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muniimyg · 5 months

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6.5: baby 》 series m.list

note: oh my gawd ,, my friends !!! i’m so sorry for the wait! i was in my finals szn & tryna figure things out w my courses for my next sem … meanwhile ,, this entire ch has been brewing and consuming my mind like crazy! hope u guys enj ,, pls pls pls lmk what u guys think !!! i’m so glad i can finally push this ch out so lets fcking tawk abt it 😫

warnings: making out, mini fingering moment, raw sex, grinding, thigh humping ? ass slapping, pussy eating, 69, doggy style, cum shots & filming / sex tape vibes……… dirty talk / name calling <3 lol !!!

taglist request: send a request with the title of this fic “c2u” // DO NOT comment here or on the masterlist . it gets confusing and i prefer answering and tagging through asks !!!

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @taetaecatboy @pb-n-juju @miss-rainy-days @firesighgirl @whoa-jo @vantxx95 @pamzn @kakixaku @casspirit0705 @tae165 @defzcl @sopebubbles @leefics @ggukkieland @bebebutbetter @yoongimentita7 @boraength @era-genius @4ksj @vampcharxter @miss-jupiter @floweryjeons @taegijns @jeonqkooks-main

fic taglist: @mint--yoongs @ellesalazar @bloopkook

Jungkook was afraid of this.

From the moment he first made you laugh—oh, he knew he was fucked. Something inside him twisted and turned until his mind found ease from your very touch. Then, suddenly and all at once, every fiber in his body surrendered. Though he didn’t do the best job, he still tried. He tried his best to resist you and the feelings his heart felt. As his heart found rest with yours—it was then he realized that it was no use.

He was addicted to you.

It’s like he’s a child all over again, tasting his favourite chocolate bar for the first time. It’s like he’s a timid high schooler trying weed and getting so high, that he’s already making plans to do this again tomorrow. Or, it’s like he’s a man falling in love for the first time.

For real.

No bullshit, just the plain and boring truth. No, he wasn’t only addicted to you… Jungkook is falling in love with—

“Cute room.” You step into his room and shut the door behind you. The room is dim, only lit with his warm lamp light and a few candles placed around. It looked romantic and for some reason, it did not scare you. If anything, it entices you.

He was so thoughtful.

Before you can look around any further, you feel Jungkook’s body embrace yours. He wraps himself around you, holding you tight by your waist and digging his face into the crook of your neck. He kisses you behind your ear, causing you to giggle from the ticklish feeling. At this moment, you take in the scent of his freshly washed hair.

Is it odd to say this has to be one of your favourite scents? You’ve grown to like it. If anything, you can’t help but feel a little disappointed when you see him and his hair isn’t a little damp. Something about him being freshly showered makes your heart race. His damp hair is a symbol of his priorities… And that priority is you. Not to mention, wet hair has got to be the most romantic look any boy could have… You’ve always told yourself that as a child. Now, here you are: standing in a room with a damp-haired boy clinging to you.

Nothing makes you happier than this.

“I think Yuna saw me—mmfphh,” your words are interrupted by Jungkook’s lips. He greets you with a peck before continuing to kiss you like it’s his last dying wish.

His hands find their way to your hair, cupping your jaw as you kiss him back. Your lips sync together as if it’s been a lifetime since you two last did this.

Only it wasn’t—it hasn’t been.

It feels like it though.

“Miss me much?” you ask, breaking away from the intense kiss. He leans his forehead against yours, wasting no time and letting his hands travel inside your shirt. You feel his fingers trace over your bra, quickly finding the clasp and undoing it with his one hand.

Impressive, you must admit.

Should you be mad at that?

Jungkook smirks, “fuck around and find out.”

A small laugh escapes your lips as you raise your arms. He lifts your shirt over your head, leaving your top exposed. Your bra is barely hanging on and Jungkook can’t keep his eyes off your breasts.

“How about a hi first?”

“Hi ___,” he obliges. Then, he taps his fingers together, bringing them close to his lips. Like a menace, he grins. “Well, well, well… What do we have here?”

Playfully, you roll your eyes at him and respond by taking the bra off yourself. You fling it at his face, just enough for it to land perfectly on top of his hair. One cup covers his face and he takes a breath in.

“Smells like you.”

“Smells like my boob sweat, you pervert.”

He takes the bra off from his face and licks his lips at the sight of your bare chest. “I can keep it in my pants… You on the other hand… A few nights ago? Drunk? You were coming on to me. Hard.”

You huff. “I was drunk.”

“You also said you’d hold my hand… Without arguing with me.”

“What? That doesn’t count. I was drunk.” Your words come out fast. It almost sounds defensive and harsh. “Jungkook, I was drunk.”

“Oh, I know.” He shrugs, taking the high road. “No need to be so uptight about it. It’s okay to hold hands, you know? The same way it’s okay to be obsessed with me, baby… This is a safe space.”

The audacity! More than that, you wince at the pet name. “Who the fuck is baby?”

Jungkook ignores your question and takes a step closer to you. As he does so, he takes his shirt off. He then tosses his shirt to the side of his room where his laundry hamper is. As you turn your attention back to him, your eyes fall on his pelvis area as he begins to undo his pants. Then, he pauses when he notices your gaze.

“Do it for me.”

You raise a brow.

“Pardon?”

“Take my pants off,” he points at the floor. “Get on your knees and take my pants off.”

For a split second, you hesitate. Earlier tonight, as you made your way over, you thought about what kind of mood he must’ve been in. You’ve seen Jungkook happy, irritated, tired, and even hangry… But horny in a needy and demanding way? Boarder-line desperate? Never. His doe eyes and goofy attitude can’t fool you… You’ve wondered about this.

You’ve waited for this side of him.

Perhaps it was your curiosity that answered for you because, without breaking eye contact, you fell to your knees. Jungkook’s gaze lowers as you bring your hands to his crotch. You palm him, feeling his cock and gulping at how hard it already was. Faintly, you hear him snicker at your submissiveness.

He likes this.

Slowly, you undo his pants and tug them down. In his Calvins, his raging boner greets you. Just as you slip your thumbs in between the fabric to pull them down, Jungkook grabs your wrists and pulls you to stand up. You follow his lead, confused.

“I thought I was going to—”

Jungkook undoes your cargo pants buttons and tugs them down. He gives you no warning as he licks his thumb and slips his hand inside your panties. You feel his wet thumb rubbing your clit. Your breath hitches as he draws circles and then adds another finger into the mix. He deepens his rubbing, slowly but surely dragging his fingers around your folds. Jungkook then shifts his hand placement, quickly inserting a finger inside of you. The shock sends shivers down your spine and completely takes your focus. He adds another finger and it earns a lewd moan from you.

“Ooh my god—”

Then, he stops.

He takes his fingers out and examines the wetness. Your eyebrows furrow together, completely unsure of the pace he’s going at. How long would this last? Why couldn’t he just continue?

“Sorry, were you enjoying that?” Jungkook asks innocently.

It’s official: you hate him.

Dumbfounded, you shoot him a glare. “Maybe I was. Who knows? I wasn’t finished.”

Jungkook exchanges with laughter. “Finished? Five minutes in? Pookie, you give me way too much credit.”

You stick your tongue out at him, annoyed at how cocky he is. Truth be told, this suited him. The nasty comments and the edging… It feels like this should’ve happened before. It’s hard to explain but he just looks so comfortable with control. In a more unexplainable way—you can’t help but feel comfortable with it.

“Come on,” he nods towards the bed. “If you wanna finish, you should do it sitting on my face.”

His words make your tummy flip. Was he serious? The texts he sent prior to this.. You were so sure it was all talk. The most you expected was a quickie and a few nasty exchanges… But this? You don’t know what to think.

Jungkook lays on his bed first, gesturing you to follow.

“Are you serious?”

With a flat tone, he answers: “Why would I joke about this?”

To be completely honest, he was a little offended you weren’t taking him seriously. Of course, he’s serious about eating you out. This was no joke to him.

Crossing your arms, you look at him in disbelief. “You want to do everything you texted me? Jungkook, there are people downstairs. Our friends are downstairs and—”

“I know,” he groans. “That’s why you need to shut the fuck up and sit on my face already. The longer we take, the more they will wonder where you are. Didn’t you say Yuna saw you come up here?”

“Y-yeah,” you recall. “Maybe we shouldn’t—”

He hits his bed with his fist like a child. “Why do you always deprive me?”

You gasp at his dramatic question. “Deprive you? It’s just my body, Jungkook. Do you crave pussy this bad?”

Tilting his head, he looks at you softly. “You,” he breathes. “I crave you.”

A silence falls between you two, followed by a heavy sigh.

“Look, I’m never going to make you do things with me if you don’t want to. I’m only demanding tonight because I just—I really need you right now. If you want to go downstairs and find Yuna, go ahead. We can do this another time… I just thought you missed me just as much as I missed you.”

“Gaslighter.”

He chuckles, attempting to hide the smile on his face as you get on the bed. Moving closer to him, he watches your hands roam from his abdomen to his jaw. Placing chante kisses on him, he stutters his words. “I’m s-serious. It’s fine. It’s just pussy.”

“But it’s my pussy.”

“True,” Jungkook agrees, leaning back and watching you place yourself on his thigh. “So fucking true, pookie.”

You lean in to kiss him. His lips chase yours when you pull away, only to grind your hips. He feels your wet pussy on his thigh and he feels like he could choke on air. It’s torture watching you throw your head back at the sensation. You can’t help but embrace the feeling of relief.

“You’re not finishing on my thigh,” he mutters, placing his hands on your waist. He lifts you just enough for you to get off. Laughing, he squiggles down the bed so you have more space. Before you know it, you’re making yourself comfortable on his face. As you straddle yourself on, you make a confession.

“W-wait, I’m scared! I don’t want to suffocate you—”

“Shut the fuck up.” Jungkook snaps, unable to watch his tone. “This is literally all I’ve ever wanted so you need to shut the fuck up and let me have this.”

“Okay, okay,” you snicker lightly, as you sink into his face. “But seriously! I don’t want to crush—“

You don’t even finish your sentence. You’re cut off by the feeling of Jungkook’s hot breath against your pussy. Then, you feel his nose against your clit and the texture of his tongue brush against your folds. The feeling shocks you, causing you to lift yourself out of reflex. Just as quickly, Jungkook wraps his arms around your thighs and holds you to stay.

“J-Jungkook, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can. You can and you will, got it?” he hisses. “Hold the fucking headboard if you need to. You aren’t going anywhere until your cum is on my tongue.”

You do as he says.

You lean forward, grabbing a hold of his headboard for support.

Just as those thoughts immerse your mind, you feel him dragging his tongue across your folds. It begins slow and soft. It feels like kitten licks and if the word cute was a feeling… This was it. Then, he flicks his tongue and it’s everything but cute from here on out. You want to jolt, but you keep what Jungkook said to you in mind. Besides, there is no place in the world you would rather be at than here. Jungkook eats you out like he’s a starved man. He doesn’t miss an inch of your pussy and tightens his grip around your thighs each time your body twitches.

Biting your bottom lip, you hold in your moan.

He feels so good. His tongue against your wet pussy feels so fucking good—it’s almost comical how you were so hesitant to do this. Soon enough, you let go of the headboard and search for his hands. Like second nature, you and Jungkook intertwine your fingers together and finally, you close your eyes and give in.

You can have this.

You can have him.

“Y-you feel so good,” you confess shyly. “You make me feel so good.”

Jungkook smiles against your pussy as you begin to roll your hips against his face. He knew it would take some time, but you’d eventually come around. No pun intended.

“C-close,” you utter in between heavy exhales. “Jungkook—I’m close! Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!”

You hold his hand tighter and push your weight on him harder. You feel him quicken the pace as he licks you and—holy shit.

Are those stars?

You cum.

Messy, wet, and hard.

Jungkook moans against your pussy, taking a moment to bite your inner thigh. Your legs practically shake, causing you to completely rest your weight on his face. After a few moments, you gather whatever energy you have left and shift your position. You turn your body around and line yourself with his cock. Jungkook stretches his neck out to figure out what you’re doing. Before he can comment, your lips are already placing kisses on his dick. Your fingers dig into his Calvins and pull them off.

“W-what are you doing?” He asks, voice shaking from anticipation. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew what you were doing—he just couldn’t believe it. He’s so fucking lucky.

“34 plus 35! Do the math,” you tease. “Keep it up, okay?”

Jungkook laughs, pinching your ass in response. “Keep up with me then.”

“Is that a challenge?”

He rubs the spot he pinched your ass and shakes his head. “I already have one point… Doubt you’re gonna catch up.”

“You could nut twice,” you suggest. Then you turn your head and shake your ass in his face. “For me? So we’re even.”

Jungkook bites his lips. “Then it wouldn’t be a completion.”

“I hate losing.”

“So do I.” Jungkook then wastes no time. He digs himself in you again, flicking his tongue at all the right times and places.

You groan, hating how much you love this. You try to focus. After pumping him a few times, you stuff his cock in your mouth. Moaning from how thick he is, you suck him off. Your cheeks begin to feel a little sore after a few minutes, but by then his dick is up. He’s as hard as can be and you can even feel his veins come out more and more. Every time you pull his cock out, you make sure to be as loud as you can. The pop sound makes Jungkook’s blood rush to his dick and the way you suck him so sloppy and hard only reminds him of the time you did this in his car. That night, Jungkook had never felt more attracted to you.

Your jealousy had consumed his every thought for days after.

Just like that, Jungkook’s stomach twitches. He feels a rush and it goes straight from his dick and out.

Like a loser, Jungkook cums and whimpers loudly.

“F-fuck yes. Holy shit, ___.. Just like that… Mhmm,” his breath hitches. “Fuck!”

Lips pressed against his dick, you let his cum spill on your face. Mostly, it hits your nose bridge and your upper lip. You shift off of Jungkook and kneel in front of him. He gulps, watching you with longing eyes. You stick your tongue out, bring your fingers to where his cum landed and taste it. You lick your lips and swallow with a cute moan.

“Yummy.”

He hisses, and immediately takes you by the waist. You giggle, unable to stop it from becoming a laugh. “Did that turn you on, pookie?”

Jungkook glares at you, swiping a bit of his cum with his thumb. Without warning, he then shoves his thumb into your mouth. As you suck, he cups the rest of his hand around your jaw and ravishes at your beauty.

A layer of sweat makes you shine, and the strands of your hair on your forehead never made you look so beautiful to him before. Your lips are perfect—puffy and tainted with his cum. Your eyes—god, your eyes… They’re smiling at him and he swears he has never felt his heart flutter like this ever.

As you sit on top of his dick, you roll your hips against it. When you do this, both of you watch it happen. You lean back, planting your hands on each side of his legs. Jungkook watches as your folds drag and split open against his cock. You can’t help but let out hitched breathes as you take in the feeling of his member. How his veins feel against you. How his soft skin feels as you soak it with your wetness.. All of it.

All of him.

“You like that, hmm? You like grinding on my cock with your pussy all wet?” He pries, turning up his dirty talk. “Come on, baby… You know how I like it, right? Why don’t you be a good girl and put it in? Sink into it like the little cockslut you are… For me?”

You moan, hissing his name. “Jungkook, shut the fuck up. Just enjoy this.”

As punishment, you rub yourself on him harder. Each roll of your hips has more pressure and his dick feels like it’s going to explore. He watches, hating you more and more as his head turns red. You hump his cock, moaning at the sensation.

“Holy shit,” Jungkook whines. “I’m not gonna last even if you ride me.”

“Loser.”

He chuckles, too lazy to put up a fight. “Let’s go doggy, please.”

You think about it. “Beg for it.”

“Very funny.” Jungkook doesn’t wait for your response. He tosses you over and gets on his knees. You arch your back and get taken aback when Jungkook swiftly places a pillow under your stomach. You turn back to give him a confused look.

“You might cramp.”

Huffing, you bite back. “I won’t cramp. You’re gonna nut before I cramp.”

He rolls his eyes at you and tells you to shut up. You bite your bottom lip, even more excited and eager to feel him. Doggy style isn’t your favourite… But for some reason, it feels hot. Doing this with Jungkook makes your mind spin and you aren’t sure if your playful remarks are masking how nervous you are. Underneath your teasing, you have no idea how you’re doing or saying any of these things. How are you even doing this with him right now? It’s fucking wild.

“Gonna put it in now,” Jungkook’s voice sounds a little parched at this point. “If you cream my dick, can I film it?”

His question catches you by surprise.

“Your face wouldn’t be in it… And y-you don’t even have to say yes. I just… I miss you sometimes and I think about fucking you a lot so a video would be—”

“I trust you,” you say, flipping to face him. “Honestly? I’ll film a bit of it. Bet it’ll get you off in the future.” Then, you reach over his nightstand and swipe on his phone to the camera icon. You hold it and press record. Jungkook smirks and you zoom into his face.

“Cute,” you laugh.

Again, Jungkook rolls his eyes but loves every moment of this. You go back on all fours and hold the camera out. It captures half of your face, a bit of your boobs, and your ass. Jungkook places himself at your rear. You watch from the screen as Jungkook spits on his dick before he pushes himself inside you. He thrusts a few times before you let out a moan.

You bite your lip for the camera and let a giggle escape in between Jungkook’s thrusts. His breathing gets heavy as he picks up the pace and fucks you harder.

“J-Jungkook,” you whimper.

“Louder,” he commands as he fucks you. You close your eyes, taking in how good he feels inside you. He’s throbbing. He’s so fucking big.

“Oh my god, Jungkook! Yes, yes, yes! Fuck me harder! Please, please, please!”

“Say my name,” Jungkook growls. “Say it louder.”

“Fuck me,” you ignore his request. “You’re so big. I’m so fucking lucky. I love it. I love your cock so much!”

He slaps your ass.

“Say my fucking name.” Jungkook pushes himself deeper into you, taking his time doing so. You hate how slow it feels now. “Whose making you feel this way? You’re so wet taking my cock in. Don’t be a bad girl… Are you a bad girl?”

“N-no,” you cry, feeling each thrust intensify.

“What are you then? My little slut? My fucking cock hungry slut? You won’t even say my name… You’re just a dirty bad girl. Fucking disrespectful at this point.”

“No, I’m not!” you feel tears begin to jerk in. “I love your cock too much to disrespect it—I,” you catch your breath, “I’m not a dirty bad girl!”

“What are you then? Because if you were a good girl, you’d say my fucking name… Say it. Be a good girl and say whose fucking cock you’re going to cream.”

“J-Jungkook!”

“Louder.” He pauses, leaving his cock to twitch inside you.

