#( tenderly pressing a cold cloth to their forehead ) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kasagia · 2 years ago

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Losing your memory

Pairing: Young! Coriolanus Snow x fem!Capitol! reader Summary: He used to be your Coryo. Now he has become the man you don't know. The Plinth heir. The future president of Panem. You pray every day to forget about the sweet boy you fell in love with, on whom you could always count. To forget who he was and lose the memory of the past. Just like he did. Well... not exactly. Unfortunately for you, he still wants to remember you. Inspired by: "Losing your memory" by Ryan Star Word count: 7,2 k ~•♤♤♤•~ Coriolanus Snow's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~

You've been avoiding him ever since you found out he was back in the Capitol.

A month ago, this news would have aroused great joy and ecstasy in you. Your Coryo is back home. He managed to shorten his exile and gain Dr. Gaul's favour again.

But the man who returned from District 12 was not your dear friend or lover. This wasn't your sweet Coryo, with whom you walked hand in hand to school. This wasn't the boy you shared your lunch with. This wasn't a boy who cared about your well-being above his own. This wasn't a boy who joked about snobbish children spoiled by the richest people in Panem with you and Sejanus at the end of the day. (Although he talked with them, trying to keep up good appearances—he used to call that one of the responsibilities of being Snow.)

The man who came back was Coriolanus. The new Plinth heir. The shell of someone you knew. The ruthless, cold pet of the mad creator of the Hunger Games you despised.

Sejanus' death didn't hurt you as much as the transformation of Coriolanus from the person closest to you into someone you barely even recognized. And from the tearful, sad, resentful, and disappointed stories you heard from Tigris, you had an accurate picture of the man who took your Coryo's place.

And you hated him with all your heart.

Especially after what he promised you when you stayed at his apartment for one snowy winter night.

You lay wrapped in the various blankets and quilts Coryo and Tigris could find. It was winter, and they didn't have much money for additional heating, so they mostly walked around the house in several layers and slept under piles of clothes.

You didn't know about that that night.

Tigris lent him her quilt so that he wouldn't have to be ashamed of the poverty his family had fallen into since you were supposed to come to sleepover with him after the argument with your parents.

Cuddling up to your blonde boy, you tried to fall asleep, listening to his heartbeat. You frowned at the sound of it being a little faster than usual.

You lift your head and look at him carefully. His gaze is distant and thoughtful as he lazily draws patterns on your back as he presses you against his chest.

"Coryo?" you whisper, cupping his cheek in your hand tenderly and forcing those blue irises you have loved so much to look at you. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

He sighs long and presses a kiss on your forehead, the tip of his nose stroking your hair, as he is inhaling your scent. "I just... I just think about the fact that you deserve so much more. My grandma and Tigirs deserve much more than... this." he says with disgusting pointing at the room you were in.

"This..." you say, clasping your hands together and pressing a tender kiss to the back of his hand. "Is more than enough. You are all I need. And one day, when you are President of Panem or any other important figure in the Capitol, none of you will lack anything. This is a temporary state. You are too smart to be anything less than great, Coryo. You know it."

You see him hold back tears. He pushed your head onto his chest to rest his chin on your head. He is not crying. He almost never cries. But you know how close he is to it by the slight quiver in his breathing.

"I know I don't show it often enough... but you mean... everything to me. I can't imagine how I would go through these all without you by my side."

"I love you, Corio. Just promise me you won't forget this. What you went through, what you experienced. Don't forget your struggle. That's something you should never be ashamed of." he tenses at your words but leans in to kiss you passionately and hungrily. Putting all his unexpressed emotions into action and into that kiss that warmed you more than any blanket or radiator could ever.

"I promise. I will never forget how you kept me sane. When you were the only shelter I could go to and the only support that could bear the boundlessness of my troubles and doubts. How you were my only moonlight in the worst of my darknesses." you laugh softly, recognising part of his words.

"Quoting poets will get you nowhere, Coriolanus Snow." you say teasingly, rubbing your nose against him, at which he chuckles, licking his lips.

"Well... I've learned that in some situations, it gets me somewhere. And it's a very cold night tonight, don't you think? I can't let you freeze to death." he says as his hands go under your shirt—actually, his shirt that you stole from his closet.

"Well… I guess there's nothing left for me… but to place myself under your solicitous care." you sigh softly as he pins you underneath him, making sure the cocoon of blankets is still tightly wrapped around the two of you.

"I couldn't have said it better." he whispers and presses his lips against yours, stealing your breath countless times. He pulls away just a little to say against your lips, "You're mine. We belong together. No matter what."

He makes you shiver as you eagerly agree to everything he says. You don't realise how, in the future, you will curse every single intimate, sweet moment you shared with him.

Ironically, you realise how deep he has gotten under your skin the moment he returns to the Capitol, and you have to avoid him, not when he is sent into exile.

It was probably because when he was gone, you were too distraught to bother leaving your room, opening the blinds, or wiping the tears that somehow kept leaking from your eyes to notice how almost every place reminded you of him. If you could, you'd go back in time and tell yourself there's no point in crying over the asshole he's become.

Although maybe you already felt that your Corio was leaving, and it was a way of mourning him?

Anyway, you saw him everywhere. Not Coriolanus. Coryo. He stalked you in the library, the park, the cafe near the academy that you two and Sejanus liked to go to, and of course the Academy itself. Kudos to your parents for not letting him into your house. At least he didn't pollute your room with memories of him.

Involuntarily, you wonder if he also sees you, for example, in every corner of his apartment. Or maybe he renovated it beyond recognition to erase all traces of his past?

You didn't know.

And you didn't want to know.

The information about him that Tigris gave you when you met her at your house when Coriolanus was at the university for classes was sufficient.

Just because it didn't work out with her cousin didn't mean you would abandon your only real friend. And just because things didn't work out with her cousin didn't mean she would stop (more or less subtly) encouraging you to go back to him.

"We talked about you." she says, making adjustments to your dress that she made for your birthday party thrown by your parents. Another one of the unpleasant responsibilities.

"You and your grandma?" you ask, trying to avoid HIM as a topic as much as possible.

"No. Me and Coriolanus." she says, pinning something to your waist—some decorative strip of fabric or something—you're not sure; you're too focused on the window and the bustling city as you are trying to ignore her words. "You know… I think… I think I saw in his eyes… the old Coryo. For a brief moment, but… maybe if you came back to him, he would come back to himself too."

"I'm sorry, Tigris, but I think he went too far on his path to simply go back to who he was. Surely not because of me."

"I understand… I just really miss him." she says it in a soft, broken tone, and your heart breaks at it. You hug her with all your strength, uniting with her pain that you also felt so deeply.

"Me too." you whisper in her ear as she cries into your shoulder.

Tigris was a very strong woman. She always impressed you. You wanted to be as strong as her. But even the toughest had to cry sometimes.

After all, there comes a time when even the snow melts... even if only for a little while.

You held him tightly in your arms as Corio cried into your chest.

His grandmother fell ill. Hard. Without a doctor, she definitely wouldn't be able to get out of this on her own, and they didn't have the money to pay for one, let alone the medicines.

Your boyfriend spent the whole day planning, thinking, and getting any money, but it was not enough even to buy the cheapest antibiotic.

However, you didn't expect that after you found out it all from Tigris and ran to him as fast as you could with the chicken soup prepared by your servants and all your pocket money, he would start crying.

Coriolanus Snow cried like a little baby.

You handed the money and soup to Tigris, who, after feeding up their grandma, quickly ran out with her to the doctor. At that time, you were holding your boyfriend in your arms in the other room, who simply fell apart from his helplessness.

"Shh… it's going to be okay, Coryo. She will live, falsify that stupid hymn and hate me for not being enough for you just as she used to." your attempt to comfort him didn't help. If anything, he only cried more, holding onto you tighter and tighter.

"I should be able to take care of them... I should be the one taking care of you, not the other way around. I'm pathetic and weak. I'm not worthy of being called Snow."

"Hey, my sweet boy, look at me. You are strong. You are the strongest man I know. You are looking after me all the time; you literally give me everything you have, the last piece of your food, to keep me happy, safe, and full when I forget to bring a damn second breakfast from home or don't have time to eat something. You love me, and I love you, and that's how it works. We care about each other. And I have never, ever regretted being with you. Because what we have… is more valuable than anything else in this world. I trust you implicitly, and I will always be by your side. You are not alone with your problems and suffering. Not as long as I am here."

"But for how long will you stay? For how long will you endure with me?" he asks, and after one look at those a little red from crying, beautiful blue iris, you answer without a shadow of hesitation.

"As long as you love me and I can trust you. As long as I breathe. As long as I am in your mind and heart. I am not going anywhere, Coryo. Money can be earned, but what we have... you can't buy it. What I feel for you is more dear to me than any treasure in this world and I will never exchange it for anything else." you promise, stroking his hair tenderly to help him calm down.

You should've then wondered why he doesn't agree with you then. Why doesn't he say that he also feels this way and that he also values you more than money, glory, and honours?

But he blinds you by telling you for the first time that he loves you.

And you cling to him, wiping the tears from his face with your lips and foolishly believing that your love is pure and eternal.

Like a driven snow.

You knew this day would come someday. The day you let your guard down. But you hoped it would take a little longer before you came face-to-face with Coriolanus.

You are completely unprepared for this. You just freeze like a deer in headlights when you see his face at the end of one of the university's corridors as he walks forward, looking for something in his bag. Before you can even think about running away, he looks up, probably feeling watched, and his blue, icy eyes meet yours.

You both stand there transfixed, looking at each other, taking in the changes in your appearance since the last time you saw each other, which was after you broke up with him, when you saw how tenderly he treated Lucy Gray and how comfortable he was around her. And after someone politely informed you that he had kissed her.

"Y/N!" Coriolanus calls out to you and takes a step towards you, but you quickly step back and run through the crowd of people to get away from him. Unfortunately for you, he doesn't give up that easily. He never does. "Y/N! Wait!"

You have no intention of doing so. You run as fast as you can, bumping into several students along the way. You don't even bother apologising; you just run, hoping that Snow will stop being hot on your heels. Which, by the way, was a miserable dream after how fit he was after his training and the time he spent as a peacekeeper.

On the way, you notice a woman's bathroom and immediately run into it. You lock yourself in a cabin, thanking God or whoever is up that you managed to get an empty cabin and hide in it. You hear his quick footsteps and the door opening, followed by the screams of other women in the bathroom. You sigh in relief as you hear him obediently leave the room.

You're not leaving, though. You are not stupid. You know he's waiting at the door for you to come out. You decide to wait here until the end of the break between classes and hope that he will drop the idea of continuing to chase you and talk to you, and he will attend the lecture instead.

As the bathroom begins to empty, you realise that the next lectures must be soon. You stand silently on the toilet seat, listening carefully, waiting for the right moment to emerge from your miserable hiding place.

Just as you are about to reach for the doorknob, the bathroom door opens. You shiver as you hear heavy footsteps echoing off the tiles of the empty bathroom. And you think that you can smell the subtle scent of roses in the air.

"Come on, Y/N. I know you're here. I just want to talk."

Said the snake moments before eating the bird alive.—you think, mentally mocking how gentle he was trying to present himself. As if he could still be your Coryo.

"I have time. I can play hide-and-seek with you, if you want to. After all, you always liked to play this when we were kids. And you always lost."

You roll your eyes, listening carefully to his footsteps. He was opening the first cabin. You were in the middle one—the one a little closer to the door (and him).

"We'll have to talk eventually. You can't avoid me and ignore me, no matter how good you are at it lately. Let's stop this ridiculous, childish behaviour and go talk over coffee and some of your favourite cookies at the cafe near the academy. Just like the good old days. Well, this time all your orders are on me. What do you say?"

You would have snorted if it hadn't immediately revealed your hiding place to him. How dare he invite you to the place where you, he, and Sejanus spent the most time? To the place where your first unofficial date was.

He wanted to manipulate you, to make you believe that your Corio is still there and lives behind the façade of the rich, arrogant asshole he has become. But you knew better. His eyes told you everything you needed to know.

Even without Tigris' help, you realised that he... was a completely different person. He turned into somebody you only used to know in the past.

"Seriously? Still nothing? So you prefer the hard way, then..." he says, opening another cabin. You wait patiently for him to come to yours.

You breathe as quietly as you can, trying not to let him know which cabin you're in. You listen to his slow, measured steps as, with the incredible confidence and calm that is typical of him, he opens each cabin door, moving inexorably towards you.

Your heart quickens, beating madly, when you see his shoes in the whole, under the cabin's door. He reaches for the door handle, and before he can open it, you push the door against him with all your strength.

You hear him curse, taking a few steps back in a daze and holding his nose. You take the opportunity and run to the exit of the bathroom as fast as you can, not looking back.

"Fuck! Y/N! Are you insane?!" he shouts, running after you.

You reach the door just in time and slam it behind you, sprinting out of the university. You get in your car and drive away with your tyres screeching. In the rearview mirror, you see him leaving the building and following your car with a furious glare.

"I can't believe you invited Snow." you huff, fixing your makeup in the mirror. Your father is buttoning his cuffs, and your mother stands next to you, also putting the finishing touches on her appearance. "You hated him when we were together."

"He is an ambitious and clever boy. Plinth did well to make him his heir. You should reconsider whether he really is that bad. This match would have opened many doors for us. Not only among Plinth's allies but also among Dr. Gaul. God knows how she favours this boy. Who knows? Maybe one day he will be president of Panem."

"If so, I will run away abroad." you say it bitterly, putting your lipstick back in your purse and adjusting the necklace around your neck to make yourself look perfect.

"Don't be stupid. Snow wouldn't be so bad for you. Since you are our only child, we must marry you well. Make sure your husband doesn't blow our fortune in a week. And Snow is a thoughtful boy. He wouldn't let you live below the poverty line."

"And he's quite handsome." your mother adds, straightening your father's tie. "Still, he's not a womaniser. I heard he turned down the... special attention of Crane's daughter and a few other Capitol's girls. I guess he's been alone since your breakup."

"Hmm. Great. He wouldn't cheat on me with other snobs in the capital, but he would fuck with whores in the district. The perfect candidate for a husband." you scoff, walking with them to the next room, where the photographers were waiting to take a photo of you together.

“Language, Y/N. You are a lady. Besides, it is not certain whether he and this Lucy Gray actually had something between them. After all, she's a woman from the district.” your mom says this, smiling for the cameras.

The flashes blind you a little, but with your father's and mother's hands on your shoulders, you somehow manage to keep your pose, fake, pretty smile, and opened eyes.

Your father thanks them and leads you out of the room and into the corridor leading to the great hall where the ball was to be held.

"And even if he did, it's good that he had some fun. It will make him appreciate the treasure that you are and see that you are irreplaceable." he says, taking the box out of his pocket. He hands it to you with a warm smile. "Happy birthday, my treasure."

"We've already given her..." your father shushes your mother. You send them a confused look as you open the medium-sized box.

You find a tiara there. A small diamond tiara.

"It will match your dress perfectly." your father says proudly. You nod and walk to the mirror to put it on, despising the object in your hands with all your heart. You may look like a princess, but you've never felt so... disgusted with yourself before.

This feeling intensified even more when, after a toast and receiving wishes from several of your friends and more powerful families, you managed to sneak out to the balcony. Not long after you, all the single, young men of the richest family on the Capitol entered, with Coriolanus among them. They each took a cigarette and started smoking, gossiping about the events of the week…

And their topic of conversation was exactly what you were afraid of when you got that fucking tiara.

"Have you seen this? I bet they're pure diamonds. Old Y/L/N wants to marry her off so much that he's using every trick possible."

"He doesn't need to do much. She is beautiful in her own right. But this character… it's easier to train a dog than such a stubborn cow."

"What Snow? Are you now regretting that the Capitol's Diamond slipped from your hands? I heard she wants nothing to do with you. How unfortunate that it happened at the moment when you started to count in the eyes of the elite, and now you really have any chance of grabbing this precious gem for yourself."

The Capitol's Diamond. You shudder, thinking about the nickname you've been given.

That's what they called you. The sole heiress to your parents' fortune. Diamond of the Capitol, the best match in the city, with a dowry greater than any other woman. Anyone who won your hand was guaranteed to reach the top and success with your family's connections, your charm, beauty, and brain. And these vultures knew it perfectly well.

You were curious how the new Coriolanus would react.

Your Coryo only took advantage of your position in society when he had to. He didn't ask you for money or for you to convince your father to whisper a good word about him here and there. Maybe it was because of his pride; maybe he really didn't care. You have no idea. But Coryo despised that term as much as you did. You wondered if that had changed as well.

"I'm still in the game." he replies evasively, sipping his drink. The others laugh and he frowns in displeasure.

"Sure. Because the way she ran away from you today when you approached her with a gift says exactly that." they mock him. You see him clench his jaw, glaring at them coldly as he considers his next move.

"Enjoy it while you can. Your good mood will end when our cat-and-mouse game is over and the Capitol's Diamond hangs proudly on my shoulder." you huff, shaking your head in disbelief. You come out of hiding, and all the men on the balcony tense up and look at you in surprise.

Especially Coriolanus. Suddenly everyone is staring intently at the garden of your estate, too shy to look at you. Except Snow. He drills a hole into you with his gaze as he thinks of a way to undo what he said.

"Gentlemen." you scoff, walking past them and ignoring Coriolanus' glare. "For your information, I would rather live in one of the districts than marry any of you. Enjoy the party." you add sweetly, walking back to the ballroom.

The party is in full swing. You are talking to Thomas, using a sweet boy in a shameful way—to scare other men away from you. Just as you expected, they started flocking to you like flies to a fire.

So you chose the least spoiled of them. Thomas was nice and funny; you had a good time talking to him, and dancing with him was even better.

He wasn't rich; he wasn't part of the cream of society. You were really starting to enjoy spending time with him. And most importantly... he looked nothing like Coriolanus. He was nice for the eyes, but his dark hair, eyes, and sweet, shy personality made him drastically different from your ex. So he was the perfect break from your dramatic love life. Boring, nice change.

You danced to a waltz with him. He held you gently, close but respectful, not invading your personal space. He was a perfect gentleman. The man of your dreams.

If only Coriolanus' icy eyes weren't focused on both of you like a predator waiting for its prey to stumble, you would be able to enjoy Thomas' company to the fullest.

You are with him at the buffet, sipping drinks, when suddenly the last person you expected to meet here approaches you.

"Mrs. Plinth." you whisper in shock as he stands in front of you.

She looks—probably the way she feels. Nice on the outside and devastated on the inside. The dark circles under her eyes cannot be fully covered by makeup, and the deep black of her dress is a clear reminder of what she is still going through.

You can't imagine the pain he's going through right now. And you wonder why the woman decided to join her husband for your birthday party. Since Sejanus' death, she has rarely left their apartment.

"Y/N. Can I steal you from this young man for a moment?"

"Of course." you say, not even looking in Thomas' direction as you and Mrs. Plinth walk to one of the empty living rooms in your mansion. You close the door behind her and point to the couch. "Can I get you something to drink? Or to eat?"

