#I notice your technique to do the bones

[pastelaspirations]

I freaking love them, my beloved(s) <3 <3 Made the wings and paws look e a s y, bro, w h a t-

More of the wonderful dragons from @paintedkinzy-88's wonderful AU

today we have Error and his tiny counterpart Ink!

[Life/Reaper]

[Dream/Nightmare]

[kisses4reid]

protect | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

summary - you get badly injured on a case, and the hospital visit ruins your surprise.

genre - fem!bau!reader x spencer, hurt/comfort, little bit of angst and arguing, fluff, happy ending!! reader can bear children (has female anatomy)

warnings - pregnancy, major injuries, mentions of gross hospital things, r uses she/her pronouns, usual criminal minds violences

w/c - 2.2k

a/n - thank u for the request! loved the idea immediately and this is the first time i’m writing abt pregnancy and stuff so pls do not quote me on anything!!! also this writing isn’t my best, sorry abt that. okay bye have fun reading

request - (@ursuu-la) hihihi idk if you're taking requests, but what if u write something where Spencer and a fem reader are dating and she's pregnant, but she's kinda scared(? or nervous to tell Spencer. And maybe she could tell it to one of the girls of the team to find a way of approaching Reid, but then she gets hurt or something happens to her in a case.

“Oh. My. God.”

You turned your attention from the open manila folder to Garcia’s multiple screens, searching each one for something important, “What?”

“Y/n M/n Reid. You’re pregnant?” Garcia spun in her chair with an angry expression while pointing a ringed finger at the main computer screen. It was your medical history - which you allowed her to search so she could experiment with a new hacking technique - but you had forgotten about your recent discovery.

Your hand was clamped over your mouth as you stared in shock and started rambling through your fingers, “Garcia. I swear, nobody knows - I wasn’t keeping this from just you,” you placed your hands on her shoulders when she stood up in disappointment, sending her office chair to collide with the desk, “Spencer doesn’t even know, please Garcia. Don’t tell anyone.”

Your eyes searched hers for a promise or compromise, but instead you got welling tears.

“Garcia?”

“Y/n, your pregnant with a little Reid! This is amazing- How come you haven’t told him? I’ll have a new little nephew or niece! Y/n!” She squealed and took your hands to spin you in a circle in her small office. You immediately felt nauseous and slowed the excited girl, her hair accessories threatening to fall off in her happiness. You held your stomach and whispered,

“No spinning, I’ll throw up.”

She glanced to her computer screens and shut them down immediately, sitting back down and taking a deep breath. “This is great! Right? Please tell me this is great, you’re already 6 weeks pregnant.”

You bit your lip and nodded, “I mean, I think it’s great but..” You lost yourself in thought.

Last year when you and Spencer got married, you had talked about starting a family many times. But every time you both agreed to wait a few more years in order to save up more money and maybe move into a bigger apartment or even a house. This was not what you planned.

Spencer liked having a plan, it was one thing you grew to love. He was organised and, due to his amazing memory, remembered everything, especially everything about you. And though you two had grown so close you were basically one person, this was the only time you had no idea how Spencer would react if he found out your secret.

“I don’t know how to tell Spencer.”

Garcia grinned, but it was quickly wiped away when she noticed a certain figure in the doorway. You spun on your heel, heart attacking your ribs. Luckily, it was not your husband, but your boss. He stood sternly and started, “We’ve got a case, wheels up in 30.”

You nodded and turned back to Garcia, all she did was wave and whisper, “I’ll text you.”

In the plane, you sat next to Spencer in the aisle seat, stomach feeling queasy and phone vibrating non-stop in your back pocket. You pinched the bone between your eyebrows and squinted at the case files that Hotch had quickly gone over. Morgan was spilling some theories, Prentiss backing him up, when Spencer lowered his head and whispered in your ear, “Are you okay? You seem tired.”

You put on a small smile and nodded, the fact that Spencer had noticed something wrong meant that the rest of the team would notice soon too. You raised yourself and squeezed Spencer’s hand that had been in your lap. You murmured a small excuse me to Hotch and excused yourself to the plane’s toilet.

Spencer began to get worried for your health. The past week and a half, you’d been eating less and then more, and then you’d say you felt sick, and then you were full of energy. You cancelled plans, you slept more, and you had started avoiding Spencer. You were getting sick, and distant, and he hated how you wouldn’t let him help you whenever he asked. He furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head slightly, attempting to focus on the profile.

Sat on the toilet, ready to double over into the bathroom sink, you pulled out your phone and scrolled through Garcias texts.

What about a baby onesie with Daddy’s favourite child on it?

What about a candle lit dinner?

What about donuts that spell out ‘I’m Pregnant!’

I’ve seen people purposefully burn bread and wait until their husbands understand, maybe that?

Maybe. But right now, that was not what you wanted to think about. On top of the case and the whole pregnancy situation, your symptoms were becoming harder to conceal.

A whole day of analysis, interrogating, leads and dead ends led you to a one story run down house with broken windows and an overgrown yard. You threw the FBI bullet vest over your shoulders as Spencer approached you with a tight smile. His hair was shorter these days, after he finally let you start cutting it, but nothing could change his attractiveness. His cologne wafted into your senses as he went behind you, tightening your vest and patting your back and waist down to make sure you were at optimal safety.

You could almost imagine he knew you were pregnant.

“Remember, if he’s in there, keep your distance. He’s a big guy but silent, and not all there.” He furrowed his eyebrows as he did a last check over of your vest, belt, and the position of your gun. You smiled and nodded,

“I know, Spence. I’ve been here too.”

He sighed and nodded, placing a small kiss on your cheek as a good luck.

You were married, but there was no guarantee you’d both make it out of any case. Every movement could be your last, and every interaction could be your last together.

Morgan slipped through the door after a man picked the front doors lock, Prentiss behind him and you behind her. After you, followed Hotch and Spencer.

“Clear!” Morgan called from the kitchen. You turned right down a hallway, Prentiss disappearing into a small room on the right and yelling,

“Clear!”

You entered the small bedroom, gun high and steps careful. It was an adults bedroom, maybe a teenager. There was posters of horror movies, a thin mattress on the floor and shelves of books and wooden cupboard holding what you believed to be clothes.

“Clea-“

The wind got knocked out of you, your shoulder colliding with the wall to your left and a sharp handle being jabbed into your side, as you plummeted against the floor and hearing a loud thump and shattering glass beside you. Miniscule, rainbow, dots clouded your vision, the adrenaline and the concussion you were sure you had numbing the pain coursing through your veins. You screamed in pain, Hotch entering almost immediately.

You lifted your right arm to point out the window, the glass shattered from where the unsub had escaped.

Spencer entered the room in a rush, eyes running over the fallen cupboard that would've been taller than the both of you, and then your small body in the corner. You held out your arm for him, and he placed his hands under your armpits, jolting back when you screeched in pain. "Y/n, your..." His eyes widened in shock and fear at the sight of your dislocated shoulder. Your right hand clutched to your left side - no doubt trying to comfort a massive bruise or worse.

He gulped, helping you up and throwing your good arm around his shoulders. The sudden movements blanked your vision for a few moments, a small lump forming on the front left side of your temple, and your legs trembled in the sudden need to hold yourself up. "Y/n, we just need to get you to the ambulance, alright?" Spencer told you reassuringly. He didn't know how much you could understand, your eyes were cloudy and your movements spaghetti-like, but he continued to reassure you anyways.

The paramedics set into action as soon as they saw your near limp body strung across Spencer's taller build. You were placed in the ambulance on a bed and before you knew it, there was a heavy clamp on your finger and two paramedics touching you and saying unexplainable things to each other. A short one with a beard came close to your vision, obvious aware it was still slightly blurred, "Agent Y/n. We need to take your shirt off in order to fix your shoulder okay? We need to pop it back in as quick as we can."

All you could do is nod, Spencer making most of the choices for you as your husband - he wouldn't put you through something he knew you would disagree with. They asked him questions, and while the voices came in and out of focus, the adrenaline was wearing off and suddenly your senses heightened. "Is she pregnant?"

The question rolled off the paramedics tongue like a rehearsed poem, and Spencer shook his head like there was no possible way you were. But as you saw needles being prepared, your heart started pounding so fast it got the attention of the professionals. "Y/n, are you still with us?"

To Spencer, you looked like you had just woken up to a bad dream, but there was something deeper - you were not unconcious, if anything you looked alert.