“Please… Fuck me so good I cream your cock…”

“No. My name. Say my fucking name—”

“Oh my god, Jungkook!”

He smirks.

Jungkook loves this so much. It does more than feed his ego—it ignites it.

He loves the way you say his name. He loves the way you call for him and how soft your tone gets when the sentence gets to his name. He absolutely fucking loves it.

“Yes, yes, yes!” you sob as he continues to fuck you. He fucks you rough, sloppy, and messy. You feel his dick slip in and out so easily that the friction is pure pleasure.

“Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook,” you chant. “I’m not a good girl—I’m just…”

“You’re what?”

“I’m your girl,” you exhale. “R-right?”

Jungkook loses it.

He fucking loses his mind.

Hastly, he leans over and grabs your tits. He fucks himself into you more and more, while biting your ear and kissing your neck. You moan and whimper, watching how hot it all looks on camera. Jungkook then rides his orgasm, not leaving you behind. He takes his phone from your hands and begins to film himself fucking you. The camera captures his dick going in and out of your pussy. How your ass bounces each time it hits his pelvis. It captures his breathy moans and his hushed, “fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“J-Jungkook—I’m gonna cum! Oh my god, oh my god.”

And you do.

You cream his dick. As he pulls in and out of you, the camera catches your creamy release on his dick.

It doesn’t take much after that. He isn’t sure if it’s just the heat of the moment or the fact that your brain is all fucked out by now—it doesn’t matter. The words that escaped your lips were enough. Jungkook cums hard and loud. He groans, hissing as he spills himself. You gasp when you feel his cock pull out of you harshly. Jungkook slips his one hand under you and flips you on your back. As you lay there, you watch as he pumps himself. He then aims his squirts of cum at your tits, and films as they land over your nipples. His breath is shakey from the relief and tiresome act and yours is the same. Except, you can’t help but let out a lewd giggle.

Holy fuck, this was such a workout.

Like earlier, you take your finger and swipe some of his cum off your breast. Bringing it to your lips, you lick it and smile sweetly at him. He chuckles as he films it and you laugh. Really, you laugh for real. Then he laughs and offers you high-5.

You laugh even harder, especially as you recall this being your reward. Even though it’s childish, you accept his gesture and feel special. Slamming your hand onto his, you lock them together and tug him towards you. He ends the recording just before he collapses on you.

After all that, finally, you two share a kiss.

A deep, soft, and much-needed kiss.

The addiction to you was no different than an adrenaline junkie getting ready to jump off a cliff. No, there was no turning back.

Your lips were addictive. The sweetness of everything your body would give him—it was like a fucking reward. Every saliva exchange, every drip from your pussy, to every tear shed while he digs himself deeper and deeper into you… He wants them all.

As sick as it sounds, he’d lick it all up just to have you in him even more. Just to be close to you. Just to be closer.

Every inch of you, he wants to devour.

Like a starved man, he’d fall to his knees and beg for an ounce of kindness. A chance to satisfy you—a simple kiss, deepened by the second. Hands intertwined as you spread your legs for him as he places himself in between.

As he leans his forehead against yours, he sneaks in a few pecks. “I can’t believe we have a sex tape.”

You roll your eyes. “Perv.”

“You consented,” he sings happily. “Do you want me to delete it?”

You shake your head as he makes himself comfortable. “No… Send it to me later though. I miss you sometimes too.”

A hearty chuckle escapes his lips as he snuggles into your embrace. You wrap your arms around him. Jungkook digs his face into his favourite spot—aside from your pussy—the cook of your neck.

Sometimes.

You miss him sometimes?

That’s a funny way of saying always.

The muffled sound of music blasting downstairs and people chatting becomes evident. Yet, you two stay silent. Laying together, fingers and legs intertwined. Naked.

When was it ever this easy? Why did this feel so right? Being with Jungkook has never been difficult—but when was it like this? When did things change? The sudden realization of the words you said while you two were intimate hit you. Were you really his girl? Did you want to be? Would he accept you if you asked?

Not only that but—when did you… When has it…

When did this begin?

These feelings.

There’s a tightness in your chest you can’t explain. Something that has been around for a while now. Long enough that you don’t remember when it first occurred and began to glow whenever he was around. What the fuck is up with that?

As he fucked you tonight, that’s all you felt. Your heart was glowing. The closeness with him—regardless of how nasty—it was so special. It felt so good and like nothing you’ve ever felt. As you trace random things on his back with your nails, you hear him murmur, “mhmm… Yup. I love it when you do this, ___.”

It startles you.

When did you begin doing this? Being so intimate with him? Scratching his back, drawing hearts with your fingernails… When did this all happen? He says it like this isn’t the first time you’ve done it. Then, it gets hot. Suddenly, you notice how sweaty you two are and how it’s way too comfortable in his bed with him. You sit yourself up, causing him to follow.

“I’m glad you came.”

“Pun intended?”

Jungkook pinches your cheeks and presses a kiss on your nose. “Whatever you want.”

You shove him away and get up from his bed. At least, you attempt to.

Your legs feel shaky. He quickly holds you by the waist and catches your stumble. Looking up at him, you huff. “Look at what you did!”

“What?” he panics.

“Jungkook, I can’t fucking walk!” You begin to freak out. “How am I supposed to go downstairs and act normal? Yuna is gonna ask so many questions and—”

“Relax,” Jungkook sets you down on his bed. “I got you.”

You sit and pout as he heads to his bathroom. When he returns, he has a black shirt and pants on. He holds a damp towel and collects your clothes off the floor. Jungkook kneels in front of you and begins to pat wipe your sweaty skin. First, your forehead, neck, and then he uses a face towel to wipe his cum off your breast. Then, he continues to pat dry your arms and in between your legs.

Without exchanging words, he helps dress you. The entire time, he was careful and used a soft tone whenever he did speak. For the most part, he just looked at you lovingly. That look in his eyes… You know in your heart you will never forget.

When you’re all dressed, a good enough time has passed for you to recover. Not fully, but just enough. Jungkook helps you get up and you hiss at the initial soreness.

“Round two?”

You hit his chest and roll your eyes. “You’re fucking insane, you know that?”

“Insanely hot?”

“Whatever you want.”

He isn’t sure what to do.

You laugh it off, but he doesn’t. He can’t. He doesn’t know how. As you two look into each other's eyes, he feels his heart race.

He should just say it, right? It’s easy.

Spit it out.

___, do you want to go out with me?

Or should he do a whole confession?

___, we’ve been doing this for a while now… And I think I’ve grown an unhealthy attachment to you. I miss you when I’m not with you. When I’m with you, I never want the moment to end. Being close to you has to be my favourite part of living.

But when he opens his mouth to speak—

“Should we go downstairs? I need water.”

He blinks.

“Y-yeah,” Jungkook reaches for the door. Then, as he turns the door knob, he stops himself. “One more kiss, please.”

Without a fight, you tiptoe and kiss him. Smiling into the kiss, he leans more into it and gropes your ass. You hit his chest playfully, signaling him to pull away. With great sadness, he does so.

“I’ll go out first.”

Your words cut him deeper than a knife.

Right.

You two aren’t dating.

You two are just fucking—in secret, at that.

“Why can’t we leave together?” he asks, sounding a little desperate. “You said it yourself. You don’t really care if people know or not… I doubt anyone will even care.”

Shrugging, you nod. “Sure,” you answer him. “I’m not trying to hide us or anything… I just don’t really want to be questioned… But, considering I can’t really walk right now…”

He laughs, feeling like he saved himself from sadness.

“Can we hold hands?”

You give him a face. “Don’t push it.”

“But you said—”

“I was drunk!”

Jungkook laughs, as he opens the door. Stepping out together, he locks his bedroom door as you continue bantering. Pushing past everyone in the hall, he can’t help but feel a sense of relief.

It was a small thing. Leaving the room together and even suggesting to hold hands—it was a long shot but here he was.

With you.

Lingering fingertips and all.

As you two head down the stairs, you’re immediately greeted by the smell of alcohol and sweaty bodies. Jungkook leans into your ear and whispers, “ahh… See? We’re blending right in.”

He’s talking about smelling like sweaty sex.

You bring your hands to your face, covering yourself and the shyness that rushes to your cheeks. He laughs and you hit his chest for the nth time tonight.

“Why are you covering your face? It’s like I didn’t just see you naked. Like I didn’t fuck you—”

“Oh my god!” you cover his mouth and look around to see if anyone heard what he said so bluntly. “I know I said I don’t care if people knew but can you relax? Don’t be so proud you fucked me.”

“Why shouldn’t I be?” Jungkook says sincerely. “Do you have any idea how admired you are?”

“So I’m a prize?” you laugh. “What a joke.”

Jungkook gawks at you.

“Do you have any idea how hard I’d try to win you if this was the fucking hunger games? I’d die for you.”

You snort. “Did you even read the series—”

“No,” he snickers. “But you get what I mean, right?”

“Not really…” you trail, turning your head in an attempt to avoid eye contact. You aren’t too sure where this conversation was heading and perhaps you aren’t ready for whatever he has to say next. “Can we—”

“I won’t get all gushy and all because you’re going to get all self-conscious and then retort by saying I have post-sex feelings—but just know you’re it. The standard. A prize. Endgame.. All of it. You’re it.”

Too stunned to speak, your lips curve into a small smile. “Jungkook—”

“___!”

You and Jungkook turn your heads and see Yuna approaching with Taehyung. She smiles brightly, practically throwing herself at you. You catch her, hug her, and tilt your head in confusion as Taehyung whispers something in Jungkook’s ear.

Jungkook lowers his gaze at you, gulping as Taehyung finishes his exchange and steps away. Then, Taehyung offers you a short lived smile.

“Hey, ___. How are you?” Taehyung’s voice is calm and sweet… It’s so opposite from how suspicious he’s acting.

“Good…” you say with your eyebrow raised. “What’s going on?”

Yuna tugs on your arm. “Nothing!” She sneers at Taehyung and gives him a warning look. “Way to be discrete.”

“You said to follow your lead! You aren’t doing much so I—”

“You’re the worst partner in crime ever!” Yuna scolds him.

You shake your head at the two, feeling at home with their bickering. Taehyung and Yuna act like such a married couple most of the time they’re together—you were used to it at this point. In between their bickering, you glance at Jungkook who hasn’t taken his eyes off of you.

For some reason, you can’t make out what the look on his face is. He didn’t look happy, but he didn’t look sad either. He wasn’t angry… He looked… Eager? Worried? In agony?

“You okay?” you ask, moving away from Yuna and to Jungkook’s side. He slides his arms around your waist. You let him.

Pulling you close, his lips shape into a pout. You cup his cheeks and squish them together. “Jungkook?”

“Wanna go back upstairs?” he suggests, resting his face on the palm of your hands. “Wanna get out of here? I’m suddenly not in the mood.”

“To what? Party?”

“To be anywhere without you.”

��But I’m here.” You reason.

He shakes his head, insisting something else. “But not you’re here with me… You know?”

You do know.

“S-sure,” you agree even though a part of you feels hesitant. Not that you don’t want too.. More like you’re nervous and afraid of what it’ll lead to. More feelings? More sex? You don’t think you can go another round. “Where should we—”

“___ baby!”

Your head turns to your name being called by a familiar voice.

From the corner of your eyes, you see Taehyung and Yuna exchange disappointed looks. Just as you’re about to ask what’s going on, Seokjin and Eunwoo approach you.

“Eunwoo,” you greet warmly. You step away from Jungkook and hug him.

“You haven’t been answering my texts… Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you,” he whines like a child. You laugh lightly and tiptoe to ruffle his hair. Though it’s only been a few months, he hasn’t changed. He still acts like a lost puppy. “Jungkook, what’s up?”

Jungkook dabs Eunwoo up with low effort. You give him a confused look, wondering why he was acting all sulky all of the sudden. From what you recall, these two are friends. As Eunwoo greets Yuna and Taehyung, Seokjin greets you rather drunkenly. Then, he excuses himself to piss. Everyone rolls their eyes at his behaviour but let him do what he needs to.

“Can we talk?” Eunwoo asks bluntly. His question breaks the ice, but wins a wide-eyes from you all.

You tilt your head. “What about?”

“Us.”

Instantly, Jungkook feels like he’s being punched in the face. No, he wishes he was being punched in the face. Being punched in the face would be more enjoyable than standing here in between you and Eunwoo.

He has only tried a handful of times to ask and understand what happened between you and Eunwoo, but he never pressed it. Right now, he wishes he had. If he had, maybe he wouldn’t feel so threatened right now. But he didn’t and he does. Jungkook clenches his jaw, trying his best to mask his feelings.

Was there still something between you and Eunwoo? Were you still texting him? Is Eunwoo who you’re with when you’re not with him?

All these thoughts and self-doubt flood Jungkook’s mind.

It sinks and his insecurities make a home as you nod politely and follow Eunwoo away from the crowd. Away from him.

Not even a goodbye?

As you slip away, Jungkook sighs. How did you do that? He feels disappointed and hurt—offended even. How dare you pick someone else over him? Though no feelings between you two were expressed or exchanged in a way where commitment and exclusivity would be the trade-off—still, this wasn’t fair.

How could you walk away? Like it was easy? Like you weren’t just with him seconds ago?

It aches.

It hurts so bad that it even his anger is weak.

No matter how much he wants to—he can’t blame you.

He never asked you out.

“I like the way you look at her,” Yuna comforts Jungkook by patting his back.

“Huh?” Jungkook snaps out of his thoughts. “What do you mean? Look at who?”

Yuna nudges him and gives him a ‘you’ve got to be kidding me,’ look. Then, she explains herself. “I always knew you were nice. Taehyung talks about the shit you put up with and the things you do to please people… Like how you joined the team again after they begged you to even though you felt burnt out… How you always limit your drinking so you’re sober enough to walk ___ home. How you come over and take care of her when she’s piss drunk and probably gave you a hard time—”

Jungkook’s eyes get shifty. “How do you know about that—”

“Doesn’t matter. She didn’t tell me shit, though. She doesn’t know I know and we’re going to keep it that way.” Yuna pokes Jungkook’s chest.

He furrows his brows. “Why does everything have to be a secret when it comes to ___?”

Yuna doesn’t have an answer for him. Instead, she continues her little speech.

“You’re a nice guy… But to ___, you’re kind. It’s in your gaze. It’s in the way you always offer yourself to her. It’s in the way you’re her friend above all else—I’m so thankful you’re who you are when you’re with her. You look at her like she’s your entire world… I don’t know if you even know that—but that’s how you look at her. You look at her and it’s… It’s like she’s the only person in the world.”

Jungkook hates the words Yuna speaks. Partly because they’re all true and partly because he doesn’t know what to do after. Yuna squeezes his shoulders and he feels like he could cry.

“Can you tell her I’ll be in my room? Waiting for her?” Jungkook pleas.

Yuna nods and excuses herself to find you in the crowd. You’re throwing your head back, laughing at whatever Eunwoo whispered in your ear. When Yuna approaches you and passes the message, you find Jungkook’s eyes from across the room.

You smile at him and wave.

He stands still, not knowing what to do. Before you know it, you watch him pick up his feet and head back upstairs. He doesn’t look back.

Yuna did tell you he’d be in his room… So that’s probably where he’s headed. In your mind, you make a mental note to go upstairs and figure things out with Jungkook in ten minutes.

You’ll give Eunwoo ten more minutes... The rest of the night can be for Jungkook.

Upstairs, Jungkook sits on the edge of his messy bed. Knees to his chest, he thinks about how fucked up everything got in a matter of moments. Did it really just take one conversation with your ex to lose you as quickly as he got you? Is this the reality of being a fuckbuddy?

He hates it.

Jungkook clenches his fits, recalling the words Taehyung said to him.

“Eunwoo’s tryna get back together with ___… I don’t know why it’s so important to Yuna but she said she tried to talk him out of it. Yuna said to get ___ out of here? Again, I don’t know why… I thought Eunwoo was Yuna’s favourite for ___ but I’m guessing not anymore…”

It was comforting to know that Yuna was on Jungkook’s side… But did it matter if you weren’t? You’re downstairs, talking and probably making plans to get back together with your ex.

Meanwhile, Jungkook sits in his room and waits until his eyes betray him. They flutter shut, falling asleep to the faint sound of your laugh downstairs and to the hope of you fulfilling a promise you never made.

In the morning, Jungkook wakes up and cries. He cries out of frustration and hurt. His heart feels heavy, like it could collapse and be broken. He has never felt so betrayed before.

And it’s pathetic because even then—especially then—he still waits for you.

#bts fic #bts smut #jungkook smut #jk x yn #jk smut #jk angst #jk uni au #bts uni au #bts x yn #bts scenario #jungkook scenario

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loveronlineee · 2 years

Text

The Metalhead and the Material Girl (Eddie Munson x Reader)

Masterlist All Parts

Eddie Munson x Reader (She/Her)

Warnings: none

Synopsis: When a super fem new girl joins Eddie’s class he thinks he’s got her all figured out, but he soon finds out that the popular kids aren’t the only ones who judge people’s first appearances

Y/N notes: none

Okay I don’t usually do writers notes but I gotta say thanks to these four: @carolinaflicker @iamsiriuss @hauntingtherosebush @lindsey3300 for helping me out on the lil bit of D&D stuff I mentioned. Some of you guys had slightly different answers for me so if I’m still wrong let me know! (And other D&D playing peeps)

Wanna be on the Eddie Munson tag list? Look here!

Wanna request something? Look here!

“I’m Y/N L/N. I transferred here from California for my senior year. I like pop music, fashion and hanging out with my friends. And I hope I can become friends with all of you!”

Pretty. Bubbly. Probably a bit of an airhead. The popular kids will scoop her up in a heartbeat. Eddie thought to himself looking up at the new girl. I wonder how long it’ll take for her to be just like everyone else.

The teacher pointed at the empty seat on the metal head’s right, giving the boy a stern look.

“Y/N I’m gonna seat you next to Eddie here at the front so you can help me keep an eye on him.” Eddie grinned and gave the teacher a wink.

Okaaaay here we go. Eddie thought to himself, leaning back in his chair. What kind of popular girl is this one gonna be? Disgusted by me? Weirded out? Just plain old pretend I don’t exist?

“Hi, Eddie was it?” The new girl asked with the biggest most genuine smile Eddie had ever seen. Her face was enough to melt away any built up hate he had accumulated from every harsh comment thrown at him throughout the years.

“Uh yeah Eddie. Eddie Munson.” He couldn’t help the smile appearing on his own face. This girl was a ball of sunshine.