"No. There is no need, darling. I just… I just came here to give you something." she says, pulling a thick letter out of her purse. "I… the letters from Sejanus are still reaching us. The flow of information between the districts and the Capitol is… very heavy and long. Especially when the peacekeepers are now checking every one of his correspondence. He sent it to you. Or rather, he wanted you to send it to him. Or rather, he wanted you to have it, just in case he couldn't… I'm sorry."

Your heart aches with sadness, seeing her on the verge of tears. She probably has no one to talk to about her son except her husband. After all, Sejanus was a traitor of Panem…

"He was a wonderful friend. The best one somebody could have. I could always count on him. Thank you for... taking the trouble to give me a letter from him. That... means a lot." you say, fighting the urge to hug the woman. The Capitol is not famous for acts of tenderness, mercy, or compassion. You had to keep up a facade. Always.

You take the letter from her and walk her to the exit. You give her one sympathetic look—everything you could afford in your position—and close the door behind her.

You sit on the couch and open the letter with trembling hands, trying not to look too closely at the way he wrote your name on the envelope. You know that will remind you of how you taught him how to decorate letters in his first days at the Capitol. Because everything here had to be perfectly beautiful. Even the fucking handwriting.

A bracelet falls out of the envelope and onto your lap. It is not particularly beautiful or sumptuous. It is a simple strap holding a peg-shaped pendant with some black, crushed stone placed behind a piece of glass.

You place it on the coffee table and open the letter with trembling hands. You already feel that after all this you will have to fix your makeup, which you will probably ruin with tears, but Sej's letter cannot wait until the end of the party.

Y/N, If you are somehow reading this letter, it means that I am not at your 20th birthday party, which makes me very sad. (You know how I love celebrating in your garden away from these Capitol's snobs.) Coming back, you know that I wish you all the best (along with Coryo. He's too big of a stick up his ass to write to you, even though he misses you and can't stop thinking about you. Take pity on me and write to this stubborn idiot, because I don't think I can stand another tirade about you and your perfection. Seriously. Our boy is getting mad because of this despair. I don't recognise him at all.) So, my dear friend, I wish you the best. I don't have any trinkets, interesting books, sweets, or anything suitable as a gift here, so I hope you'll be satisfied with what I came up with. I am not a poet, so don't laugh at me. I shall hear... or not. I made the bracelet, which you've probably already seen, myself. And that stone that is inside (and I hope it survived) is coal. I wanted to give this to you as a symbol of who you are to me. Everyone sees you as a diamond, something precious and beautiful. But for me and probably other people close to you, you are something more. This shiny diamond facade hides carbon. A simple coal, an ordinary soul like many others. But you made something more out of that ordinary coal. You are a diamond. Indestructible, the most durable of all. The purest form, preserved among the other gems and stones of the Capitol, because that's what all these power-hungry assholes are—coals that have decided not to change, to choose what is easy for them. I hope now you can see why I liked that nickname for you, diamond. So I hope you always stay true to yourself. No matter what. That's what I learned here, and I want to pass it on to you. Although I hope that by then the three of us will meet again in the Capitol. Do not wait for us both, Sejanus P.S. I miss you too.

You fold the letter and put it back in the envelope. You wipe away the tears that remain on your cheeks with your hands and take a few ragged breaths, trying to calm down.

You freeze when suddenly someone's arms wrap around you. The scent of roses hits your nostrils.

You get up from the couch like you've been burned and push Coriolanus' arms away from you. The feeling of sadness quickly turns to anger and pure fury as you stare at Snow.

"What the hell are you doing here?" you growl through a clenched jaw, extremely glad that there's a couch between you, or you'd hit him. And it was easier for you to explain your tears and smeared makeup than your red knuckles.

"Sweet, kind Plinth, giving you thoughtful gifts from beyond the grave. You love the dead Sejanus so much and ignore the living me. It must be hypocrisy on your part, don't you think? You accuse me of forgetting about Sejanus when you treat me so shamefully, worse than a dog. Should I die so that you can finally stop giving me the silent treatment and running away from me?"

"Believe me, you don't want to hear what I have to say to you." you huff, taking the bracelet and the letter. You hide them in the bodice of your dress and go to the mirror to fix your smudged makeup.

"You do not have to do that. Your boy isn't at the party anymore anyway." he says, standing so that you can see his reflection in the mirror.

"What?" you ask in surprise, turning to face him. You both stare at each other. In fact, you're only now getting a chance to take a good look at him. And you notice with dissatisfaction that the bastard found out from Tigris what your dress would look like, and he chose a suite so that both of you would match. "Where is Thomas?"

"Your little boy toy? Do you think he's enough of a distraction? That he can replace me? That he'll make you feel what I feel? Maby, that he can even protect you from me? Only I know you. I'm the only one worthy of your fucking attention and affection." you push past him, but he grabs your elbow.

"Touch me again and I'll cut off your hand and shove it down your throat." you growl, breaking away from his grip.

"Such aggression… I don't remember you from this side." he mocks you and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. You step away from him and cross your arms, staring at him defiantly.

"I will ask you one last time. Where is Thomas?"

"Let's just say that your mother and I caught him stealing your jewelry. We were merciful enough to solve the matter quietly. You will never see that garbage on the ball or any gala again. Certainly not on yours."

"Were you the one who framed him for this?" his silence and the calculating, self-proud look of the cat that caught the canary (or, in this case, the snake that choked the mouse) tell you everything. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!" you ask furiously.

You want to move past him, but he pushes you back, making you bump into the wall. He closes the gap between you in one step, pressing his chest against yours.

"You're mine. You've always been. You shouldn't lead this loser on or give him false hopes. We both know we will end up together."

"I broke up with you." you remind him, not caring about his intimidating attitude.

"A mistake I intend to fix." he says, leaning towards you.

His nose brushes against yours, and you shiver. You lift your leg, trying to kick him in the groyne, but out of the corner of his eye, he sees your sudden movement and grabs your thigh in a tight grip. If it weren't for the thick layers of material, he would probably leave bruises.

"You... you have nothing to fix. There is no longer us. I don't even know you anymore, Coriolanus."

"Don't." he growls at you angrily. You can see the desperation and madness in his eyes at the fact that you're using his name and that you wrote off your relationship. "It was always you. You were always mine, Y/N, and I was always your Coryo."

"Things are changing quickly. We are not the same, and now we have nothing in common, nothing to talk about."

"We have EVRYTHING to talk about. I still love.."

"DON'T!" you interrupt him. He freezes. You rarely shout, especially at him. That's why he takes a step back before putting on his impassive mask again. "Don't even say that. You have no idea what love is. Sure, you may feel attached and even desire me at some point, but you have no idea of unconditional, true love. So for old time's sake, leave me alone."

"What about you? Do you think you are so holy and blameless? That I'm the only bad guy? You lied to me. You promised you would stay with me, no matter what."

"I promised it to my Coryo. Not to you, Coriolanus. My Coryo died in District 12 with Sejanus—maybe even in the Hunger Games—when you let Dr. Gaul brainwash you in the name of fame, money, and position. You think that old hag didn't tell me why Sejanus is dead? That I don't know that your songbird has disappeared? That I would believe that Highbottom just got high or drank himself to death?" he clenches his jaw and fists at your words. You can see how furious he is, but he holds back, still controlling himself.

"Everything I did, I did for us. For you. For Tigris and Grandma." you laugh, wondering who he's trying to fool—himself, you, or both of you at the same time.

"No. You're doing it for yourself. Only for yourself, Coriolanus." he gets even more angry and pins you to the wall again. His cool blue eyes are raging with rage, and you try hard to push away the feeling of fear he has stirred in you.

"Do you want a reason to hate me? So you and Tigris can still gossip about my madness? Then maybe I should let this old man pursue her and sell her as a wife to one of them for good money."

"KEEP HER OUT OF IT! It's Tigris, Coriolanus! Tigris! The woman whose sacrifice you owe your entire fucking life to! A woman who went out of her way to give your ungrateful, selfish ass something to wear. Who sacrificed the love of her life in the name of maintaining the façade of Snow's wealth?! You can give a damn about me, Sejan, and even that little songbird of yours, but if you fucking ruin the life of your cousin—the only goddamn person who still cares about you—I promise you, in memory of OUR dead friend, that there won't be a fucking hole where you could hide from me."

You stare daggers at each other, both openly expressing your resentment towards the other. You have no idea why he still cares about you—is it because of your money, position, or some sick fantasy he has in his head, or maybe he actually still cares about you?

You don't think about it when a more important issue arises.

Suddenly, he grabs your face in both hands and pulls you towards him, greedily kissing you as he connects your lips after a very long time of separation. He caresses your lips with his and kisses you with such fervour as if he craves you like a hermit starving for water.

And for a moment, you feel like you were with Coryo, when all that mattered to you was the other one, when you could get lost in each other, forgetting about the rest of the world and the worries that were waiting for you.

And that's exactly what he's doing now. He makes you forget about anything but him.

You can't help but moan into his mouth as he presses his body against yours. When he releases his strong grip on your cheeks to grab you around your waist and press you against his body, his leg is between yours.

He kisses you more hungrily, groaning too at the familiar warmth of your body against him and the feeling of your soft, silky skin pressing against him. The scent of your perfume mixes, creating a perfect combination of roses and your favourite flowers. Your hands automatically go to his hair as you hold on to him and press him to you. You don't like the gel on your hands from his hair, but you ignore this new, irritating feeling by biting his lip.

You don't think at all. As well as Coriolanus. You both just kiss each other, your tongues joining, as you both let your desire for one another take control of the situation.

You only come to your senses when your lips break apart. You gasp, trying to breathe again, as he fucks your exposed collarbones with kisses. Your brain comes back to you as he leaves a hickey on your neck. He bites you, making you moan so needily that a wave of shame washes over you with his tongue, soothing the bite. You push him away from you and place your hand on your chest, trying to regain control over yourself.

"See? We belong together. There is no other way, Y/N. We are all we need."

"Bullshit." you gasp, trying to ignore the possessive, smug feeling blooming in your chest when you see his messy hair and your lipstick smeared on his lips. "Since you are that good in losing your memory, then forget about me too."

"I can't. I just can't. You think I haven't tried? That you don't haunt me every damn step I take? Everything I have and everything I know is saturated with you. With the memory of both of us. I forgot about what I had with that songbird and my friendship with Sejanus, but I simply CAN'T forget about you. I haven't spent a single damn day without thinking about you. NOT EVEN ONE. And I know you felt the same way. Do you know why I didn't kill that stupid boy who was clinging to you? Because I knew it would make you hate me even more. I was alone without you at 12, and you know how it ended. You are my conscience. Without you... there's nothing holding me back. Without you, there is nothing to distinguish me from the Hunger Games tributes. I have no borders, mercy, compassion, or anything that makes people human beings. And Gaul knows it. That's why she told you all of my crimes; that's why you're paranoid now that I'm someone completely different. But it's still me. I. Am. Still. Your. Coryo." he says it firmly, taking a step closer to you with each word.

"Don't turn me into a fucking cricket for your Pinocchio. I am not, and I do not want to be your conscience. I will not take part in your lies, games, and manipulations." you say as you both stare at each other, neither of you wanting to concede to the other in any way.

"I will have you. One way or another, but I will. Even if it is the last thing I do, I will have you by my side. Just where you always belonged. I promised you to be my First Lady. And I intend to keep that promise."

"You must become president first. And believe me, I will do everything in my power to prevent that from happening. Maybe you can't forget about me. But I can. I do not need you. I never needed you. How ironic to be able to lose the memories of everyone except the girl who will be the end of you, isn't it, CORIOLANUS?" you mock him, a smirk on your lips, making him a promise.

You walk past him, and this time he lets you go, knowing full well that he won't do anything more with you today. At least he got his kiss and a little taste of you, a reminder of the reward that awaits him when everything finally falls into place. When he finally has you in his arms and is at the top of Panem—his rightful place.

"The game has just begun!" he shouts after you, staring at you as you head towards the bathroom to touch up your ruined makeup. It gives you satisfaction to think that this bastard will probably have to clean himself up after your little make-out session, too.

You think that maybe Gaul was right about the Hunger Games being the whole world. But the reality was that there could only be ONE winner.

And among the people of the Capitol, only you and Coriolanus had a real chance of winning. It has always been like that. And even lost memories that do not want to go away so easily are proof of this.

Part 2

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leighsartworks216 · 1 month ago

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Period prompt- Mc wakes up from a much needed nap, realizes she bled through onto the sheets and feels bad and super embarrassed. Zayne comforts her, assuring her it's ok and normal, then helps her get cleaned up and pampers her, causing Mc to get emotional and fall even deeper in love 😭

These requests were similar enough that I'm just combining them into one drabble. I made it way longer than it needed to be for just a simple drabble but I had fun! Gets a little silly at the end

Prompt from this list

Main Masterlist

First - Second - Third - Fourth LADS Masterlists

You knock lightly on the doorframe to the home office as you creep inside. Zayne lifts his attention from his laptop, angling his chair to see you. You fit by his side like a glove. While he tenderly massages your lower back with one hand, you run your fingers through his hair.

"I'm gonna take a nap," you murmur.

He traces his free hand along your arm to your wrist, drawing your hand from his hair to his cheek. He turns his head to press a kiss to your wrist. "You're welcome to use my bed," he says. His thumb strokes the back of your hand. He looks up at you like you're his whole world. "Can I get you anything?"

You shake your head. He's already done so much for you. When your period started a couple days ago, he made sure you had all the product you could need, all the snacks you could crave, and more. And when your cramps are really bad, he's more than happy to cuddle you on the couch, massaging your lower abdomen to chase them away. You lean down and press a kiss to his forehead.

"I'll leave my phone on. Text me if you need anything."

His hair slips from your fingers. Your hand slips out of his. He watches you peter out of his office and turn down the hall to his bedroom. He listens for a moment longer to your footsteps, before he turns back to his desk, pushes up his glasses, and gets back to work.

Zayne's bedroom is sparse. Minimalistic - just like the rest of his home. Now that you two are officially together, your impact on his life has made itself known in his decor. Picture frames of photos you've taken, plushies from the claw machine, kitty badges neatly lined up on a wire rack.

No matter how cold and harsh his house seems, his bed couldn't be any more comfortable. The comforter is plush and warm. His sheets are soft and welcoming. His pillow cradles your head. It smells like his shampoo and a hint of his cologne. Even if you can't have him here to nap with you, it feels like he's still there, holding you, surrounding you, as you slowly drift off to sleep.

You wake up slow and warm. A little disoriented, too. You nuzzle your face into the pillow with a long sigh. You wish you could spend all day right here, basking in the remnant warmth the blankets hold onto, surrounded by your boyfriend's lingering comfort. The only thing that could make it better is if he spent that time with you, holding you close as you have quiet conversations in the shifting daylight. The only thing that could make it catastrophically worse...

You feel the uncomfortable gush of blood. It keeps you from even attempting to stay longer. It could be nothing; your flow wasn't too heavy when you laid down. But it could be something.

When you push back the comforter, letting in the cold world, and stand up, you know it wasn't just a false alarm. A glaring red stain in the center of soft blue sheets. And the crushing embarrassment that settles deep in your stomach.

You want to cry. In all your time dating Zayne, in all your time sleeping in his bed while your period torments you, never have you ever bled through. It's not like you live together yet, either - this is his bed. His sheets.

Ugh, and your clothes! You've bled through your underwear and your pants!

The choked up feeling in your throat accompanies the ashamed tears starting to well in your eyes.

You scurry off to the bathroom. Groan inwardly at the bloody stains on your clothes as you desperately clean up, refreshing your product. It sucks having to keep wearing the ruined clothes; like having to put back on a cold, wet bathing suit. You take a few deep breaths before you force yourself to deal with the consequences of your menstruation.

You tiptoe awkwardly through the house. You haven't been sleeping that long, so you're not too surprised to find Zayne right where you left him, working at his desk in his little home office, flipping through papers and books with his glasses perched on his nose. He's so focused, no doubt working on his research. You get to be the one to interrupt him. You'd rather melt into a puddle and sink into the earth.

You tap on the doorframe. Zayne looks up right away, but that soft, slight smile he usually wears when you're here immediately falls into a frown when he sees you. He pushes his seat back and gets up, crossing the distance in a few long strides. His hands find your arms, holding you as he looks you over, trying to find the source to your teary eyes, quivering lip, and closed off body language. "What's wrong? What happened?"

Your heart is racing. Your hands are clammy. You hug yourself, make yourself smaller. Your voice shakes when you finally gather the strength to speak. "I- I got blood on your bed."

The concern eases slightly from his face. Any possible scenario he had running through his head came nowhere near the reality of the situation. He rubs your arms reassuringly, trying to soothe you. "It's alright. I have spare sheets in the closet."

You blink up at him. Waiting for the disgust, the exasperation - anything. But it doesn't come. He doesn't even rush for the bedroom to deal with it right away. He just stays there with you. "You're not upset?"

He huffs a surprised laugh, shaking his head. "Why would I be upset? You cannot control the flow of your menstruation."

"But... it's gross. It doesn't gross you out?"

"My love, I'm a surgeon," he reminds you with a soft smile. "Open heart surgery is 'gross'. The natural processes of the female body, however, are not." He kisses your forehead as he gently lowers your arms from around yourself, holding your hands in his to lead you out of his office doorway and back down the hall to his room. "Come here. I'll find some spare clothes for you to take a shower while I change the bedsheets."

Your mind and body haven't yet come down from your embarrassed anxiety. You still feel the need to cry, and your hands unconsciously fidget in his, like when he sees the blood, that's when things will go wrong. You're just waiting for the crash.

Zayne lets go of your hands once you're inside the room. He goes to his closet, then his dresser. He returns with some of his own clothes - a college t-shirt, some soft pajama pants, even a sweater. He blushes as he also hands over a pair of your underwear, looking away as he explains, "You left these behind when you did your laundry here last week."

That startles you out of your stupor, a shaky, surprised laugh jumping from your throat as you take them from him. "You kept them in your drawer?”

His ears are bright red as he clears his throat, but he offers you a shy smile nonetheless. “Consider it a hostage for the tie you stole from me.” He shakes his head, dismissing the conversation and his own embarrassment. He nudges you toward his bathroom. “Take as long as you need, love. I’ll start working on dinner once I’ve finished.”

Before he can head for his closet again, to retrieve the sheets neatly folded up on the top shelf, you fling your arms around his shoulders. He startles, holding you close. You bury your face in his neck, feel his warmth, smell the cool mint of his candy and his cologne wrapping around you. Your body shakes and he holds you tighter as your emotions spill over, tears dripping onto his collar. You sniffle and croak out, “I love you.”

He leans his head against yours. One hand rubs your back as the other pets your hair, giving you the space you need to let your emotions out. “I love you, too.”