"I'm pregnant." The paramedics glanced at each other and Spencer's eyes widened. The one with the needle placed it down carefully on a table, and before you knew it, you were being pushed through hallways and into a awfully bright room.

You passed out, fear and exaustion catching up to you. But Spencer couldn't sleep. On top of the fact that his wife had just gotten her shoulder dislocated and then fixed, and a slight rib fracture, she was also pregnant.

Spencer doubted for the first half hour of waiting for you to wake up that you actually were. You were saying nonsense, you were injured and the adrenaline... usually causes people to tell the truth. He paced and went over everything that had been happening. The change in your behaviour, the tiredness, the sickness. It was all coming together like a puzzle, and he wondered why he didn't realise sooner.

"Spence?" A small voice called out, and he approached the hospital bed almost immediately.

"Y/n." Spencer smiled in relief, overjoyed that you were alright and breathing. He knew you'd be fine, but anything can be unpredictable. Anyone can be unpredictable. "I'm so glad you're okay."

"What happened?" You tried to sit up but Spencers soft hands encouraged you to stay laying down.

"The unsub pushed a cabinet at you. You collided with the wall and dislocated your shoulder." He explained softly, the doctors told him that the specific pain killers they gave you may cause some loopiness. "Oh." You whispered, eyes searching his face like you had never seen it before, and you smiled. You were here, and he was here, and you needed nothing more. Other than more pain killers.

Spencer bit his lip, and sighed, not sure if it was the right time to bring the blindside up at that moment.

"Y/n, darling, are you... pregnant?"

The small grin wiped off your face and you took some deep breaths, nodding and avoiding his gaze in fear of rejection. Spencer sighed, and pushed his hair away from his face, a smile rising onto his cheeks. Tears welled in his eyes from happiness. "This is great, this is... wow Y/n, I can't believe.." He gulped, "I can't believe you didn't tell me sooner."

Confusing his disbelief for anger, tears started dropping down your cheeks as you sat in silence. Spencer started to worry, "Do you... not want to have a baby with me? Or at all? Do you think I won't be a good father? I know that I've had my problems in the past but I promise I can be a good father-"

"Spencer." You called his name in shock, heart aching over his insecure questions. "I do want a baby, especially one with you. And I don't think you'll be a good father, I know you'll be a great one. I just," you wiped your cheeks and he sat down in a chair beside your bed, taking your hand in his. "I'm scared. I thought that you wouldn't want to have one right now because of our... plan. This is really early and we didn't get to save- and- I thought you'd be mad-" You had started blubbering now, the heart monitor becoming a ticking time bomb for a full on breakdown, before Spencer took your face in his hands and smashed your lips onto his.

He pulled back, smile wide, eyes full of adoration and sorrowfullness.

"Y/n, I don't care about that plan anymore. And I'm not mad." He searched your eyes with his, "I just wished you told me earlier. Maybe you wouldn't have been injured, because god knows I wouldn't have let you go out into the field."

"Spencer, I'm so sorry." You sniffled, placing your other hand on top of his.

"Oh, darling. You don't have to be sorry. I've made my injured and pregnant wife cry, I should be sorry."

You giggled, and leant forward to kiss him on the nose. "So it's really okay?"

"Of course. You just have to heal quickly, and I'll do all the rest."

taglist (open!!) - @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es @0108s22m

[megamindsecretlair]

Sweet Escape, Part 2

Pairing: Bodyguard!Terry Richmond x Singer!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Cursing, trying out some angst, teasing, mentions of loneliness, mental health, power imbalance. Mentions of violence, all consensual. Sorry if I missed some.

Summary: You are on top of the world as one of the world’s most popular R&B singers. But behind the glitz and glam, you were unmoored, lonely, and aching for something you couldn’t put a name to. Terry makes you breakfast, bringing a sense of normalcy to an otherwise chaotic life. Still shaken from the shenanigans of your stalker, you enjoy the break Terry offers you. But all too soon, you’re forced to adapt to an ever-changing schedule. Your label makes you go to a club to promote your new single.

Word Count: 7,152k

AO3 Link | Part 1

A/N: Idk why I keep doing this to myself, LMFAO. But ya'll see that man show out with his gold chain? Lordt help me, I love that man. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

You stood beside the door to your balcony staring at the brightening day. The cry last night was everything you needed to reset. Perhaps it had just been too long since the last time you did. That was okay. It was okay to cry.

You clenched your fists and felt your nails dig into your palms. It was a terrible grounding technique. But pain was good. Pain meant you were alive. And as long as you were alive, your stalker wouldn’t win. He wasn’t winning when you worked hard for this shit.

All the blood, sweat, tears, predatory producers, dickhead managers, trashy bitches with their “gossip” websites, all of it. You didn’t survive this shit to let an anonymous motherfucker get you down. 

You took a deep breath. One day, you’d be able to open the balcony and actually feel the sun on your bones. You had to agree with Terry that it was too easy for someone to take a pot shot at you. Though the stalker seemed to only want to scare you so far. Killing you would kill his fantasy, wouldn’t it? 

It was too morbid to think about on such a pretty Las Vegas day. It was nearing the end of your run here before you would travel to LA. You turned and pulled your robe tighter while walking to your bedroom door and flinging it open. 

It smelled like home. Like warm biscuits, sizzling bacon, and fresh eggs. You followed the smell to the common kitchen and peeked around the corner. Terry stood in the kitchenette in a gray tank top and matching lounge pants.

Your eyes tracked the subtle vein in his arm and followed it to where it ended in his hand gripping the pan. Terry looked up at you and smirked. “I figured after what happened we could all use a little normal,” he said. 

“This…is your normal?” You asked. You hopped onto the nearest barstool and leaned over the bartop to look at the spread. He actually did make biscuits. Fluffy ones with butter melting in the middle. You were tempted to grab one but something told you Terry didn’t play about his kitchen.

You grinned and glanced at Terry who lifted his eyes to yours. You peeked down at yourself and noticed that your girls were threatening to slip out. “I am so sorry,” you said. Though you flirted and harassed the man, you weren’t predatory about it. You truly didn’t mean to let them hang out. You fixed your robe and sat back in your seat like a proper lady.

“It’s all good. Biscuits look good, don’t they?” He asked, his lips dipping in the corners. He almost smiled. Hot damn. Terry brought his thumb to his mouth to lick it and he hummed. The sound vibrated in his chest and you couldn’t help thinking what the hell he was doing as a bodyguard. Bottle that sound and package it into a vibrator and there wouldn’t be a dry cooch in the house.

“Mhm,” you said absently. Maybe the cry hadn’t done its job. Now you were just stuffy and foggy and clearly off your damn marbles. You watched Terry as he finished with the bacon. He moved on to a bowl of eggs he had already cracked and watched his arms work as he whipped up the eggs.

“I really only know how to make scrambled eggs. An omelet if I’m feeling fancy. If you want something else –”

“No, no, this is…sweet of you. I can’t remember the last time someone actually cooked for me. It’s been mostly dining out,” you said. 

“You don’t cook when you’re home?” Terry asked. 

You had to turn away from Terry. He looked downright delicious and he was being sweet. The last thing you wanted to do was make him uncomfortable by eye fucking him. 

“No, not really. There’s not usually enough time. When I have downtime, I’m usually writing a song or working out or preparing for the next tour. Gotta do something with this brain of mine,” you said. 

Terry nodded. “Shame. Nothing better than some good food cooked with love,” he said. His voice grew hoarse around the word love. Did he have an ex-wife? Did someone break his heart? There was so much you suddenly wanted to know about your bodyguard. You wanted pieces of him that no one else got. You were hungry and greedy for it. Though you had no right to be. 

“So you can’t make anything other than scrambled eggs, huh?” You asked.

Terry scooped out butter and placed it on the hot pan. It immediately sizzled and Terry’s bulging muscles worked back and forth to spread it around. He added the eggs and then turned to you. “I did say an omelet, too. Give me some credit,” he said.

“But only when you’re feeling fancy,” you said.

Terry chuckled. “You get me,” he said.

“So what makes you feel fancy?” You asked. Your eyes drifted to Terry’s every so often and it was bordering on creepy. So you hopped down from the stool and rummaged around in the cabinets.

“What are you doing?” Terry asked. 

“Setting the table,” you said. You grabbed two plates and placed it on the counter. 