“Nice to meet you Eddie.” He watched as she took out her things from her bag and set them out on the table. Everything was either pink, glittery or had a cute little character on it. She wrote the date on a new page in her notebook, doodling little stars around the numbers.

The teacher came over and placed a piece of paper on Y/N’s desk.

“This is your time table with your classes. Don’t be afraid to ask someone for help.”

“Oh thank you!” Y/N chirped before beginning to read through it. “Hey Eddie, what classes do we have together?” She tilted the paper towards him. Eddie leaned over and skimmed the page.

“Oh wow most of them. We got all the same ones today in fact.”

“Do you mind if I just stuck with you then?”

“Y-Yeah. Yeah that’s cool.” Eddie wasn’t in fact planning on going to all his classes today, like most days, but he couldn’t pass up the chance to get to know this girl more. He spent the morning walking Y/N to all her classes, pointing out other parts of the school she’ll need to know. He revelled in the looks the other students were giving him when they saw them together. The resident freak with a mystery bombshell.

Lunch came around and Y/N followed Eddie to the lunch hall.

“Hey I’ve been meaning to ask you… what’s on your shirt? Is it a band?” Y/N asked.

“It’s my club.”

“Oh cool! You run a club? What’s it about?” Eddie smiled at her as they reached his table of friends.

“A little game called D&D.” He turned to them and gestured to the new girl. “Gentlemen, this is Y/N.”

The boys all looked at her slack jawed, unable to think of anything to say. Luckily, Y/N had enough social skills for the whole table.

“It’s nice to meet you all! I started here today, Eddie’s been showing me around.” She explained as Eddie pulled out the chair in between his and Dustin’s and letting her sit down. He sat in his own chair at the head of the table just observing his friends trying to process this girl being here.

“You’ve been with Eddie…” Mike started asking very slowly, like he was waiting for the pin to drop. “…since this morning?”

“Yeah he’s been really helpful.” Y/N smiled at the younger student. “So are you two freshmen?”

Y/N continued chatting with Mike and Dustin. Eddie looked behind them at the popular kids who were eyeing him suspiciously. The cheerleaders all glaring and whispering to each other. “Eddie!” The metal head looked back at Y/N.

“Yeah?”

“So all these guys are in your club?” She gestured at the group. “You were gonna tell me about D&D earlier, what’s the game about?” Y/N asked, genuinely interested. Eddie grinned. He stood up like he was presenting to a class. Everyone sat up, hands neatly rested on the table, going along with the joke.

“D&D, or Dungeons and Dragons, is a fantasy table-top roleplaying game that only a select few at this school truly appreciate.” Eddie used theatrical hand motions as he described the game, putting one foot on his chair to add to the dramatic effect. “It is a game of teamwork, decision making, and the luck of the dice.”

He gave Dustin a small nod which prompted the boy to take a heavy book out of his bag and put it in front of Y/N. The Dungeons and Dragons Handbook. She began flicking through it, taking in as much as she could. She gasped.

“Can I be a fairy???” Eddie chuckled at her enthusiasm. He sat back down and shuffled his chair closer to hers.

“I’m sure I could homebrew something for you. Either that or you could be an elfen princess? If you just want that pretty ethereal girl look.” Eddie paused. “That… you’ve already got.” He looked back down at his hands, a little hesitant of his last line, before looking back up. Y/N was smiling at the compliment, easing Eddie’s nerves.

“Hey!” Two cheerleaders had approached the table, one calling out to Eddie with annoyance in her voice. “Why don’t you just stick with the freaks?” Eddie leaned away from Y/N and looked to the popular girls.

They turned to Y/N, who seemed a little confused. “You can come and sit with us instead.” One of them said, like she was doing the new girl a favour. Y/N looked over at Eddie. He kept his face the same, not wanting to influence her decision.

Of course he wanted her to stay, but he just couldn’t deal with the guilt of depriving Y/N of having an actual enjoyable high school experience. It didn’t matter how pretty she was, if she was hanging out with the freaks then she was gonna get bullied.

“Oh uh okay then.” Y/N replied apprehensively, slowly getting up. “I-I’ll be back in a minute.” She said as she was dragged away by the cheerleaders. Eddie pursed his lips together in a saddening smile.

“Suuuuuuuure you will.” He said just as Y/N got out of earshot. He looked around at the guys. “And that my friends, concludes the story of the time we almost got a hot chick to play D&D.” The group mumbled and chuckled, going back to their lunch, clearly no where nearly as affected as Eddie.

He knew this was inevitable. With who Y/N was and who he was. But a part of him, a small part of him wanted to believe that she’d stay. For him. That she wouldn’t get poisoned by the ideologies of the social hierarchy. But that was just wishful thinking. He looked back down at the table.

At least it was nice while it lasted.

“Sorry bout that.” Eddie looked back up to see Y/N again. “So I can be an elf princess?”

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“…why are you here?”

“I did say I’d only be gone a minute.” She smiled. Eddie stared at her, unable to speak. His head slowly turned to the popular kids. They looked even more surprised than him.

“W-What about them?” He gestured.

“What about them?” Y/N asked, confused.

“Aren’t you gonna hang out with them?”

“They don’t seem like people I’d want to hang out with.”

“They don’t?”

“Do I look like a bully to you?” She joked. “So, elf princess? Yes?” Eddie’s smile retuned to his face.

“Yeah. Yeah definitely a princess.”

Tag list: @Mikinyi @justaproudslytherpuff @angelicjinwoo @k12baby @spiderman-berries @ruhro7 @justanotherhappyidiot @dontcallmesavvy @kenzi-woycehoski

#eddie munson #reader x Eddie Munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #st eddie munson #stranger things season four #stranger things x reader #stranger things season 4 #stranger things #reader x stranger things #stranger things imagine

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ilygetou · 7 months

Text

MET HER 0N THE iNTERNET | EREN JAGER.

PAIRING: EREN JAEGER X FEM! READER.

SYNOPSIS: Eren Jaeger met you on the internet & immediately fell in love with your looks, personality and body. He knew his crush on you was dumb and will not last long because come on — online relationships? Those don’t last that long. Until eren found a way to not make it online anymore!

C/W: losing the pwp war, noncon –> dubcon, online stalking, solo m! masturbation, lovesick! eren, possessive! eren, cheating, vaginal fingering, face/throat fucking, facial, brief after-care at the end.

WORD COUNT: 5.9K

NOTE: repost. i know y’all are so sick n’ tired of me but this is going to be the last time i promise 😓😓🤞

Eren was laying down on his bed, the moonlight illuminating and reflecting on his phone screen as he scrolled through people’s accounts/profiles on instagram. None who’ve piqued his interest, scrolling and scrolling until he came across your profile.

Clicking on your username, he was met with the highlights you have saved on your profile and the three posts you have posted. Eren clicked on the first post–it was a picture of you laying down on your bed, ass slightly up while you had your tongue in-between your teeths with a small smile.

Eren slightly gulped and continued going through your posts, his breath slightly hitching once he came across a picture of you with your thong peeking out from the low rise jeans you were wearing, shirt too tight your cleavage was all out.

Eren quickly zoomed out and went to check your highlights, clicking on the first one which was titled with “<3”, knowing exactly what it meant as soon as he saw a picture of you and another man holding hands. The next story being another picture of you and that man nose touching. As eren continued going through the highlights, the more furious he got even though he doesn’t even know you.

Eren clicked his tongue in annoyance before hitting the ‘follow’ button, maybe, fate might be on his side for once and you’d break up with your boyfriend soon.

The next day came rather quickly and throughout his whole day–eren was thinking about you. He was thinking about how gorgeous you looked, your smile so sweet, your hair styled in a unique way, everything about you was perfect. He couldn’t help but keep thinking about you, despite not knowing who you are.

12:40am.

Eren threw himself on the bed, letting out a sigh before unlocking his phone–clicking on the instagram app and checking his notifications, to find that you’ve followed him back. Eren smiled. Viewing your story to find that you’ve posted a new picture of yourself, it was a full body mirror picture. Your body slightly tilted to the side showing off your ass, you held up a peace sign over your face–you were wearing nike pro shorts with a plain white t-shirt.

Eren quickly liked your story, swiping up to reply–“lookin real’ good” and not even a minute has passed, he has already received a reply from you. “Thank youuu,” eren scoffed at the lack of energy and effort in your reply but then again, he gets it, you have a boyfriend. You shouldn’t be giving into other men’s compliments.

Eren decided to check your following, maybe even try and find your boyfriend’s username since you didn’t tag him in any of your posts.

You were following a couple of hashtags, some celebrities and then the rest were mostly your friends, family and classmates. Eren scrolled and scrolled until he came across a guys’ profile, he had your initial in his bio and a “i ❤️ my gf” pfp. His account was private and you were one of the few people following him. Eren decided that this was your boyfriend and to confirm his suspicions about it he went through your posts and checked the comment section.

A total of almost 200 comments were under each one of your posts and finally, after a few seconds of scrolling he found the same guy bombarding your comment section; “wife” “😍😍” “mine <3” eren rolled his eyes, slightly clenching his fists in annoyance.

He turned off his phone and placed it anywhere besides him. Eren was laying down on his bed, his hand resting on his forehead as he went deep into thought. Thinking of ways to get to know you better and maybe even make you fall in love with him just like how he fell in love with you at first sight.

Then an idea suddenly popped up. Eren quickly turned on his phone and texted one of his closest friends.

Eren’s fingers dragged towards the “ + to your story” button, scrolling through his camera roll and clicking on a picture of himself after the gym–shirtless and all sweaty from working out. He added any song that seemed to fit and posted the picture on his story. In a matter of a few seconds, eren got a bunch of notifications– “armin_arlert liked your story” “conniethegoat liked your story” “mikasa_ackerman liked your story” scrolling past the notifications and pausing once he got to a certain notification.

It was a notification from you, your username displayed on his screen with a ‘liked your story’ beside it. Eren felt his heart flutter, it was just a small little interaction from you but it still left eren flustered. He did find it a bit odd though, you had a boyfriend and no guy would like it if his girlfriend was liking other men’s stories. Especially not pictures of other men shirtless.

He didn’t give a fuck though. That just means he was one step closer to having you.

Eren took a screenshot of your notification, to stare at it every time he’s feeling a bit down–to remind himself that the girl he’s currently chasing noticed him and knows he exists.

Eren was already working on getting rid of your boyfriend. So he could finally get the chance to slide into your dms again but he needs to have your boyfriend out of the picture; It was simple really, all he had to do was contact one of his closest female friends to get the job done.

And who would he speak to other than mikasa. One of the prettiest girls he knows, his childhood best friend. Texting her & telling her to do him a small little favor; to text your boyfriend and “befriend” him. She obviously refused the request, why would she break up a perfectly healthy couple? And to have you, an innocent sweet girl, fall for eren’s schemes. But after eren’s constant nagging and him threatening her to drop her and waste years of a long healthy friendship made her agree.

“mikasa_ackerman requested to follow you.”

Your boyfriend didn’t accept mikasa’s request until she suddenly messaged him;

“You’re cute. Think you can settle for two?” your boyfriend was confused, how does this stranger know what he looks like when his account is private. He didn’t question it any further though–not when he went through mikasa’s profile. Pale-skinned girl with gray eyes, shaggy black hair that reached her chin and bangs that added more to her looks, her well-toned body that made her more attractive than she already was.

Immediately accepting the request and following her back.

“Thank you, not sure about the ‘settling for two’ thing though.”

Sure, your boyfriend might’ve done the wrong thing by messaging her back instead of just ignoring her dm but come on, men will be men and having a cute girl in his requests–patiently waiting for him to text back, did not make him greater than any man.

They texted for a while, mikasa occasionally sending pictures of herself wearing a sports bra while at the gym or sending full body pictures to your boyfriend to make him fold. All to which were eren’s requests and of course against mikasa’s will. Feeling an aching feeling in her gut every time she had to text another girl’s man made her feel horrible about herself. She was no better than a homewrecker.

Your boyfriend didn’t cross the line while talking to mikasa, yeah sure he was hiding it from you but he wasn’t flirting back. Sometimes, occasionally, on rare events, he’d compliment her. Saying she has a well-built body or sometimes saying she’s “kinda” good looking. But that was all before he found out she lived in the same city as him.

As soon as he found out, the way he was treating mikasa all changed. Becoming flirty with her, washing her with compliments. Doing all that behind the “i heart my gf” profile picture and behind your back as well.

And it wasn’t long before you found out. Eren texted you from an anonymous account, making mikasa send him screenshots and even screen recordings of her and your boyfriend’s chat for more solid proof. You didn’t believe it at first, denying the proof presented to you.

Until you found yourself at your boyfriend’s apartment, tears stinging your eyes as you held up your phone to show him the screenshots displayed on the screen. Crying while asking him if they’re real and begging him to tell you they’re fake, that it’s just someone wanting to play with your feelings. But when you saw the look in his eyes, shame and regret. You broke down crying, asking him why’d he decide to ruin a perfectly healthy relationship over some girl he met online? Were you not pretty enough for him? Did she love him better than you did? Deciding to just leave and not hurt yourself any longer by staying here as your ex-boyfriend chases after you. Calling you and yelling for you to wait.

As soon as you got back home, you didn’t even bother changing clothes–laying down on your bed with your phone in your hands, watching as it buzzed from the calls your ex was spamming you with, along with his desperate text messages. You dragged your finger across the block button, not thinking twice as you pressed on it. Switching apps to block him everywhere. You even deleted the story highlight, removing him from your bio and deleting posts that he appeared in. When you were finally done, your eyes were red and puffy, swollen from crying too much.

It’s been two days since the breakup and two days since you last posted on instagram. Eren knew that his vicious plan worked, having you dump your boyfriend and getting extra information about you; for example, where you’re settled at.

And what a lovely coincidence, you both live in the exact same city.

eren 🦇

Hey, everything alright? You haven’t been active lately.

Your phone lit up with a notification from; “ern_yger.” You stared at the notification for a while, debating whether or not you should respond to this random stranger who noticed your absence when even your own friends didn’t.

Unlocking your phone and tapping on his notification, dragging your fingers across the keyboard–thinking of a simple, fitting response.

Yeah I’m alright, I’ve just been busy with college.

You clicked send, not thinking twice about your response. Your message has already been seen by eren, you were left on read for two minutes before you saw him typing and while he took his time thinking of a response back you clicked on his profile. You were met with two highlights and zero posts, you clicked on his “me” highlight, feeling your mouth run dry once you were met with a picture of eren shirtless with only a pair of sweatpants and Calvin Klein boxers that peeked out. He was laying down on his side, the room was slightly dim but you were still able to makeout his face. The next one was a picture of his side profile, his hair was put up in a messy bun–his hair also looked soft and messy.

The other picture was taken from a slightly high angle, he was wearing white beaters with gray sweatpants. Once you were about to view the next story, you suddenly got a notification from eren which you accidentally clicked on.

“You sure? I noticed the missing highlights and change of bio.”

If you weren’t in the midst of trying to cope and move on from your past relationship, you would’ve noticed the fake acting concerned tactic men use to get any women they want and in this case, you were in the start of it. And deciding to fuck it and just pour your heart out to this random stranger because you really need it. Need someone to talk to right now and since none of your friends got time for you, you really appreciate eren reaching out to ask about your whereabouts.

You didn’t hold back, venting out your emotions and feelings about your situation. You didn’t leave out a single detail and made sure eren knew exactly how you’re feeling.

Eren was slightly taken aback by your reaction and willingness to share your private life with him. He even felt bad for you, you seemed genuinely upset and hurt but that still wouldn’t make him give up on chasing you. He comforted you for a bit, sending you long reassuring paragraphs. And eren slightly cringed at himself, he has never done this type of thing before—never in his life has he ever had a girl vent out her feelings to him and have him comfort her.

At the end you thanked him a lot for listening to you and apologizing for "being a bother" which eren responded with: “Not at all, I was the one who reached out first, don’t apologize.” You liked the message and thanked him once again before going on with your night.

It’s been three months since your breakup. And three months after you started talking to eren, he helped distract you from thinking about your past partner. He was funny, kind and understanding, everything you looked for in a man. You both even shared the same clothing style, music style and humor.

You didn’t have any bad intentions while talking to eren–you weren’t trying to use him to help you forget about your ex boyfriend. He was the one always texting first, asking you how you are, cracking jokes, sending you songs that he thinks you might like (you always end up loving them), sends you both movies & tv shows suggestions–he says they’ll help with distracting you and keeping your mind occupied from thinking about anything related to your past love.

While eren was the one filled with bad intentions and thoughts. First thing he did in the morning was check his phone for any notifications from you and if he got one, a wide smile would form on the corner of his lips–immediately unlocking his phone to respond back. And if he doesn’t receive a message from you, he’d unlock his phone only to be met with “sent 9 hours ago”, he’d aggressively throw his phone back to his bed. Sometimes gritting his teeth in anger and frustration, stressing over you not texting back.

But as soon as he does get a response back, he’d immediately forget all his anger and frustration from earlier. Telling you that it’s alright and to not apologize once you tell him how you fell asleep because you were too tired and ended up oversleeping which were followed by a bunch of apologies from you. And eren dismissed them, reassuring you by saying it’s okay and he really doesn’t mind—acting like he wasn’t absolutely losing his shit over you moments ago.

Second thing he does is go through your highlights. He has seen the pictures in the highlight multiple times but he still always ends up getting mesmerized by your beauty, way too much that he’d accidentally get turned on. An erection forming just by simply staring way too hard on your photos and eren couldn’t contain himself—pulling out his laptop and logging into his instagram and pulling out your highlight.

He’d zoom in on one specific picture, It was you laying down on bed while holding your camera high in the air–You were wearing a spaghetti straps pink tank top with baggy pajama pants. Your cleavage was all out and was very visible due to the high angle. Your face was mostly the main focus as you flashed the camera a small, warm smile.

Eren cupped his bulge, his breathing shifting from steady to unsteady, letting out shaky heavy pants as he lowered his slacks to where they stopped right beneath his knees. Eren’s eyes were heavy, his eyelids threatening to shut close as he started caressing the tip of his dick, kneading the tip roughly with his thumbs. Spreading his pre-cum all over the tip and slowly coming down to his shaft, massaging his hands up and down his length as his eyes were glued to the picture of you plastered on the screen in front of him.

A moan of your name slipped past his lips, his head slightly thrown back, his eyes were squinted–his hands wrapped around his cock as he messily jerked himself off. Curses and moans kept leaving eren the more he stared at your photo and the more his fantasies about you grew wild. Thinking about splitting you open with his cock while you whine and babble about how big he was, having you gush and cream all over his cock multiple times until you pass out from overstimulation.