#fanfic #fanfiction #zayne #zayne x reader #love and deepspace zayne #lads zayne #lnds zayne #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #lads #lads x reader #lnds #lnds x reader #period fic #period #menstruation

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meo-eiru · 10 months ago

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My hands trembled as I bundled Eden into a thick woolen blanket, his tiny face peeking out, eyes wide and curious. He was only two, but he seemed to sense my anxiousness. His usual babbling fell silent, and in the hush that followed, my breath came quick and shallow.

I glanced around the room— it was my prison for the past three years. The bed, neatly made, the worn rocking chair in the corner, its wood rubbed smooth by countless hours of nursing Eden, the faded curtains I had sewn myself.

Micah had left early, as he often did, locking the door behind him. But something in me had shifted that time. Perhaps it was the way Eden had looked at me with those clear eyes, as if seeing me for the first time, really seeing me.

I saw myself reflected in those eyes, truly saw myself—the woman I had been, the mother I had become. And I knew then that we could not stay here.

Not another day.

Not another hour.

I had bundled him up, pulling a small bag from the closet— one that I had packed in secret over the weeks, stowing away small things that Micah wouldn’t notice. It wasn’t much— just some clothes, diapers, and a small children’s book.

The plan was simple— too simple, perhaps. Slip out unnoticed, walk the streets as though nothing was amiss, as though I were just another mother taking her child for a stroll. Once we reached the outskirts, we would find a way to leave this place, to escape him. Somehow, I told myself. Somehow we will be free.

“Shh, baby,” I softly say as I tucked the blanket tighter around Eden’s small frame. “We have to be quiet now, okay?”

Eden blinked up at her with those bright, clear eyes that were nothing like Micah’s. His hair was the same light shade, his features a mirror of his father’s, but those eyes— they were mine. He was the only part of me that hadn’t been tainted by Micah, yet.

Eden blinked up at me, his bright, clear eyes— so different from his father’s. His hair was the same pale shade as Micah’s, and his features echoed his father’s angelic feautures. Yet those eyes—they were mine, untouched by him. He was the only part of me that hadn’t been tainted… not yet.

I pressed a kiss to his forehead, breathing in the scent of him, that sweet, innocent smell that only babies possess. It anchored me, if only for a moment. His breath was warm against my neck, and I could feel his tiny heartbeat— fast, like a hummingbird— beating in time with my own.

But as I stepped outside, the cold air biting at my skin. The town was quiet, the streets empty, but I could feel the eyes of the houses on me, their windows like unblinking stares. My hands shook as I fumbled with the gate, Eden stirring slightly in my arms.

We made it a few streets over before I heard it— the sound of footsteps behind me.

“Y/N…”

I froze, every muscle in my body locking into place. I turned slowly, as if in a trance, to find Micah standing beneath the pale light of the rising sun. His eyes dark and unreadable. His face was calm, almost serene, but there was something in it that made my blood run cold. He didn’t say anything at first, just watched me.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he finally spoke, low and steady, the way it always was.

Eden shifted in my arms, turning to look at his father, his bright eyes blinking up at him with innocently. I felt my breath catch in my throat as Micah stepped closer.

“I—” I started, but the words died in my mouth. What could I say? That I wanted to leave? That I needed to escape? That I couldn’t breathe in his presence?

But Micah didn’t need me to speak. He reached out, gently, almost tenderly, and took Eden from my arms. The boy went to him without protest, a wide smile spreading across his face as he wrapped his little arms around his father’s neck.

“You’re tired,” Micah said softly, his hand brushing against my cheek. His touch was deceptively gentle, as it always was. “You need to rest. You’re not thinking clearly.”

I wanted to scream, to push him away, to grab my son and run. But my body betrayed me, going still under his gaze. He had won, as he always did.

Micah turned, Eden still cradled in his arms, and began to walk back toward the house. I followed, because there was nothing else I could do. The streets seemed narrower now, the sky darker.

When we returned, Micah set Eden down, and the boy toddled off to play, oblivious. Micah said nothing more about my attempt to leave. He didn’t need to. Eden clambered back into his father’s arms, Micah’s long, pale hair trailing through the boy’s small fingers, he swept a hand across the my son’s back. His opened eyes, empty as the void. Yet his smile remained, gentle, almost kind— disarming. It held all the warning I needed.

And so, the day passed as it always does.

DUDE!!!! HOW ARE YOU SENDING IN MASTERPIECE AFTER MASTERPIECE THIS FAST!!!!

God Micah is so scary I love this so so much. The way he appeared? Are you a monster??

I feel so bad for the reader man, it's like she's a flower he took home with him, forever unable to escape under his watchful eyes.

The previous parts for anyone who missed! 1, 2, 3

#asks #micah #yandere priest #yandere priest x reader #yandere x reader #fanfic

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shy-writer-999 · 5 months ago

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Omg so for the Christmas event maybe an NSFW x reader fic with Crocodile where he gifts her a baby banana gator 🥺

yes!! here it is, a Crocodile + a cute baby gator present one-shot! sorry this took so long 😭😭🫶 it's a bit fluffly, too? i just felt kind of in a fluffy mood with this one, and i feel like he could be very sweet sometimes. ~1250 words!

CW: afab reader, G/N language! sex! a teeny bit of choking? (just a whiff...) dirty talk, making out. nsfw content, minors dni please!

Sir Crocodile's Christmas Present

You used to think that Sir Crocodile (‘Croc’, as you called him) wasn’t one for gifts or affection. He was hard to read sometimes—even after all the time you spent together, you couldn’t tell what he was thinking. You knew he was fond of you when he started using pet names, when he put his arm around you in bed, and placed kisses on your forehead. But this year’s Christmas solidified it for you.

His present to you was heart-meltingly sweet—a baby banana gator, your favorite type, and he even gave it a little sweater, too. You were taken aback. You knew he had a soft spot for you but this much of a soft spot?

“How can I ever say thank you enough?” You smiled and leaned up on your tippy toes to place a kiss on his lips. That hard exterior of his seemed to crumble any time you were around.

After the brief kiss, his response was gruff and short. “You don’t need to.”

“But I want to,” you responded and went for another kiss. He placed his hands on your waist and leaned in, meeting your lips halfway.

When he pulled away from you, his voice was raspy and deep. “Then I’ll allow it. Just this once.”

Crocodile had an air of seriousness always, but whenever you were around he felt a bit... giddy, thanking his lucky stars that you, of all people, were the person who spent the most time with him.

He picked you up and carried you to your bed. Sitting down on it, he made you straddle him.

"I can't get enough of you," you murmured and he hummed in agreement, bringing his hands to your hips and squeezing tightly.

You wasted no time, starting to rub yourself on him ever so slightly. Crocodile tried to keep back a smile. While this wasn’t necessarily his goal when he gave you that sweet present, he certainly wasn’t going to say no to any attention you were going to give him. Your affection was his guilty pleasure.

Moments passed, and it felt like his hands were everywhere. They crept downwards to grab strong, rough handfuls of your thighs, hips, and ass; then they snuck under the hem of your shirt and up towards your chest.

Every grind of your hips was met with a quiet groan from the man underneath you.

“I can’t take this anymore,” he grunted, voice thick and strained. In one swift motion, Crocodile picked you up by the waist again and flipped you onto the bed. He was on top now, pulling off your clothes first and then his, getting ready to spoil you with the affection you so tenderly showed him.

First, he traced his lips across your collarbone, brushing them up your neck and back down again to trace soft patterns over your breasts. He was being gentle with you, treating you like you were precious (something he was very good at). His lips found one of your nipples and he sucked softly, running his tongue in circles, eliciting goosebumps across your skin and quiet gasps.

Resting on your waist, the metal of his hook was initially cold. It warmed up slowly from contact with your skin, and as he got more worked up, he pressed it into your side more, until it was almost painful.

You could see in his eyes that he was about to completely let go. It had been a while, too, so you knew he was extra pent up.

“I need you,” he groaned quietly, pulling you into a kiss as his hand snuck downwards to run his fingers softly along your aching core.

Crocodile spent some time caressing your folds, petting your sensitive spots until you were dripping wet and needy for him. When you looked at him eagerly, nodded, and whined softly, he lined himself up with your entrance and pushed inside of you slowly.

He was ridiculously big—you already knew that, of course, but every time he did this to you it felt like he was stretching you out, filling you up in the most delicious way.

As he rocked his hips slowly, his hair came down in little cascades, shifting as he moved back and forth. Each movement from him was met with sparks of euphoric pleasure, causing you to squirm just barely.

He picked up the pace, getting faster with each thrust.

“Fuck,” he grunted, rolling into you with increased desperation. “Take it, just like that. Feels so f-fucking good.”

Crocodile reached a hand under one of your thighs, pushing it up so he could get an even deeper angle. The strength with which he pressed into you was overwhelming—you could tell you were going to be sore after this. Very sore.

“Say it,” he gasped, furrowing his brows in concentration.

You knew immediately what he was referring to. One of the things that surprised you about him, when you first became intimate, was that he got off when you called him “Sir.”

He could remember (and often did remember, when he touched himself) the first time you addressed him so formally. “Sir Crocodile,” you had said, nodding politely and bowing slightly. The memory of that first encounter made his cock twitch. It was in that moment that he knew he had to make you his.

“Say it,” he demanded again, bringing his hook up to your throat and pressing lightly into the flesh of your neck. He didn’t have any intention of hurting you. But he knew you liked the thrill of the metal on your throat.

“Sir—” you moaned, reaching up for one of his arms and digging your nails into his biceps. “Fuck, Sir C-crocodile, faster.”

He obliged, and the new pace felt so good that you knew you were going to cum soon. If you had to tap out before he orgasmed, you knew he wouldn’t mind—he was just as partial to your lips wrapped around his shaft.

Crocodile could tell you were getting close by the way your eyes started to flutter and the way your grip around his arm got tighter.

“Taking it so good for me,” he groaned. He knew that the dirty talk, the praise, would send you over the edge. He wasn’t the most verbose with his praise or affection outside of the bedroom (he was actually a bit shy, much to your surprise), so it was very precious to you.

A well placed, deep moan right in your ear sent you careening into orgasm like he wanted. His eyes drank up the sight of your orgasm greedily and with self-satisfaction—he wasn’t too preoccupied with his own climax, too busy watching the way your chest rose and fall with each pant, the way that your eyes rolled, and your mouth hung open in a pretty O-shape.

When you were finished, Crocodile pulled you and laid next to you, completely satisfied.

You nuzzled up next to him and he put his arm around you, just like you adored. He looked particularly handsome—his hair was messed up and ruffled, his face was glowy with a thin sheen of sweat, and his cheeks were dusted with rosy blush. It was very becoming.

“So, what are you going to name it?” Crocodile broke the silence, and you looked up at him from where you were nestled in his arms.

“Hmmm. How about Baby Croc?”

He tsked and cocked his head. “You can’t be serious. Surely, there’s another option you can choose.”

“I guess I need to think it over some more. But in the meantime, what are we going to do?”

Crocodile rolled his eyes. You were predictable. Already itching to go for round two and you had barely rested for five minutes.

"If you insist." His tone was flat but you could see a sparkle in his eyes. He could be as stoic and seemingly aloof as he wanted, but you knew that deep down inside, he was so tickled and thankful to spend any time with you. It seemed like you really liked your Christmas present--mission accomplished.

ok now what are we naming the gator?? tysm for reading as always <3 and thank you sam @walmartmihawk for the request and patience 🫶🫶

#crocodile x reader #crocodile smut #crocodile x you #one piece smut #op smut

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dobbie-doo · 4 months ago

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˗ˏˋ ꒰THAT BEAUTIFUL NIGHT꒱ ˎˊ˗ wanderer

✧ warnings — MDNI !! smut , fem !! reader , gentle sex/sex with feelings, a bit dirty at the end a/n — I'm so sorry I was absent for so long.. School is killing me. And what about my fanfic with yandere scaramouche.. The next chapter will probably come out after the session ? Before I warn you that there may be translation errors...enjoy ✧ minors do not interact. !!

They say that it is partners who truly love: a mother loves you because it is her duty as a parent; a son will love you because you are a mother; your pet loves you because you feed it and shelter it in your home…

And only your partner loves you despite all the shortcomings and imperfections. Simply because he chose you.

But why did he choose you? Why did he open up his feelings again, which he once buried inside himself, to some mortal lady like you?.. Apparently the Archons decided to play a cruel joke on him again.

You are pulled out of your thoughts by a hoarse, familiar voice, which flows as calmly as a summer rain outside the window. He plops you down on the bed and lies down next to you on one side.

"Now relax."

You feel the cold lips of the wanderer when he leaves a timid kiss on your cheek.

—"let me caress you a little…"

— "Wanderer… enough…"

"hmh.…" - Wanderer slides a cold indigo gaze over you as he begins to unbutton your blouse. You watch the shine of his blue hair that shimmers aesthetically under the moonlight in the room. The Wanderer tenderly begins to cover your hot chest with gently kisses: from the collarbone, right along the solar plexus, then begins to cover your stomach with cold kisses, slowly, timidly even, until he descends to your groin…he painfully slowly kisses your clitoris, through the thin fabric of your panties making you let out a quiet squeal, he circles it with his tongue and kisses, he twisted these actions until he felt your wet crotch.

Puppet notices how you are shaking, he rises to you,smiles slightly at the weakness of the human body and at the same moment helplessly presses himself against you to share the warmth of his own body, but you do not feel the warmth. His skin is cold, smooth, as if not alive… When your skin is warm, human like , elastic.

"Mine, mine…" - The Wanderer whispers to himself, as if he is convincing himself. So quietly that even if he were saying it into a microphone, no one would hear him anyway. But you heard what he said only because you know all his habits.

We have no one else except each other to know someone else's habits.

You know that every morning he drinks bitter tea on the balcony, watching the passers-by in Sumeru, drowning in his thoughts about the past, which is stained with black spots and mysteries. You know that all his sharp as a knife words are in no way compatible with his true feelings for you, a love that is deeper than the roots of any tree, even deeper than the roots of Irminsul…

You know that he never takes his eyes off you, always staying close like a calming shadow, he is always close, protecting, defending. He has survived three betrayals, and if you leave him, he will definitely turn the whole of Teyvat inside out, even though he promised you that he left his cruel past behind.

…

The puppet fiddles with the clothes on your body that are bothering him, when you turn your head to the window: evening, rain, slush, the thirties of August.

What could be worse than the end of summer and warm days? Probably only the end of the deepest feelings.

Wanderer frantically strokes your waist, hips, lower back, but he himself has not undressed, firmly intending to please only you. You close your eyes when he carefully directs his thin gloved hand down, under the blanket, this prankster knows that you are ashamed to do such things without a blanket..

The former harbinger leans his forehead to yours and tenderly kisses your lips, gradually picks up the pace with his hands, involuntarily causing you to gasp, bordering on pleasure. your beloved, does not allow himself to be rude, only softly but assertively moves one hand inside you, with the other he gently caresses your cheek, your head is spinning from the contrast of the cold of his skin, and at the same time the passion that you rarely get to see. What a romantic wanderer can be..

He presses himself close to you, too close, his hand cupping your cheek. The puppet whispers caresses in your ear, admiring you and your body, not missing the slightest tremor of yours. He always paid special attention to your "luxurious hair" - You can't even find an explanation for this. He always said that your hair is his weakness. The wanderer deftly bends his fingers inside you, when you barely squeal from the pressure. He smiles contentedly.

And here is another kiss, demanding, dominant but soft, like a light breeze. He pulls away and chuckles.

"Spread." - The wanderer says briefly and sternly when he notices how you try to bring your trembling legs together and run away from the pleasure that he generously gives you.

You shudder slightly from his abrupt change in tone, he seems to notice your surprise and squints his eyes, quietly chuckling with satisfaction when you, without thinking twice, slightly spread your legs, he ran a gentle glance at the exposed flesh between your legs and you again bury your face in his shoulder when his fingers again continued their rhythm, bringing you to the edge again and again.

"Stop being so reserved.My job is to satisfy you, yours - is to get pleasure. So be a good girl and keep moaning for me like that. More, love? "

"Mhm..Yes please.. "

His hands tightly squeezed your hair, while you buried your face in his shoulder in an attempt to muffle a moan. Over time, his fingers began to move more intensely and deeper, until a third finger was added, forcing you to scream and whine with satisfaction, while his hand still tightly squeezed your head, holding you in place.

Finally, you moan indecently loudly, the pleasure coursing through your entire body. Your young body trembles with pleasure. You lick your plump, bite-filled lips, squeezing your eyes tightly. Your thighs tremble as you release your pleasure right onto the puppet's fingers. He hums softly but contentedly, letting go of your hair and pressing his lips to your hot forehead before his fingers slowly slip out of you, leaving you breathless and trembling.

#genshin x reader #genshin impact #wanderer x reader #genshin impact x reader #wanderer

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bluejeanstrash · 2 years ago

Text

it’s 1:23 am when seungcheol realises you’re no longer in bed with him. even though he’s got his back turned to you, there’s this gnawing feeling of something missing that stirs him awake.

he turns to see the empty space; sheets still warm with traces of you. he then turns back around to check what the time is, feeling his eyelids go heavy as he dozes off, phone still in hand.

it’s 2:02 am when seungcheol wakes up again, the phone falling from his grip, hitting the carpeted floor. he jolts awake, sitting up to see you’re still gone.

‘babe?’ he calls out to a silent apartment. he tries your name next to no answer. he’s worried now — a growing anxiety fills his chest as he rushes out of bed.

‘baby?’ he checks the bathrooms first. then the other bedroom. the kitchen next. and as he’s walking across the living room, he sees your silhouette on the couch.

he rushes over, turning on the lamp behind you as a soft orange hue illuminates the room and your face along with it. you look awful. the colour’s drained from your face and your hair’s all matted — sticking to your forehead, and somehow you’re sweating and shivering all at once.

‘what the..’ he brings the back of his hand to your forehead, gently pressing it to your skin. he checks your cheeks next, and finally your throbbing neck ‘you’re burning!’

‘why didn’t you wake me up!’

‘you have schedule’ you mumble as he frowns, getting upset.

‘that doesn’t matter. don’t do that again’ he scolds, immediately softening his tone when you let out a weak cough.

‘have you taken your temperature yet?’ you nod, turning your head to the digital thermometer sitting on the table.

‘okay. let me take it again’ he gives the thermometer a shake before wiping it down.

you open your mouth as he places it under your tongue seeing the temperature rise till it finally stops at a worrying 101°F.

‘hmmn..’ he chews on his lower lip ‘we’ll keep an eye on it’

what felt warm a second ago is now cold as you shiver, feeling a sudden chill. seungcheol pulls the blanket up, tucking in your sweaty body tighter.

‘what about medicine? did you take anything?’ his one hand now tenderly stroking your hair as you shake your head no.

you had tried but looking for medicine was a pretty heavy ask when the room was spinning with every step so you decided to just lie down instead.

‘okay!’ he gets up with a determined sigh, any sleepiness long gone. now seungcheol’s in complete caretaker mode with his only objective to make you feel better.

through the haze of the fever, you can hear him pottering around, moving from room to room — there are sounds of water being poured and drawers being opened, rummaged through, and shut.

he returns around 5 minutes later, hands full.