“This was my gesture for you. You’re not supposed to set the table,” he said. 

“My grandma would roll in her grave if she knew I didn’t help some kind of way. You wouldn’t want to hurt poor Grammy Bean, would you?” You turned doe eyes to him and added in a cute pout, sticking out your bottom lip. 

Terry chuckled, turning back to the eggs. “I suppose I can’t hurt poor Grammy Bean,” he relented. You grinned and continued setting the bar top with plates, two cups, and forks. By the time you were done, Terry had finished up the breakfast. 

You stood behind him and handed him the plates one by one while he loaded up the eggs, bacon, and biscuits. He handed you the full plate and you set it down. “That was for you,” he said.

“Oh,” you said and giggled. “Thank you.” You rounded the edge of the bar top, suddenly feeling shy and girly. There was no reason for it. You just…fuck, how long had it been since someone did something for you just because? Not because you were paying them to do it? No hidden agenda?

Technically you were paying Terry too, but to guard you, not cook for you. It was unprompted and there was nothing you could do in return for him. There was nothing you could do to feel like you earned it. 

Terry grabbed his own plate and joined you at the bartop. He sat down and spread his legs to accommodate the long length of them. Feet planted firmly on the ground. “Don’t be too harsh on me. I know it’s not the fancy restaurant stuff you eat,” he said.

You laughed. “Don’t believe the hype, Mr. Terry. I am a southern girl at heart. This is way more up my alley than that french reduction, tuna tartar, or whatever else they think people want to eat.”

Terry chuckled and waited until you took a bite of your food. You sighed in appreciation and smiled closed-lipped at him. “This is delicious, Terry,” you said.

Terry grinned, showing off his beautiful smile. It was gone just as quick and he nodded. “Good to hear,” he said. 

What you wouldn’t pay or do to see him smile like that again. You ate beside Terry, soaking in the domesticity of it all. You were burning with questions. But you bit your tongue and just enjoyed the stillness. The peace. The quiet. 

Terry finished in record time, wolfing down his meal like he had just come back from jail or something. He stood up and grabbed two more biscuits. You didn’t know where the fuck he put it all. 

“Did Grammy Bean get you into singing?” Terry asked. 

You smiled and nodded, thinking of your grandmother. “Yup. She had a piano that she let me toddle on until she buckled down and got me piano lessons. She was a mainstay in the jazz scene. She knew them all. I was always following after her, so she ended up getting me started with singing. Encouraged me to do it for me if I was going to do this professionally. She bought me my first audition dress,” you said. 

Bless Grammy Bean, but whew, that dress was hideous. You were twelve at the time and she somehow transformed you into a little version of her. A blue and purple paisley dress with swirls and waves and too many clashing colors. Old lady shoes. If it weren’t for the studio rep who actually listened instead of laughing at you, you would’ve been sent home with tears to keep you company. 

“She sounds like an amazing woman,” Terry said. 

“She really was,” you said softly, remembering the pain of losing the most important person in your corner all over again. “How about you? Any grandma stories?” 

Terry wiped his hands on the paper towel beside his empty plate and then wiped his mouth. He missed a crumb in his mustache but you decided not to tell him. If anything, it made him more endearing. He followed the towel with his hand, swiping away the crumb anyway. Bastard.

“Yeah, my grandma was no joke. Me and my cousin Mike were terrors. Always running in and out of the house, always getting into trouble. One time, we had been play-fighting in the rain. We were covered in mud. When grandma saw us, she hosed us down, gave us a proper whuppin’ for tracking mud on her porch, and then made us clean off her porch before we could come inside,” Terry said, smiling at the memory. 

You smiled with him and shook your head, trying to imagine Terry at such a young age. Was he an awkward teen? Probably not. He was probably born with “responsible" stamped on his forehead. 

“Oh, she was really no joke,” you said.

Terry smiled and shook his head. “Not a one. She’s the one that got me into the Marines. She would tell me all her stories of the Air Force and how she was in charge of making sure the women who served were in bed by curfew. A lot of them tried sneaking out to meet up with boys. My grandma was there with a clipboard and her service weapon telling them to try her,” he said, chuckling to himself. 

“Not the clipboard too,” you said, chuckling with him. 

“They could either get checked off or checked out,” he said, pitching his voice to sound like an older lady. With his deep voice, the sound didn’t quite manage what he went for. You continued to laugh at his impression, waving your hands. 

“I’m not trying–” you kept laughing, unable to apologize. 

“It’s all good. She was a funny woman. She’d want us to laugh,” he said. He sobered and looked at you while you tried to catch your breath. Giggles escaped you as you calmed down yourself, finding yourself getting lost in his stormy eyes. 

You cleared your throat and sucked on your bottom lip. You both opened your mouth at the same time and then giggled. “You go,” he said.

“No, please,” you said.

“Ladies first,” he said. You sighed and rolled your eyes just as the doorbell rang. You cursed under your breath. You almost forgot for a few moments that you weren’t a normal person.

Terry stood up from the bar stool and went to the door for you, checking to see who was there. But you already knew. In five, four, three…

“There you are! Didn’t you get my text?” Mirage asked, walking into the room. 

Joya followed close behind with a shy, pained smile on her face. She clutched her calendar to her chest and you smiled. You nearly had a heart attack looking at Terry. There was no way in hell your sweet assistant could handle Terry’s muscles on full display. 

“I did not. I was eating breakfast, forgive me. Remind me what we’re doing today?” You asked. Because at this point, Terry effectively made you forget for a morning that you were a singer. 

Terry re-entered the room silently, moving around Mirage and headed towards the kitchen. He began to pack up the plates. “Let me help,” you said, hopping off the stool. 

“I got it. Go be awesome,” he said. 

You rolled your eyes and giggled. You followed Mirage and Joya into the living room and sat down on the huge, white pleather couch. Joya sat down in the armchair, faced away from Terry, and opened her calendar. 

“I managed to push your LA costume fittings to eleven to let you sleep in. You have an interview with Essence at three. Here is the list of questions,” she said, sliding over a piece of paper to you. You looked them over. Nothing too bad, not much you hadn’t answered before. 

“Okay, pretty light day,” you said. 

“Jake called. He needs you at the club tonight, rather than tomorrow,” Mirage said.

“What? Why?” You asked. 

“Lord AK flew in early and will be there and Jake needs you to hype up the single,” Mirage said. She cringed at your expression as you sighed and fell back against the couch. 

“I was looking forward to staying in,” you said. 

“I know, babe. I’m sorry,” she said. “I couldn’t push it. I tried telling Jake about what happened yesterday-”

You waved off her incoming apology. “It’s not you. I know Jake is only thinking dollar signs right now,” you said, thinking of your good for nothing agent. 

“How long do I have to show my face at the club?” You asked. 

“You can’t go to a club. There’s no way to secure your safety,” Terry chimed in from the kitchen. 

“I have to. If I don’t, the single won’t get promoted. If the single doesn’t get promoted, it doesn’t sell. If it doesn’t sell, my ass is out of a job,” you said. 

Terry’s jaw flexed as he took in the information you gave him. “There’s no way around it?” He asked.

“Ah, sorry. No,” Mirage chimed in for you. 

“There’s going to be a lot of influencers there. Lots of cameras. I don’t know if you could have a bodyguard close by,” Mirage said. 

“I can blend in,” Terry said. 

You looked at Mirage and Joya before glancing guiltily at Terry. He caught on, a smirk stretching his lips. “Don’t think I can hang?” 

“I mean…I wouldn’t call you a square…” you said.

Terry chuckled and nodded his head. “I can blend in, princess,” he said.

You stuck your tongue out at him and he chuckled, returning to cleaning up the kitchen. You shook your head and turned back to your team. You went over a few more details for the day, the logistics of everything. 

“Ugh, I didn’t pack club clothes,” you said. 

“Already have you covered. After the interview, you’ll have a few choices the label is sending over,” Joya said. She consulted her calendar and thousands of tabs and sticky notes. You marveled at the way her mind worked. 

You smacked your teeth thinking of the type of clothes your label wanted you in. “Oh ye of little faith, girl! I already told them nothing silver, nothing sparkly, and nothing that’ll have your ass hanging out,” Joya said.

“I love you,” you said and giggled.

“I love you too, miss lady. We have fifteen minutes to get on the road before we’re late for your fittings,” Joya said. 