Eren fastened his movements, squeezing the head of his cock as you kept flooding his mind and not even 5 minutes had passed and eren was already cumming all over his laptop screen. Staring at the bright screen with half-lidded eyes, his cum staining your picture that was displayed on the screen–he was letting out loud heavy pants, thinking up a way to make you his quickly and fast because eren can’t keep going on like this and it pains him knowing that he lives in the same city as you but still feels as if he was too far away from reaching you.

Eren’s phone lit up with a notification from you, a small smile spread across his lips as he stared back into his laptop screen before grabbing his phone and clicking on your notification. You sent him a couple pictures of yourself, asking him which one to post. Eren felt his heart flutter, staring at your photos in absolute awe. He clicked on each one of your pictures and saved them to his device.

He wanted to tell you to post all of them and that you look beautiful in each one of them but the idea of other men seeing your pictures ticked eren off, he didn’t want other men to see you, just the thought of it had eren boiling up with anger—with furrowed eyebrows, eren aggressively typed you a response back, a not very nice one.

“None. They’re not post worthy and the camera quality makes you look off,” which wasn’t true at all. Eren was sure that even with a poor camera quality you’d still manage to look good.

You stared at eren’s response for a while and then went and looked back at the pictures and the more you kept thinking about his reply the more his words started to seem true, maybe you do actually look kinda bad in these pictures…even though you finally got ready for the first time after the breakup. You did your hair, makeup and carefully selected an outfit for these pictures. You decided to just brush it off, you could take better ones next time.

“Oh okay! I won’t post them then.”

It has now been six months. You and eren started talking more frequently and even started going on both regular and face-time calls. And eren couldn’t be happier, your voice was soft and soothing, every time you sent him voice messages of you ranting about your day to him, he’d melt from the sound of your voice, he’d replay the voice message multiple times throughout the day. Your voice brings him both comfort and easeniss.

But then again, eren was sick in the head. He was the definition of the word ‘deranged’ but you still didn’t know that yet.

The way he’d wrap his hands around his cock while you two were on a call together, he would be on mute as you talked to him about random things–thinking that eren was listening to you but he was more focused on rubbing his aching, hard cock to the sound of your voice.

Every time you notice the silence you’d ask him if he’s alright, concern visible in your tone. Eren would reply with a shaky, low; “y-yeah” accidentally stuttering which he cursed himself for it in his head. Fisting his cock rapidly as you went back to talking. Eren loves it when you have a bad day, he’d get the chance to hear you whine and complain, sometimes on the verge of tears as you rant to him about your bad day, it makes his cock hard against his pants.

11:10PM.

You posted a picture of you in your story but you weren’t alone in the picture, a young man who looked eren’s age with short, light ash-brown hair with the sides and back trimmed shorter; making them a darker hue. He had small, intense light-brown eyes. His hands were wrapped around your waist making both of your shoulders touch.

Eren’s eyes twitched in anger, his brows knitted together as he swiped up and replied; “Who’s this?” you immediately replied with “A friend of mine! :)” eren left you on delivered, his jealousy over-taking him as he kept looking back at the picture, the way you happily smiled at the camera and the way you willingly allowed that guy to touch you like that pissed him off. A lot of thoughts ran through his head, one of them was marking you and making you his already.

An idea popped up in eren’s head. Quickly grabbing his phone and opening up the chat between you two, completely ignoring what you said earlier and typing out; “You free this friday?”

You opened the text and looked at it in utter confusion.

y/n 🐐

what do you mean?

eren 🦇

I’m asking if you’re free this friday? You know, maybe come over to my place.

y/n 🐐

Come over? To your place? I’m sorry but i can’t.

eren 🦇

Why not? It’s finally time we meet up, don’tya think?

y/n 🐐

We could meet up anywhere else, it shouldn’t be your place.

eren 🦇

What? don’t trust me?

y/n 🐐

it’s not that, it’s just that i’ve never met you before.

eren 🦇

Well obviously you didn’t? but we went on facetime calls and we’ve been close friends for months now. I even helped you get over your ex-boyfriend and you still don’t trust me yet?

Eren stared at his screen for a while, hoping that his guilt tripping tactic works. And to his surprise, it did;

y/n 🐐

You’re right, i’m sorry. What time?

Eren lets out a long sigh that he didn’t know he was holding.

“7pm is good.”

Friday, 7:30PM.

You wore a simple pink dress that reached above your knees with black thigh highs and throwed in a plain black jacket to cover up a bit. You were outside of eren’s residence, your breathing thickened before you reached out to grab your phone to tell eren you’re here.

y/n 🐐

i’m here.

sent 7:35PM.

eren 🦇

doors’ unlocked

seen at 7:35PM.

Your brows furrowed together before you turned off your phone and walked towards eren’s doorstep, hesitantly–you slowly unlocked the door of his house. And once the door was wide open, you were met with an empty hallway, a fish tank that was filled with various colorful fishes that decorated said hallway. “Eren?” you whispered his name as you walked in and closed the door behind you, slowly proceeding further into his place.

You were inspecting the furniture, everything looked so luxurious–that you were afraid to touch anything. You heard chirping noises and decided to follow the sound, a mottled grey colored, medium-sized parrot with a vent and a tail. It had a large black bill and a white mask enclosing a yellow eye, as well as a striking red vent and a tail. An african gray parrot was just sitting there in a silver cage, with his food and water in front of it.

You were admiring the parrot before feeling a large figure pressing his back against yours– “his name is hook,” his voice was deep, it came out as a low murmur, you slightly flinched and turned to face him. “E-Eren?” the teal-eyed man looked straight into you, a warm smile making its way to his face, “mhm?” he went and stood beside you and you slightly moved away to make some space between the two of you.

“Hooks’ a nice name, ‘t fits him,” you turned your back towards eren and went back to admiring the parrot. “You think?” eren tried keeping his eyes at his pet parrot as well but the way the girl of his dream was standing right beside him, in his house, right at this moment–makes him unable to focus on anything that wasn’t you. He side-eyed you to take a quick glance at you, he noticed the height difference between you two, he loved it, it was cute. It turned him on.

Eren cleared his throat which made you turn towards him, “so, wanna come up to my room?” you paused for a moment to think about it before nodding your head. Eren led the way to his room as you walked behind him, giving you an opportunity to look around his place even more. And once you made it to his room, you were shocked by the amount of space and furniture it had. His room was big which made you wonder, why would he need all that space if he lives alone?

His bed was king-sized, it could possibly fit three-four people. He had some posters of his favorite bands, artists and games plastered on his walls, a desk that had his laptop placed on top as well as other random stuff, including studying stationery. His room was well organized and filled with lots of unnecessary stuff as well as another fish tank.

You kept looking around until you spotted a wooden door, thinking of what could be behind that door until it clicked to you–probably a bathroom. He probably doesn’t like going out of his room that much so he designed a bathroom that connected to his room.

“What’dya’ think?” Eren asked before plopping down on the black cushion that was placed beside his bed– “‘ts too big'’ you answered before seating yourself beside eren, he moved closer to you, looking down at your dress, his eyes darting from your top to your thighs, that were half-covered by those thigh-high socks you wore. “I guess but it’s not that bad, is it?” you nodded your head, trying to look at anything that wasn’t eren’s face since he was too close. Way too close that you could probably count his eyelashes from how close he was.

Eren backed up a bit, noticing how uncomfortable you were. Eren grabbed a can of beer from the wooden table and opened it, taking a huge chug out of the can. “Want some?” you gave eren a confused look mixed with a disgusted look, “i prefer water” he playfully rolled his eyes before getting up and placing the beer can on the table. “I’ll go get you some then,” you watched as eren went out of the room–his footsteps fading away.

You sat there patiently before your curiosity grew, wanting to go confirm your suspicions on what’s behind the huge wooden door. You got up, unconsciously walking towards it–you grabbed the handle and pushed it down slowly, making sure to not make any noise. Once you unlocked the door, you were met with a dim room–the only sort of light coming from the three monitors placed on another desk in the room. Three huge monitors that all opened to different tabs.

Deciding to just fuck it and proceed even further–accidentally stepping on something that made a slight crunch noise, looking down and picking it up only to be met with a pornographic comic that had dried up cum splattered all over it. You let go of it quickly, your face scrunching up in disgust as you walked towards the three huge monitors.

You bent down a little to be met with a picture of you which you have posted a while ago displayed on the screen, your throat ran dry once you noticed the gooey white stains on the screen–you looked to the right monitor, an instagram profile opened on it which was one of your years old instagram accounts that you used to own during your teenage years. And the left monitor had the guy you recently posted a picture with instagram account.

You let out a shaky sigh, the guy who you thought was naturally sweet, understanding & charming was the complete opposite. A complete creep, a weird perverted man.

“You caught me,” a mans’ voice came from behind you, making your heart stop for a second–you turned around to face him, eren had a wide smirk curved on the corners of his lips as he leaned against the doorframe, you weren’t sure for how long he has been there watching you but probably long enough to catch your full live reaction.

“What is the meaning of this?” your voice came out low as if you were completely terrified of speaking up; “I don’t know, you tell me” eren walked towards you, shutting the door behind him–you took a step back, your back hitting the wall, eren had completely cornered you giving you no way out. Eren took hold of your chin, forcing you to look back at him–he aggressively moved your chin to the side, allowing himself to give you a small kiss on the neck.

You fluttered your eyes shut, you didn’t try pushing him off as he started nibbling on your neck; covering it with hot, messy kisses. “I’ve been wanting to taste you for so long, been wanting to do this for so long,” eren confessed, making a pit of disgust form in your stomach. Eren slipped a hand under your shirt, squeezing your right breast from above your bra. “Eren please…stop,” you finally managed to say which eren turned a blind eye on, ignoring your pleas for him to stop.

“Come on baby, you’ve made me suffer long enough, don’t ya’ think? Always had to beat my dick to pictures of you but now I finally have you within my grasp, don’t you think I deserve a reward for my patience? Hm?” Eren got on his knees and spread your legs apart, he placed his middle finger on your clit through your panties and started cautiously moving his finger.

You looked down on him with half-lidded eyes, tears pricking the corner of your eyes as you bit your lips to surpass any sounds from slipping. He moved your panties to the side and brushed his digits past your glistening folds before slowly pushing in two fingers into your tight hole, he teasingly started thrusting his fingers sometimes stopping mid-way but the way your slippery walls clamped down on his thick digits encouraged him to continue.

You were out of breath, wanting this to end quickly but the praises eren was muttering made it a tad bit better; “Ah, so good angel, gonna have you cummin’ all over my fingers soon, okay?” “fuck you’re so pretty, ‘ts makin’ my dick hard” he was plunging his fingers deeper into your messy cunt, your silk gushing and dripping all over his fingers. The squelching noises made eren’s cock slightly twitch in his pants as he imagined what kind of things he’ll be able to do to you from now on.

You couldn’t hold in your moans any longer–letting out your moans & whimpers freely as he kept thrusting his finger in n’ out of your pussy, “think..’m close!” you slightly arched your back and squirmed in your place, you placed your hands on your mouth to silent any moans from coming out as you gushed all over eren’s fingers. You were letting out heavy pants, you plopped down on the floor, your eyes glued together not daring to even try taking a quick glance at the mess you’ve made.

Eren lowered his sweatpants–enough for his cock to spring out and slap his abdomen, he moved his hips closer to your face and started rubbing his dick on the side of your cheeks which made you let out a whimper at the sudden warm feeling. “Open up, princess, ‘t hurts, y’know?” he pushed his cock against your lips, smearing his pre-cum all over your plump, glossy lips.

You swallowed your saliva before obeying and opening your mouth, your vision hazy which didn’t give you the chance to make-out eren’s girth. He shoved his cock into your mouth causing you to slightly gag, “s-so good, fuck,” you sloppily started sucking the tip, hollowing your cheeks and bobbing your head up and down his length. Swirling your tongue around his tip while drool dripped down your chin and coating his balls, you moan around his cock while eren lets out soft groans; “so cockhungry, huh?” he snickered–throwing his head back while he was still firmly gripping your hair.

He pushed his cock deeper into your throat causing you to choke a bit, tears rolling down your cheeks uncontrollably, eren started thrusting his hips against your mouth, his dick stretching your throat with every jolt of his hips. “S-Shit,” he sharply inhales, letting go of your hair and cupping both of your cheeks instead. You could feel his cock slightly poking at the side of your throat, a clear bulge.

Moving his hips in a slow, gentle manner–scared to hurt you but the way the head of his cock kept hitting your uvula which caused you to gag around his dick and ruin his steady pace, making his hips stutter and cock slightly pulsate as his shaft land flat on your tongue, “f-fuck, keep this up and i’m gnna’ be cumming all over your face” eren groaned, caressing your face while also letting out shaky moans.

His cock shuddered, twitching inside the warmth of your mouth, “Holy shit…” he mouthened before pulling out his dick with a ‘plop’ sound, your drool was connecting to his tip–your mouth hung open, your tongue stuck out, you were letting out heavy pants as you tried gasping for air. Without any warning, a sudden splash of warm, thick liquid covered your face. Managing to get on your tongue as well, the bitter taste made you flutter your eyes shut in disgust.

His sperm was burning your face, wanting to get it off of you fast and quick while eren was admiring your cum covered face. It stained your cheeks and dripped off your chin, your mascara melted and your lip-gloss got smeared all over your face. He was panting heavily but his gaze still focused on you, half-lidded eyes pierced through you.

“Did so good f’me,” he exclaimed, bending down and gripping your chin before pulling you into another messy kiss. Pulling out with a smug look, you looked back at him with a foggy vision–a small smile made its way to your face and eren heart stopped for a moment, the way you looked at him with droopy eyes, messy face and a smile on your face will forever be engraved deep into his mind.

“Stay here, ‘M gonna make some warm tea for your throat, alright? Clean yourself up, m’kay?” he kissed your forehead before going out and leaving the room, once again. You turned your head towards the monitor, your vision landing on the picture of you, the cum stains making you fill up with shame & guilt even though it’s not you who’s supposed to be feeling like this.

The sound of a notification coming from your phone pulled you out of your thoughts.

eren 🦇

*one image attachment*

Us after i destroy your uterus <3

#eren jaeger x reader #eren smut #eren x reader #aot x reader #aot smut #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan smut #aot eren #ilygetou’s kinktober ⌕

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awritesthings1 · 5 months

Text

Gone with the Leaves

Pairing: Tommy Shelby / Wife Reader

Summary: Despite your happy marriage to Tommy, you feel an undeniable jealousy towards Lizzie. Perhaps a day in the forest will do you some good.

ao3 link

A/N: I'm starting a tag list, comment if you want to be added :)

“You write like you’re running out of time,” mused Lizzie Stark, former prostitute, now Tommy’s secretary. “They have typewriters for those types of things, y’know?”

You saw the volley of cannonballs that launched and subsequently landed on Tommy’s desk as the words left her mouth. It wasn’t that you expected more of poor old plain Lizzie, but you thought that the time she had spent lying on her back staring past the shoulder of a customer at the ceiling would have taught her to read a room. Nevertheless, she stood there, quite amused with herself, smiling stupidly at your husband.

Tommy, who had been sitting at his desk all afternoon attending to letters, the ledger, and god knows what else, peered up from the paper. “What did you say?”

This time, it was your turn to be amused. He pointed accusingly at Lizzie, who by then had realised her impetuous mistake. Her wide eyes fluttered to you desperately, like a bee that had indulged itself in so much pollen that it became stuck in its own honey. No, that was putting it lightly. She looked to you like a frightened child who knew exactly what kind of trouble they were in.

You made sure you looked the other way.

“It was only a silly joke,” came her spluttering apology.

Tommy squinted, and his mouth curled into a frown. Smoke chased the deep exhale from the cigarette hanging between his lips. Your husband carried this terrifying look to him that many feared. Without the peaky cap to cover his striking blue eyes, you saw his glare cut away the cords in Lizzie’s throat with just one look. How could poor Lizzie defend herself from eyes that had witnessed nightmarish things?

“I’m not clear. Is it funny that I sign my letters by hand, or are you above using ink now that you have graduated from the bed to the desk?”

Lizzie’s mouth wormed into a thin line, yet she still looked to you for help. Of what help she thought you would possibly spare, you weren’t sure. For once, Lizzie used initiative and showed herself out.

Your heels clacked across the wooden threshold of your husband’s office. Now that no one was there to disturb you both, you sat down on Tommy’s lap. By then, he was leaning back on his chair, work abandoned for the time being until he could wash the sour sight of Lizzie Stark from his eyes.

“You know I don’t like her,” you said plainly.

There was no need for fake smiles or lies with Tommy. You knew him, and he knew you.

Tommy exhaled loudly, stubbing out the last of his cigarette on his ashtray and taking a swig of whiskey before his calloused hand found your waist.

He clears his throat. “It’s only business with her.”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean I like her any less.”

Tommy loved you, not Lizzie Stark, yet you couldn’t stomach the undeniable jealousy that arose with her presence. Perhaps it was a natural inclination women had toward their lovers. Lizzie had never done anything outwardly wrong to you. So, what was it then that turned your plain teeth into hissing fangs?

Everyone knew that Tommy was one of her paying customers before you met him, but so were all of Small Heath. You never felt insecure in your relationship with Tommy; there was no need to feel threatened by a prostitute. Yet that wouldn’t stop the catty feline that emerged from its slumber when Lizzie’s wandering eyes battered at your husband.

No. Lizzie Stark would never know what it felt like to be loved by a man like Tommy. What you held in your hands each night was a transcendental, unconditional type of love—one that surpassed the heart and soul, which drew two beings together in the most unconventional yet fitting way. The way that covers kept you warm at night, Tommy watched over your hearth and kept the fire burning, even if he were on the other side of the country.

You closed your eyes, leaning into the valley between Tommy’s neck and shoulder as you listened for the bah-dum-bah-dum of his heart. They sat together in silence, cherishing each other’s presence, while Tommy rested his cheek on your head. Outside, the world waited, barking at their front door and scratching at the delicately carved wood. Even the rain lashed at the windowpanes, playing together like one elemental orchestra.

The hand not resting on your waist rose to gently stroke up and down your arm. You shivered, but it wasn’t from the cold.

“I think you have some work to attend to in the bedroom,” you mumbled into his neck.

Your nose searched for the spot where he applied his aftershave.

“Eh?” Came his gruff response.

Your hand wandered down his suit in answer.