‘you need to take medicine, okay? wait, baby, have you eaten?’ you shake your head again.

‘no, you need to eat something first’

‘i’m too tired’

he insists on something small, disappearing into the kitchen and coming back with a pack of biscuits — not the good kind, but the boring digestive ones that will fill you up a little more.

‘come on, let’s sit up’ you groan, feeling the room spin as he helps you up.

‘two biscuits. that’s it. open’

you open your mouth letting him feed it to you.

‘bite’ and you do — crumbs falling on your blanket which he promptly brushes away. ‘one more bite’ and you follow the instructions till two are done and dusted away.

‘one more’

‘i already had two!’

‘and now we’ll have one more’

you groan a no.

‘come on. just one more. for me’ you let him have his way, too tired to fight, falling back down immediately as you take the last bite.

‘now medicine’ he pulls you back up, handing over a pill and glass of water as you take it through half-shut eyes, resting against his body for a second.

‘good job. now we can lie down again'

after you're tucked back in, he sits on the floor next to you, wringing and then bringing a cool damp cloth to your burning forehead.

‘that feels nice’ it does. like a cool breeze on a hot day.

‘yeah? good’ he smiles, one hand gently stroking your hair back.

‘go to sleep’ you mumble ‘i’ll be fine. thank you’

‘i’ll sleep once you do’ he says firmly, hand still on your hair.

you're still dizzy but the steady strokes of seungcheol’s hand on you is a constant comfort. it takes around 10 minutes till you’re asleep.

he finally gets up, kissing his fingers and then planting that kiss to your forehead.

he heads into the bedroom, grabbing his stuff to come lay down on the floor beside you.

it’s 3:07 am when seungcheol falls back asleep, making sure he’s right where he belongs — next to you.

#i started writing weeks ago in the middle of being sick #which is also why i haven’t written in so long i’ve been sick and i apologise #seungcheol x reader #choi seungcheol #seungcheol fluff #scoups #scoups x reader #seungcheol imagine #scoups fluff #scoups drabble #seungcheol drabble #seungcheol x you #scoups x you #svt fanfic

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witchingwithscissors · 4 months ago

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Canon confirmed: Rio’s the other mom.

So this is for the ones who want rough nights, slow mornings, and a body that always feels like home.

Agathario AU | Rio’s drowning in scrubs, grief, and silence. Her wife wants her back—under her, over her, beside her. They’ve got a kid. A marriage. And one hell of a flame to reignite.

The front door shut with the quiet caution of someone who didn’t want to wake the person they loved. A rush of rainwater pooled beneath Rio’s shoes as she stood in the entryway, trembling from head to toe. Lightning flickered outside, illuminating her in a quick, silver flash—her dark hair plastered to her neck, her navy scrub top turned nearly black with downpour, sweat, and the lingering scent of antiseptics.

She listened for any sign from the rest of the apartment: the hum of the fridge, the soft dripping of the rain on the windows. The only noise was the rapid thump of her heart.

She hadn’t texted Agatha—she simply couldn’t.

How was she supposed to sum up the devastation of losing yet another child on the table, let alone one who reminded her so much of their own son at home?

Slowly, she toed off her soggy sneakers. Her socked feet made no sound on the hardwood. She felt as though any loud movement, any jolt, would shatter the tenuous barrier holding back her tears. The air smelled faintly of lavender tea, which always reminded her of Agatha’s attempts to soothe them both after the hardest workdays. But the mug on the counter looked abandoned, half-filled and gone cold. Across the open floor plan, she spotted Agatha in the kitchen—barefoot, wearing an old white sweatshirt of Rio’s with a half-faded Columbia University logo. The lion mascot was missing half its mane, worn down from years of post-residency washes.

Agatha turned at the sound of Rio’s quiet approach. She didn’t speak right away. Instead, she took in the trembling corners of Rio’s mouth, the dark circles under her eyes, the way her arms were wrapped protectively around her torso. Slowly, Agatha put down the dish towel she’d been holding, like she was setting down all of her own concerns so she could hold Rio’s instead.

Rio tried to meet her gaze but faltered, head drooping, water sliding off her chin onto the floor.

“I lost someone,” she managed, voice cracking and hollow. “Nine years old. She coded right in front of me.”

The distance between them lasted only a heartbeat. Agatha stepped closer, her hands warm as they cupped Rio’s chilled cheeks.

“You did what you could,” Agatha said, her voice low, that gentle hush she used when Nicky was drifting to sleep.

Rio swallowed hard. “It wasn’t enough,” she whispered, voice raw. “She had freckles—like Nicky. She wanted to be a vet… She was so excited about animals. I tried, Agatha. I tried.”

Tenderly, Agatha smoothed Rio’s damp hair away from her forehead. “I know,” she said.

The tears came then, unstoppable. Rio sucked in a ragged breath, pressed her face into the curve of Agatha’s neck. She could feel Agatha’s heart beating in time with her own, a living metronome that steadied her just enough to keep her from collapsing onto the floor.

Agatha’s arms enveloped her entirely. “Let’s get you out of these wet clothes, my love,” she whispered, mouth skimming the shell of Rio’s ear. “We can talk or not talk… whatever you need.”

But the thought of speaking more, of repeating the story of a mother’s screams and the frantic attempts at resuscitation, made Rio’s skin prickle with dread. She couldn’t talk about it yet. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe next week. But right now, her grief and guilt were fused together, a knot in her chest.

“I want—” Rio began, then stopped. She looked up into Agatha’s enchanting blue eyes, eyes that always seemed to see right through her. “I want you.”

Understanding glimmered. Agatha gently tugged her forward. “Then let me take care of you, baby.”

Flashback to Baltimore, Four Years Ago

Rio had never believed in serendipity, or soulmates, or anything like that. It was pure coincidence that she’d been in Baltimore for a pediatric medical conference, running late and juggling a latte and her phone. She was scanning the conference schedule when she felt a solid thunk. Her foot came down on someone else’s stiletto, cracking the heel. Hot coffee sloshed onto a crisp white blouse.

She froze, mortified. The woman she’d collided with raised her eyebrows, flicking coffee droplets off her blouse with an almost amused smile.

Rio grabbed for napkins. “I’m sorry—so sorry—I’m usually more graceful than this,” she stammered.

The woman—Agatha, as she introduced herself—assessed Rio’s flushed face, her messy bun that had half-fallen out of the hair tie, the stammering apology. And then she laughed, a low, melodious sound that throbbed with humor and attraction all at once.

“Are you always this charming, Doctor?” Agatha teased.

Rio offered the handful of napkins with trembling hands, catching the stray thought that this woman was too gorgeous to be real. “Not usually. I mean, yes. I mean… I’m sorry about your shoe?”

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Agatha said, her grin sly. “Otherwise, I might have pressed assault charges for the coffee fiasco.”

They ended up side by side at the same first-day lecture, exchanging glances over the top of printed slides. Later, over overpriced red wine in the noisy hotel bar, they discovered they worked in the same field: pediatrics. Agatha was a nurse practitioner with a gift for crisis management. Rio was fresh out of her internship, half-certain that her dream of working in high-stakes pediatric care would break her. But she couldn’t let it go.

Agatha asked her about that drive: “If it hurts so much, why do you keep going back?”

Rio shrugged, swirling her wine. “I guess I keep hoping the next time will be different. And sometimes it is. I really like the parts where we save them.”

Agatha’s expression was thoughtful, luminous. “You’ve got it bad for these kids,” she said softly.

“I do,” Rio admitted. “But it’s so… personal.” She exhaled, tension raw in her shoulders.

Agatha’s hand slid across the table to rest atop Rio’s. Something electric passed between them. That was it: the moment that changed the axis of Rio’s world.

Two hours later, they stumbled into Agatha’s hotel room, lips colliding in frantic passion, fumbling with each other’s clothing. Agatha’s shirt fell to the floor. Rio’s belt clanged against the bed frame.

Agatha kissed like she wanted to map every part of Rio’s body, to read her like Braille. She explored Rio’s skin with a confident ease that made Rio’s nerves buzz. When Rio tried to apologize for not being more experienced with women, Agatha silenced her with a long, thorough kiss.

“Don’t overthink,” Agatha whispered. “Just feel.”

Rio let herself be guided, let her breath stutter as Agatha trailed kisses down her neck, across her collarbone, lower—until Rio could barely remember her own name. Their bodies moved in sync, a dance of discovery. And in the throes of Rio’s first orgasm with another woman, she forgot every doubt she’d ever had about the power of connection.

“Tell me you’ll remember this,” Agatha said after, voice husky, lying on her side, one hand propped under her cheek.

Rio’s heart thundered. “I don’t ever want to forget.”

⸻

Back in the present, Rio allowed herself to be led to the bedroom.

Rain battered the windows as thunder mumbled in the distance. The overhead light remained off; only the glow from the hall lamp provided a soft gold halo across the comforter. The hum of the air conditioner filled the silence.

Agatha coaxed Rio onto the edge of the bed. With careful fingers, she peeled away Rio’s soaked scrub top, revealing the sports bra beneath. She pressed her lips to the hollow of Rio’s throat while reaching around to tug the elastic band free from Rio’s long hair. Her hair tumbled down, half-dry, half-soaked. Agatha stroked through the damp strands.

“You don’t have to talk,” she murmured, her voice like a lullaby. “Just let me hold you.”

But a surge of desperation flooded Rio. She wanted more than comfort. She needed to claw her way back to feeling alive, needed a visceral reminder that she wasn’t made solely of sorrow and guilt. Her hands gripped Agatha’s waist, traveling under the sweatshirt to feel the smooth expanse of Agatha’s back.

“Don’t be gentle,” Rio pleaded, voice shaking. “I don’t want gentle tonight, sweetheart.”

Agatha’s lips quirked. “Well, if it’s doctor’s orders,” she teased.

Still wearing the old sweatshirt, Agatha settled onto the bed. She arranged Rio so that she was lying beneath her, bra halfway undone. The floor was still slick with the droplets that had slid from Rio’s body, but they ignored it, lost in the moment. Agatha grazed her teeth across Rio’s collarbone, then lower, until she managed to peel off the soaked bra entirely. The cold air made Rio’s skin pebble, but Agatha’s mouth was warm, an anchor.

Rio slid her hands up the back of Agatha’s sweatshirt, nails lightly scoring her skin, wanting to claim her, to let go of the day’s horrors in the push and pull of their bodies. Agatha groaned, arching into Rio’s touch, letting the sweatshirt ride up to expose toned thighs and the curve of her hips.

Before Rio could blink, Agatha kissed down her abdomen, a trail of open-mouthed, wet kisses that seared fire into Rio’s blood. She paused just above the elastic waistband of Rio’s scrub pants, looked up, and said softly, “I love you.”

Rio’s breath caught. She combed her fingers through Agatha’s hair. “I love you,” she returned, voice trembling. “Now please—”

With a sly smile, Agatha tugged Rio’s scrub pants down, along with her underwear, in one swift motion. Cool air caressed Rio’s bare thighs for an instant, but then Agatha’s mouth was there, her hands cupping the underside of Rio’s hips. The first brush of Agatha’s tongue shot a spark through Rio’s entire body. She moaned, hips lifting, and felt Agatha’s low hum of approval ripple across her skin.

She was undone so easily by this woman. Every lick, every gentle scrape of teeth, every press of Agatha’s fingers along her inner thigh set her nerves alight. Agatha’s name became a chant on her lips. Rio’s eyes fluttered shut. Each time a memory of the day tried to intrude—pediatric code, failing vitals—Agatha’s touch brought her back to the bedroom, to the now, to what felt safe and vital.

When Agatha pressed two fingers inside her, Rio’s moan mingled with the distant rumble of thunder. She twisted her fingers in Agatha’s hair, urging her on. The speed built, a trembling wave. The coil of need tightened in Rio’s belly, not just from the physical sensation but from the emotional catharsis that came with it. In Agatha’s hands, she was never a failure. She was cherished. She was powerful and vulnerable all at once.

“Yes,” Rio gasped, “fuck—Aggie—oh my god, baby—”

She came in a white-hot spasm, her cry muffled as she buried her face in the crook of her arm. Agatha held her through every moment of the climax, lingering until Rio’s breath slowed, until her heart no longer pounded so violently. But Agatha didn’t stop there; she continued, relentless, drawing out every last tremor until Rio’s eyes glistened with overwhelmed tears. Only then did Agatha crawl up beside her and cup her cheek.

“You don’t have to hold it all alone,” Agatha said, pressing a soft kiss to Rio’s forehead.

Rio closed her eyes, chest tight with gratitude. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, “for shutting you out.”

Agatha draped an arm around her. “I know. And I’m here. Always.”

Lightning streaked across the sky, highlighting the silhouette of their tangled limbs. They lay together, panting softly, hearts echoing in tandem. Rain battered the glass as though determined to wash the city clean.

Flashback, Three Years Ago

For nearly a year after that conference, Rio and Agatha tried the long-distance thing.

Agatha worked in Baltimore, while Rio was completing her specialized pediatric residency in New York City. The relationship was new, precarious; the demands of their careers left them exhausted and occasionally short-fused. Yet every phone call, every text, every video call, every stolen weekend was charged with a desperate energy to make it work.

Agatha would schedule “work trips” to New York, couching them in half-truths. Sure, there was a professional reason to go—but mostly, she just wanted to be near Rio.

She’d slip into the dingy, cramped, barely-up-to-code apartment Rio shared with another resident. A woman named Alice—who, at first, made Agatha a little jealous. But seeing how little time Rio had, and how all of it went straight to Agatha, she couldn’t really complain.

Agatha would bring fresh groceries, which they cooked together—though “together” usually meant Agatha doing the chopping while Rio sat at the counter, taste-testing and sneaking sips of wine after her late-night shifts. Rio especially loved Agatha’s mushroom risotto. She always said it was nice to eat something homemade for once, not just microwave dinners or whatever salty garbage the hospital cafeteria served. It made her feel warm. Taken care of.

Their nights fell into an easy rhythm: they’d start a movie, never make it past the first twenty minutes. As soon as Rio put her arm around Agatha, Agatha would lean in for a kiss—and it always ended with them tangled up in bed. Afterward, fully satisfied and too exhausted to do anything else, they’d barely keep their eyes open—but they were always determined to share at least a few hours wrapped around each other.

One night, near the end of their first six months, Agatha and Rio found themselves sitting on the floor of Rio’s bathroom—one of the only private spots in the tiny apartment—drinking cheap wine from chipped mugs. Tension hovered, unspoken, thick as steam.

“What are we?” Agatha asked softly, swirling the last sip of wine in her glass.

Her voice barely rose above the hum of the city outside, but it was enough to still the air between them. The question lingered—delicate, a little frightening.

Rio looked up, her heart thudding. It wasn’t that she hadn’t seen this coming; it was that she didn’t know how to answer without giving Agatha the softest, most unguarded part of herself.

There was something raw in Agatha’s face, as though she was bracing for Rio to laugh it off—call this a fling or a phase. As if she was already preparing to let it hurt.

Rio swallowed, the back of her throat tight. She could lie or deflect—but this time, she didn’t want to. So she leaned in, voice unsteady with honesty.

“Something I don’t want to fuck up,” she said, and watched relief flicker in Agatha’s eyes.

Agatha let out a breath she seemed to have been holding. “Okay,” she whispered, sliding her free hand over Rio’s.

Rio exhaled, relieved and a little dizzy. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” she added, “but when I’m with you…I’m not bracing for the crash. I’m just here.”

Agatha smiled then—soft, hopeful, and still a bit uncertain. She squeezed Rio’s hand, glanced away, then back again. There was a pink flush on her cheeks when she spoke.

“Soooo,” she drew out the word in a playful lilt, “we’re doing this, right? I can call you mine?”

Rio’s heart seemed to expand in her chest, filling up all the hollow spaces she’d never even known were empty. She laced her fingers with Agatha’s.

“Please do,” she murmured, a shaky smile curving her lips. “I’m yours.”

They sealed it with a kiss that tasted of sweet wine and unspoken devotion.

Over the next several months, they teased each other through late-night calls, turned phone screens into windows of desperate need. One memorable night, Agatha confessed she was transferring to New York mid-video call, and Rio climaxed so hard she nearly toppled off her couch. It was clumsy, thrilling, and sealed their commitment in more ways than words could.

After the move, they braved an apartment, half-updated, with paint-splattered floors and a perpetually broken radiator. They learned each other’s routines—who hogged the bathroom first, who folded the laundry (or forgot to). They bickered over sweaty scrubs and stolen shampoo, but they laughed even harder, especially on nights when they collapsed into bed at dawn, too exhausted to do anything but cling to each other.

They once tried a threesome on a tipsy dare. Fifteen minutes in, Rio felt a jealousy coil in her gut, while Agatha hated seeing someone else’s hands on Rio. They sent the third partner home with awkward apologies, then spent the night tangled up in each other—relieved to realize they both truly wanted exclusivity.

They attended hospital potlucks and friend gatherings hand in hand. Some nights, they’d sneak onto the rooftop for stolen sex beneath the city lights; others, they’d just binge on bad TV, exhausted from back-to-back shifts. It was in those quieter moments that Agatha would catch Rio studying her with a look that said, We can build more than a life—we can build a family.

One night, after a particularly grueling shift for both of them, Agatha sank onto the couch. She rubbed the tension from her neck and blurted, “My biological clock’s going off like an alarm I can’t snooze.” Anxiety threaded her voice; children felt like such a far-off thing, but suddenly the desire was roaring in her ears.

Rio, without missing a beat, reached for Agatha’s hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Then let’s do it. Let’s start a family.”

Agatha stared, breath caught between excitement and fear. “But your career—my career—do we have time for this?”

Rio shook her head, determination lighting her eyes. “I want to take care of you for once, Agatha. You’ve spent so long looking after me. Let me give you what you want—what we both want.”

Agatha’s throat felt tight with emotion. She exhaled a shaky laugh. “You’re serious?”

Rio just grinned. “Dead serious.”

A few weeks later, they were hunched over a fertility donor profile, scanning it in disbelief.

“Favorite color: Green,” Agatha read aloud. “Hobbies: Running, wood working, women’s basketball. Favorite movie…” she said to Rio, voice rising. “He even has your birth date!”

She glanced at Rio, half-laughing, half-freaked out. “You’re sure you’re an only child?”

Rio frowned at the screen, equal parts startled and amused. “Pretty sure. But hey, if we want the kid to look like me, we’re sure as hell rolling those dice.”

Agatha snorted. “Technically, that means I’m picking you as my baby daddy.”

Rio’s grin stretched wide. “And I’m honored.”

Nicky entered their world with all the tumult and beauty a newborn brings. Agatha carried him, and Rio joked that she paced holes in the hospital floors waiting for the moment she could hold him.