“Ugggghhhhh,” you groaned, sliding off the couch like a toddler. 

Mirage laughed and shook her head. “It’ll be painless. Well…as long as it isn’t Francois,” Mirage said.

You shivered from the floor. “I’m convinced he pokes me so many times to see if my ass is real,” you said. You all laughed and for a brief moment, you pretended that you were sixteen again with a circle of good friends, having a movie night. But those days were long past and gone. 

“Alright, alright, alright. I’m getting up. Fuck,” you said. You stood up from the floor and collected yourself. You squared your shoulders, threw your head back, and took a deep breath.

Movement to your right made you turn to Terry who had stopped cleaning to watch you. He nodded his head at you and you nodded back. Yeah, you had business to attend to.

The fitting was a breeze. Luckily Francois was nowhere to be found so you didn’t have to grab bandaids as you were done with the fitting. That was the secret part you loved about being a musician. Playing dress up. Seeing the mix of fabrics and clothes and getting to see the hidden seams to allow for quick costume changes on stage. 

The interview went just as well, talking with Brandi Harper, a journalist for Essence. She was cool, down to earth, making the interview feel like a conversation rather than a Q&A. You had bonded over your love for anime, discussing the different shows you watched. 

She did end up asking about the A’Kierra interview that you did and you had to fight everything in you not to drag A’Kierra’s nasty ass. You only ended up shrugging and dismissing it. Why give that clown more ammunition? 

Now, you were back at the hotel, getting dolled up for the club. Terry sat on the couch watching everyone like a hawk. He only allowed one make up artist and one hair stylist and only after he did his little background investigation on the both of them. Your team was loyal. You told him as much. Yet he still looked at everyone like any one of them could snap. 

Angie worked on your makeup while Nicky worked on your hair. “You gon’ sweat this out?” He asked.

“Probably, yeah,” you said with a grin. Nicky rolled his eyes but laughed with you as he switched tactics. He quickly abandoned what he was doing and then undid your hair from the ponytail. 

“You gon’ stress me out, chile,” he said.

“I love you, Nicky,” you said. 

Nicky harrumphed and you blew him a kiss while he started to braid your hair. “You lucky I stay ready, miss thing,” he said. He grumbled about you while he got to work, braiding quickly and efficiently. That was why you paid to bring Nicky wherever you went. No one had hands like him. 

Joya entered the circus that was your hotel living room carrying a garment bag over her shoulder. Mirage was in the corner, on the phone with Jake setting up details about the club. 

You snuck a glance at Terry who caught you looking. You rolled your bottom lip into your mouth and Angie groaned. You apologized to Angie who had to switch tactics as well. “Every time, girl?” She asked. 

You giggled. “You’re right. I’m a bad client,” you said.

She sighed and shook her head. “You’re lucky I like you,” she said. 

“Oh, it’s my lucky night then. I need to do some gambling before we leave Vegas,” you said. You let Angie remove the gloss from your lips and went with a lip stain instead. It was a darker red than what you were used to but some sneaks in the mirror had you feeling yourself.

You may be a homebody but deep, deep down in your crevices, you liked to party too. Liked to dance and move and sing your heart out. Get some drinks going and you were the life of the party. 

Joya managed to get closer and tapped the bag. “Got what you needed,” she said.

“Thank you,” you told her. “Terry? Can I see you please?” You asked.

Terry was by your side in a second, crowding your space. It wasn’t entirely unwelcome. You pointed to Joya. “I had her get some outfits for you as well. If you’re going to blend, I need you to really blend. And I doubt you have a club outfit in that duffel you carry,” you said. 

“I’m good, thanks though,” he said.

“And just what do you plan on wearing to blend in then?” You asked.

He spread his hands and you looked at the black T-shirt and jeans he usually wore. You giggled and shook your head, much to Angie’s and Nicky’s frustration. “You cannot go to a club like this wearing your uniform, soldier,” you said.

“It’s a club,” he said. “No one’s worried about me.”

“Sheeit,” Nicky whispered. Angie elbowed him and he cleared his throat, returning to braiding your hair. He was already halfway through your head. 

You were tempted to lick your lips to keep from laughing at the adorable, confused expression on Terry’s face. “You’ll stick out like a sore thumb if you don’t make some kind of effort. Please, indulge me. Otherwise I’d have to go in by myself and without you there to guard me, who knows what could happen?” 

Terry’s jaw flexed. “I know what you’re doing,” he said. He grabbed the clothes bag from Joya who looked like a deer caught in headlights. She lowered her eyes and tried to back away as nonchalant as possible. Poor tink. You understood though. Terry was intimidatingly sexy as hell. 

“I wouldn’t dream of pulling anything,” you said. 

He gave you a blank stare before disappearing to his side of the suite. You turned to Joya with a grateful smile. 

In no time at all, Nicky had your head braided and put on a wig. He flat ironed it and then pulled it into a half up, half down style. “Oh, I like this,” you said, looking at yourself in the mirror he brought. 

“I know, I know. I’m the greatest,” he said.

“We’re running behind, let’s wrap it up soon,” Mirage called out, returning to her call. 

What was taking Terry so long? You wondered which outfit he chose or if he’d stick to his uniform. You had to get dressed yourself so you went into your bedroom with Angie and Nicky to help put on your club outfit and make sure you didn’t mess up your hair and makeup. 

The jumpsuit was sheer and looked painted on when you got it on. The back was out but it made your ass look extra fat. Oh, you were so keeping this. It had a tropical flower design on it that looked fun and perfect for the club. Partnered with your hair and makeup, hell, you’d fuck you tonight. 

You left your room and Terry stood up. You paused, your heels near skidding on the floor. Got. Damn. He chose to wear a navy dress shirt with gold flowers on it. He left it buttoned all the way to the top and his black jeans made him look extra delicious. 

He smoothed the shirt and looked at himself like he couldn’t believe how he got here. You giggled to get over your initial shock. “Not bad, Mr. Terry. Not bad,” you said.

“Don’t look so bad yourself,” he said. 

You smiled and followed your army of people out of the hotel, to the waiting car. Terry opened the door for you and helped you inside. He went around to the other side, climbing into the back with you. 

“Oh, not driving tonight?” You asked. 

“I gotta blend, right?” He asked. 

If he did any more blending, people would think he was a famous movie star. He pulled on some shaded glasses, completing the look while a member of your security team got in the front seat. Mirage and Joya would be in the follow car. 

Sometimes they were your best friends. And sometimes they were your best employees. The ride beyond to the club was short, really only going from one hotel to the next. But because you’d be spotted instantly, it was somehow easier to take the car than walk. 

Paparazzi lined the entrance to the club and those flashing bulbs immediately turned to your car when it was your turn. You took a deep breath, looking out at the sea of vultures. There were some fans mixed in. 

“Guess word got out that I’d be here,” you said with a rueful smile. “Wondered who leaked that.” 

Jake was such a leech. But you kept him around because if nothing else, he could hustle a dollar from a beggar. And for an artist determined to do this shit right, you needed all the money you could scrounge up. After living paycheck to paycheck growing up, robbing Paul to pay Peter, you had plans. You didn’t ever want to go back to the poor little girl you were before. 

“We can turn around,” Terry offered.

You sighed. “No. We really can’t,” you said. You took a deep breath and pulled on your metaphorical armor. You pictured it encasing you in the hardest known element. Not a chink or weak spot to exploit. 

You pulled on your own shades because the flashing lights left you dizzy. Terry’s counterpart got out of the car and then swooped around to open the door for you. Terry got out by himself and quickly walked around the car, offering you his arm. 

The paparazzi resembled a feeding frenzy at the zoo. They called your name endlessly, squawking with demands to turn here, look here, give us a smile, give us a pout, who’s your man, and on and on it went.

You posed and waved to them all, playing into your persona. You singled out a few fans and took pictures with them, signing some autographs. You blew kisses as you walked up the club’s doors and the bouncer let you in without any fuss.

The sudden darkness of the club’s interior foyer after all the flashing lights gave you whiplash. You swayed on your feet and Terry steadied you with a hand on your hip. “You okay?” He asked. 

You shook your head to clear it. “I hate that shit,” you said. But you were fine. You’d live. 

“We made it,” Mirage said, coming up from the side entrance. She wore a simple black party dress that fit her full figure well. She pulled her braids back into a ponytail and added on makeup. You hugged her and then Joya who peeked out from behind Mirage. She had changed as well, into a pair of dark jeans and a flirty shirt. 