The sheets were bundled around Tommy’s naked waist when you sauntered back over to the bed with his case of cigarettes in hand. Gratefully, he took the case from your hand, wrapping an arm around your shoulder to pull you into the warmth of his chest. Then he began the usual routine. He fished out a cigarette to offer, but you shook your head no, so he slid it once, then twice, across his bottom lip. On the bedside table, he grabbed the half-empty matchbox to light the cigarette.

Tommy was the resident chain smoker in your house. With an appetite for tobacco and whiskey, you often wondered just how he sustained himself throughout the day. Of course, there were the home-cooked meals at Arrow House waiting for his return, although that didn’t stop you from worrying any less. It was pathetic, really, sitting all alone in his study, twiddling your fingers, and sitting beneath his portrait like you were praying to him. Tommy was no god, no matter how much he tried to convince everyone else. Yet whenever headlights passed the window and lit up the office momentarily, you would stand up and peer out, hoping to spot your husband exiting the car.

He cleared his throat, drawing your attention back to the present. You loved watching the way the cigarette shifted between his lips when he spoke, even more when his hooded eyes looked over at you. Tommy was a man of few words, simply because he didn’t need language to communicate. His body spoke for him in tongues for all his enemies to understand. And more importantly, in a way your body understood.

Your hand abandoned his tattoo to stroke a thumb across his full bottom lip. Lust swelled there, eager to chase the rest of the night away into a haze of pleasure until the sun rose. As tempting as it was, you sighed at the thought. You would rather spend this time taking in your husband, remembering the fine details across his face and body, from the scar in the hollow of his cheek to the rough texture beneath his shoulder blade where a bullet was once lodged. You wanted to trace the sockets of his eyes the way a blind person would, treasuring each valley, mountain, and cut of skin as if it were to disappear the second you stopped touching him.

“You’re beautiful,” you decided, bathed in candlelight, tangled up between the sheets and Tommy’s arms.

Tommy’s brows furrowed, and the cigarette hung dangerously loose from where his lips curled into a frown. He grunted, clearly dissatisfied with your words. Tommy wasn’t beautiful. He was hard, ambitious, and unmovable force.

Beautiful was a conventional word savored for the finest women. To you? It meant so much more. Crafted in a way that would cause people to stare, sure, but there was also a poetic sense to the word. The type of beauty you would use to describe a well-written novel or heart-wrenching poem. Thomas Shelby stood for something, and that was beautiful.

“Then what are you, eh?”

A lazy smile floated onto your face, so much so that you had to bite your lip to refrain from looking devastatingly pleased at his answer.

A woman, a dreamer, a friend, a reader, an achiever. “A wife.”

He huffed, raising his eyebrows playfully.

Why was it that most women felt like they could only fit the frame of one? With Tommy, you were never limited to the endless possibilities. You treasured being a wife the same way you treasured your other roles. Marriage wasn’t the end all be all. Perhaps that’s another lie men spun—that perfectly capable women stopped existing as soon as a diamond ring slid onto their finger. How sad, you thought, to waste away all that potential when men were still free to pursue stupid ideas like war and dog fights.

Tommy was unbothered by traditional ideas like that. Change powered his ambition; he had no time for parallel lines. You could be his wife, a writer, a singer, or a mother—whatever you wanted—and he wouldn’t think of you any less.

You hummed, chasing that cigarette from his lips and stubbing it out in the ash tray by his bedside table. Tommy didn’t seem too heartbroken about it. In fact, there was some mirth in his gaze. His hands traced up your naked spine, pulling your body further into his until you could smell the smoke in his breath.

“Yes,” he breathed in loudly through his nose, “my wife.”

The following day, you were invited to the Basnett's hunting party. You would’ve been more enthusiastic to write about your excitement to attend if the whole ordeal hadn’t been so troublesome. Because a few days prior, when you were visiting your husband’s office, you had caught sight of the letter on Lizzie’s desk, a letter that was supposed to reach you days earlier.

“What’s this?” You asked.

“Oh, nothing interesting,” Lizzie had said, too occupied with filing her nails while on the clock.

You kept your composure for the sake of keeping the peace. You didn’t wish to disturb Tommy if he were to walk by.

“This is a letter addressed to me,” you pressed.

“Oh.” She stopped for a moment, then leaned over to read the letter you had pulled from the messy pile. “No, it’s addressed to Tommy.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Shelby,” you hissed quietly, with emphasis on the missus.

“Hm, I didn’t notice.”

“You are paid to notice.” You fought the urge to comment that she was paid for other things not long ago. “How long has this been sitting here?”

Lizzie tapped her cigarette ash into the tray. “The post boy dropped that lot off yesterday.”

Even if it was only two days late to reach your hand, by society’s standards, that may have well been taken as you snubbing the invitation. Frustratingly, you had to cancel your plans that day and personally deliver your letter to the Basnett’s door, citing some excuse of it having been lost in the post.

“That woman is up to no good.” You said glumly that night into Tommy’s chest.

“I’ll speak to her,” he promised in that stoic tone of his.

Whether he had been true to his words, you weren’t sure because Lizzie made an effort to avoid you when possible.

“Oh! Mrs. Shelby! How wonderful for you to join us! Come in, come in. The men are readying their rifles for the hunt outside. How exciting!” Gushed Lady Basnett, shooing you into the atrium of her lavish mansion.

Your riding boots clacked across the floor before being muffled by an intricately woven rug. You stared up at the chandelier, childishly wondering if it would hit you if it were to fall at that moment.

“Right this way, Mrs. Shelby!” Lady Basnett ushered excitably.

You debated if all her energy was for show—to please her husband and be the good wife he expected of her. After she showed you through to the veranda and down to the circle of wives who had gathered under the trees while their husbands readied for the hunt, you decided that no, she must truly enjoy planning social occasions like this, as evidenced by the way she kissed Sarah’s cheek in greeting with a wide grin.

It pleased you to know that Lady Basnett found joy in something. Ever since her eldest died in the war, she has been known to be a bit of a recluse.

“Oh, what a beautiful ring! May we see it?” Doe-eyed Catherine asked.

She was one of the younger wives, like yourself. Catherine married an older man, twice her senior. Many of the wives here faulted her for it behind her back, but not you. You saw more of yourself in her than you did in any of the other women. Because, despite the age gap, the girl seemed to be utterly head-over-heels in love with a man society deemed old-fashioned for her. And how could you blame her when you swore an oath to a gangster of all people?

You obliged and let the wives twist and turn your hand to better inspect the diamonds on your ring finger.

“It’s perfect!”

“How many carats?”

“My Mary would be so jealous!”

After dutifully showing your wedding ring, you noticed the men beginning to mount their horses.

Catherine hooked her arm around yours. “Come on, we are going to be left behind!”

She jovially pulled you along the stone tiles at a speed that made you grateful for wearing riding boots. The backyard was grand in the sense that the acres they owned stretched vastly into the nearby forest. Although there were impressive features, like the hedge they had grown into a maze and the trees that were shaped into birds.

“Lady Basnett owned an aviary of budgies. Dear little things they were, she was devastated when they all escaped one night after the groundskeeper forgot to close the door,” Catherine commented, having noticed the way your head was turned.

You laughed, because you could precisely picture Lady Basnett as the type to fawn over little budgies.

Catherine led you to the horses, where some of the wives were already perched, waiting for the party to leave. None of them carried rifles, but rather wicker baskets strapped to the saddle for the picnic they planned to have at the top of the hill while they waited for their husbands to finish hunting.

Together, you set off, having mounted the back of Catherine’s mare. Deeper into the forest you went, the black mare trotting over loose dirt and rocks. Both of you remained at the end of the pack, preferring to keep to yourselves in light conversation.

Then it all happened so suddenly. One of the rifles went off up ahead, and a flock of birds rushed at you from the break in the foliage, startling your mare. You gasped in shock and reached for Catherine’s jacket to hold on, but only skimmed her. She went face first into the dirt while you were swept into the air like a leaf and fell with the grace of a rock. The ground thundered as the mare galloped into the distance.

“Fuck!” Catherine spat.

(On her fall she had taken a mouthful of soil and leaves.)

“They’ll come back,” you tried to reassure her.

Hours later, the two of you still had not been found.

“I was a prostitute before George found me, y’know.”

No, you didn’t know.

“That’s why I’m so young and he so old,” she smiled fondly, laughing as if it were the most normal thing.

You couldn’t find it in your heart to dislike her because of her circumstances. She was your friend, and a true one at that.

What was it that Tommy said? The past is the past.

The sun began to set when one of the men from the hunting party found you both huddled together under a tree. Kindly, he let the two of you ride the rest of the way back despite your hesitance to mount another horse.

When you returned to Lady Basnett’s, with Catherine in arm, the sun had been set for at least two hours. You hadn’t realized what trouble you had gotten yourself into until you noticed Tommy’s Bentley parked in the crowded driveway of the mansion. Men stood at the gate, armed and waiting. Catherine opened her mouth to remark how ridiculous it was, but you kept your lips sealed after recognizing the guards to be Peaky Blinders.

Tommy had to be beside himself.

A young boy who was playing between the cars popped his head out when the gates squealed open. His ears perked up, and he ran inside, clutching his peaky cap, to probably inform the adults inside of your arrival. People pooled out onto the front steps, the women covering their hearts and sighing with relief, and the men holding their hats to their chests. But when your husband, Tommy, came storming out, they parted like the red sea.

He stalked across the gravel like a predator, his eyes trained on you with an unblinking stare.

“Are you hurt?” He ignored Catherine, cupping your face and frantically looking between both your eyes as if you would disappear.

Upon further inspection, his eyes were bloodshot, and the white sleeves of his blouse were bundled into the golden garters. Your hands itched to muse his disheveled hair into place, but with all the curious onlookers, you thought better of it.

“No.”

George, Catherine’s husband, was quick to whisk her away inside. You heard Lady Basnett’s voice trailing after them: “Oh my, what a terrible thing. Come now, let me pour you some tea.”

Unfortunately, tea wouldn’t make up for any lost ground with Tommy.

“We’re going.”

You knew better to open your mouth to disagree. This was Tommy being afraid and carrying on. He retreated into himself. It didn’t look pretty or like he cared, but he cared; you knew he cared. It was only that no one else was allowed to know that the great Thomas Shelby felt any emotion.

At Arrow House, he swallowed two glasses of whiskey before saying a word. You were pulling at the hem of the overcoat that Tommy had shook off his shoulders to give you for the ride home. Your fingers just couldn’t stand the anxious silence that rang throughout the room.

“What the fuck happened?”

He stood in front of you, stoic as a soldier but cracking around the exterior thanks to his hand, which itched for the cigarette case inside his pocket. (A nervous tick of his.) You grab his hand between your own before he can fish out the case.

“The horse got spooked. It bucked Catherine and me off, but we’re fine.”

His thumb rubs across your knuckles as he looks past your shoulder out the window.

“Do you know where I was when I got the call? Eh? I was handling some business when Lizzie came in and told me some posh old woman was on the line, saying you were missing.”

He exhaled sharply, dropping his gaze to you, where you noticed his eyes soften.

“I thought…” He broke off.

His chin dropped, and he went to itch his nose with his other hand.

“What did you think happened? Is there something I should know about?” Concern leaked into your voice.

“No,” he huffed, clearing his throat. “It doesn’t matter. You’re home, and you’re safe.”

You bit your lip to stop yourself from saying anything that might push him over the edge. He was fragile in a state like this in the sense that he pushed the stronger, more vivid feelings to the side because you were his wife, not a Peaky Blinder. No, you would never be, even though you married one.

Often, you would wish you could turn into the leaves that swept off the pavement and into the air. Imagine then how much easier life would be for you both—to forget the animosity of life and rise above it all, breathe in that crystal air, and then finally exclaim the truth because up there no one could hear them or cared enough to try anyway.

Cautiously, you let go of his hand and traced your fingertips up to knead away the tension in his jaw.

“Thomas… Do you remember what you asked of me? To help you with the whole fucking thing—”

“From now on—”

“Thomas—”

“From now on, let me know where you are going. I will organize a guard to watch over you.”

‘You write like you’re running out of time,’ Lizzie’s poorly placed joke from the start of the week reverberated in your skull.

Was he?

“I need you,” he breathed, the smell of whiskey fanning over your senses.

You nodded, pressing up on your toes to kiss him. A soft breath escaped him when you pulled away.

“You have me.”

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spicyllewyn · 7 months

Text

Kinktober 6. - Mirror sex.

Moon system x F!Reader

Tags & warnings. Mirror sex + hair pulling. (+18)

Word count. 2.8k

Summary. Marc got tired of Steven and Jake breaking his rules.

Kinktober masterlist.

So far, the agreement had been going relatively well. You were in a serious relationship with Marc at first, you met in a café like those silly romantic movies, with the small difference that you almost killed him by spilling your cold drink on him and tripping over him.

Neither of you could deny that things were moving very fast, but everything with him was so ridiculously easy that you weren't afraid to give him your all. You told him about the pet you lost when you were young, about the disagreements with your parents, and the occasional traumatic event in your life. He did the same.

When he told you about Steven and Jake, you joked that he was winning the trauma competition, and he could breathe easy knowing that this was not even close to being an obstacle to your relationship. He could trust you.

Things began to get a bit out of control when everything also became easy with Jake and Steven, each with their own personal charm. You never imagined being with three very different guys, but starting to experience it was a real adventure. The problem was that while you were having fun, they had endless discussions about you and the boundaries they set for each other.

Well, the boundaries that Marc set.

The main and biggest one was that marks on your body were prohibited. He understood that all four were part of the relationship equally, but he also used something he liked to call "privileges of having met you first and being the main reason why everyone is together." Or something like that, he always changed the name for it, the thing is he couldn't help but be a jealous man, he hated that Jake and Steven would forget who you belonged to first.

The first one to break the rule was Steven, unconsciously. You didn't know anyone who was a bigger fan of make-out sessions than him, and when his kisses got deeper, more desperate, he had the habit of holding onto your hips as if you were about to run away at any moment, or as if he wanted to verify that you were real and that you were in his arms, devouring his mouth as if you depended on it to live.

That, combined with the fact that he had a terrible habit of forgetting that his muscles were stronger than he thought. You tried to be as discreet as possible when his fingers left marks on your skin, but with someone as touchy as Jake, it was impossible to keep secrets about your body.

He took it as a challenge, of course. If Steven could break the rules, why couldn't he?

The next day, you could be sure that he saw you as a blank canvas because your neck, your shoulders, and even your breasts were covered in bites and hickeys. You didn't remember him being so aggressive, but maybe pleasure had blinded you.

"What is this?" Marc held your chin, turning your face slightly, just enough to get a better view of your neck.

"It was Jake." You chuckled, still distracted by your phone as you let him guide you, without noticing how his jaw clenched, but feeling his fingers tighten on your jaw.

"Darling?"

Your eyes traveled to him.

"Mhm?"

"Will you come with me to the bedroom? We need to talk."

With a furrowed brow, you obeyed because the hand that held your chin ended up in one of your hands, pulling you as if he were a child wanting to show you something very important.

"Am I in trouble?" You joked as you watched him close the door behind you.

"Sit on the bed."

"Am I...?"

His brown eyes on you were enough for you to obey once again.

"Could you explain to me what the hell is this?" His hand in your hair made you turn your gaze away from the mirror you had in front, leaving the marks in plain sight.

You immediately understood who he was talking to.

Or whom.

"Oh, come on, hermano." Jake rolled his eyes in the mirror's reflection, his arms crossed over his chest. "Steven broke it first."

"False!" The mentioned objected after. It seemed like a competition of who could make Marc lose his patience first. "I would never do something like that."

"Check her hips if you don't believe me."

Raising an eyebrow, Marc released your hair.

"Stand up, sweetheart."

If there's one thing you've learned over time in this relationship, it's that it's not worth objecting when one or all three of them are arguing, especially when you don't even know what the problem is. You stood up slowly, wearing Steven's blue sweater that you slept in, which only covered half of your thighs.

He slowly lifted the edge of the fabric, his fingers brushing your thighs and causing a slight shiver. You could swear you heard him growl when he found the damn marks that fit perfectly with the size of his hands. Some of them were covered by your panties but they were pretty visible, already turning to a purple color.

“I-I didn't even notice those were there!”

“Why can Steven do it and I can't? That’s a damn injustice if you ask me.”

“Fortunately, Jake, I'm not asking you.” He rolled his eyes while you tried to imagine what the other two boys responded to him from the headspace. "On your knees."

The cold of the floor on your skin felt good and you had to look up to meet your boyfriend's chocolate gaze. You never had a problem following his orders.

“The problem here…” His fingers ran through your hair slowly, making you close your eyes for a few seconds. “They are forgetting who you belong to. Who do they think they are to mark my girl like this, huh?” He cooed, the gaze of the other two fixed on him.

Your hands went to the hem of his pants, and when he didn't object, you understood well what he wanted. A small smile spread across your lips as you freed him from his tight black jeans, as well as his underwear.

He wasn't completely hard yet until your tongue ran along his entire length from base to tip.

“I want you to show them who was your first, my love.” Your fingers, as if you were an expert, wrapped around his cock, giving it a squeeze before beginning a slow, up-and-down pace. “Who you think about every fucking time you cum.”

You couldn't see it, but in detail you imagined the way Jake was rolling his eyes.

“It's a punishment for all 3 of you, you understand, don't you, honey?” His eyes boring into you as you kissed all around his cock wetly. “What makes you believe you should allow yourself to be treated that way?”

You parted your lips, taking the head inside before starting to suck. That always gave him chills, the way you didn't rush.

“No-oh.” His fingers tangled in your hair, those soft caresses had stopped. One push of his hand and you had half of his erection inside your mouth. He groaned.

Although you enjoyed taking your time and savoring every inch of Marc, he seemed to be in a hurry, you thought that perhaps the clumsy and aggressive way in which he was directing your head movements was part of the supposed punishment.

Were you supposed to not enjoy that?

“Push deeper.” Jake's voice caught Marc's attention, who a few seconds ago had been distracted by the messy and sloppy way you were sucking him off. He could have sworn there was a point where the only sound in the room was your saliva every time he slid over your tongue.

Marc looked at the mirror with a frown.

“Push harder.” He repeated, looking up. “Steven always fucks her mouth until she cries, if you want to prove your point push harder. Right, Steven?"

The other boy received an elbow against his ribs that forced him to look up. It seems he was enchanted by watching the way your left cheek bulged against the pressure of the head of Marc's lenght against it.

Still distracted, he nodded quickly.

It was that what resulted in you suddenly feeling him push your head harder. The brush against your throat brought tears to your eyes and you heard your boyfriend grunt. He was never so rude.