Despite wanting him fiercely, Rio was terrified. The weight of responsibility, the fear that she could lose him like she’d lost so many young patients in the hospital, pressed on her chest. But from the moment he came squalling into the world, Nicky had wrapped Rio around his tiny finger.

He had big brown eyes and a sweet laugh that infected both his mothers. He’d watch them with an intense curiosity, as if taking mental notes for how to be as determined and caring as they were. Even in that first year, when exhaustion from night shifts piled onto the sleeplessness of new parenthood, Rio and Agatha managed to keep each other afloat.

“Look at him,” Agatha would say at 3am, passing the fussing baby into Rio’s arms for a feeding. “We made this. Well, I made him, but you know what I mean.”

Rio would grin, bleary-eyed. “He’s so perfect it hurts.”

That tiny life changed them. Made them see the world with sharper edges and deeper tenderness.

Life was hectic and, admittedly, they’d talked about marriage only in theoretical ways. But on a quiet Sunday afternoon, with the city’s noise a distant murmur, Rio looked up from the laundry basket in their kitchen, saw Agatha bouncing a fussy, six-month-old Nicky on her hip, and simply knew.

“Marry me,” she said, setting aside the shirt she was folding.

Agatha glanced over, eyebrows raised. “Now?”

“Always,” Rio murmured, crossing the room in two strides. She pressed a soft, lingering kiss to Agatha’s mouth, mindful that Nicky was wedged between them, babbling. “I don’t want to wait until life slows down, because that might never happen.”

Agatha’s eyes lit with joy. “I was hoping you’d ask,” she teased, voice catching with emotion. Then she broke into a beautiful, tearful smile. “Yes. Yes.”

Nicky squealed, as if in agreement, and they laughed, hugging each other right there, laundry half-folded, the ring not yet chosen. But that was them: sometimes chaotic, always certain of their love.

⸻

The storm continued most of the night.

After their intense lovemaking, Rio and Agatha drifted into a doze, limbs entwined. But sometime past midnight, Rio woke again, heart pounding. She slipped out of bed, careful not to rouse Agatha, and wandered into the dimly lit hallway.

She found herself at Nicky’s door. She cracked it open, peering in. Even in the darkness, she could make out his small form beneath the covers, breathing softly. The nightlight cast dancing shadows of animal shapes across the walls, illusions that always made Nicky giggle before sleep.

Her chest squeezed. The little girl she’d lost today had been nine, but she also had freckles, also had big innocent dreams.

In the hush of that room, Rio’s eyes stung with fresh tears. She wondered if she was selfish to keep working in such a high-stakes area. Each failure carved another piece out of her heart, leaving her feeling undone. But she couldn’t imagine doing anything else—she couldn’t walk away from saving as many children as she could.

A quiet rustle startled her. Agatha appeared behind her, wearing only a pair of cotton shorts and a worn tank top. Her hair fell around her face in gentle waves.

“You okay?” she asked softly, placing a hand on Rio’s shoulder.

Rio swallowed. “Just watching him,” she whispered. “He’s so beautiful.”

Agatha nodded. “He is.”

Rio felt a trembling sigh escape her. “I keep thinking—what if… if something happened to him? I’d lose my mind. I can’t even handle losing the kids at work sometimes.”

Agatha turned Rio gently, arms slipping around her waist. “Hey,” she murmured, pressing her lips to Rio’s forehead. “I know it’s terrifying. That’s why you love him so fiercely. Because you know how fragile life is.”

Rio sniffled, leaning into Agatha. “It’s just so hard. Balancing it all. The heartbreak. The love. Sometimes I’m afraid I’m not strong enough.”

“Bull,” Agatha said with a half-smile. “You’re the strongest person I know. And if you ever can’t hold yourself up, I’m here. We’re a team.”

Rio exhaled, the tension in her shoulders easing. Together, they stepped back from the door, leaving Nicky to his peaceful slumber. They retreated to their own bedroom and lay entwined beneath the covers again. Rio pressed her face to Agatha’s shoulder, breathing in the comforting scent of her skin.

“I’m sorry I disappeared,” Rio whispered after a long silence. “Not physically, but… I haven’t really been here.”

Agatha stroked her arm in slow, soothing motions. “It happens,” she said. “Especially after a bad day. But every time you get lost, I’ll help bring you back.”

Rio closed her eyes, letting the steady thump of Agatha’s heartbeat lull her. “Thank you,” she breathed.

They fell asleep like that, hearts beating as one.

Over the next few years, life marched on. They fell back into routine: early mornings, quick breakfasts, juggling Nicky’s homework and soccer practice, balancing their intense medical schedules, and occasionally stealing moments of intimacy that reminded them how lucky they were. As Nicky grew, they found themselves faced with new questions about family, about the future. Should they move to a bigger place? Should they adopt another child eventually? Could they handle that with both of their demanding jobs?

One evening, they curled up on the living room couch after putting Nicky to bed. The apartment was silent except for the hum of the old radiator. A stack of medical journals lay abandoned on the coffee table. Agatha rested her head on Rio’s lap, while Rio’s fingers absently traced patterns along her scalp.

“Remember that old dream?” Rio asked quietly, gazing at the collection of pictures on the wall—photos of Nicky at every age, their wedding day in a small garden, a shot of them in scrubs looking exhausted but triumphant.

“Which dream?” Agatha murmured, eyes half-closed.

“That we’d open our own small clinic one day, do nonprofit work somewhere less privileged,” Rio said, lips quirking in a gentle smile. “We talked about it in bed one night, after that first time Nicky slept for six hours straight.”

Agatha laughed softly. “I remember. But we never had the money, or the time, or—”

“Yeah,” Rio finished for her. “I wonder if we ever could make it work. Maybe in five years, or ten. Maybe after we’ve saved up more.”

Agatha rolled onto her back, looking up at Rio. “The idea of it still makes my heart race in a good way. We could do so much good together. No politics of a big hospital, just patient-focused care.”

A slow, mutual smile bloomed between them. For that moment, they let themselves imagine a brighter future. Despite the challenges, neither of them had lost the idealism that had first brought them together.

It was a weekend night when their next chance for “wild and exciting” intimacy came, free of interruptions. Nicky was at a sleepover with friends—his first one that lasted the whole night away from home without either mom on standby. It felt strange, slightly nerve-wracking, but also liberating.

The moment they dropped him off, Rio and Agatha returned to their quiet apartment and grinned at each other across the living room.

“It’s just us tonight,” Rio said, trying to keep her voice casual as a swirl of anticipation flared in her chest.

Agatha quirked an eyebrow, stepping out of her sneakers. “Whatever shall we do?”

For once, they didn’t have to worry about waking a child. They didn’t have to listen for small footsteps shuffling to the bathroom in the middle of the night. No babysitters’ texts. No rush to check the clock. The freedom buzzed through both of them.

Rio took Agatha’s hand. “How about dinner first? We haven’t had a real date night in forever.”

Agatha nodded, but the gleam in her eye was mischievous. “Food can wait a bit, though, can’t it?”

Rio’s stomach fluttered. “It can,” she agreed.

They tumbled into the bedroom, shedding clothes as they went. Agatha’s laugh filled the air as Rio’s shirt snagged on a doorknob. They left the lights on this time, wanting to see every inch of each other. Their bodies had changed over the years: subtle scars from life, laugh lines around the eyes, the lingering softness of post-partum curves on Agatha. But all of it was the map of who they’d become together, and each mark only deepened the love in Rio’s eyes.

Agatha pressed Rio onto the bed, pinning her wrists lightly above her head. A surge of excitement made Rio’s pulse jump. She loved the playful dominance that sometimes coursed through Agatha. She loved not being in control for once.

“Don’t move,” Agatha commanded gently, leaning down to kiss along Rio’s jaw. “Or I might stop.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Rio teased, but she obeyed, letting her arms rest above her.

Agatha’s kisses trailed down Rio’s neck, teased along the outer curve of her breast before finally circling a taut nipple. Warm lips closed around it, and Rio inhaled sharply, arching her back.

“Mmm,” Rio moaned, “that feels so—”

“Shh,” Agatha coaxed, releasing one nipple to move to the other. She let her free hand wander, drifting across Rio’s ribs, her stomach, and eventually lower. The slightest brush of fingertips over Rio’s inner thigh made Rio’s breath catch.

A slow, tantalizing exploration followed. Agatha licked and sucked at Rio’s breasts, leaving them flushed. Her tongue dipped into the hollow of Rio’s collarbone, tasted the salt of her skin. When she finally slid her hand between Rio’s thighs, she found her wet, more than ready. Rio whimpered, lifting her hips.

Agatha chuckled, a wicked smile on her lips. “So needy,” she teased, but the love shone clear in her eyes.

Rio found her voice. “Blame yourself.”

Agatha slipped two fingers inside, curling them in a way that made Rio’s eyes roll back. At the same time, Agatha leaned over to capture Rio’s mouth in a devouring kiss. Their tongues tangled, breath mingling, and Rio’s free hand latched onto Agatha’s shoulder. Though she’d been told not to move, she couldn’t help digging her nails into Agatha’s skin, urging her deeper.

The pleasure mounted fast, intense. Each thrust of Agatha’s fingers was met by Rio’s determined roll of the hips. The wet sounds and their ragged breathing filled the room. Agatha slowed, then quickened, making Rio whine in frustration and then gasp with delight. That control, that skill—Agatha knew exactly how to undo her.

When the orgasm built to a breaking point, Rio let out a frantic, breathy moan. “Agatha, I’m— I’m close—”

Agatha nipped at Rio’s lower lip. “Let go.”

Rio’s body bowed, a silent cry lodging in her throat as she came, wave after wave. Agatha never looked away from her, soaking in every pulse of pleasure that rippled through Rio’s body. Finally, Rio slumped back, chest heaving, limbs loose with euphoria.

She opened her eyes to see Agatha poised over her with a smug grin. “Don’t think I’m done,” Agatha murmured, leaning down to press a hot kiss to Rio’s neck. “We’ve got all night.”

Rio’s belly clenched with renewed arousal at the promise in that tone. “God, you’re going to kill me.”

Agatha laughed, a low, sultry sound. “Never,” she promised. “I want you alive—and begging.”

And so the night continued in a heady blur of lips and hands, breathless giggles, and hushed cries of pleasure. They switched positions, sometimes frantic, sometimes languid. At one point, Rio rolled on top and teased Agatha until the woman was delirious with want, tangling the bedsheets around them both. Their kisses ranged from gentle to biting, from playful to near-desperate. Each orgasm was its own surrender, a testament to how they trusted each other to hold any vulnerability, any fear.

By the time they finally collapsed—drenched in sweat, hearts hammering—it was almost two in the morning. No child’s footsteps. No fear of being overheard. Just the two of them, reclaiming the spark that had first drawn them together in that Baltimore hotel room.

Agatha brushed tangled hair off Rio’s forehead. “I think we should do more date nights,” she teased, voice scratchy.

Rio laughed, pressing a soft kiss to Agatha’s bare shoulder. “I agree.”

They fell asleep like that, sweaty and sated, the entire bed a tangle of limbs and sheets that smelled of sex and promise.

Sunlight found them curled under a thin blanket, exhausted but content. When Rio’s eyes finally opened around nine, she startled—she couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept in so late. Then she remembered: Nicky was away. For a second, she felt the pang of missing him, but it was swiftly replaced by the warmth of Agatha’s arm draped across her waist.

They spent the morning in bed, dozing in and out of consciousness, exchanging languid kisses. Around noon, they dragged themselves into the shower, letting the hot water cascade over them. More kisses, some laughter, playful splashing that turned into pinned arms and gentle moans against the shower tiles. They eventually managed to towel off and slip into clean clothes, finding an easy, tender domesticity in the aftermath of their sensual marathon.

Agatha brewed coffee while Rio flipped through takeout menus, deciding they’d treat themselves. Over greasy Chinese food containers at the kitchen counter, they talked about everything and nothing—travel plans for next summer, the new staff at the hospital, Nicky’s unstoppable obsession with dinosaurs.

“I feel more like myself than I have in years,” Rio admitted, taking a sip of coffee. “It’s like… I get lost in the heartbreak at work sometimes. But nights like last night remind me I’m more than just a doctor who can’t save everyone.”

Agatha reached across the counter and squeezed Rio’s hand, her gaze brimming with warmth. “You are enough,” she said softly. “You’re my best friend, my partner, Nicky’s mother, our provider, my rock. A thousand things at once—and I love every single one of them.”

Rio smiled, her eyes misting. “I love you too.”

They picked Nicky up from his friend’s house later that afternoon. The second he saw them, Nicky bounded over, backpack swinging, freckles dancing across his nose.

“Mami! Mama!” he shouted, launching himself into Rio’s arms. She grunted and stumbled back, then spun him around, nose buried in his hair.

“Have fun?” Agatha asked, ruffling his curls.

He nodded vigorously. “We watched a dinosaur movie and had pizza and played tag. But I missed you guys.”

Rio’s heart melted. She hugged him tighter. “We missed you too.”

In the car, Nicky chattered about his night away, oblivious to the secret little smiles exchanged between his mothers. Rio’s gaze flicked to Agatha’s, remembering how just hours ago, they’d been moaning each other’s names in bed, free and uninhibited.

A week later, another storm brewed. This time, it wasn’t the weather—it was the phone call from the hospital. A complicated pediatric emergency. Rio’s day off vanished in a flash of adrenaline. She rushed out, calling over her shoulder for Agatha to pick up Nicky and manage dinner. Agatha understood; she always did. There was no frustration in her voice, only concern.

Hours ticked by. The child survived, but it was touch-and-go. Rio stayed to make sure everything stabilized, to update the family, to hold the mother’s hand as tears of relief replaced terror. By the time she trudged home, it was nearly 2am. The door opened just enough for her to slip inside, exhausted.

Agatha was waiting in the living room, reading a book. Nicky was asleep. The table lamp cast a warm glow, haloing Agatha in golden light. Rio dropped her bag and kicked off her shoes.

“You saved them tonight, didn’t you?” Agatha asked softly.

Rio nodded, relief and weariness warring in her expression. “Yeah. That was… it was close.”

Agatha smiled. “Come to bed with me.”

Their bedroom carried the hush of night. Rio changed into pajamas, every bone in her body heavy with exhaustion. She slid between the cool sheets to join Agatha. Instinctively, they curled close, legs tangling. Agatha traced gentle circles on Rio’s arm.

“I wish I could promise that it won’t hurt so much every time,” Agatha said. “But I know you’d never believe me. And I know you wouldn’t want to believe it, because if it didn’t hurt, you wouldn’t be the same person.”

Rio swallowed. “I can’t imagine not feeling it so deeply.”

“It’s what makes you so good at your job,” Agatha said. “And also, it’s what can break you if you don’t have something to anchor you.”

Rio nestled her face in the crook of Agatha’s neck. “You. You’re my anchor. You and Nicky.”

Agatha’s eyes shone. “And you’re ours.”

Their kiss was soft, tender, no urgency this time—just two souls re-centering on each other, a promise renewed.

Somewhere down the hall, Nicky stirred in his sleep, but stayed asleep. Outside, traffic hummed, but inside their home, there was the hush of two hearts in sync.

Morning light streamed through the curtains, revealing the slow dance of dust motes. Nicky bounded in, full of morning exuberance, wearing mismatched pajamas. He climbed onto the bed between his mothers, squirming to wedge his way into the warm space.

“Mami, Mama, wake up!” he insisted, brandishing a toy dinosaur.

Agatha opened her eyes first, her grin sleepy. “Hello, munchkin. You’re up early.”

Nicky shrugged, nestling between them. “I got hungry.”

Rio yawned, arm flopping over her face. “Okay, let’s go feed you, little monster.”

He giggled. “I’m not a monster, I’m a dinosaur.”

Both women laughed. It was a simple, ordinary family moment—one that smelled of morning breath and warm blankets. But these were the instants that made every heartbreak at the hospital bearable. The unconditional love in that bed overshadowed the fear that had once plagued them.

Soon, they trailed into the kitchen, where coffee would be made and cartoons might flicker on the TV for Nicky. Agatha would inevitably slip behind Rio to murmur a little “good morning” kiss onto her neck, and Rio would steal a moment to press her palm to the small of Agatha’s back in silent gratitude.

They were far from perfect.

Nothing about their high-pressure jobs or the ache of losing patients ever truly vanished. They still argued, cried, worried over bills, daycare, and the million demands of parenthood.

Yet whenever the world threatened to pull them under, they clung to each other—anchored by the same spark that lit up a shabby conference lobby in Baltimore, where a spilled latte and a cracked heel somehow became the first step of a lifelong bond. Their love was as fierce as any storm—and it refused to break.

#emotional support pussy #the brainrot is real #agatha all along #agathario fic #agathario #agathario au #modern domestic agathario makes me asdfghjkl

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daydreamingatnight209 · 1 year ago

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Me actually writing and posting? What??? 😱😱😱

Enjoy some Colson content my lovelies 🥰

As usual Feedback is welcome, HATE is not ; if you don’t like it, don’t read it. ✨💕

“I’m Here, Go Back to Sleep”

MGK x Female Reader

Warnings - None. Just pure fluff!

——————————————————————————

Waking up to an empty bed these days wasn’t unusual these days, with the album deadline slowly creeping up day by day, Colson spent almost all of his hours in the studio, working himself to the bone to produce an album everyone can enjoy.

With your own workplace continuously overworking you, sleep or time didn’t come easily to you either. You couldn’t remember the last time both you and Colson had actually spent more than a few minutes at a time together in the same room and it was starting to become very lonely.

Leaving the cold and empty bed, after another night of hopeless tossing and turning, you sigh and drag yourself downstairs to the kitchen. Preparing for another day to survive on coffee you make one for both yourself and your boyfriend who didn’t even leave the studio last night. It was most likely he fell asleep there in the very early hours of the morning.

While the lack of sleep wasn’t new for Colson, it certainly was for you and you could feel it slowly starting to affect your mind and body.

You grab him a change of clothes, a blanket for yourself and his favourite aftershave before crossing over from the house into the converted studio space.

With the band already in session, you slipped in almost undetected, but as always, your eyes caught Colson’s immediately. You give him a small smile and walk over to give him what you had brought over.

“Babe, what are you doing up so early? You look exhausted” he whispers as he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

You let out a small laugh and set yourself down on the closest chair.

“Gee, thanks Col”

After a quick clothes change and the others leaving in search for food, Colson calls you over to the desk he’s working at.

“Come, let me hold you” he mumbles, stretching his long arms out in your direction.

Wrapping the blanket tightly around you, you walk over to your lover and wrap yourself around him so you were straddling him. He holds you tightly and sways gently.

“You need to get some proper rest, baby, you are going to make yourself ill” he tells you softly.

You giggle to yourself at his concern for you, knowing full well he wouldn’t take his own advice even if you begged him.

“I’ll rest when you do” is your answer and you can practically feel him rolling his eyes at you, despite not actually being able to see him as you rest your head in the crook of his neck.

The two of you sit there quietly, as colson continues to sway you and hum a track from the new album into your ear.