“You both look amazing!” You said. 

“Not as good as you!” Joya said. You waved them off. They were too adorable. Linked arm in arm, you passed through the curtains and entered the club proper. Nothing was small in Vegas on the strip. The place was huge, a mass of people gyrating on the dance floor, hanging out by the bar, or trying to make moves on each other.

You made your way to the VIP section. The section was already bumping with multiple artists bopping their heads to the music. Groupies hung around the various rappers and singers, each all similarly dressed in baggy pants and jerseys or oversized coats. 

“You’re here!” Another singer, Alexandra Crane, beamed and then wrapped her arms around you. You screamed with her. The cute little singer from Atlanta had become a friend during a concert you performed together. You were glad to see that she ditched the other two in her group. 

“It is so good to see you!” You said. You introduced Mirage and Joya and true to form, Joya fangirled. 

“Oh, and who’s this?” Alex asked. 

“This is my-”

“I’m her toy for the evening,” Terry said, extending his hand to Alex. She shook it but gave you an exaggerated wink. You waved her off and let your eyes adjust to the dizzying array of spinning neon lights in the club.

The dance floor was full of uncoordinated people jumping up and down to the same four club remixes on repeat. Ugh. “Have you seen Lord AK?” You asked.

Alex shook her head. “Are you meeting up with him?” She asked. 

You nodded and bent closer to be heard over the music. “We’re promoting ‘Down Bad’,” you told her. 

She smiled and nodded her head. “Oh my god, I love that song!” She said.

You flopped onto the couch with Alex and caught up, leaving Terry to sit beside you and scan the club for potential threats. You relaxed as the night went on, going shot for shot with Alex and your girls. 

As the night progressed, some fans dared to approach and ask for pictures. Terry tried to deter them but you went against his orders, taking pictures anyway. It was incredibly brave to even ask. You wouldn’t deny them a quick picture and wave. 

The club finally changed the music to something you could actually shake your ass too. The alcohol warmed your belly and had you feeling yourself. You grabbed Alex’s hand and made your way to the dance floor. 

Terry grabbed your hand as you reached the bottom step of the VIP section. “I can’t protect you around all of them,” he said.

“I wanna dance. You can join meee, boy toy,” you sang, crooking your finger. Terry tilted his head and if you could see his eyes, you were sure he would be judging you. Ah well. You hadn’t had fun in a long time. Your stalker preferred to catch you unawares. The mask had been the creepiest contact so far. 

The fanboy letters and poems were what really creeped you out. You shivered just thinking about it. But that was the point. You didn’t want to think about your stalker. You wanted to have fun. 

Terry let your hand go and then you squealed, getting onto the dance floor and immediately started shaking your ass to the Ying Yang Twins song. You let go. You just followed the rhythm of the music and danced with Alex, pretending you were just a girl in a club, quietly hoping some man would come holler at you for a second. 

You danced in a circle so that it would make you face the VIP section. Terry’s profile was turned towards you, eyeing you as you danced. You put extra flair into your sexy dancing. Swaying your hips, shaking your ass, flirting with him with your body from across the room. 

He watched it all. He didn’t even pay attention to those around him. Didn’t give the waitress a glance as she lingered, hovered, trying to grab his attention. He lifted his fingers to wave her off and she left with a huff. That only made you smile and roll your body to the music. 

The DJ scratched the record, getting everyone’s attention. Everyone turned to the DJ in the middle of the club, up on stage surrounded by a paneled wall full of screens with colors dancing in the display. 

“Ya’ll ready for some hot, new shit? Fresh off the tracks?” The DJ asked. The club screamed. 

“Ya’ll ready or not, damn!” The DJ asked. 

Behind him, Lord AK stepped out with a microphone. “Call me a simp, ‘cause that ass got me mesmerized…” he started rapping the opening lyrics to your song. You screamed, just as shocked as everyone else.

Why didn’t Mirage tell you this was part of the plan? You looked towards the VIP section but Mirage wasn’t there. Were you supposed to sing as well? Were you just there to witness? This mickey mouse shit was unprofessional as fuck. 

Lord AK seemed to know what the hell was going on because he made a beeline through the crowd to you, serenading you with his rap, grinning widely. Gahh, he was so damn cute. If he didn’t have some deep seated fucking issues, that would be your man for real. But after the scare last year at a party, he had disappeared for counseling. 

Fuck it. You grabbed the mic from him when it came time to your part, singing to him, flirting with him and the crowd. You involved them, making them think that they were the ones you were down bad for. 

Mirage’s head bobbed in the crowd. She gave you a harried look, waving a microphone covertly. You pushed on Lord AK’s chest and sang while backing him away. You grabbed the microphone from Mirage just as Lord AK leaned in for a fake kiss. You tapped the microphone on his lips and he grinned, grabbing the microphone and began the breakdown of the song. 

There was a call and response in the middle of the song, getting quicker as the lyrics turned nastier. You and Lord AK circled each other, getting closer and closer, until you reached the climax of the song where you belted out the final lyrics. The club exploded with cheers and whistles. 

The DJ played another one of Lord AK’s songs. The idea was to get people focused on the music, not his hiatus. You felt bad for him, really. He was a talented rapper. People should already focus on the music and not that he was going through shit. Everybody was going through shit. 

Mirage fought her way to you, grabbing your microphone and Lord AK’s. “Fuckin’ Jake sprung this shit on me. By the time I knew, he was already in place and I couldn’t find you and…”

“Babe, breathe,” you said. Mirage stopped mid sentence and took a deep breath. 

“I’m going to fuckin’ kill him,” she said, shaking her head and walking away. 

“I’m sorry, I thought you knew. Somethin’ told me this shit wasn’t right, ‘cause I almost didn’t find you out here,” Lord AK said. 

You waved him off and hugged him, covertly taking a deep whiff of his cologne. He smelled heavenly, like a mix of spiced flowers and sandalwood. You should’ve been having his babies. You inwardly groaned at the loss of your fictional family as you pulled away. 

“It is so good to see you. Need some familiar faces, for real,” you said. 

His grin was wide and genuine, his eyes no longer cloudy now that he got rid of most of his entourage. That whole group had been toxic and you were glad to see him on the other side of it. Healthy looked good on him. 

However, back in his presence, his luminance seemed to dim. He no longer really turned your head. You only had eyes for – him. Terry remained in the VIP section but there was some unknowable expression on his face. You didn’t know him well enough to decipher this particular look. 

He was always so damn grumpy. “How long you here for?” You asked.

Lord AK shrugged his shoulders. “Enough to be seen. Then I’ma dip. This club is ass,” he said. 

“True that. Don’t leave without me seeing you again,” you said.

“You’re gonna see me in LA, girl,” he said.

“And what that mean!” You tapped his shoulder and made your way back to the VIP section. Most of it had cleared out but there were still a few movers and shakers talking, their phones out recording everything. 

The lights began to go crazy, turning the VIP section darker as the lights danced in time with the club remixes again. “Having fun?” Terry asked when you got up the stairs.

“Are you? Have you gotten up once?” You asked.

“Mhm. Just sitting here. Enjoying the free concert,” he said.

You giggled, looking away. You wanted so desperately to ask what he thought of the performance. The words to excuse the behavior were at the tip of your tongue. You wanted to make it clear that it was all an act for you and Lord AK. That you weren’t really into him, ya’ll just had good chemistry. 

But there was nothing to really explain, was there? You didn’t owe Terry an explanation. You grabbed two shots and handed him one. “If this was what you call blending in, it’s so bad. You scream cop,” you said.

“I look good, what you mean?” He asked. He smoothed down the front of his shirt and you shook your head with a giggle. 

“You gotta drink. You gotta dance. Those are the rules,” you said. 

“I don’t drink,” he said. 

“Like a you can’t handle your liquor thing or is this a health nut thing?” You asked.

Terry chuckled. “Health nut?” He asked. 

“You know you can be addicted to working out, right?” You asked. 

Terry shook his head. “I don’t drink on the job,” he said. 

“This isn’t a job. You’re blending. Blending means going method,” you said. Terry sighed and grabbed the shot out of your hand. He knocked it back without a grimace and you matched him, tipping the shot glass back and grinning at him. 

The DJ gave the club remix a break and turned on Post Malone’s “Rockstar”. You squealed and threw up your hands. “I love this song! Dance with me,” you said. You grabbed his hand and tried to pull him to standing. He remained firmly planted in his seat.