You didn't complain, though.

You tried your best to relax the muscles in your throat around him, but you were so caught off guard that a couple of gags only did the opposite, feeling you squeeze him every few seconds until he guided your head back.

Saliva ran from your lips to your chin, some drops ending up on your neck. You broke the string of saliva that joined his cock to your mouth by licking your lips.

You sniffed, looking up before giving Marc a smile.

“Oh, you like that, don't you?” His fingers wrapped around himself so he could hit your tongue with his heavy member. You kept your tongue out, happy to receive it and hear the wet slapping. “Or does Steven do it better?”

Another movement of his hips was so abrupt that you felt your nose eventually collide with his lower abdomen, having to close your eyes as your tears ran down them. Still, you didn't give up, you didn't use your well-known "signal" to ask for some mercy.

Instead you moved your tongue slowly underneath, you only managed to graze his balls with the tip of it but it was enough to get a gasp from his throat. You held on for more seconds than you thought you were capable of before it was Marc himself who pushed you away.

It took you several seconds to even out your desperate breathing, you wiped your lips on the sleeve of Steven's sweater.

"Stand up." He ordered. His chest rising and falling rapidly. Jake's smirk on the other side of the mirror screamed at him that he knew. He knew Marc would finish stupidly quickly if he kept fucking your throat like that.

You swallowed hard before standing on shaky legs, the intense heat between your legs beginning to burn through your entire body, without receiving any kind of attention the only thing you could feel was the way your insides clenched around nothing.

"Turn around." Your cheeks took on a reddish color as you remembered the two pairs of eyes that were on you on the other side of the reflection. You slowly turned your back on him, your fingers gripping the wooden cabinet that held the huge mirror. “You better not close your eyes, I want you to look at them.”

Marc's hands took care of the job, pulling the hem of the sweater up to your waist and pulling your panties down to your ankles. You didn't need instructions to spread your legs and raise your ass for him.

He positioned himself behind your body, holding his cock for help. The tip separated your lips and you flinched when it brushed your swollen clit, it was just a couple of brushes as if he wanted to collect your juices on it in order to make penetration easier.

Although with you dripping and him full of your saliva, at this point it was just his pettiness and his desire to make you beg. You lifted your hips higher.

Marc looked down, his hand positioning itself exactly over Steven's finger marks and with a single movement you felt him slide inside you. Your legs trembled as you received him this deep and rough way, an action that you recognized as more typical of Jake.

“M-Marc, fuck, Marc.” You stammered as your body tried to get used to his size. No matter how many times you had done this, it was like your body insisted on giving him that death grip that drove him crazy.

"That's it." He caught her bottom lip between his teeth in a lousy attempt to silence her gasps. “Louder, baby, remind them who's fucking you.”

Somehow you felt like Jake and Steven's eyes burned into your skin. You couldn't look in the mirror, not while you were babbling Marc's name between moans, with that look that made it obvious how cockdrunk you were with just a couple of thrusts.

When Marc hit that sweet spot that made you vibrate from head to toe, your eyes closed automatically, your head falling downward.

"No." He growled, his hand rising to place it in your hair where he tangled his fingers. The sudden tug he gave to your locks made you snap your head up and let out a loud gasp, your eyes snapping open. "Look at them."

On the other side Jake was leaning slightly so he could be at your face level, analyzing every small expression of pleasure he saw in you. Your cheeks are flushed, your pupils are dilated, and your lips are red from biting them so much.

Steven was too lost in his own thoughts to object anything, the truth is that he was enjoying this new angle he had to see his cock splitting you and making you whimper more than he would like.

“Tell them how good I'm making you feel, honey.” He cooed, his fingers giving your hair a harder tug to force you to keep your head up. “Remind them who was the first to break that tight little pussy.”

You stifled a moan, making your bottom lip bleed with a bite.

“Tell them.” He growled, his fingers squeezing your hips so hard you feared your body was going to give up at any moment.

“I-It was you, Marc.” You whimpered in pleasure as his thrusts pushed your body forward, you were already on your tiptoes so as not to end up with your entire body against the furniture.

“Repeat it, I want them to listen to you.” His entire length remained still inside you, brushing against that spot that made you lose your mind. "Louder."

Your parted lips took in deep gasps of air and you had to swallow hard to recover your voice by moistening your throat a little.

“It’s you M-Marc.” He didn't give your hair a break, he was pulling with his fingers so hard that it was starting to hurt. “Fuck, Marc! A-Ah, fuck. It’s you, it’s you, only you.”

Bold of you to assume that Jake wouldn't have that in mind the next time he had his turn with you.

“Fuck her harder.” Marc looked at the mirror when the opposing voice caught his attention. “Come on, she can take it.” A mocking smile appeared on his lips, only irritating Marc even more.

Still, he obeyed.

You could hear the slapping between your bodies every time he thrusted into you. Your legs were threatening to stop supporting your body weight as they began to shake, your entire body feeling small spasms as you got closer and closer to the end.

“Marc?” Steven's soft voice caught the attention of the other two. His pupils were dilated and there was an adorable blush on hid cheeks. "Touch her."

Marc grunted when he realized that this wasn't the punishment he'd originally thought, but who was he to say no to Steven? The hand that was holding your hip slowly slid between your legs, separating your pussy lips with his fingers and then pressing his thumb against your sensitive clit.

He immediately felt your little hole tighten around him.

“Circles.”

“I know how to touch her, Steven.” He growled in your ear, only reminding you of the pair who were probably enjoying the show. The pleasure you were experiencing was too much to rescue the few grams of shame you might have somewhere on your body.

Your nails scratched the wood of the furniture in front of you.

“Cum all over me, honey.” He managed to whisper between moans. Two more thrusts of his body snatching the air from your lungs. “I bet they’ll like it.”

And that was enough for the wave of pleasure to make your body tingle from head to toe, your walls milking Marc until he followed you immediately after, filling you with his warm, thick liquid, which he pushed deeper inside you with a couple more strokes.

For a few seconds the only thing you heard along with the ringing in your ears was Marc's heavy breathing. After a moment his fingers gripped your hips, drawing your attention.

He gave you one more thrust and you squealed, sensitive, overstimulated.

“Marc.” You complained, looking up at the mirror in front of you once more as you tried to catch your breath.

On the other side, Jake's smile greeted you, almost playful.

“Let's see which name you can shout the loudest, princesa.”

Tag list. @ninebluehearts @shousha133 @unear7hly @onefinnedwonder-fm @automnepoet @lokisremainingsanity @uncle-eggy @just-a-nightdreamer @spktrgantenk @chinglewingledingledong @queerponcho @faretheeoscar @spideyman-peter

Remember to comment if you want to be on the kinktober tag list!! <3

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neteyamsilly · 1 year

Text

i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best | 4

summary ;; A father protects, that's what gives him meaning. Jake Sully has failed. PART 3 | PART 5 pairings ;; dad!jake sully x reader, mom!neytiri x reader, sully family x reader genre ;; pure angst and family feels notes / explanations ;; PLEASE READ AUTHOR NOTES. I explicitly said in the previous chapter I would NO LONGER BE TAKING TAG REQUESTS. You're just going to have to check my profile every now and then. I also will not be re-tagging the peeps I did in the last chapter’s replies, it’s just a lot 😭 I'm sorry for the inconvenience and thank you for your understanding! Now I present you, the long awaited angst and groveling of Jake. Enjoy! Please excuse my mistakes if you see any. Thank you so much for the lovely comments and support, I hope the angst hits the way you wanted it / was expecting HHHHH

It’ll shine better, Jake mused to himself, rotating the lumpy amber around in his fingers to better reflect the sunlight streaming in thin rays from the hands of the dense flora above, once I dip this in that polish oil. It’s not entirely unsalvageable.

At least he hadn’t scraped too much in attempts to give it a rounder shape, the bug at its core you were gushing about to the point of waking him up at zero dark thirty was still intact. He had been summoned from his dreams to look at a cool rock.

Jake couldn’t not gift it to you as something to be permanently worn after that.

The problem? He was ass at this. Always had been. No drop of craftsmanship in his bloodstream at all when the Na’vi were particularly fond of their ornaments and accessories, making it themselves, in fact.

Songcords were put together from beads, bones and stones, virtuosity was a must intrinsically woven into everyday life, methodized and irreplaceable since it wasn’t as if mass production could ever be a thing in Pandora. Everything was handmade.

Jake’s worst enemy beadwork was in their clothing, for example, even in braids — his maladroit at it may or may not be why he wore his hair in plain dreads now.

He wasn’t an artist or a creator, his hands were more comfortable being fit around a gun or a knife than slipping effortlessly in the rhythm of weaving or the act of making. All his end results were dreadful enough to be bullied relentlessly by his kids — except for you, that is. You absolutely loved them for reasons your mother or none of your siblings could understand.

Jake’s blundering conscience would melt at the sight of your eyes shining and the biggest smile almost splitting your head in half as if he had just handed you the world every single time he gifted you the newest of his clunky handiwork. He didn’t know why that made you the happiest. You’d been that way ever since you saw him carving and personally adding a bead to his songcord about how he got his firstborn daughter to utter her first word: dada.

It was important to him, so, down it had gone into Jake’s life story; putting official significance to the moment he never wanted to forget in the same thread that carried the story of him becoming Toruk Makto, just beside Neteyam’s first word, which was also dadada. (Neytiri had Lo’ak’s mam, and Kiri’s perfectly articulated mommy.)

Ever since that day, you had made grabby hands at the bead all the time when he picked you up, teethed at it like a puppy trying to grab a toy, tried to rip it off to make it yours — anything, until Neytiri made you one, but no, you wanted it from dada.

So dada started making you little trinkets.

He didn’t know if it was a good or a bad thing you never grew out of receiving gifts from your dad he himself cringed at. Jake wasn’t one to complain, not when someone in this life would feel such enough joy to purify thousands of blighted souls upon receiving his ugly personal work. It made him happy, stroked his ego to high heavens that his sweetheart was doting on dada to see the imperfect as the most fascinating.

That’s why he had taken on the daunting task of making a bead for you out of the amber you’d fixated on, rasp in one hand, sitting on a thick log that cut into the little stream he and his family were spending leisurely time that day, one leg pulled to himself and one feet in the water up to his ankle. Even though he had half an ear on his four children playing around in the shallow water of the creek, all the screams and squeals of joy felt weak compared to the contained huff of amusement that escaped from his mate who had come up to Jake while he was way too engrossed in his task.

His eyes shifted to Neytiri, watching her hop on to the log in one agile move. “Don’t laugh.”

“I am not laughing,” Neytiri said, crouching to sit, her mouth twitched upwards as she looked at the amber in his hand.

“I have eyes, Neytiri, I literally see you laughing.” His face used to burn at her openly teasing about beadmaking, but his oldest daughter’s attentions had restored his bruised confidence over the years. The slander wasn’t taken lightly these days as Jake had proudly relabeled the odd shapes of his work as a creative choice. “Right to my face.”

“You’re mistaken.”

Jake made his jaw drop, overacting his bafflement. “Wow, gaslighting? Really?”

Neytiri hit his arm lightly. In her terms, it was light, at least. “I don’t know what that is.”

“It’s something you shouldn’t do to your mate.” He turned his back to her, giving a look over his shoulder. “You’re abusing me. I’m being abused.”

“Baby.”

“No amount of pet names are gonna fix my broken heart.”

“No. You are a baby. I’m insulting you.” Neytiri hadn’t even laughed, but the uplifted timbre of that sentence sure did make Jake snicker in disbelief. “If you can’t take it, maybe you should leave beading to me.”

“I would say they are fashionably off,” he defended. You carried them with delight, so why shouldn’t Jake take more pride in his work? “And you said practice makes perfect years ago, I remember the exact words—”

“Years ago. You still haven’t gotten any better at it.” Neytiri was his biggest supporter and criticizer at the same time. “And you became a part of the clan back in the day in three months Jake. Never a more unbelievable thing to me than this.”

“I’m trying alright?” He turned back to the bead, or, vaguely bead-shaped amber, if technical terms were involved. It still had a whole adventure to embark on until it could receive the noble title of a bead. “She likes what I make, at least.”

“It’s because she’s your daughter and anything you do is out of this world. Beauty in the most unlikely places. A child’s love is pure that way.” The unexpected hypnotism of poetry in that sentence alone pulled Jake’s gaze to Neytiri’s, and for a moment, he could physically feel his heart within his ribcage being squeezed, tethering on painful, but with a joyful tinge. “She doesn’t have standards yet.”

Well, that hurt. “Damn.”

“Damm!” A pair of small and branch-thin arms wrapped around his neck from behind, and something, or rather, someone, latched onto his back. “Rahh!”

Jake should have been suspicious of how silent it had gotten halfway into his talk with Neytiri. Turns out, you had swam underneath the log to get out of his line of sight, climbing with the stealth of a bug to come up undetected.

Well, mark Jake down as impressed, you weren’t able to do that without being spotted until today, this was another wonderful milestone for you — you had learned impressively, taking advantage of his distraction, avoiding making noise and using water to your advantage. Neytiri must have given you some pointers.

And now he was wondering if his mate was in on this all along, purposefully disturbing his peace so their kids could see an opening to pounce on him.

“Oof!” Your hold on him was something he could break out of any minute with how adorably strong you were exerting yourself to make it, but he wanted to play along more than anything. Jake was acting panicked, swinging his body left and right from the waist, but really, it was just a light warm-up exercise with the easiest deadlift possible. “I’m being ambushed!”

“I got you now, Toruk Makto!” You wrapped your legs around his torso, and he felt like this was just a piggyback ride with extra steps. “Watch this, mom!”

Oh, it’s on.

Discreetly handing Neytiri the amber, Jake stood up, bringing you up with him and fighting a smile at your clipped squeak as the height became too much too quick, causing you to cling onto him stronger. He reached behind, and within seconds, he had you in his hands, holding you from the armpits and dangling you above the stream, your kicking legs beating the air, and he cackled like a villain threatening to fling the hero from atop of a skyscraper.

“You got me? Please.” He loosened his grip the slightest amount to give you the illusion he would let go, and you stopped struggling to scream, catching his forearms. “A measly thing like you? Conquering me? I’ll show you why I’m the king of the skies! Here I come!”

Making sure you wouldn’t get hurt, Jake threw you into the water as gently as possible, but made the angle entertaining enough so you would go flying. He wasn’t sure who’d screeched the highest, your three siblings who had you spearheading this little operation with full trust in your capabilities, or you reacting like you were falling down from an ikran midair. Either way, he was enjoying bullying his kid a bit too much.

Emerging from the stream and shaking the water off too akin to a wet dog, your first action was to shield your siblings, open arms and whole body and all. “Nete, run! Protect Lovak and Kiri, I’ll save you!”

Jake’s evil smile looming on his kids wavered at that.

You had problems with some letters even at the big age of eight, two vowels next to each other in one word was one of them, along with the confusion of “f” and “b”, and sometimes “p” — it made for hilarious misunderstandings Jake had to fight to be a parent about instead of busting a lung from laughing.

One of the many unforgettable events was deemed “The Fish Incident” between Jake, Max and Norm. He had been recording Neteyam’s first catch on his own to add it to the cute memory pile he and his mate would watch in the future after all their children eventually moved out to pursue their paths. You happened to be present that time, watching intently as your big brother shot a particularly giant yellow fish, eagerly jumping down to the pond to get it and showing it to the camera with a shy, yet proud grin on his face.

“Good job, boy!” Jake had cheered. “Say I got that fish!”

Out of the camera’s frame and making little jumps on your toes, you’d blithely yelled. “Yeah, you got that bish!”

The rest of the footage was shaky and out of focus, the microphone hadn’t picked up any sound but Jake’s uncontrollable laughter, kicked off by an exploding snort of shock.

You and Neteyam had no idea why, but after he’d stopped recording with tears streaming down his face, wheezing because he couldn’t stop laughing, you’d joined to laugh and play with him regardless, mirroring his excitement.

Later though, Jake had to actively make it so you wouldn’t have to say the words kitchen and pitch (and obviously, fish) out loud, at least, in front of Neytiri. He didn’t want to abstain from having a little fun himself, so under no circumstance was she allowed to find out and correct you. And he had it going strong for a while until it slipped when he was talking about a scientist friend over at Hell’s Gate called Richard and you repeated it as “Bitchard”. The word had somehow weaseled into your English lexicon as well, and Neytiri wasn’t illiterate enough to be oblivious to what you’d merrily blurted.

Good old days. Jake sometimes missed hearing you curse innocently. Neytiri had to take that source of joy away from him. Discouragement and warnings would be given to his kids if they knowingly cussed, of course, Kiri calling Lo’ak penis face was something he’d immediately shot down, but this was harmless, he thought. He could have let you be blissfully unaware until the day you learned the meaning of the words, or gain consciousness of the articulation errors as you grew up and naturally fix it yourself. It was only a natural part of a child’s growth.

But he had other entertainment. The obligatory consonant you had to sometimes add to two different neighboring vowels if it was too difficult for you to pronounce, for example. Your little brother was a victim to this. Thankfully, Lo’ak wasn’t bothered to be called Lovak by his older sister, somehow thinking of it as a nickname, but Jake could bet his ass the boy would use this as infinite ammo against you once both of you were older. He would of course forget how you always protected him in play fighting like right now, of course, maybe you would remember enough to accuse him of ungratefulness, and perhaps Lo’ak would declare he didn’t recall anything such as that.

How bittersweet of a thing it was to drift into imaginations of how his kids would be like when they grew up. Like the stinging ache Jake always got when he was confronted with the sadness of losing his children forever one day — the need to put every minute with them in a bottle, and the feeling of time slipping through his fingers, the same old melancholy each time: when it first dawned on Jake that you’d successfully sneaked up on him just now, when Neteyam had captured his first fish all on his own without assistance, when Lo’ak showed him the knife he had successfully carved by himself to get his approval, and when Kiri had tended to a scratch wound of his better than her grandmother did with precocious wisdom on her face.

Jake was making every moment count. Just like this one.

“Nobody is safe from me, I’ll huff and I’ll puff and blow your house in!” He jumped down from the log with the grace and intimidation of a leopard who had been disturbed while eating up the tree he’d dragged his meal on, splashing water everywhere. “What will you do, o’ mighty hunter?”

You loved being called mighty hunter by him, he saw the sparkle in your eyes.

“Noooo!” Kiri cried, pulling on both Lo’ak and Neteyam’s arms huddled behind you. “He’ll get us!”