Despite not being able to sleep properly, something about being in colson’s arms after so long, settles you and you cannot fight the call of sleep that beckons you. Your eyes close slowly and without protest as you rest against the frame of your man, the feeling of safely enveloping you.

Colson smiles down at you, tenderly, the look of frustration and stress leaving your features as you snore lightly.

He would be lying to himself if he said he hadn’t missed these small intimate moments with you and did feel quite guilty for not making more time for you while in the process of doing this next album. You never once complained and took everything in your stride which is on of the many things he loved about you.

He couldn’t wait to look after you and treat you to something special as a way of thanks for all your support when the album was complete.

His train of thought was interrupted as he heard everyone coming back to continue the session. He panicked slightly as they all barged through the door and glared at them in an effort to silence the rowdiness they were currently displaying.

“Shhh! She hasn’t slept properly in weeks and I swear if any one of you wake her up! …” Colson hisses at his friends, before looking down at you to ensure you were still peacefully sleeping.

Slim is the first to put his hands up in mock surrender, a smirk plastered on his face as he leads the group back out the door, but he was secretly glad that this would mean Colson would be forced to take a break, even if it was just an hour or so. He knew he definitely needed one.

Once alone again, Colson lifts you up with ease and carries you over to the sofa, laying you down and climbing in beside you. He wraps his arms back around you settles in. The movement causes you to stir slightly, your eyes still closed you mumble for your boyfriend not to leave you.

“Shh baby, I’m here, go back to sleep”

#writing #writers on tumblr #fluff #fanfic #mgk #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly x reader #mgk x reader #mgk x y/n #Colson Baker #fiction #colson baker x reader #colson baker fanfic #colson baker fluff #mgk imagine #colson baker imagine #mgk music #mgkedit #mgk angst

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mendessi · 5 months ago

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things i say when you sleep | chapter seven

multi chapter bodhi durran x fem!oc

word count: 4.9k

chapter summary: Manifesting a signet has the potential to be a deadly thing.

tags: slow burn, friends to enemies to lovers, canon typical violence, mentions of death, she falls first he falls harder, majority canon compliant, some canon deviance, eventual smut, angst with a happy ending, additional tags to be added

AO3 masterlist

five | six | seven | eight | nine

My teeth chatter as ice-cold water washes over me.

I'm shivering as Bodhi tugs my tunic over my head. He adjusts the lever so that the water turns colder and I shake my head desperately. I'm convinced I'll get hypothermia if I spend another second under this water. Despite how I'm trembling, the power burns white hot in my chest and Bodhi winces as he touches my skin.

"You're going to be okay, Ani," He whispers over and over like a prayer, "I'm right here. I'm here."

Whether he's saying it for me or himself, I'm not sure.

"Focus Ania," Gleigeal says, "You must control what you are feeling. Mold it. Do not let it mold you."

A whimper leaves my lips as I wrap my arms around myself and I scratch at my skin, unable to grasp the ambivalence. I am cold and shivering furiously while heat claws at the inside of my chest. My skin feels like it's on fire.

His hands shake as he reaches for my cheeks and forces me to look at him, "You have to ground, Ani. Please. Please ground."

I've learned grounding, or a form of it at least. It's hard when I've never had the sheer weight of this much power at my fingertips before. I'd built a distorted version of the Riorson House library into my mind, though I never had the time to perfect it. I had a hard time remembering it clearly but it had always been my safe space as a child.

"Where is it? Ani, where do you ground?" He asks and I can feel the fear radiating off of him, seeping into my chest like it belongs there, becoming my own.

"T-t-the library. R-R-Riorson Ho-use," My teeth chatter uncontrollably, my hands shaking as the mage lights in the bathing chamber continue to flicker. "I n-never finished."

His eyes study my face as he tries to understand what I'm saying. "You don't remember what it looks like?"

I nod my head as much as I can with how much my body trembles and he takes a deep breath as he continues to brush my wet hair from my face. My tears run in hot streams down my cheeks as I reach my shaking hands towards him.

"I'm trying to counter it but I don't know what it is, Ani. " His voice wobbles and I've never heard him so unsure of himself. "I'm trying. You're going to be okay, I'm right here."

He presses the back of his hand to my forehead as I close my eyes and imagine myself sitting at a table in the library.

I place the bricks one by one, to the best of my ability as I see the crimson tendrils of Gleigeal's power creeping in from one of the large ceiling-high windows. The sunlight peeks in through the curtains and I walk slowly to it as the bricks behind me continue clicking into place. The power streams in quickly in obstreperous bursts and when I reach out to touch them they burn my hand.

I opt for the curtains instead and use lesser magic to yank them shut. The power thins to a single stream, a handful of tendrils dancing around each other through the small crack of the curtains.

When I open my eyes again, Bodhi's forehead is pressed against mine as he breathes heavily. The bathing chamber is pitch black, the only light illuminating his face coming from in between us.

"Bodhi?" I rasp. My throat feels raw.

"Hey, you're okay," He says, gently. "Look."

His clothes are soaking wet, his dark curls stuck against his forehead. He tenderly grabs my wrist and looks where our hands rest between our bodies. Light gleams off the tips of my fingers and my lips part at the sight.

"Light bends at your will, Ania," Gleigeal's voice is quiet in my head like he knows it is still throbbing.

I slowly wiggle each of my fingers watching as the light bends with each movement, like it's stuck to my skin.

"Shut it off," Bodhi whispers. His hands are back in my hair, brushing the wet strands from my face.

The curtains are still barely drawn when I close my eyes again and I reach for them, pulling them completely closed. The light has faded and my hands are completely back to normal.

Bodhi's hands are feeling my face once again and I suddenly feel like I'm suffocating. "You're cooling down."

My lips quiver as I clench my jaw to keep my teeth from chattering, "I'm cold."

"Just a couple more minutes," He promises.

His forehead falls against mine again and it's too dark to see his face. If the shower wasn't running, he could hear the way my breath stutters. I reach my hands up to his cheeks and pull his face back slightly so that the tips of our noses touch. The light returns to my fingertips in a dim glow against his cheeks and I can see his eyes scan my face as I brush my thumb lightly against his wet skin. Tiny streams of water fall off the tips of his hair and flow down his cheeks, illuminating under my touch.

I say his name again but it's barely heard over the water hitting the stone around us. Bodhi's hand wraps around the base of my neck, his thumb rubbing a soothing circle into my skin.

I've never seen him in this light. The soft golden glimmer emitting off my fingertips paints him beautifully and in the moment I've never seen someone so mesmerizing. The worry is gone from his eyes replaced with something that I can't put my finger on. I tug his face towards mine again, the longing feeling replacing everything else I feel in my chest.

If he'd let me, I'd kiss him.

He reaches up and turns the water off and then slowly helps me to my feet. Before he reaches for a towel, his fingers brush against the fresh scratches against my shoulders that I put on myself and I tense up.

"Sorry," He quietly wraps the towel around my shoulders and tucks me into his side. The warmth of him finally makes my teeth stop rattling as he walks me back to my room.

As we pass under each mage light, I take note of how they shine brighter for a moment before returning to normal. I unlock the door and we both step inside.

Every inch of my skin feels like it has just been on fire, but the pain is slowly subsiding now that my body is returning to a normal temperature.

"I am thankful the XO was there to aid you," Gleigeal says and I don't reply, but I'm sure he can feel my agreement down the bond. "Though I will note, you would have faired on your own too."

Bodhi turns around while I change into the loosest clothes I have. I don't want to feel anything touching my skin with how sensitive it is.

"Will you be okay?" Bodhi asks, facing me once I'm fully dressed.

"Yes," I reply. I don't know how I'm supposed to act after he's just seen me at my most vulnerable. Things could have turned out differently if my power had backlashed. I was on the brink of killing both of us if I didn't get it under control.

"Do you promise?" He runs a hand through his wet hair.

"Why did you risk staying by my side?" I ask him as I dry my hair with the towel, "I could've killed you."

"If I wasn't there, you would've killed yourself." He argues.

"I am positive you would have lived," I hear Gleigeal say.

"I was scared, Ani," He admits in a whisper, "It happened after I told you about... everything happening outside the wards. I didn't want to be the reason that you-"

The words fall short on his lips and I fold my hands in front of me as I look down at the ground. "It wasn't your fault."

Answers have been placed in front of me for years and I never paid enough attention to piece them together. I look up at him when he doesn't say anything.

My heart rate is slowly rising when I look up at him. Gods, he really is beautiful.

That childish crush from when I was a teenager doesn't feel so silly now when I look at him standing in my room. He looks so out of place but also just where he belongs. The wet clothes stick tightly to his body and I have to stop myself from staring. My eyes linger on his hands, the ones that had just been holding my cheeks and brushing my hair from my face despite my skin being so hot to the touch that he had to fight the urge to pull away. My gaze finds its way back to his eyes and I'm reminded of the panic that saturated them as he whispered things to himself that he didn't think I would hear.

My chest tightens at the realization and I feel nauseous all of a sudden.

"You should go to bed," I say to him. "Squad Battles prep continues tomorrow and it'll be busy."

"I'll stay," He says and he moves like he's going to take a step towards me, but I hold my hand up.

"No, I'd rather you didn't," I stand up and make my way to the door, pulling it open. I step to the side to give him space to leave. "Please, Bodhi."

"You are being harsh, Ania," Gleigeal says and I fight to ignore him. "But I do not blame you for wanting space."

He nods and stops in front of me, he reaches his hand up to my cheek but stops himself short. I almost lean into the touch that's not there. I find myself longing for it.

This is not something I can do. Not with him.

"Good night," He says quietly as he walks out, leaving a trail of water behind him.

Xaden is at my door the next morning and I hesitate before letting him in.

"Bodhi told you then?" I ask as I shut the door behind him. I feel much better this morning after spending the entire night perfecting the Riorson House library to a T. Or as close to it as I can get with the distant memory still a bit foggy.

"You scared him shitless," He asks as he leans against my desk. "Do you know if Gleigeal had previously bonded someone from your family line?"

"What do you want me to say?" I ask down my bond.

"The cousins are trustworthy. Tell him the truth if you see fit," Gleigeal replies.

"He was my grandmother's," I cross my arms.

I thought Bodhi looked out of place in my room, but seeing Xaden in here was something entirely different.

"Sgayel hinted at it, but I wanted to be sure," He says, "Your signet is unique and if you hone it, can grow to be extremely powerful. But there's something you should know."

"It seems kind of useless to me," I reply as I gather my things for the day.

"That's because you haven't learned how to use it in a way that is beneficial to you," He says standing up straight. "Carr will help you, but you have to be cautious with him."

"What do I need to know?" I sling my rucksack over my shoulder.

"When you bond a direct relative's dragon, one of two things can happen," He's picking his words carefully which concerns me considering the man hardly has a filter. I remember the night in the woods when he had told a scared first-year to stop wasting his time.

"Madness is one of them, isn't it?" I remember vaguely reading something of the sort.

"Or you manifest a second signet," He says and my heart skips a beat. I don't want to ever experience manifesting a signet again, especially after last night.

"That's not possible," I furrow my brows. "Who told you that?"

"Bonding a relative's dragon will usually manifest an extremely powerful signet," He releases shadows from his hands, "And an even more powerful second one."

"You have a second signet," I whisper. "I don't want a second signet."

"Then you can go mad," He shrugs. "Ania, you have to be careful from this point out. You, under any circumstances, cannot manifest your second signet in front of anyone. Unless it's Bodhi or me."

"What if I'm in class? Carr's class specifically?" I ask, slightly anxious as I absorb this new information.

"You get the hell out of there and you find somewhere to do it. Quietly." He replies. "If you can, find Bodhi or me."

"Are you sure you aren't too preoccupied with Violet to be concerned about me?" I cross my arms. That was a little defensive.

"Don't make this hard, Ania." He says and I follow him out of my room. "When it manifests, you and Gleigeal will decide if it's safe enough to share with us."

We both stop when we see Rhiannon and Violet exiting her room diagonally from mine. Their eyes land on us, and I almost flinch at how it must look. There's a flash of something behind Violet's eyes, and her jaw clenches before she and Rhiannon turn and head for the rotunda.

"Dammit," I mutter under my breath.

"I'll see you in formation, little Alistair, " he says, but I can see how his face hardens after the interaction.

Oh, something absolutely fishy is going on with them.

I keep my signet a secret until the Squad Battle behind the fear that wielding it will trigger the second one into manifesting faster. Or trigger my insanity. However, I'm practically useless when it comes time to break into Violet's mother's office.

I'm nothing but a watchdog while the cool kids who are actually useful get to see the inside of the General's office. I only become of use when they need help to carry the massive map back to the rider's quadrant.

We spend time on the front lines in Montserrat as our prize for winning the Squad Battle and I can't help but feel like I don't deserve to be here. I try to take every second here as a learning lesson.

The knowledge of knowing that Venin are a real threat to everyone on the Continent has me sick to my stomach while we sit in the briefing room with Violet's sister and a couple of Montserrat riders. Mira is annoyingly badass even though I can feel the hatred coming off of her every time she remembers that there are some of us at this table with a relic.

Xaden glares my way with a "pay attention" look, but I just can't. Not when I know the truth. This is meant to be some kind of learning exercise but I'm not retaining anything. I can't even find it in me to be entertained while Dain and Xaden go at it.

My eyes narrow as I watch Xaden and Violet closely and it's crystal clear to me within an instant. Xaden is here because of her. Not because of their dragons.

A smirk plays at my lips as the information settles into my brain and I want to scream "I knew it!", but I keep it to myself for obvious reasons.

We're forced to return to campus when the outpost is attacked by Gryphons.

Though now that I'm replaying the events in my head, I'm not sure it was Gryphons. What if it was venin?

The first battle of War Games comes quicker than I'd like it to and now that I know what I do, I've become overly aware of how redacted the Battle Briefs are getting. Devera chooses her words very carefully, but I know what she means to say. At least by this time, I've begun practicing a little with Carr.

It was hard to lie and pretend I hadn't manifested when the majority of our class had. I was just thankful to keep it hidden until we came back from Montserrat because our having to flee was the wake-up call I needed. If I could at least figure out one way to use this signet productively then maybe I wouldn't be completely defenseless.

I practice in the mornings and at night when I'm alone in my room but so far all I can do is turn the light on and off and it's only contained to my hands. I'm no better use than a fucking mage light.

"You will perfect your signet over time," Gleigeal scolds me, "I will not listen to you berate yourself over this again."

"Yes sir," I tease. He reminds me of my father sometimes and it pains me to say so, but it's true. The candor is too similar for my liking, but it's comforting in a way.

"The Silver One has eyes on the egg. They require our assistance." Gleigeal relays the orders he likely got from Tairn.

Gleigeal banks and I tighten the muscles in my thighs. My cheeks sting from the cold hail pattering against my skin. My nerves heighten when Tairn and Deigh come into view. It's frustrating that I'll likely be no help in this situation with no control over my signet but a part of me hoped it'd be like how I learned to swim. My dad just threw me into the lake one day and I was forced to figure it out. I doubt this would be similar in any way, but it was nice to think so.

Liam is in a grapple with Deigh and my stomach sinks as we fly closer. Jack is on Deigh's back and I feel anger surging through my chest. Liam doesn't have enough time to unseat to defend himself.

"Get me closer!" I shout down my bond and Gleigeal begins a dive. I look down seeing my fingertips light in a golden glow. It steadily grows brighter and brighter the more my anger threatens to consume me.

I hear Violet scream his name and I raise my hands when I see Jack ram his blade through Liam's side. Liam falls from his dragon's back and my heart sinks. The power burns my hands when the light seeps into my palms and I scream as Gleigeal flies past the turret Jack stands on. The energy pulls and pulls until it finally snaps in a blinding light. Jack stumbles back with his hands covering his eyes and I turn back to look at Violet.

She's too far to catch him and we're already flying upwards. My heart races as she and Tairn dive for him and I'm almost positive he won't make it. I close my eyes expecting to hear Deigh's cry, but it never comes. When I open them, Liam is tucked into Tairn's claw and I sigh a breath of relief.

"Liam is okay and Deigh lives," Gleigeal says and I tighten my grip on his scales to stop my shaking hands.

I turn my head when I hear Violet's scream again and flinch when I see the brightest streak of lighting I've ever seen strike the tower. It collapses and Jack falls with it.

I don't find it in my heart to be sorry.

When we reach the flight field and dismount I make my way toward Tairn. I have to check on Violet. Liam was thankfully being taken care of in the infirmary by now.

"Violet!" I approach her but she glares at me and turns away. When Dain appears, she turns to talk to him but seems completely out of it.

Violet Sorrengail is not someone who would be okay with taking a life. She looks how I felt when I was forced to kill two men during Threshing. She doesn't want to see me now and that's completely understandable.

I back off and return to Gleigeal making sure he's okay before he launches. He doesn't really care for the celebrations and I don't blame him. I don't care much for it either, I just want to rest.

Ridoc scoops me up into his arms and I can't help but laugh as he spins me around. "I can't fucking believe we won!"

When he sets me down, I look around for my other squadmates. Rhiannon is now with Violet and I can't help but feel my stomach twist. Why was it only me she didn't want to talk to?

Bodhi comes into my view and I can't help but admire the way he looks in his flight leathers, his hair tousled from the wind and I want nothing more than to run my fingers through his curls. His eyes meet mine and I look away quickly, doing my best to act like I hadn't just been staring at him.

My throat tightens when I realize he's approaching me. Ridoc's arm rests over my shoulders but he drops it when he also realizes that Bodhi is coming towards us.

"Good job, cadets," He nods.

"Thank you, XO," Ridoc says. Ever since the morning Bodhi had caught us in my room, he'd been so formal towards Bodhi which I couldn't help but laugh at. "Oh, look, there's um- something."

Ridoc pats my shoulder and then walks over to Sawyer who's talking to a couple of cadets from the Tail Section of our wing.

"Come on," The corners of his lips tug upwards as he watches Ridoc walk away. He then nods back towards the main campus and we fall in step together.

The sounds of the cheering slowly fade as we get closer to the dorms. "I've barely seen you since..."

"You've been pretty busy. Winning the Squad Battle and all. And now the first battle of War Games," He teases, with his hands folded behind his back.

"Well, I'm hardly an asset." I roll my eyes as we climb the stairs. "Though during the games something happened."

"What?" He asks and opens my bedroom door for me when we reach it.

The memory replays and I begin trying to dissect it as I kick my boots off. What happened before, during, and after? What were the contributing factors? Emotions? Outside sources?

"Jack had stabbed Liam and I got so... mad. Or maybe I was scared that we'd lose him. But, my hands did the thing, and the energy kind of pulsed and tugged. The light got brighter and brighter till it snapped," I explain as he sits on the edge of my bed. Gods, those leathers. "I think I blinded him. It gave Violet a second before she manifested lightning."

"That's... brilliant." His lips part and then he smiles. "Really. I think you're gonna do amazing things with it."

He's being genuine, I can feel it.