“I definitely don’t dance on duty,” he said. 

The alcohol made you petulant. At least that was your excuse and you were sticking to it. You gave up trying to get him to stand so you took another shot for courage and then began dancing in the VIP section.

The neon blue and purple lights danced across the shades he still wore. You couldn’t see his pretty eyes and you pretended that he was a famous person. Someone who understood what it was like to feel lonely in the middle of a crowd. That image quickly disappeared though. You didn’t want a fantasy. 

You wanted to remain yourself. You wanted Terry to remain Terry. The inflexible, professional, gorgeous man who took your safety seriously. The same man who let you peek behind the curtain of his control earlier today. The same man who made you feel in ways you hadn’t in a very long time. 

You turned around and began dancing for him. Just for him. Rolling your ass in a slow circle to the song, bending down as you did so, making your knees do most of the work to entice Terry. 

He adjusted himself in the seat, tilting his head at you. “What are you doing?” He asked, his voice rough. 

“Dancing with you since you won’t dance with me,” you said. You continued to dance, looking back at him every so often to make sure he was still looking. You grew more bold as you danced, now doing it just because. Just because he made you feel normal when so much of your life wasn’t. 

You backed into his lap and mimicked bouncing on it. You grabbed his knees and ground your ass in lap, used him for support while you danced slower and slower. The thrumming beat matched the beat of your heart, turning you bolder. 

You looked over your shoulder and bit your lip, still grinding in his lap. Terry took a deep breath but you weren’t making it easy for him. “You know you want to dance with me,” you said over your shoulder.

Terry leaned forward and grabbed your hips, slamming you down onto his lap. You yelped, feeling a third leg pushing at the fabric of his jeans. He placed his lips next to your ear and whispered, “Behave.” 

You grinned and kept grinding and dancing on him, giving him a lap dance whether he wanted it or not. He didn’t stop you, only gripped your hips harder with his thick fingers. He slowly began to move with you, rubbing his bulge into your ass.

He moved one of his hands from your hips to trail a finger along your exposed, sweaty back. You gasped, feeling electricity pass from his fingers to your skin. You took back control by abruptly standing up, turning around, and climbing into his lap. 

You continued your dance, wriggling in his lap. You bent backwards, stretched, and then rolled forward. Terry dragged a finger down your chest and you wished it was open in the front too. You liked his hands on you. You really, really liked his hands on you.

Your skin grew overheated, waves of heat rolling through your body. Terry gripped your ass and squeezed. You gasped and fell forward, knocked off your rhythm with just a firm grip. You ought to be ashamed you were that easy, but hell, who could blame you? 

When he looked that good? Smelled that good? Felt so damn good? 

Terry leaned forward and you steadied yourself on his shoulders. You braced for those full, lush lips to touch yours. Watched as if in slow motion as he leaned in. Your breathing was so rapid, your chest rose and fell. 

Terry moved one of his hands to your face, bringing you closer by cupping your cheek. Your eyes drooped, too eager to get this over with yet wanting to savor every little second. His hand was hot against your cheek. His breath fanned across your face.

He bypassed your lips to bring his closer to your ear. “I don’t take advantage of drunk women,” he whispered. He licked your neck and you moaned, shivering as if someone dumped a bucket of ice water down your veins. “I like my women sober when they’re riding me.”

You gasped while he stood up and gently placed you on the couch. “Stay here. I’ll grab you some coffee.” 

You stayed put while he disappeared to do just that. You stared after his retreating form, at a complete loss for words. You were hot and bothered. Your flabbers were ghasted. And you were so damn horny you thought you’d pass out. 

Such a bastard. You fanned yourself as Terry returned with coffee and water, making you somehow drink both. He escorted you out of the club with a few stops to take pictures with fans. Despite whatever the hell he thought, you were not drunk. 

He had you tucked into the car before you could say, “Cinderella”. There was nothing to talk about in the car. The interior was too tense. Too thick. Too cloying with the mix of cologne, perfume, sweat, and hairspray. You rode in silence back to your hotel, escorted to the room, and stood silently while Terry checked every nook and cranny of the room. 

“Goodnight, Mr. Terry,” you sang lazily, heading to your bedroom doors. Terry crossed the living room to his side.

“Goodnight,” he said. 

You stared at each other as you closed the doors at the same time. Finally alone, you turned and leaned your back against the door feeling like the biggest fucking loser on the planet. 

Whew. Help yourself to some more treats! The Secret Terry Richmond Files | Part 1

Tag list: PLEASE. I love ya'll FRFR.

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[thetxtdevil]

Orthopedics Surgeon

Doctor!Taehyun x Doctor!Reader

summary: Know it all Dr. Taehyun knows who you did last night in the on-call room. Little do you know he wants some.

content: smut, hospital setting (if you don't like anything correlating to blood and anything medical don't read), descriptions of surgery, sub/switch taehyun, switch reader (idk how I got there), nicknames are used, humping/thigh riding, hand job, classic riding, groping, condom use (yay!)

word count: 3.4k

honorable mentions: thank you @biteyoubiteme and @beomiracles for looking over this, I should kiss you for it.

“Can anyone tell me what the condition for a broken chordae tendineae is?” The cardiac surgeon asks while elbow deep in the patient’s chest cavity. The gorey scene before you was new to your young surgeon's eyes, the deep reds and pink hues, the constant rhythmic movements of the lungs and bypass of the heart was much different from a brain or an abdomen operation, and it excited you. Watching intently on what the surgeon was doing so you can replicate the techniques in your free time and even in your dreams.

The room was silent, a mixture of tired unamused faces and pale nauseous interns that didn’t answer. Either no one knows or they’re too scared to speak up, however, you raised your hand, you felt like a dork but it felt appropriate. After being ignored and given a few side glances you speak up, “Broken Heart Syndrome, sir.” You notice the surgeon faintly jolting at your voice and at the answer.

“Uhh, no,” the cardiac surgeon said strictly, “Broken Heart Syndrome is the diminishing of the cardiac muscle, the condition I was looking for was Chordae Tendineae Rupture.” Your cheeks burn red, if you weren’t sterile you would have hid your face with your hands. You try to bring yourself out of embarrassment thinking no one paid attention until a hushed chuckle forms next to you.

“And you want to be a cardiac surgeon?” Your head whips to the man next to you, a raised eyebrow above big round eyes glances at you, Dr. Kang Taehyun.

“Shut up, Bone Daddy,” you say in a low whisper making sure he was the only one who could hear the vulgar nickname. You’ve known Taehyun since your first day of internship at the hospital, he is the smartest in your class, and had his eyes on orthopedics along with the hot eligible workers. You’ve witnessed him getting close to the f-boy nurse, Yeonjun, after you told Taehyun about your accidental trip to the supply closet. Thinking he would be disgusted by the story, later you were surprised to see the doctor talking and laughing with the scrub nurse. You didn’t know what to think of Taehyun after that, a man you thought was a quiet nerdy boy was a man whore in disguise. 

So imagine how you felt when the both of you grasp a paper on the Public Information board of an apartment for sale. Internship was hard as it is, the event that happened earlier was definitely not the worst of it, adding troubles with living situations was just the cherry on top. This for sale pamphlet was a perfect opportunity to share rent with others, but you did not want to share it with Taehyun. 

“I don’t think you’re the one that is offering the apartment, so I don’t understand why you’re not letting me consider it.” Tae says as you both practically tug-of-war the paper, “come on y/n, we both need a place to stay and you know I have the best study methods, and I’ll share.”

“Yeah y/n, I don’t know why you’re so against it,” you let go of the paper to look at your best friend, Kai, he was also in the same class as you and Tae. Who you were also going to share rent with, but he was fine because he didn’t fool around, “give us one good reason why Taehyun can’t live with us.” You take a step back, looking back and forth the boys’ eyes, Kai had big hopeful eyes whereas Taehyun couldn’t care less. You did not want to tell him that the reason that you didn’t want Taehyun to live with you is because you didn’t want the possibility of him bringing anyone home and making… noises.

Rolling your eyes, “Fine, I’ll share with you, but you better pay rent on time.”

“Deal, Sweetheart.” you shiver at the nickname Tae has given you, hiding the reaction as you squint in distaste at the handsome smirk on the doctor’s face.

