room with your boss.

Quickly after you'd walked back into the room, Hotch had slipped into the bathroom himself with a towel and pair of pajamas hanging over his arm.

Images of all the people you'd met that very evening sifted through your mind like a deck of cards, flipping through them and filtering the ones you knew couldn't be involved.

The spray of the shower was loud and your mind reached precariously for an image of what Hotch looked like under the fancy head in the shower that had more than enough space for two ... how the hot water was probably gliding over his long strong arms, down his chest and through the happy trail at the base of his stomach leading down towards—

The water shut off and silence echoed across the room.

You heard shuffling behind the door, wondered quietly what he could be doing, but pulled your eyes back to the case file.

The list of connections between the victims and current guests were numerous, too many to be significant as people in this wealth category generally moved in similar groups.

The door clicked open.

"Put that away, you should get some sleep."

"I—" You looked up to meet Hotch's eye and almost swallowed your tongue.

His hair was still wet, drooping over his forehead in a way you'd never seen before, and his blue t-shirt stuck to his chest with dampness. He wore plaid shorts that exposed those long legs that had been so criminally hidden beneath his usual suit pants.

He looked so ... domestic, and it set every nerve ending in your body alight.

"I ... yes, boss. Was just looking." You set the file on the bedside table.

He nodded at you, a warm look on his face. "Want you well rested for tomorrow."

There was a short silence and the look cleared from his features to be replaced by another.

Hotch's eyes flickered between the bed and the couch, and for the first time in more than a while, a look of unsureness occupied his face.

"I ... I think I'll take the couch."

Your heart sunk.

"Why?" The question chased its way out of your mouth before you could reach to snatch it.

"I don't wanna make you ... uncomfortable, considering I'm your superior."

"I mean, the bed is plenty big enough for the both of us, Hotch." You stammered, desperate to be close to him. "It's probably gonna be painful to sleep on that couch anyways."

He hesitated.

"U-Unless you think it's weird, you can sleep on the couch it's fine." You wished you could sink into the sheets and disappear.

But to your surprise, Hotch nodded.

The bed sunk on his side as he lifted the covers, as close to the edge as he could from what you could see.

His head hit the pillow before he leaned over to flick off the light, you took it as a sign to do the same.

There was quiet for a long moment.

The door to the balcony was open, it was just too hot to close it, and the breeze curled over the sheets, wafting the smell of Hotch's shower gel into your face.

It took all you had within you not to sigh loudly and dig your face into his neck.

You thought the conversation had closed for the evening, but Hotch surprised you when his voice emerged from the darkness.

"You did well today. I know you were nervous."

A smile tugged at your lips. He could read you better than you thought he could.

"You've got a lot more practice at the husband thing than I do at the wife thing."

You could almost see the outline of his face against the light of the moon.

"Well, I hope this wife ends up better than the last one."

The memory of finding Hotch's ex-wife's body came starkly into view.

"O-Oh, Hotch." Your hand came to your face in embarrassment, "I'm sorry, I-I shouldn't have—"

"Hey, hey," he stopped you, "it's my fault. It was a bad joke, I shouldn't have made it."

You couldn't help the small giggle that escaped you, "I've never heard you freestyle a joke before, Hotch."

"Wasn't good?"

"It was terrible." You managed around the now growing laugh.

"And yet you're still laughing. Isn't that the goal?"

You shuffled over in the sheets to face him, even though you couldn't see much - the thought that he lingered there in the darkness comforted you.

"Not at that really bad attempt at a joke, I'm laughing at you."

Maybe it was your imagination, but you swore when the light from the lighthouse flickered quickly over Hotch's face that he was grinning.

"I'm glad I amuse you."

"Come on Hotch, you're telling me you don't have a single good dad joke?"

He was quiet a long moment, and for a second you thought you'd pressed too hard.

"Why do you never see elephants hiding in trees?"

Absolutely surprised by the question, you shook your head in the darkness. "Why?"

"Because they're really good at it."

The light from the lighthouse hadn't passed over his face again but now you were sure he was smiling and every muscle in your body twitched to grab his face in the darkness and kiss him until he was oxygen depleted.

"That's the worst joke I've ever heard, Aaron." But you shook with small laughter.

"Worse than the dead wife joke?"

"Okay, maybe not that bad."

Quiet fell again.

"You should go to sleep. We've got a long day tomorrow."

Fishing for the sheets, you lifted to tuck them under your chin. "Goodnight James."

"Goodnight."

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#Aaron Hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotch x reader #criminal minds #fake dating #criminal minds fanfiction #Spencer Reid #emily prentiss #David Rossi #Derek Morgan #penelope garcia #only one bed #mutual pining

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