"How have you been otherwise? We haven't really seen each other much." He asks and I don't know if I like the way he's dancing around conversation. Maybe I'm overthinking it.

"Fine," I shrug as I cross my room to the armoire to take out my sleeping gown. I turn my back to him as I start to undress. Something heats in my chest but I don't know the feeling. I feel his gaze leave my body and I almost sigh. I pull my sleeping gown over my head and then turn around, untying my hair. I comb my fingers through the tangled locks and he finally looks back to me, but his shoulders are tense.

"Ani," he breathes out as I walk towards him.

"Yes?" I ask as I step between his legs.

"Don't do this to me," He pleads.

"Do what?" I ask, reaching my hands up to cup his cheeks.

His fingers ghost a trail up the sides of my bare thighs, stopping at the hem of my sleeping gown.

"Tell me to stop," I whisper, sliding my hands from his jaw to the base of his neck, tangling my fingers in his curls.

He's silent, but the tips of his fingers trail a centimeter upwards, under the fabric of the gown.

I remember his forehead pressed against mine in the shower and the way our noses brushed and I want nothing more than to recreate it right now. I'm taking a risk. This could go exactly how I want it to, or he could reject me. I can pinpoint exactly when there was a shift for me when it came to him. My chest aches as I look down at him, fitting myself deeper between his thighs where he sits on my bed.

I want him.

It's been weeks since I've actually been able to talk to him about anything since he's had me on the mat and I fucking missed him. Lust is the only emotion I feel, seeping in through my fingertips at the base of his neck, through my arms, and into my chest.

"Ani." It's a warning, for him and me. If we do this, there's no going back. His fingers press into my thighs and I part my lips with a small gasp.

I rest my forehead against his and close my eyes. I want him to initiate. I need to know he wants this like I do. But I can feel that he does.

"I can feel it," I whisper, allowing our lips to brush. The feeling is almost all-consuming, taking over my mind, body, and soul. This can't be just me.

He tugs me closer by my thighs and his grip is so tight, I know that he's fighting an internal battle.

Fine. I'll do it myself.

I'm ready to close the gap between us, tired of the trepidation when he raises his hand to my face. His thumb brushes against my bottom lip and then he cups my jaw gently.

"You're gonna be the death of me," He says under his breath.

It's a millisecond before his lips are on mine.

His kiss is soft like he's hesitating. Scared to fully commit. I want more, I know it can be more.

Stop being scared.

My fingers tangle, a golden glow, in his hair as I pull him closer, deepening the kiss. He doesn't need permission when he glides his tongue into my mouth, my lips are already parted for him.

He moves back on the bed, pulling me with him. I move my legs to straddle him, pushing him back into the mattress.

I want her. I want her so fucking bad.

But I can't. This is wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

I push the thoughts out as I tug his bottom lip between my teeth.

"Fuck," he mutters breathlessly as one of his hands slides down my waist to the back of my thigh. His other wraps carefully around my throat, pulling my lips back to his like he's starving.

More. More. More.

It's hot and everything I need and I don't mean to but my hips grind against his and he groans into my mouth, his grip tightening ever so slightly against my neck. Anxiety settles in my chest and I do my best to push it away. I don't know where it's coming from but it's not mine.

"Just kiss me, what are you so fucking scared of?" I finally pull away when it becomes too overbearing.

It's not my anxiety. Not my fear. It's his.

He looks up at me with wide eyes.

"What?" I whisper. "Bodhi, please. You want this. I know you do."

I feel pathetic the way I beg him. But my entire body is swirling with emotions that I can't dictate. I can't tell which ones are mine and which ones may or may not be his. It's overwhelming and I lean down to kiss him again just to ease the sensation but he stops.

His grip around my throat halts me and my heart stops, "Ani. What are you feeling right now?"

"I want you," I whisper. "But you won't let me. You're holding back."

He pulls my face towards his but only lets our lips brush and I fucking whimper. His eyes darken at the sound I make.

I've never been such a needy mess and the heat that pools in my lower belly makes me feel pitiful.

He presses his lips to mine again, flipping us over so that he's pressed between my thighs. The weight of him here I haven't felt since the last time we sparred and I missed it.

My heart pounds as I savor the taste of his lips on mine and I feel it again; the fear and anxiety. I do my best to ease it, focusing on him and how he feels between my thighs where he barely fits. Just be here with me. I'm here. Right where I need to be.

His tongue dips into my mouth again and I whine at the feeling when his hands slide under my sleeping gown against the skin of my waist.

Just be here with me. I'm here. Right where I need to be. I push the thought outward.

The anxiety dissolves when he pulls my chest flush with his and I breathe out a sigh of relief in between kissing him. My arms are wrapped tightly around his shoulders when he finally pulls away and I want to groan in frustration. His forehead rests against mine and I'm reminded of the shower again.

"You're not going to lose me, stop thinking that," I breathe, but I don't know what I'm referring to. He didn't speak it, but I hate the way the idea settles into my bones. He pulls away slightly to look into my eyes and I'm confused by the look in his wide eyes. "What's wrong?"

"You're a fucking empath."

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tag list: @lynnieluvsu @sherlockstrangewolf @abysshaven @wolfbc97 @paris009

#bodhi durran #bodhi fourth wing #fourth wing #iron flame #bodhi durran fic #onyx storm #bodhi durran x oc #the empyrean #fourth wing fanfic #bodhi x reader

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thehighladywrites · 1 year ago

Text

— “I got you, darling…”

pairing: rhysand x reader

summary: rhys taking care of his girl during her period

warnings: suggestiveness, sweet and perfect rhys

amara’s note: this is for you anon!! i saw your ask and had to make a comfort fic for you💗🫶🏼 i hope u enjoy babes, and feel better!! periods can be a bitch

Agony. Pure, fucking agony.

You felt nauseous and broke out in cold sweats. These fae cycles weren’t a joke at all. While it was nice that they only happened twice a year, it still meant enduring twice a year of writhing in pain.

Downstairs, Rhys was cooking up some simple, gentle food to ease your discomfort and provide nourishment.

He had planned ahead a few days ago, knowing your period was approaching, and made sure everything was set up to make it easier for you.

Rhys quietly climbed the stairs with a simple plate of food in hand. As he entered the bedroom, his heart sank at the sight of you curled up on the bed, tears glistening in your eyes.

Setting the tray down on the bedside table, he crossed the room in quick strides and sat down beside you, gathering you into his arms. “I'm here, love,” he murmured softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I've brought you something to eat. It's gentle on your stomach.”

Rhys gently wipes away your tears as you express your gratitude, but you protest that you're too tired to eat. With a soft smile, he reassures you, “I wasn't planning on making you eat it yourself. I'll feed you.”

He tenderly lifts your head and supports it with one hand, while using the other to scoop up a small bite of food. With all the care in the world, he brings the spoon to your lips, offering you nourishment and comfort in this moment of pain.

Rhys takes a cloth and gently pats your forehead, soothing away the sweat. He leans in to press a tender kiss to your cheek, murmuring, “Good girl,” in a soft, reassuring tone.

He handed you a small vial of pain medicine to lessen the intense cramps and stroke your hair.

With each gesture, he shows his love and support, offering comfort during your time of need.

You sheepishly admit about needing to change your underwear due to bleeding through. “I have to change, I’ve bleed through.” you murmur softly.

Without a word, Rhys lifts you up and carries you to the bathroom. There, he has magically prepared a heated bath, and as you sink into the warm water, you let out a groan of pleasure.

“Oh, thank you, baby. This feels amazing.” you whisper gratefully, the soothing heat easing your discomfort and bringing you a moment of relief.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

Rhys kneels beside the tub, gently massaging your shoulders, arms, and hands with expert care. As he works, he tenderly washes your hair, his touch gentle and comforting.

After you've soaked in the tub for a while, letting the warm water ease your tense muscles, Rhys helps you stand up and dries your body. Then, he hands you a fresh product, some underwear and shorts and one of his comfortable shirts to wear. With a tender kiss on your cheek, he lays you down on the bed before heading out to grab some vials of almond oil.

When he returns, he sits on the edge of the bed and lifts your legs and thighs onto his lap. He pops open the vial and pours some oil into his palm, heating it up before massaging it into your skin with gentle, soothing movements. Rhys massages your legs, things, lower stomach, using magic to heat up his palms.

“Gods, that feels so good, what did I do to deserve you?”

Rhys chuckles softly before leaning in close. “You deserve every bit of it,” he murmurs, his gaze warm and affectionate. “You’re my everything, and taking care of you is the least I can do for you.”

After the incredible massage, Rhys cleans up and then slips under the sheets beside you. He pulls you close, his arms wrapping around you, and he starts massaging your lower back without even realizing it. It's a simple gesture, but you feel loved and cared for.

He looks down at you, showering your face with kisses until you're giggling.

“Darling, guess what I heard helps with cramps,” he teases.

You roll your eyes, knowing exactly what he's hinting at. “Thanks, savior, but I think I'd rather suffer. You can definitely 'help' me after my cycle is over.”

“I'm here if you change your mind, just saying,” he replies with a playful grin. “I'll have you feeling wickedly nice in no time.”

“I’m sure you would, handsome.”

He pulls you in closer, cheat rumbling with a chuckle and as you nestle against him, you feel yourself relaxing. The pain starts to ease, and with Rhys by your side, you drift off into a restful sleep, feeling better than before.

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flowerxbunnie · 1 year ago

Note

make a smut about matt where you and him take a shower together and you suck him off 😻 make him not degrade but praise in a nice wayyy. like not calling me a slut but being nice. but not to weird TY I LOVE UR WRITING SMMM

Painted

Matt x Fem Reader

Warnings: SMUT, shower sex, fingering, blowjob, face paint, softdom!matt

DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE NOT OKAY WITH SMUT OR ARE A MINOR!

The bathroom is dark, but multiple candles provide enough scattered light for me to catch my reflection in the mirror. My hair is disheveled, my body is tired, and my muscles ache, tense and desperate for relief. Steam quickly coats the glass and with one deep breath it fills my airway.

My sore hands grasp at the fabric of my shirt, yanking and tugging it off my body before I throw it in the hamper. The rest of my clothing follows suit until I’m left with nothing, met with a blurry vision of my bare body in the fogged mirror.

I open the glass door and steam immediately billows into my face. I stretch my arm out and let the water coat my my hand, hot beads dripping from my fingertips onto the tile below. I inch my way in, allowing myself to relax as the water pelts against the back of my neck and flows down to the tender muscles of my back. I reach up and palm at my scalp, sighing audibly as I rub my throbbing temples.

I stand here for what feels like hours letting the water cascade over me. I hear rustling from outside the door in my bedroom, knowing exactly what time it must be. In the dim light I can make out his figure walking into the room, his broad shoulders shrugging and stretching as he stands in front of the mirror. I hear his low rumbling sighs, knowing his body aches for relief just like mine.

“Hey baby.” His two simple words wash over me hotter than the water raining down on my skin.

“Hi Matty,” I meekly reply, opening the door just a crack, enough to stick my face out.

His cheekbones are sharp in the dim light of the candles and his lips curve into a smile. He steps forward and presses his forehead against my own. His hands come up to grab my jaw tenderly, a soft sigh shared between the both of us.

“Can I get in?” Matt whispers, placing a quick peck on my lips before pulling away and scanning my face. The hairs bordering his forehead are wet from touching mine and stick to his skin.

I giggle lightly and nod. “You already know the answer.”

His hands immediately find the tie of his sweatpants and pull it loose. He drops them to the floor and reaches his arm up to grab the neckline of his shirt, yanking it over his head and ruffling up his hair from the friction of the fabric. His clothes are discarded and he opens the door fully, sending a cold breeze wafting in that erupts goosebumps across my skin.

He slides into the shower and closes the door, his hands immediately finding my waist as he settles in behind me. His chin rests atop my head and we sway, an embrace so intimate it feels like our skin could melt together and we could become one. His hands slide across the plush, wet skin of my abdomen and find each other, interlocking as his grip around me tightens.

I hear a soft hum rumbling from deep inside his chest, a sound of contentment. I sigh in reply and sink further into him, my back pressed against his sternum so tight I can feel the beating of his heart in my bones. I could stay here for hours, drinking in the calm he brings me.

He lifts his head and moves down to nuzzle it in the crook of my neck after using one hand to brush my hair to one shoulder. His stubble scratches against my sensitive skin as he drags his nose from my shoulder to behind my ear where he peppers soft, warm kisses.

“My pretty baby,” he whispers into my ear as his free hand begins to roam up my stomach.

He squeezes and prods at my body, groping his favorite parts of me. His lips continue to roam around my neck, sucking and nipping and kissing. He takes my breast into his hand and squeezes, feeling the weight in his palm as he deeply sighs. His other arm keeps me locked into place, never having moved from my waist. The rough pads of his fingers pinch and pull at my nipple and I can’t help but throw my head back against his shoulder. I’m crumbling under his touch and he knows it.

“What’s wrong, Y/n?”

I let a quiet moan fall past my lips as he sucks the tender flesh on my collarbone.

“Matt..” I breathe out shakily.

“Hmm?” He hums as he presses his hips into my ass.

His erection throbs against me, begging and ready. I hear him suck in a breath as he shifts his hips forward and back. His hand snakes down my chest, leaving a stinging trail down my stomach and all the way to my soaking core. His fingers ghost around my inner thighs, a featherlight touch to my folds making me squirm. As soon as his hand touches me, it’s gone and traveling down my thigh.

“You want me to touch you?” He asks, taunting me with his husky voice.

“P-please, Matt.” I whine, rubbing back against his cock as if pleasing him will change his mind about teasing me.

“Listen to my good girl, being so polite and using your manners.” He praises, inching his hand back up again. “More.”

I bite my lip and buck my hips forward, my pussy aching to be filled with his fingers.

“Please, Matt. P-please touch me. I’ll be so good for you. Anything for you.” I whine out.

I hear a light chuckle spill from his lips as he leans back against the shower wall, my back staying connected to his chest. One of his legs comes between mine and nudges them apart.

“Just relax, okay baby?” He places a kiss to my ear. “Let me take care of you.”

His hand finds its way to my pussy, his long fingers running through my slick folds. “Nice and wet for me already, hm?”

I nod and bite my lip, trying my best to be patient. His fingertips trace up and down, collecting my arousal before he starts tracing small circles on my swollen clit. I can still feel his erection pressed into my back, twitching with every whine and whimper I let out.

“F-feels so good, Matt, fuck.” I say shakily.

“I know, shh.. shhh..” he coos as he quickens his movements, his fingers working against the nerves of my tender bud.

He slips his long middle finger into my entrance and curls it up, hitting my most sensitive spot. He likes my reaction, I’m a whimpering mess for him. He kisses up and down my neck as he plunges his finger in and out, using his thumb to continue rubbing my clit. Soon after, he slips his ring finger in, deliciously stretching me as I writhe around in pleasure.

His other hand roams my body, leaving a hot trail as he caresses the skin of my hip, my ribcage, my breasts and wraps around my throat gently. He curls his fingers repeatedly into my g spot, sending a shooting electricity through my veins.

It’s like I can feel every microscopic groove of his fingertips as he pushes them in and out of me. He pulls me tighter against his chest, keeping me stable as my knees grow weak.

“M-Matt, I’m so close.” I pant, reaching my arm up to grasp around the nape of his neck.

“Come on baby, give it to me. So fucking good, let go.. come on..” he coaxes me closer to the edge. “Show me how good it feels. Let me see, baby.”

His raspy voice makes my stomach clench, and his fingers pumping steadily in and out of me at the pace he knows drives me crazy sends my body into waves of pleasure.

“Come on, Y/n. Cum all over my fingers.” He whispers into my ear, his lips ghosting the skin.

I fall apart around him, moaning and clenching as I ride through a hypnotic orgasm. His hums of approval ring in my ears, praises falling out of his mouth like a hymn.

I relax against him and he pulls his fingers to his lips, sucking my arousal off until they’re clean. “Tastes so fucking good.”

He spins me around to face him and I swear I could burn the image into my head. His blue eyes are dark and hooded and he looks down at me starving with lust. His hair drapes down across his forehead, water droplets falling as he licks his lips. His hands caress down my sides, settling at my hips as he pulls me in for a feverish kiss. He moves his lips against mine like he’ll never get another again, like a man having his first sip of water after being stranded. It’s messy and filled with shared breaths, swallowed moans and clashing teeth.

He pulls away and grips my jaw with his left hand, stroking my bottom lip with his thumb. His right hand reaches down to grab his needy cock, jerking it slowly as he shoves his finger past my lips and onto my tongue.

“Need to feel that pretty mouth around me. God, baby I need it now.” He nearly growls as I suck his thumb, pulling back with a pop. “On your knees, baby.”

I comply, dropping down in front of him and running my nails down his thighs. I look up at him with a smile as he jerks himself inches away from my face, bucking his hips forward to run his tip along my lips. I stick my tongue out and he rubs his length along it, shuddering at the feeling of my warm saliva coating the underside of him. His left hand reaches down to tangle into my hair at the root and pull me closer.

He taps his leaking tip on my tongue a few times before he thrusts forward, shoving inch by inch into my mouth. I close my mouth around him and bob my head back and forth, keeping eye contact as strings of curses fall from his lips.

“Fuck, baby. So good with your mouth. Looks so pretty wrapped around my cock. Fuck.”

I hum at his praise, loving the fact that I can make a man fall apart like this. We work together, his hips bucking and my head bobbing. I take him to the base and I gag around him, pulling back to reveal a string of saliva connecting from my tongue to his dick. He reaches down and collects it with a finger, putting it back into my mouth before he grips my face and takes control, pushing back in.

“That’s right baby, let me fuck that pretty face. You love a cock in your mouth don’t you?” He moans out as he works himself closer to the edge. “Grab your tits, mmm fuck yes. Play with ‘em, so fucking hot.”

I roll my nipples between my fingers and grab at my breasts as he watches intently, his mouth hung open in awe. I can feel his dick stiffening impossibly harder in my mouth, teasing at release as he quickens his pace.

“Let me paint that pretty face, hm? Wanna see my pretty girl covered in my cum.” He pulls out of my mouth and jerks himself again, one arm slung against the shower wall for support as he falls closer to the edge of relief. “Stick out your tongue.”

I do as I’m told, letting my tongue hang out as I look up at him. He moans and his muscles twitch as he finally releases his seed. Hot white strings of cum fall onto my tongue, across my cheeks, and drip down my chin.

He continues jerking his cock, milking out every last drop he can. He collects some of the dripping cum from my chin onto his finger and ushers it into my mouth.

The stimulation becomes too much and I hear a hiss as he stops. He brings his arms up and interlocks his fingers behind his head, his chest heaving as he catches his breath. He looks beautiful in the dim light, drunk off of pleasure and reeling from his orgasm.

He helps me to my feet and grabs a wash cloth from the shower caddy, wetting it and wiping my face clean gently. He takes his time, brushing my soaked hair out of my face and looking me over for anything he might have missed.