%%%

Years pass, the young internship days turned into years of resident chaos and now you spend your days as a full-on cardiothoracic surgeon. Yet you still share your bathroom with Kai and argue with Taehyun about not making enough coffee in the mornings.

This morning you were rushing to the hospital, you slept in from the tiring day before. Quickly changing into your seafoam green scrubs, tying your hair up, stuffing your stethoscope into your white coat while heading to the surgical floor for morning report. Walking around the desk crowded with many healthcare professionals, you make your way to Taehyun who had a counter spot open for you to put your papers.

Taehyun glances at you like everyone else did, but he was the only one to notice your strut. A slight smirk creeps his face as he notes the slight limp you have that he knows a little too well on girls. You come to the counter clicking your pen ready to write about your patients.

“Room 822, has a bit of delirium causing a higher heart rate, Room 304, has been complaining of pain but they are doing their exercises and tolerating meds…” You listen intently about your patients not noticing Taehyun’s constant glances every time you shifted weight on your feet. You are not an antsy person and Tae knows that. “What’s wrong, y/n?”

You throw a confused look at the doctor, “nothing,” you were feeling fine other than the pain you felt from being manhandled by the scrub nurse yesterday.

“Whatever you say, Sweetheart.” Taehyun has known you for years and the years of living together has added to the closeness between you two. He knows that you don’t sleep with others all that often hence the soreness you show, but he had a little secret that he was dying to inform you.

As report ends the many scrub workers disperse throughout the unit. You walk over to the coffee maker in the breakroom pouring luke-warm brown water in your disposable cup when Taehyun slides himself next to you. You feel his eyes burning holes into you as you lazily focus not to spill your life source everywhere. An exhaled “what” leaves your lips making the man fix his posture before he speaks.

“Did you have a fun time yesterday?” Your eyes widen at his question, memories flash into your head of Yeonjun abusing your pussy so good. The way his fingers felt on your folds, the sensation of his abs against your spine as he whispers and kisses your ear. “You were pretty loud, I know you don’t get out much but damn-”

You quickly lower your coffee cup to smack the man, “shut up!”

Taehyun chuckles, “I should say the same thing to you, you should be happy that my patient was loopy on drugs or else they wouldn’t think they were imagining your fuck for a lifetime.”

Mixtures of emotions fill up your insides, frustrated by the cocky smirk of Tae’s plush lips, embarrassed by the fact that you were really that loud, angry that Tae brought it up. It was one of the best fucks you’ve had but you didn’t like that your friend was condescending you. Your mind gears start turning thinking of your next course of action, “what, are you jealous?”

Taehyun’s thick brows rise, he leans his head on the frame of the door, you watch closely to the bobbing of his adams apple as he swallows his thoughts. His big eyes darken for a second before he lifts his head, “no, just keep it down next time.”

You watch the man walk away as if he just talked about work and not that he heard every detail of your dirty secret. From the side of your eye you see the scrub nurse who keeps track of the surgeries, “Nurse, what is Dr. Taehyun’s schedule today?”

%%%

Looking through the glass window that sits above the surgical room is like its some type of opera. These days the watching rooms aren’t used as much but since they are there fellow surgeons like to use the seating area for a place to chart and watch techniques to be used. You sat there doing just that, scrolling through your laptop checking on any procedures or medications needing to be ordered for your patients. Every now and then you glance down watching your friend do a total hip replacement. Your eyes linger on Taehyun and his form. He looked so cute with his golden scrub cap standing out from the neutral colors of the OR. Is it wrong to drool over the doctor's buff arms every time his tools hit hard on the bone of the patient? It amazed you how the blue gown wrapped snugly on the doctor’s body. The waistband hugged his small waist, the sleeve morphed to his muscular arms. Your friend has always been buff ever since your internship years but it seems like he has been working out harder, or is it that you’re looking at him harder.

The heart monitor sounds an alarm waking you up out of your drool-fest. Adrenaline rushes through your vessels instantly standing up to see what was going on with the patient on the table. The anesthesiologist looks at the jagged mountain shaped lines on the EKG, “signs of V-Tach, starting compressions.”

Taehyun looks stunned, not expecting such a turn of events on a simple hip replacement stepping away from the patient to not cause any additional harm, “Get the pads and set them to 100.”

A nurse drags the machine to the bed, the anesthesiologist shocks the patient, Taehyun winces seeing the slight jolt moving the incision sight of the hip, “no change.”

“Shock again at 200.”

“No change, still V-Tach, what do you want to do Doctor?”

Taehyun tells the other doctor to shock the patient again before glancing up to you. You were gone from where he last noticed you standing, before he knew it the scrub nurses got cardiac surgical supplies out and you came rushing through the sliding doors ready to be gowned and gloved.

“Why didn’t you know about this?” You say in a stern voice letting the nurse help the gown on you.

“It wasn’t noted in the chart.”

Looking over at the patient on the table it was a frail old man, “Would the heart condition derive from the operation”

“It can”

“That's why, it's probably a stress induced M.I.”

“Are you sure?”

You stop in your tracks looking up into the big boba eyes of Taehyun’s, “Do you want me to say it louder, Bone Daddy.” The silence in the room was loud, no one understood the reference only you and the other surgeon did. Taehyun bows his head, his blushed cheeks hidden under the mask. You take a step towards the patient, glancing at a displayed EKG of the heart rhythm, “yep, he’s having a heart attack, continue compressions, shock again at 200, and let's prepare for an angioplasty.”

Taehyun stands there admiring your intimidating demeanor, how pretty you looked with your scrunch up eyebrows, standing tall waiting for the patient to be prepped for your specialty. You look over at Dr. Taehyun and say, “Do you want to finish up your side of things?”

%%%

A cozy cool light casts over you as you snuggled up into the sofa watching whatever was on the TV screen. You dig around in the small white take-out box pushing aside the vegetables, looking for noodles to shove in your mouth. The front door clicks open, making you lift your head in attention to see Taehyun waddle tiredly into your guys’ shared apartment. His black hair hung into his eyes, tired body flops into a spot next to you, his whole body relaxing. Head tilting back, hands smoothing his legs that were manspreading. You grab another take-out box of chicken from the coffee table and give it to him. “Kai is on-call tonight and I didn’t know when you’ll get out of work so I just ordered–” You cut yourself off, right when you were about to reach over to get the man chopsticks, he grabs yours and licks any of your remnants off. Your eyes couldn’t care less about what was going on the TV screen. All you could focus on was your handsome friend’s sharp jaw move while chewing, and then how his pretty adams apple bounces after each swallow. 

A smirk turns his plush lips, swallowing his last bite he says, “thanks for helping me today.”

“Of course, you’d do the same for me” you giggle to yourself, “if for whatever reason a bone falls out while in the patient’s chest.” Tae smiles at your comment, your hand instinctively rubs his thigh in a comforting way but once you feel his muscle tense the mood changes.

Your fingers start to draw patterns on the man’s black slacks, “why were you hesitant before?” Taehyun’s head lifts to look at your eyes after watching your fingers, he hums inquisitively. “Why were you hesitant when I asked if you were jealous of me getting laid, are you?”

“I-” he starts getting distracted when he plays with the loose ends of your shorts, “I wouldn’t say I’m jealous, more like… thinking of what I am missing,” you hum at his confession. You both sit there trying to comprehend and decide what two want to make of this. Looking back into the big boba eyes, heat rushes up your spine, a need to also know what you’ve been missing after living with the man for so long. Like as if you could read each other's minds, when you lean your face towards Tae’s, he helps guide your leg to straddle his hips.

Your lips connect like a puzzle piece. His lips were dry and cracked from the habit of his lip-biting concentration, but it wasn’t like your saliva couldn’t help. Warmth of the smooth muscle fighting each other became an addicting game. You held onto his sweater pulling him impossibly closer to you. That same rush of heat boils down to your core making the sense of closeness start to grind down on Tae’s half hard dick. Taehyun moves his lips to your jaw and down to your neck, his ears perk when he gets a hint of your small whimper. Looking up to see you biting your lip hard as you get yourself off from the friction of his pants. “What's wrong sweetheart, let me hear you.”