Your thought process, completely spooked by Jake, was painfully visible. But surprisingly, you yelled, “Scatter!” with the experience of a rave addict who would take a forty and smash it on the ground as the police closed in on the party grounds. And his kids ran in different directions, like a group of cockroaches when someone approached them, they all ran in different directions.

Sloshing water all around to make it more terrifying, he got Kiri first, hauled her right over his shoulder when she made for Neytiri, thinking her mother could protect her, but no. Jake was inevitable. Lo’ak gave him a weak challenge trying to step around him, getting Jake to confuse his steps as if they were playing basketball, but this was his dad he was facing and not Spider, these tricks didn’t work on veterans, so now he was flush to Jake’s side, tail facing forward, carried like some strapless bag, it didn’t even put any strain on the man’s bicep. Neteyam was the last, hiding beneath the water level and holding his breath, but the little nose peeking out for air gave him away, and Jake had him up the other shoulder in seconds, the boy didn’t have enough time to run away even though he’d spied from underwater that Jake was coming for him.

Three out of four. That left only his eldest daughter.

You were nowhere to be seen. The delighted and struggling giggle-cries of the three kids in his arms and shoulders didn’t help at all to Jake taking his surroundings in with a keen ear, all senses attuned to spotting the stray.

A rustle from above.

“Attack him!”

He didn’t have enough time to see just which branch of the trees cocooning the creek you had climbed on before all three in his arms turned on him, flailing around together in unison to get Jake to fall down and kneel, and it surprisingly worked, he couldn’t even recover between the blink of a time between them getting off the way and you jumping down on him. The height at which you did that knocked all air off his ribcage for a second as he tried to retain balance, and you took that chance to sit on his shoulders, your legs dangling from each one, grabbing onto two dreads on his head as if they were the tails of Toruk he once had held onto like leashes.

Jake had to give this one to you, damn. When had you become a student of the art of strategizing?

But, defeat was defeat. He had to play his part. “This can’t be!” He opened his arms, making it seem cartoonishly like he had been incapacitated. “I’ve been… bested?”

“That’s right!” The cockiness was dripping from you as you pulled on his dreads. “I’m Toruk Makto Makto now. The first of my name!”

Your siblings started cheering battle cries, repeating the word.

Don’t laugh, he ordered himself. Toruk Makto Makto, what a title, oh Jesus Christ.

“Alright, alright, you got me, mighty hunter.”

“So I win?”

“Yes, you win.”

He was going to have two less dreads on his head if you kept pulling on them like this. “Hell yeah!”

After hearing the declaration, his other children also joined in on the ‘Hell yeah!’ train. Jake supposed he could let this slide for now, you guys were too happy, he wouldn’t sully it.

“You’re gonna rip my hair off, get down now.” You understood play time was over from his tone, and obeyed, hopping down his shoulders when he lowered you into the water, immediately attempting to rush to your siblings’ side to be celebrated, but Jake had something else in mind. “C’mere for a sec.”

He pulled you to the edge of the stream where water met grassy land, dipping his hand into the wet soil under your confused gaze and bringing his fingers up to trace a pattern on your face.

The reaction was instantaneous. You pulled back. “Ew, mud!”

“Hold on,” he gently warned, or rather, encouraged.

You let him continue whatever he was doing then, albeit not losing the laughable concern along the way. “What’s this?”

“Well, you’ve tamed Toruk Makto before an ikran. My mighty hunter should be painted accordingly, no?”

He pointed down and you followed it with your eyes. Seeing your reflection and the ‘V’ shape with a dot on your face in the water, you stopped yourself from touching it with the impulse control that kicked in at the last second, looking up at Jake, jumping up and down, unable to contain the energy, knowing exactly what he did just now. He’d recognized you as a prospective hunter candidate. “Thank you, dad!”

Jake could swear his insides liquidized at that. “Always, sweetheart.”

“Will you paint me like this when I finally get an ikran, too?”

“Of course I will.” He actually wanted to cup your cheeks and plant a little kiss at the adorable flat of your nose but the mud would be ruined, so he pet your braids instead. “As will your mother. It’s what family does.”

At the time, Jake didn’t have the slightest inkling that the paint would end up being your own blood.

Neytiri’s bloody hands — your blood, his child, his child, his baby Jake’s entire day would stop at seeing one tear on her face — had been stroking your face, trying to hold on to you anywhere she could to soothe your flaming pain as you were squirming like a dying animal fighting for the next breath. His heart beating right behind his eyes in a massive pulsating headache, Jake was too desperate fighting his swelling panic with each noise that ripped from you to notice they had left the vague pattern of Iknimaya paint pattern in their wake.

She did.

And her following anguished, gasping shudder as her shaking hands hovered above your contorted face, tracing the air along the lines the blood had left on your face ended up hitting him right in the gut. He couldn’t dwell on it. He couldn’t let this random twisted sign sweep him into the roaring waterfall of torment, your life was on the line.

Jake didn’t have any coherent memory of running back to the mouth of the cave from the family tent. One moment, he was back with his brain fried from thinking about Quaritch in the aftermath of an hour that had just taken twenty years from his lifespan, avoiding the inquisitive silence of his kids who hadn’t gone back to bed yet; and the other, Neytiri was screaming in the distance with terror worse than the anguish he’d heard her go through upon losing her father and her home. Jake had all but flown there, mind blank in swirling, spasming panic.

Neytiri had told him he had a strong heart the first time they’d met. No fear. Even though Jake was aware he was being disliked strongly, this quality of his she had remarked on, honest to her soul.

But she was wrong.

That fearless fortress heart of his had begun to crumble the moment he learned of Neteyam’s existence. And with each and every new addition to their family, Jake had been rehabilitated on what fear truly was, like a baby learning a language.

Losing. It was all about losing.

He would wake up from terrorizing, choking nightmares with the sensation of his family being violently taken away from him when his children were in his arms, sleeping peacefully all along. He couldn’t stop it. It had spiraled out of control after the sky people came back, turning him into a paranoid, angry man who was ruled by fear. He worried for the safety of his family every day, obsessed over it — beneath the impenetrable iron mask of a leader his whole clan was leaning on, Jake was nothing more than a weak, emotionally crippled father who would lose it the more his children grew up to take reckless actions he made worse by the inability to govern his fear-curbed anger. He called it tough love.

That tough love had resulted in this. Loss. Loss. Loss he had tried his damnedest to prevent. It was blood slipping through his fingers from a wound he had no way of stitching back together.

The more he pushed to block the bullet entrance point, the more you fought Jake, making feral yowls that weakened into animalistic whimpers and throaty whines that all but ripped his heart off muscle by muscle, your hits and scratches didn’t faze him, but the noises. Eywa, the noises. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know you’re in pain, I know, I know, I’ll make it go away, please hold on, c’mon.” The droplets of sweat that had formed in the matter of seconds rolled down his face. You had begun to hyperventilate from the accelerating pain because of his efforts. “C’mon sweetheart. Breathe for me, breathe for dad, okay? You gotta breathe. Breathe!”

You were unhearing, lost in the overwhelming, blinding, deafening agony he couldn’t anchor or shield you from. The grunt of desperation that escaped his sore throat rattled his carbon fiber infused bones.

Jake didn’t have time to think. His reason had flown out the mountains to be able to force one single word to form in his mindscape. He just knew he had to stop the bleeding, propelled by concentrated instinct. You were struggling too much for him to have a solid hold on you. Everything, too slippery. Too much blood. Too fucking much. The sickening smell of iron bit at his senses.

(Was it the liver? The spleen? Pancreas? One of the major arteries? But Na’vi biology wasn’t the same as humans. Fuck.)

Then, you were being restrained by a third party, Neytiri was too devastated to make that reasonable decision, and in his peripheral vision, he saw it was Neteyam who had sat down on your legs, restricting your movements with incredible strength. Jake couldn’t even bark at him to go away with how much Neteyam looked in control, a rock he and Neytiri both could draw strength from. Behind him, Lo’ak was a stone statue just standing there, frozen, his eyes not leaving your bloody abdomen.

When you let out a yelp his heart could no longer stand, he yelled, “Bring a stretcher!” to nobody in particular, out of his goddamn mind. Lo’ak jumped at it, coming back to his senses, hesitating what to do for a second before he was off to god knows where. He had to take you to Norm’s, and then a doctor—

A tiny, trembling voice he couldn’t recognize as Neteyam’s reached his ears. “Dad…”

The boy was looking at you, blown eyes shining with unshed tears, upper set of teeth sinking in his shaky bottom lip.

You had gone slack in his arms.

He hadn’t even seen the moment, didn’t stop putting pressure on the wound as the dread assaulted his body. And a biting shiver went down his spine before Jake also looked down on his eldest daughter. Your eyes weren’t closed all the way, halted gaze focused on something to the side, one tear rolling down your temple.

“Don’t do this to me.” Jake couldn’t breathe as he shook his head, he was about to lose it, about to tumble down the edge he could never climb his way up from. In denial, he didn’t lift his hands, losing all strength in his upper body and gradually collapsing forward as his forehead found yours. “Don’t do this to me, sweetheart, not like this. Please, not like this.”

The last thing you were looking at was the ikran you’d gotten.

Jake didn’t feel that very ikran making its way to their side, flapping its wings, didn’t feel anything to react when a snoot reached down and ever-so-gently nudged you, like you were asleep and it was given the duty to wake you up in the morning that day.

Your ikran nudged you once. Twice. Thrice. Each push was harsher than the other.

You didn’t wake up. Your eyes didn’t get their light back.

A paralyzing numbness took over Jake’s body, all his neuron ends stunted. The moon stopped spinning, time stopped moving, he ceased existing, all at the same time.

A piercing ringing stabbed his ears, took away his hearing. He didn’t hear Neytiri scream louder than the ikran, you were ripped from his arms, and he couldn’t move to do anything about it, just staring into the distance, at nothing, bloodied palms facing upwards in his lap.

It was Neteyam who tried to stop his wailing mother from going mad with grief, trying to get her to set down your body from her crushing embrace even though he couldn’t take his misty eyes off your body. It was Lo’ak, frantic in his run even though his panic-frozen face gave away nothing, who had rushed back with Mo’at and Kiri. It was Tuk who had thrown herself into his arms for a hug Jake wasn’t in his body to reciprocate, his seven year old child, in tears, comforting him when Jake, as the adult and the father, should have had his shit together and be the provider of comfort.

Instead, all he could feel was the blood on his hands, one small part in his mind making him focus on that one amber with a bug inside he’d carved for you, years ago, now in your hair.

The tears didn’t come. His world was shattering all around him, but not one tear made it to the surface.

Someone was talking to him, but Jake wasn’t there, experiencing the moment behind a thick veil of silencing glass.

“Open her mouth, Jakesuli.”

He looked at the source of the muffled sound breaching the ringing in his ears, painfully empty and unfeeling. It was Mo’at. In her hand, a woodsprite gently floated in the air and landed before it repeated the motion again. It was as if his brains had been emptied from his skull. He didn’t understand. He didn’t see. Tuk was clinging to him, Neytiri doubled down in waves of cries in Neteyam’s arms. Jake wasn’t there.

“Open her mouth so I can keep her spirit here longer,” Mo’at said. “Do it now. We do not have much time.”

And Jake could breathe again, his soul slinged back into his body, feeling returning to the tips of his fingers, kicking into action.

He cradled your body from the cold ground you were lying on, bringing his shaky hand to your tightly shut jaw. Your body couldn’t have been experiencing rigor mortis, so you must have been clenching your teeth to the point of your jaw locking to fight the pain, and he was nearly blinded from the sheer strength with which he had to hold back from hugging you. But he eventually opened your jaw with a sickening pop that made him visibly grimace, and Mo’at guided the woodsprite to slip inside the cavity of your mouth.

The bioluminescent dots on your body began to flicker the moment your mouth was closed again. Jake gave a shuddering breath at the sign of life, hands unsure if he should continue to cover the wound again.

“Eywa has allowed her to remain. For a while.”

“Oh Great Mother, thank you!” Neytiri took one of your hands, pressing it against her cheek and kissing it over and over again. “Thank you, thank you.”

“Bring her to my tent,” the Tsahik simply stated, and Jake didn’t even stop to consider how he should be taking you to the science guys, how they were probably going to say you needed a blood transfusion and surgery right after they got the necessary tests such as MRI and blood analysis out of the way. Kiri, sniffling weakly, took the crying Tuk away so Jake could carry you. He couldn’t comfort his girls the way he wanted to, couldn’t attend to Neytiri as their sons consoled her and got consoled in return in a tight hug together; he was on the move, heart about to beat out of his chest.

He took you in his arms and clutched your unconscious and ashen blue body tightly to his chest, your head lolling in the crook of his arm, arriving to Mo’at’s tent faster than she did — and oh, how small you were compared to him, how fragile and vulnerable. The attitude made you appear bigger than you actually were, and Jake was reminded how you were still a child from how light his daughter was, like a fleeting bird. He’d forgotten. It had been forever since he last held you like this that he couldn’t bear to lay you down on the mat. If only he could hide you away within his ribcage, away from the pain and the suffering, forever.

“Everything in this world is borrowed,” she told him, an incense was burned, salves were prepared, tools he had no idea on what they were used were brought out. Plants, herbs. Jake stood there, helpless. “Even this child, Eywa has lent to you. She is borrowed from the bosom of our Great Mother, entrusted to you. Entrusted.” Your freckles were still flickering, and Tsahik’s tone, clipped. “I will converse with her. Ask if she plans to call her daughter back home today.”

Ice washed over Jake. “No, you gotta heal her, Mo’at, I can't lose m—”

“Everything in this world is borrowed. Each breath. Each heartbeat. All children. All gifts from Eywa.” Her eyes bore into him. “I can only ask.”

Neytiri pounced on him as soon as he stumbled out of the tent, beaten and spent despite not having one scratch on his body, upon Kiri’s entrance to assist her grandmother in tending to you.

“Your fault!” He was violently pushed back, only able to take in the woman’s bloodied, wrathful face, tear tracks freshened with saltwater she couldn’t stop shedding. “This is your fault! I told you! I told you to fix this!”

Jake was aware other clan members were watching even if they weren’t out of their homes, he was Olo’eyktan, their leader, his pride would have taken this to their own tent had this been any other debate, but now, he couldn’t give a flying fuck. Bruising his back was the weight of a failed father instead of the ornamental piece of the clan leader, it was unbearable enough. She was right. There was nothing else to be said. His mate was right.

“Mother, please,” Neteyam was right beside them in a flash, holding Neytiri back and shielding his father from her. His sunken eyes found Lo’ak and Tuk crouching at the edge of the tent, huddled together, the youngest having the crying hiccups as her older brother had an arm around her, himself looking traumatized enough.

“Don’t, boy.” Jake put a hand on his stone-hard shoulder, moving him aside. Neteyam took one hard look at Neytiri half-circling his father in long strides, and decided it was best if he took care of his siblings instead even if he wasn’t told outright. He ushered Tuk and Lo’ak up and away, to the other side of the tent where they wouldn’t disturb their parents by staying in the field of vision.

Jake should have been the one to take control, but Neteyam had stepped up for it — he was a kid, too, eldest child or not. What the fuck am I doing?

In his tumultuous sorrow, every piece of the fortress Jake had put together was coming down, every decision re-evaluated, emotion overtaking what he once thought as logic. His fault. His fault. He had ruined his children, all of them. He had thought embracing the iron will of a war chief would allow him to be a strong father figure, but it had only alienated his family.

You had died in his arms.

Jake contained every storm in a box inside his body, Neytiri lived those storms, she was strong that way. He would take it. Her eyes were only seeing red at the moment, the grief and wrath of a wronged mother. “Yeah, it’s my fault,” he told her, something between a whisper and a sigh. His kids deserved to hear it. “I know.”

“She is dying because of you!” Jake couldn’t escape the truth by closing his eyes, but he did anyway, like an automatic body reflex against detecting something would be hitting him. He swallowed, his mouth was drier than a desert, no relief was found in the action. “My daughter! My child! Your child!” She pushed him again, hissing. Jake didn’t do anything to stop it. “All because you told her to go today—everything, everything… All because you didn’t reach out to her. She hid that.” A shiver shook her voice. “That… because of you. You! She thought you would be angry!”

Violent horror seized his heart, ears pinning back on his head, knuckles clenching so light blue they were almost white. “I would… I would never—how could I ever—?”

But it was in character, wasn’t it? Jake always getting angry over worry for his children. Going crazy because they could have gotten hurt. Fear grows into anger, worm eating away the bark of a tree into poisonous snake. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks, chest rising and falling in big breaths, there was no air.

“She said you hated her. Over and over again, she said you hated her. Not to call you because you would hate her for it, Jake!”

Bitter guilt and glacial shock rose from his stomach, choking him, his eyes looking at anywhere but Neytiri’s blazing golden eyes, to his children who sat together seemingly away from them but blatantly listening, to the tent flames were barely illuminating the shadows inside. His legs were weak. All that he had been breaching behind a wall to prioritize your safety flooded rancid to his mind.

Jake got angry at you all the time that you’d expected it at your most vulnerable. That he would blame you, reprimand you for his enemy’s actions.

His memories were attacked by all sides. That you had gone off on your own for the Iknimaya everybody should have been there for, he should have painted your face personally for. That you have been hiding the bleeding out from the moment Jake had found you pinned down by the dead body of an avatar, from the moment you’d answered positively to the question of if you were hurt or not, with that rifle he’d thought you didn’t let go because of how the events had shaken you. He opened his mouth, a gaping fish, but no words came out, mute and voiceless.

Hate you? Hate you? Hate his own child he would burn the whole world for?

His child. Suffering in silence when her nature was anything but silent. Afraid of her father when she was the most fearless of his kids when facing him.

You thought you weren’t loved.

“What have you done to our children? What has this family become? What are we if our children are too afraid to come to us in their darkest hours?” Neytiri was snarling, both fury and grief battling inside her, teeth gnashing so hard they could sharpen a knife. “What child does not seek her parents when she is hurt?”

Unseeing, Jake couldn’t stand anymore, staggering towards a particularly large rock and sitting on it, he raised his hands to rub his face but stopped when he saw the blood.

All yours. All his daughter’s who he had failed. Who had died in his arms thinking she was hated because Jake was a shit excuse of a father you couldn’t trust to say you were hurt that you would take the risk of dying so he wouldn’t find out.

His daughter’s blood, on his hands.

He put his elbows to his legs, crossing his wrists to lean his forehead on, yet unable to hide his shaking hands even if he managed to hide his face. Jake couldn’t comprehend any of this, crushed beneath the skyful of burning hot shame and the guilt dwarfing him — tears he couldn’t seem to shed found life in his eyes at him trying to blink away the memory of you clinging to your ikran at the flight home. You had been suffering the whole time and all he could think about was Quaritch when he should have been thinking of you.