“You’re so good to me, Y/n, you know that?” He whispers, placing a loving kiss onto my forehead.

“I can say the same,” I respond with a blush, stepping forward to wrap my arms around his body and sink into his embrace.

He showers me with affection and care, not rushing a bit as he takes his time to wash my hair and body. He encourages me to sit under the warm stream of water as he cleans himself, flashing coy smiles my way every time he turns to face me. He rinses off and shuts off the water, stepping out to grab my towel and wrap it around my body.

“Y/n?” He pipes up.

“Yeah?” I turn to him as I towel dry my hair.

“How’s chinese sound for dinner?”

Tag List: @lustfulslxt @whotfisade @soursturniolo @recklesssturniolo @worldlxvlys @chrisolivia4l @kiarastromboli @mattnchrisworld @cupidsword @kvtie444 @xplrfear @knowingnothingnoel @karlybbx @chrisfavoritepepsi @mwah0mwah @starsturniolo @christinarowie332 @fionaheartswomen @angelic-sturniolos111 @solarsturniolo

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo edit #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fanfic

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nahoney22 · 1 year ago

Note

Congrats!!!!! I’ve been loving your stories for so long and I’m so glad to be able to read your stories on this journey with the bad batch.

May I request the reader x bb member where the reader needs to use their safe word and the batcher’s reaction? I need some soft fluff in preparation for the series finale.

Lots of love! Thank you.

The Safe Word*** 🌊

The Bad Batch X Gender Neutral Reader

authors note: sorry for the wait! Hope this is okay - I went down the BDSM route as that is when safe words are typically used so I hope that’s okay with you? And I hope there’s plenty of fluff and comfort for you after as there is some angst. I hope you enjoyed the finale 🩵

warnings: NSFW, 18+ only. Uses of a safe word, explicit sexual content and language, brief mentions BDSM/bondage play such as shibari, knifeplay, spanking, dirty talk, degradation kink, light choking. There is angst but followed up comfort and aftercare, discussions of past negative relationships, established relationships with each of the batch.

NSFW under the cut:

Echo - Havoc

You and Echo had never considered using a safe word until recently when things started to spice up in the bedroom. But, settling on "havoc" felt right.

One night as Echo nestled beside you, his lips grazing your neck, kissing and sucking hour soft skin, his hand explores beneath your clothes as you found yourself bound to the headrest. It was a recent experiment for both of you. Yet, a sense of unease crept in as the loss of movement weighed on you, a feeling you hadn't quite anticipated.

The bounds were tight, restricting you of even wriggling your fingers and a surge of panic builds in you.

"Echo, havoc," you utter urgently, your voice tinged with uncertainty, making him withdraw instantly, concern flickering in his wide golden eyes.

"Is everything okay?" he asks softly, his gaze searching yours.

"It's my hands, I can't..." you falter, your heart racing as you gesture to your restrained wrists. Without hesitation, Echo releases you, peppering apologetic kisses on your wrists.

"Was it too much?" he inquires gently, his voice laced with worry, as you take a moment to steady your breathing, grateful for his understanding.

You catch your breath and nod, a little embarrassed by your reaction. "Sorry, I thought I was ready."

He smiles in understanding and tenderly kisses your forehead. "And that’s alright. We don’t need to do that again if you don’t want to. I want to respect your boundaries," he coos, his voice reassuring as he allows you to snuggle into his side, the warmth of his embrace easing away your worries.

You were so glad to be with someone as gentle and sweet as Echo.

Hunter - Marauder

It was you who initiated it first, drawn to the mesmerising way Hunter twirled his viroblade. And so you suggested the possibility of incorporating it into your alone time with him.

Seeing the excitement flicker in his eyes, you found yourself in his bunk that night, bared to the skin, watching as he manoeuvred the blade with practiced ease. As he pressed its edge against your thigh, the cold sensation sent shivers down your spine, your focus fixated on the blade rather than on him.

Your breath hitched, fixated on the blade's movements rather than on him. He hovered over you, the blade gliding up your waist until it grazed your cheek, the sensation causing an unexpected discomfort.

"Marauder," you say quickly, a safe word you and Hunter had for each other from day one almost, watching as he discards the blade in an instant, his eyes softening with concern.

"Did I hurt you?" he asks gently, his voice filled with genuine worry as he focuses solely on you.

You shake your head, silently apologizing to him. "Sorry, I just... I freaked out for a moment there."

He settles beside you, draping the blanket over you to preserve your dignity, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. "I sensed there was something wrong, your heart wasn’t beating as it usually does," he says, his tone filled with a hint of self-reproach for not noticing it sooner. "Let’s watch a holomovie instead, yeah?" he suggests, wanting to shift your focus to put you at ease.

Grateful for his understanding, you intertwine your fingers with his as he sets up a device for the two of you to watch something. Maybe you'll revisit knifeplay someday, but for now, you're content to enjoy a quiet moment together.

Wrecker - Meiloorun

Typically a gentle giant, Wrecker was particularly attentive in the bedroom. But tonight, something changed.

With your face buried in the pillow and fingers gripping the sheets, you felt a sharp sting as Wrecker delivered a firm spank to your arse. "You've been naughty, haven't ya?" he teased, his dirty talk adding to the arousal.

While playful spanking was nothing new between you two, Wrecker seemed to get carried away, delivering a harder blow than usual. As his hand made contact again, you couldn't help but sob out, uttering "Meiloorun," the safe word to halt his actions.

It took a moment for Wrecker to register your plea, muffled by the pillow but he quickly shifted you onto your back and holds you close. "Kriff, I'm so sorry. Was I too hard?" he asked, his eyes filled with concern.

Though your eyes stung with tears, they didn't reflect the distress evident in Wrecker's. "Just a little rougher than usual, sweetie," you said softly, cupping his cheek. "I’m fine."

"I hurt ya," he sighed, taking your hand in his. "I've never hurt ya before."

"It just stung, Wrecker, that's all," you reassured him, allowing his arms to envelop you protectively. "And you stopped as soon as I said our safe word. I appreciate that."

Wrecker holds you for a little while, whispering soothing things in your ear as you did the same with him as you both feel grateful for another. You knew it was not intentional and you reminded Wrecker of this. Next time, he knows to be more careful.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Wrecker.”

Tech - Tibanna

When you first started dating Tech, you never imagined he had such intriguing desires—like the one he was demonstrating on his device: Shibari.

"I believe you will look divine constricted like this as I make you succumb to me," his words dripped with lust, his eyes intense behind his goggles, sending shivers down your spine.

And so, you let him. While you and Tech had explored various kinky activities, nothing quite like this had been on the agenda. With the others away for hours, he instructed you to strip bare and sit in the pilot's seat as he skillfully threaded the rope through his hands.

"Let us begin, shall we?" he said, starting with a simple kiss before expertly binding you to the chair with intricate patterns. But, as he worked, something shifted within you. The mood didn't feel right, overwhelming you completely. Though he looked at you like a delectable treat, you felt like a trapped creature, desperately searching for a way out.

So, you uttered the safe word.

"Tibanna.” You breathed shakily as Tech was about to secure your feet to the base of the chair. He paused, looking up at you.

"Do you wish to be free?"

"Yes," you managed to say with a swallowed nod. That was all it took for him to grab a tool and release your most restricted parts, allowing you to move freely once again.

You stand, legs trembling beneath you as you hastily reach for your robe, wrapping it around yourself to conceal the rope marks now etched into your skin. Tech's gaze follows your movements, his expression a mix of concern and uncertainty, unsure of how to respond to the sudden change in mood.

“Darling,” he begins tentatively, closing the distance between you and gently placing a hand on your shoulder as you turn away, your back to him, “are you alright?”

Your response is barely audible, a muttered apology escaping your lips as you avoid meeting his eyes, feeling the weight of disappointment settle in the air.

“Nothing has been spoiled. I still have you,” he reassures you as he wraps his arms around you, drawing you close. “I never want you to feel uncomfortable with our endeavours. Perhaps this can be something we revisit in the future when you're ready. But for now, how about we step outside and admire the stars? They're rather impressive tonight.”

His words wash over you, a soothing balm to your nerves, and you nod in agreement, grateful for his understanding. As you lean into his embrace, you feel a sense of relief flood through you, knowing that he prioritises your comfort above all else.

Crosshair - Tooka

Crosshair was always a man of mystery to you, yet his cloudy aura somehow making him irresistible. It took a while, but the two of you made it work and got together. He was sweet on you, not even shy to show how he felt in front of his brothers around you. But in the bedroom, that was a whole different story.

When you suggested having a ‘safe word,’ he questioned why ‘stop’ and ‘no’ weren’t good enough, but he let you pick a word anyway, even if it was ‘tooka.’ He just never expected you to use it.

His hand tightened around your throat, eyes ablaze with lust as he pressed his body against yours in a rhythmic pattern, sending shivers down your spine. “Such a good slut, aren’t you?” he grunted, his fingers gently squeezing your windpipe as he moved against you.

Dirty talk was normal while choking and degradation was a silent kink of yours, but in the heat of things there was a word he used that made you gasp, a sudden wave of panic washing over you as you felt vulnerable.

“Tooka. Tooka. Tooka,” you repeated quickly, gasping for a breath you didn’t know had been taken from you as he released you completely, his eyes furrowing in concern as you almost backed away from him.

He was silent for a moment, watching you, trying to process what he could have done wrong. Then, he remembered a conversation you had after a drink or two, where you opened up about certain past relationships.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered as he lay beside you, giving you a moment before taking your hand in his. “I… I didn’t mean what I said. I’d never hurt you.”

You blinked away your tears and smiled weakly at him. “I know, Cross,” you whispered back, “just… lay with me, hm? Let’s not talk about it.”

He debated if that was the right course of action, knowing you were vulnerable, but he said no more. He draped a blanket over the two of you and allowed you to nestle into his side, rubbing soothing circles into your back, murmuring words of comfort and reassurance as you both sought solace in each other's embrace. “I love you,”

You smile silently and meet his gaze. “I know.”

You had never felt so loved and cared for since being with him.

Masterlist

Tags: @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @jesseeka

@theroguesully @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone

@ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog

@pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87

@ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @lamiliani @jedi-hawkins

@tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi

@greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur r @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420

@ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot @imalovernotahater @sithstrings @lulalovez

#star wars the bad batch #the bad batch x reader #bad batch #tbb x reader #the bad batch headcanons #tbb #Hunter x reader #tech x reader #crosshair x reader #wrecker x reader #echo x reader #the bad batch

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gunilslaugh · 5 months ago

Text

Him

Goo Gunil Summary: All Gunil ever wanted was to be him, the guy you loved. Tattoo artist Gunil (non-idol au) WC:~1.7k Warning:none

photo not mine credits to owner.

Your eyes lit up as soon as you saw him. Your smile shined brightly as he said, “There’s my favorite girl.” Your arms wrapped tenderly around his waist as you hugged him. The word love might as well have been written on your forehead.

The word longing might as well have been written on Gunil’s forehead as he watched you interact with him through the glass patio door. He was at a party he didn’t want to be at. Loud music that he didn’t like blasting through speakers. Holding a cup full of a drink he didn’t like. He would much rather be at home cuddling with his dog, but you were here and he could not resist the temptation of being in the same place as you.

“Baby!” The loving nickname filled the air of the backyard. Another pair of arms snuck around his waist.

“Hey love,” he turned to his lover, pressing a tender kiss to her temple as well as wrapping an arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his side.

Gunil watches as your smile fades from your face and you awkwardly rub the inside of your elbow with your hand. Rocking back and forth on your feet before you put a fake smile and continue on with the conversation. Gunil doesn’t miss how your eyes occasionally fall to where his arm sits around her or how your arms pull to your body, seeking warmth from the chilly night air.

Before Gunil can rationalize what he’s doing he’s opening the door of the back patio and walking towards you, shrugging off his jacket.

“It’s cold out, why are you wearing such thin clothes?” he says putting his jacket over your shoulders. You feel the warmth of his jacket encase your body. The scent of his cologne wafting into your nose.

“Oh, Gunil. Thanks,” you said, pulling his jacket tighter around your frame. Gunil feels a bit of pride spread through his chest at the sight of you in his jacket. It’s selfish, claiming you when you’re not even his. However what really irks Gunil is how his eyes give a disapproving look at the sight of you in Gunil’s jacket. How he even sends Gunil a bit of glare. He was such a hypocrite, Gunil thought. Literally has his lover hanging on him. He would never actually date you. He just likes playing with you. He likes that you like him. He doesn’t feel jealous at the thought of you dating someone else. It’s that he would lose being able to toy with you.

“Mind if I steal her?” Not that Gunil was really asking, he was gonna lead you away from him no matter what.

“Go ahead,” he fakely smiled. With that Gunil wrapped his arm around you and started to lead you back inside. It killed Gunil how you turned your head to look back at him as you walked away. Could you really be so blinded by love that you couldn’t see how fake he was? Gunil leads you through the obnoxious party to a secluded corner in the kitchen.

“So why did you steal me?” you questioned, leaning against the counter.

“I was wondering if you thought about letting me ink you?” he replied. His hand came up, brushing against your exposed collarbones before grabbing the edge of his jacket to reposition it.

“You really want to contaminate my blank canvas don’t you,” you say with a light chuckle. Gunil has been trying to convince you to let him tattoo you for a while now.

“I can’t help it. It’s how most tattoo artists feel when they see someone with no tattoos. Like a pretty blank canvas waiting to be painted.” His fingers brush against the fabric of his jacket on your shoulder. “Plus you would look really good with a delicate tattoo. A flower on your collar bone.” Again his fingers dance across the skin of your clavicles. “Or maybe some stars on your shoulder,” His hand glides across to your shoulder. “Some phrase across your ribs.” His fingers tenderly drum down your side, causing you to shudder lightly at his delicate touch.

Gunil knew he was probably being too upfront about his touches, yet you weren’t smacking his hands away for telling him to stop.

“A sun and moon and either wrist,” he suggested. His fingers dance across the skin of your wrists before holding your hands in his. “What do you think angel?” The sweet nickname left his tongue.

“I’ll think about it,” you say, not giving him what he wants.

Just as obvious as it was that you had feelings for him. It was obvious that Gunil had feelings for you. You didn’t mind Gunil’s feelings for you. In fact some days you even thought about if you just gave in and let Gunil be your lover. However you could not stop your heart from yearning for him. He, whom Gunil wasn’t.

“Come on, please angel?” he pleaded. Truthfully you didn’t hate the idea of getting a tattoo. You had actually been considering it before Gunil even brought it up. You look down at Gunil’s hands that were holding yours. Sharing his warmth to your hands that were still a bit cold from being outside. It’s just that getting a tattoo almost felt as if you agreed you’d also be putting a foot forward to getting over him.

“I could make you forget about him too,” Gunil leaned forward to whisper in your ear.

“Gunil,” your voice also comes out as a whisper. Gunil pulls back just enough to look at you.

“Yes angel?” he played ignorant.

“You know how I feel,” you remind. A defeated sigh leaves Gunil as he pulls back.

“Yeah, I know,” he said meekly. “But if you ever want to change that. You know where my studio is.” His hold on your hands loosen. “Seriously, I’ll have you fall so in love with me that you’ll have trouble remembering his name.” He squeezed your hands before letting go and walking away. You watch as he heads for the door to leave the party he only came to see you for. You can’t hear the door click shut due to the loud music, but hands feel very empty. The cold seeping back into them as his warmth fades away. You sigh leaning more against the counter.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

“XHeroesInk” The neon blue sign hung outside the shop. ‘Plus you would look really good with a delicate tattoo.’ You recalled Gunil’s words and his touch from the party last week. ‘I could make you forget about him too.’ The words echoed in your mind. You can feel the ghost of his breath against your ear. Your hand goes to reach for the door handle, but it freezes before you can grab it. You’re getting in your own way again.

“I’ll just think about it a little longer,” you tell yourself, pulling your hand away. You turn and continue on the pavement walking past the shop, but not without turning back to look at it.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

“XHeroesInk” You found yourself back outside of the shop. It was your third time this week. Standing in front of the door. It almost felt like you were stuck in limbo. Part of you wanted to walk inside. Another part wanted to run away. Neither part was seemingly strong enough to win as you remained stagnant in front of the door.

“Not sure if you want one?” A voice caught your attention. The voice belongs to Seungmin, a fellow tattoo artist who worked at the shop. “Are you y/n?” he checked.

“How did you-?” you looked at him puzzledly. Seungmin laughs lightly.

“Gunil has talked about a girl before. A pretty blank canvas that he wants to paint,” he explained. “Why are you hesitating?” he followed.

“It’s permanent,” you answer. Another chuckle leaves Seungmins lips. You both know that’s not the hesitating he was referring to.

“Yes and no,” he decides to humor you. “For the most part they are, but they fade over time and laser removal also exists. You can forget that you ever had them.” He’s not just talking about tattoos.

‘I’ll have you fall so in love with me that you’ll have trouble remembering his name.’ The words run through your mind. “It hurts,” you voice. Though you yourself aren’t entirely sure what you’re referring to. Falling in love? Getting a tattoo? Moving on? Getting it removed? All those things?

“It stings. Nothing a little TLC can’t fix though,” Seungmin stated. TLC: tender, loving, care. The acronym makes you think of Gunil and that was the winning factor in you opening the door to the shop.

“Gunil’s office is right through there.” Seungmin pointed down a narrow hallway.

“Thanks.” Your feet quickly approach the office door, yet they pause just outside of it. You take a quick inhale letting out a determined breath and knock twice on the door.

“Come in,” Gunil’s voice chimes from the otherside.

“I liked the sun and moon idea,” you say entering the room and holding up your wrists. Gunil’s eyes light upon seeing you. Smiling brightly as you speak to him. He gets up from his chair approaching you. His hands wrap tenderly around your wrists. The word love might as well have been written on his forehead.

“Whatever you want angel,” he smiled, thumbs rubbing against the skin of your wrists.

“I want you to keep your word,” you said. Gunil release your wrists. Instead his hands cup the sides of your neck, thumbs resting just under your jaw, lifting it slightly. He lovingly rests his forehead against yours, basking in your closeness.

“You won’t even remember his name,” he affirms, guiding your forehead to his caring lips. Leaving a kiss there as if it’s a promise to wipe him from your memory.

It does sting, getting the tattoo, moving on, but the warmth of Gunil’s hand surrounding your wrist almost makes you not feel it. The feeling of his lips on your skin afterwards erases the past sting altogether. TLC, Gunil, really was all you needed and Gunil was more than glad to finally mark you as his as looks at the fresh ink painting your skin.

taglist: @purplelady85 @gingerjunhan @chewednails @ezlynkisses @mon2sunjinsuver @mxlly143 @seungseung-minmin @junhanism

comment or message me to be added!

#xdinary heroes #xdh #xdh imagines #xdh x reader #xdinary heroes imagines #xdinary heroes x reader #xh gunil #xdh gunil #gunil x reader #gunil imagines #goo gunil x reader #koo gunil x reader #goo gunil #koo gunil #gunil

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