“What child would rather hide her injury than let her father know?” It shocked his spine like lightning, and Jake visibly flinched, fists clenching and unclenching. “Explain this to me!”

Shame. Shame. Shame. Jake was about to throw up, rocking back and forth.

He had nothing to say. Nothing could ever excuse this. He couldn’t wash away all your moments from this night, all a cursed film strip haunting his every breath accompanied by thorns that ripped apart his insides.

“If she lives,” Neytiri said, pointing a curled hand at him, slowly, scarily calm, but shaking with mastered rage. If she lives destroyed Jake. “We would be lucky if my mother doesn’t decide to perform Stxel’eveng as Tsahik!”

Jake’s head shot up at the word, his arms dropping altogether and meeting his mate’s tortured stare. As Olo’eyktan, he had to be taught the traditions and ceremonies to the point of talking in his sleep from overlearning — this one was a long lost one the clan hadn’t performed for a long time, as the Omatikayan were faithful and loyal to Eywa and her teachings.

Stxel’eveng was the shortened word for ‘Gifting of a Child’ — an adoption ceremony within Na’vi that didn’t even have the word ‘adopt’ in their vocabulary, simply because it was almost non-existent, most Na’vi didn’t even know the existence of such a tradition. If the parents were unable to care and provide for their child, mistreated on purpose or neglected them to the point of no return, they were to be publicly dishonored by the gifting of said child to another willing family. A knot would be formed between the three, one thread bound around the waist of the mother signifying the womb, one thread fastened to the queue of the father, and the final thread to the wrists of the child as if they were captive. The knot, then, would be severed by Tsahik to symbolize the dissolvement of the familial relations in Eywa’s eyes.

The biggest shame a Na’vi could bring upon their name.

“No,” Jake muttered, his mind going blank yet again. Fuck the shame. Damn his name. He couldn’t lose you. It’s a stone in his throat he can’t swallow, whales on his tongue he can’t speak to save himself.

“Pray to Eywa it doesn’t happen. Because if I was Tsahik, I would do it.” Neytiri turned away from him, pushing the heel of her hands on her damp eyes. “I cannot bear this shame, Jake. I can barely breathe.”

He quivered like a baby leaf caught in a storm, a couple more tears rolling down his cheeks. “Neytiri…”

“I lost my daughter today. She slipped from my fingers. I watched her die.” He lowered his head at her grief, vision swimming. “How am I a mother when I can't feel her pain? How am I worthy of being her mother when I saw my child’s pain and just sat there helpless? Why would the Great Mother ever want to send her back?” She just kept going, not having any mercy on Jake’s soul. “Where was I when she won against her ikran? Where was I when she had her first flight? Where was I to protect her from those demons?”

A father protects, that’s what gives him meaning.

Who was Jake Sully?

“Lo’ak, come back here!”

Both of them turned just in time to see their youngest son running away from the back of the tent they’d been hiding, Neteyam following a couple steps before he stopped to look back, probably at his sister.

“I’ll get him,” Jake said, soulless and absentminded. Neytiri didn’t respond, stalking back to Mo’at’s tent, just kneeling in front of the entrance, wrapping her hands and tail around her knees. Tuk turned the corner, scampering towards her and finding refuge in Neytiri immediately wrapping around her protectively.

Jake wasn’t allowed to comfort his mate.

But he could get to his children who needed it. Trust, Neytiri had said. Honesty.

Walking up to Neteyam, he put a warm hand behind his rigid back, and felt the taut muscles relax underneath his touch, another wave of shame hitting at the inability to recall just when he had last comforted his boy.

“Get Tuk. Go home. Rest.”

Neteyam turned to him, scandalized. “We will stay.”

“Neteyam—”

“Dad—sir, please. I can’t leave my sister.”

That sir was a splash of acid on his already weeping heart.

It dawned on Jake that Neteyam was the one witnessing your moment of death. Death. A surge of nausea shot up from his esophagus, and he didn’t stop himself from hooking an arm around the boy, careful of using his hands not to get blood on the eldest, pulling him into a much awaited embrace. He hadn’t allowed him to be a kid.

“It’s okay, Neteyam,” he croaked. “She’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”

Neteyam’s arms didn’t wrap around him, unfamiliar to the gesture — crumbling Jake’s already broken heart into dust, but he did shiver, fighting the tremble. He simply said, “I pray so.”

He was still trying to hold it together — for everybody’s sake.

Jake felt the boy’s tears on his skin, and didn’t let him go when he tried to step back to wipe them, letting Neteyam cry silently as much as he wanted. He owed the boy that much, as his father. It was the least he could do.

Jake would stitch this family back together. He had to.

Washing the blood off his hands had taken a while. Jake wasn’t let off easy, cursed by the remaining line of bloodied dirt in his nails.

He found Lo’ak at where it all began. The mouth of the cave where your ikran was disturbing the other ones with restless chittering, reminding Jake of a wolf howling all night at the full moon.

His youngest son was transfixed by the blood staining the ground. Just standing there, looking at it. Jake couldn’t protect him from the sight. Not anymore. He himself could barely stomach it.

“Is sister going to be taken away?” was the first thing he asked Jake, not looking at him still.

Jake didn’t know if he meant death, or Stxel’eveng.

“I pray not,” he told Lo’ak, honest for once.

And like him, the boy wasn’t sentimental or emotional enough to bear his wounds to another, even to a family member, and fell silent. “It has Toruk’s colors,” he said instead, referring to your ikran’s red, orange, yellow and black patterns. Looking at the creature, Jake tried his hardest to stand up straight when he discerned all the blood coating its neck and back from the natural red color disguising it. “I wanted to fly with her.”

Pulling him into a side-hug, “I’m sorry, Lo’ak,” Jake admitted, causing him to finally break the trance he had on the blood. Speechless at his father, proud and strong, admitting he was wrong out loud and that he was being hugged when it wasn’t like his father at all to show them casual physical affection. Jake knew what must be going through his head, he would be thinking the same if his own father had ever taken responsibility for wrongdoings, as well. “It’s my fault you didn’t get to.”

Lo’ak’s mouth was hanging low. “Dad…”

“But you will,” he said, determined and full of hope. He had to be. For his children.

“You think so?”

“I pray so,” he quoted Neteyam. “Your sister is stubborn. She will pull through. Don’t lose faith in her.”

Lo’ak’s grip on his forearm was painful.

“That ikran’s lost the half of its tail fins,” the boy sniffled, thickening his voice to hide the tears. “How did it get all the way here?”

It stung in Jake’s chest. The same way you’d hidden that injury. Your ikran was fueled only by the desire to get its rider to safety, it seemed.

It would never fly again.

Jake looked down at Lo’ak, only to be met with him avoiding his look, still concerned with hiding the tears. “Loyalty,” he said. “Devotion. Sometimes you don’t want to lose the things you love no matter what, that desperation gives you enough strength to push through any trial by fire. You would do anything. Anything.”

And sometimes it was fear that did it, but he didn’t mention that to Lo’ak to not put salt on their family’s injury. Jake didn’t want to think about how terrified you must have been, or he would actually go insane. He didn’t want to think about the possibility of you not making it in the end. He had to keep going. He had to push forward. Be the father this family needed him to be.

“Come on, boy,” he pulled Lo’ak gently. “Let’s go back.”

Your ikran whined at this pitifully. Jake tried not to think. He tried not to imagine what your reaction would be upon learning you would never fly together again, and had to put down this ikran that had been devoted endlessly to you if you wanted to get a new one.

Jake didn’t think. Because if he did, he would actually go insane from the pain.

Mo’at and Kiri emerged from the tent only in the morning, by which the whole family was cocooned in Jake’s embrace for the first time in years before the sky people had come back. They all had scrambled to get up, waiting with bated breath for one syllable of good news as Kiri slipped into Jake’s arms, one wink from falling asleep while standing. He kissed the girl’s head, soothing her, hoping this could be you eventually. He had been praying for it like a madman.

“Eywa has accepted to bestow your daughter back to you, Jakesuli,” was the only answer Mo’at had for them, no word about your physical wellbeing. “But only if she accepts as well.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You must go speak with her. At the Tree of Souls.”

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#dad!jake x daughter!reader #dad!jake sully x reader #jake sully x reader #jake sully x daughter!reader #dad!jake sully x daughter!reader #sully family x reader #mom!neytiri x reader #neteyam x sister!reader #neytiri x daughter!reader #lo'ak x sister!reader #kiri x sister!reader

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frost-queen · 2 months

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Tempting fate // part 3 (Reader!Featherington x Colin Bridgerton)

Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly @denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury, @imagines-by-her, @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn, @iixchloee, @cherrysxuya, @dutifullyannoyingfox, @wolf-phoenix-lover, @mellowdreamlandpost-blog, @markive-m, @esposamultifandom, @mswwvaleska, @itsalyssadawnuniverse, @magical-spit, @winter-solstice24

Summary: Penelope tries her effort into turning Colin's eye to her. Realization hits you as you have a hunch of who the writer of Lady Whistledown is. Bad blood brewing between sisters. [ part 1 & part 2 & part 4 ]

You had excused yourself from Colin, heading back inside. Where the warmth wrapped around you like a blanket. The loud muttering deafening out your clear hearing. A pair of dancers almost knocked you over when you rushed by. Coming to the window, where you had spotted your sister, she was gone. The spot empty. Looking around suspiciously, you wanted to know where she had gone too. Some bystanders glanced your way, whispering as you ignored them.

You could care less about them. Getting on the tips of your toes, you tried to overlook a few high heads. With your sister’s new wardrobe it wasn’t easy to spot her. Her bright colours exchanged for more plain colours. Blending more easily with the others. Turning your head, your eyes widened brief seeing that Colin had returned inside.

Looking searchingly around as well. You dropped your feet flat on the ground, lowering in height. Ducking a bit, you didn’t want Colin to find you. Some lords pulled their noses up at your curious and suspicious behaviour. Finding your way to the crowd lowered as if you were looking for a lost earing.

Lifting your head a bit, you came in contact with Benedict Bridgerton. He sat down, mouth half stuffed with a sweet, the half bitten part in his hand. You smiled sheepishly at him. Benedict moved his free hand to the side, pointing. You followed his point seeing him point at your mama. You thanked him with a nervous smile.

Straightening your back a bit, you walked off casually. Benedict quirking his eyebrow up at your strange, but funny acting. You pretended to make your way over to mama, till you hopped aside, disappearing into the crowd. Where ever could she be? Looking left and right. Then your eyes locked. Pinpointing her.

She stood by the walls, her dance card dangling down her wrist. Her gaze was focused elsewhere. Not far from her stood a group of ladies. Chattering away. Your sister tilting her head a bit, as if being able to hear better. Her expression emotionless. Silently you made a big turn around to reach her out of surprise.

You reached the walls, practically glueing yourself to it. Your reputation was already ruined by gossip, so you could care less for your mischievous acts. Quietly you approached her. Coming to stand beside till she noticed the company that had joined her. She glanced at you. – “Are you not dancing sister?” – you asked gesturing at the dancers. Penelope kept looking in front of her. – “I am trying not to draw any attention to myself.” – she replied. – “I saw you with Colin earlier.” – she added leaning a bit to you.

You clasped your hands together below, leaning a bit forwards. – “What a keen observation sister.” – you answered with a hint of sarcasm. You caught her looking, smiling intentionally at her. Penelope smiled back at you. In silence you both stood, looking away from each other. For the first time in forever it felt awkward standing with your sister. As if being near a stranger. You became aware of some curious eyes once more.

Seeing their heads come together to whisper and gossip. Ladies and lords probably discussing your purity. It hurt. Seeing the entire ton be against you, but perhaps you deserved it. After all you did kiss Colin. Not your intended, not your fiancé and certainly not your husband. Despite all the lies and the hurt, a part of you deserved it. Deserved to be judged like that.

“Best not to draw attention to yourself.” – Penelope spoke softly. It made you widen your eyes at her. Turning around, you left feeling already judged too much. You returned to mama, waiting there till the dreadful ball was over. The carriage ride back home was horrible. Your mother sighing loud as she undid one of her pins from her hair. – “This is a nightmare.” – she called out.

“I’ll have to marry my daughters off to farmers at the rate of this. Congratulations daughters, you better get used to the life of work.” – she said sarcastic. Phillipa busted out in tears, leaning her head against Prudence’s shoulder. She sighed again. – “I had such high hopes for you Y/n. Guess I overrated you.” – she turned to look outside.

Her comment made you lower your head, letting your hands slip in the folds of your skirt. The carriage hobbled on the cobble stone as it rode into your street. Mama got out first, your sisters following. You got out last, feeling miserable as hell. You immediately went to your room, crying on your bed.

Penelope lifted her head up as the door to the Parlor opened. Colin Bridgerton entering. – “Colin.” – Penelope spoke getting up. Colin bowed to her, before approaching him. – “To what do we owe the pleasure?” – she let out with curiosity. –“Are… are you here alone?” – he asked. Penelope let out a soft ‘yes’. – “Would you like some tea?” – she offered, gesturing at the small table. Colin nodded. Penelope poured him some tea, handing him the cup.

Colin took a sip as Penelope was staring at him. It made Colin furrow his brows. – “What is it Pen?” – he asked almost humorously. – “Nothing.” – she responded mesmerized back. It made Colin set the cup down with a sheepish chuckle. – “It is just…” – she started catching his attention. – “Your eyes…” – she began. – “A remarkable shade of blue.” – Gazing wondrously at him.

Colin stared back at her, caught up in her words. The front door opened as you entered alone. You walked past the Parlor, hearing your sister’s voice. – “and yet somehow they shine even brighter when you are kind.” – you heard her speak. Curious as to who your sister was speaking, you cautiously opened the door a smidge. Enough for you to look into the room, with one eye. Your eyes widening seeing her stand with Colin Bridgerton.

Colin cleared his throat, drinking his tea as if parched. You backed away from the door in stunned. Slowly figuring it out, you made your way over to the stairs. Stomping loudly as your presence was known now. Penelope turned around in shock. Colin with a quizzable brow. He moved forward, thinking perhaps an intruder had come to the house. Penelope’s eyes shifting thoughtfully, narrowing her eyes slightly.

Upstairs you rushed to your sister’s room. Swinging the door open as you didn’t bother to close it. Immediately you went towards her desk. Pulling the drawers open. Searching vigorously through the papers. Some flew out of the drawer from your force. On her desk stood a little box as you opened it, ruffling with your hand in it. Nothing. You went towards her dresser, searching through her clothing.

Nothing. The covers got pulled back from her bed. Nothing, not even under the bed. For a moment, you felt impatient. Biting your finger a bit. Till your eyes fell upon something else. You crossed the room, hearing a plank creek. It made you pause. Putting more pressure on it, to hear the difference. It creaked more.

Kneeling down you let your fingers brush over the wooden edges. Till you felt that you could lift the plank a bit up. Eyes widening, you pulled the plank up. Almost aggressively you forced your hands down to the wooden box and papers. Reading head line after head line. Dearest gentile reader. Dearest gentile reader. Dearest gentile reader. Throwing a few pages around you, you couldn’t stop reading them. All editions of Lady Whistledown you had read before.

The realization hitting you. The one who wrote such filth about you, was closer than you thought. Your own dearest sister. Quiet wallflower Penelope Featherington. Shy as a mouse, but loud with a mighty pen. In shock, you got up, holding numerous pages of filth. There were rushed footsteps on the stairs. Penelope barging into the room as she bumped against the doorframe, panting.

Her eyes widened at the sight of you with her papers. You slowly looked up to her, holding the numerous papers up. – “You… you did this…” – you said still trying to process your discovery. – “I can explain.” – she started coming closer. – “Filth after filth!” – You started throwing pages at her. Penelope got started as some pages flew against her.

“You wrote about me!” – you screamed out throwing the last of pages at her. Bending down, you picked up a few more. – “Does this satisfy you sister!” – waving the pages at her. – “I saw you with Colin!” – Penelope called out full of emotion. It made you throw the pages at her out of anger. – “So you decided to write lies about me!” – you yelled at her. – “You know I like Colin!” – Penelope answered justifying her acts. It made you scream in agony. – “If you just stayed away from him, I wouldn’t have to write about you!” – Penelope made clear.

Pacing around, you felt yourself get emotional. Lip trembling as you tried your best not to cry. – “You are the devil!” – you cried out with tears in your eyes. Penelope swallowed, finally cracking to her own emotions. – “It was only meant to teach you a lesson.” – she said. – “Is that what you were doing?!” – you shouted at her. – “By writing about me in your latest sheet! By telling the entire world about things I entrusted you with?” – you finished with anger.

“It was the only way I could convince you to leave Colin alone.” – she responded with emotion in her voice. You took a step forward to her, wiping your cheek clean. Your expression turning cold. – “The only person you were interested in glorifying was yourself!”

Penelope briefly looked away. – “I do not even know you.” – you said to her taking a step back from her. You turned away from her, wiping more tears away that kept coming. Penelope’s expression changed with anger. – “All you ever do is talk about your sisters!” – Penelope called out in frustration. – “You’ve all these dreams and ambitions, but I am the one who did something great, and you cannot stand it!” – She yelled out.

You returned to your sister, inhaling deep. – “I wish to never see or speak to you again.” – you told her coldly. You went towards the door till you stopped, finger thoughtfully against your lips. – “I wouldn’t put your hopes on Colin, Pen.” – you said to her. – “He’s not interested in you.” – you let her know, wanting to have the final blow.

Your words cut like a knife through her heart, making her gasp soft. You left her room, crying your eyes out. Penelope grabbed a pillow and threw it in agony at the wall. Rushing down the stairs, you didn’t expect Colin to still be here. – “Y/n?” – he said with concern at the foot of the stairs. With a trembling lip, you walked over to him, wrapping your arms around him.

Colin got startled for a second. – “What is wrong Y/n?” – he asked, moving his arms around you. You only wrapped your arms tighter around him, wanting him to comfort you. Colin hugged you better, stroking your back. Penelope had come into sight, standing at the railing of the stairway, looking down at Colin and you. You curled up a smile, knowing your sister was watching.

You moved a bit back in the hug as Colin saw the tears on your face. He touched your chin, concerned for you. – “What happened Y/n? Who hurt you?” – he wanted to know. You simply turned your head, looking at your sister up on the second floor. Colin looked past you to her as well. Penelope gripped onto the railing, staring bitter down. – “Pen?” – Colin asked you confused.

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