You glance down at him with slight irritation that he stopped his sweet kisses. Rolling your hips harder on his hard cock presented you with the most beautiful sight of Taehyun’s eyebrows scrunching up and his lips widening letting out a moan of pleasure. His head tilts back, big hands gripping your ass like it was going to float away, he motions you harder onto him. You graze your nose against his neck relishing his homely scent that was all too familiar. Holding back the want to nibble at the skin you lift your head back to Taehyun’s plush lips. “Y/n-” you hum ignoring what he was trying to say, too addicted to the friction against your swollen clit, “ah- y/n, let's take this somewhere else.”

Still too engulfed by the man’s presence and wanting to get off just by his thighs, you didn’t answer. To your surprise, you were lifted up by the stronghold of Taehyun. Your hands reach for his shoulders holding him tight as he gets up with ease. Carrying you to his dark cold bedroom, dropping you down on his pristine white sheets, arms caging your seated position, hovering over you kissing deeply. Taehyun’s fingers dance under your shirt, “now sweetheart, I want to hear you like I’ve heard before,” he says, taking off your top along with your bra, “can you do that for me?”

His rough lips drift low to your hardening nipples making you answer with a breathy, “y-yes.”

Tae hums, satisfied with the state you’re in. He removes his shirt leaving you in awe, you’ve seen him shirtless before roaming around the house, but under the dim lighting paired with his lustful eyes, the sight made you shiver. The man walks away from you, your puppy eyes trail him watching him sit comfortably on his bed, back against his pillows. Following him to his spot, he stops you quickly tugging at your shorts. You slide them off with your panties and stand there waiting for his next request. “Sit on my thigh.”

Your cheek burns pink, bare pussy pressed against the textured material of Taehyun’s slacks. Your body instinctively starts to grind, head tilting back as excitement warms your stomach. Tae’s hands grip onto your hips helping you move, “Feel good?”

Your whine brings a smile to the man’s face, you open your eyes to get a glimpse of his canine grin. Taehyun’s smirk disappears into something more mischievous, you start to feel his leg bounce. Hands quickly grasp his shoulders keeping you stable, “A-ah T-tae-hyun!”

The man hums gripping your love handles harder, “Do you like how my thighs feel? Are you going to cum just by my thighs alone, sweetheart?” You try to nod but the quick movements mixed with your building up orgasm makes it hard to think. “Use your words, love.”

You’re gasping to do so, the friction in between your legs were overstimulating as it is. Once you feel his thumb snaking down to your clit it’s over for you. “F-feels good, fuck!” You cum on his black slacks, falling onto Taehyun’s shoulder. Exhausted but reality hits when you feel the man shifting under you. Leaving small pecks against his neck while reaching down to palm his aching dick. You note that way he whines and tilts his head at your lips on the sensitive part of his neck. “Let me help you please.”

Taehyun chuckles, “well since you asked so nicely.”

Both of you struggle to lower the man’s pants resulting in his dick slapping against his abdomen. You stop for a moment, eyes glued to his veiny thick cock waiting patiently for your attention. Your dainty surgeon hands cautiously wrap around him feeling every bump and ridge to have Tae jerk his hips up. “Taehyun, or should I say Bone Daddy,” the man hums in response, concentrating so hard not to release by your little movements, “where are your condoms?”

“T-there in the ah-” like butter, he melts into your hands, “in the nightstand.”

Multitasking with one hand tending to the man’s dick and the other reaching for a condom out of the drawer. You grin while tearing the condom packet open. You’re amazed at how his aura changed, he can’t be like this with other girls. How can the man in front of you, no more than a needy boytoy, be the one to make those visitors scream so loudly you had to purposely walk in on them to tell them to keep it down. “So Bone Daddy, do you always crumble for pretty girls like me?” You lean in towards his ear, biting the lobe gently noticing the faint shiver of sensitivity while rolling the condom on. Taehyun’s hands quickly get a hold of your hips as you lift them thinking you’re moving away. You chuckle, as a hand lines his cock to your cunt while the other lovingly rubs the nape of Tae’s neck. You sink down slowly, easing into the pain of the stretch he gives you. A grunt of Tae’s contemptment paired with a snap of his impatient hips upwards. Legs working overtime to match his pace, Taehyun finally has the power to admit, “Something about a pretty surgeon riding my cock while giving my neck kisses just does it for me.”

A smile forms on your face, taking what he said as a sign to leave more pecks on the column of his neck. Your lips push down to where his carotid artery is, feeling the harsh pulse, and fast rate. His hips snap up right to your g-spot as you do this, resulting in your attention to his neck to falter, moaning out. Your eyes roll to the back of your head consumed by his tip kissing your cervix. Tae’s hands grope the flesh of your ass as another snakes up to play with your nipple. A cute grin displayed on the man’s face once again making you scream under his touch. The stutter of his hips signals you to bounce faster reaching both of your highs. 

Both of you panting, hooked to one another, feeling each other's heart beats. “Do you still feel like you’re missing out, Bone Daddy?”

“Mmm I think I need to hear you again, sweetheart.”

A nuisance,

TxT's Devil 🩺

taglist: @naoristerling, @inkigayocamman

[wordsarelife]

⛧༺ NO BODY, NO CRIME ༻⛧

EPISODE 01: dinner and a glass of wine

pairing: theo nott x potter!reader

summary: the christmas holidays have just begun, but still a threatening atmosphere lies in the air and suddenly, you find yourself at a crime scene

warnings: extremely big trigger warning for the whole series, in this chapter: mentions of blood, a corpse, (small) jump-scare

note: hello guys, welcome to the first episode of no body, no crime!! i’m so excited for this series and hope you enjoy it as much as i do!! the next episode is coming out next monday!! let me know what you think in the comments <333

the soft tunes of christmas music filled the air around you. the great hall was less filled than normal, most of the students deciding to go home for the holidays. 

"can you pass me the potatoes, please?" ron's red hair was illuminated by the soft glow of the fairylights behind him. the auburn sweater he was wearing was highlighting the contrast even more. 

"here" hermione said, holding the bowl across the table, as ron eagerly grabbed it. 

"where's ginny?" harry muttered. he had his nose buried in a book about quidditch techniques you had bought in hogsmeade. he had been busy studying it all night, but apparently not busy enough to not notice ginny's absence. 

"she's sitting with luna" you pointed out, as your eyes glided along the slytherin table. ginny and her had grown closer since the beginning of the year and you had to admit that you had quickly taken a liking to the blonde girl. she was a bit strange, admittedly, but lovely none the less. 

"she's been busy all year" ron muttered, mouth filled to the brim. "seems like we've gotten too boring for her"

"allow your sister to have her own friends" hermione shoke her head. "and for gods sake, please close your mouth, ronald."

despite the approaching festivity, the atmosphere in the hall was eerie. maybe because only a few people were sitting at eachs house table, making the hall seem weirdly out of place. 

the slytherin table was by far the emptiest. probably because most purblooded and traditional wizard families made a hail mary out of everything that would allow a party, showing off their wealth and status. 

the only thing that contradicted this assumption was that several children from the most influential pureblood families had chosen to stay. your gaze swept across the table, taking in each one in turn.

draco malfoy, displaying a usual attitude of displeasurement. you guessed that the malfoys weren't the people to listen to christmas music around the holidays. 

next to him, blaise zabini, who was munching on a mouth full portion of potatoes just like ron was. 

across from them and her back facing the rest of the hall, including your line of sight, pansy parkinson. her perfect cut bob of black hair moving slightly everytime she turned her head to the side, as she attentively listened to what draco was telling her. 

a few feet away, mattheo riddle and lorenzo berkshire were quietly discussing something. it looked somewhat urgent, as both of them leaned over the table top, and not even mattheo, whose face you could see, wore his usual smirk. 

just before you were able to wonder about his absence, you noticed theo nott walk into the hall. he looked just like always, messy curls falling onto his forehead, dark circles under his eyes and that face, that made every thought in your head disappear. 

not that you liked any of them, but theo had always been your favorite. he was a true slytherin. cunning, loyal and determined. even though he had reason enough, there was no arrogant bone in his body. 

you had liked him from the first time you had talked to him last year, when snape had coupled you up for a potions project. he had not even been as pretentious as you had thought he was, considering he was always hanging around malfoy. 

but theo was nice, actually nice. 

"hello?" ron's voice was so sudden, you knocked over the cup of pumpkin juice beside you. 

hermione cleaned the juice off of the table with a simple flick of her wand, as she rolled her eyes at your distractedness. 

"what?" you wondered. 

"the cookies, please?" ron smiled and your expression turned sour when you noticed the pieces of potatoe stuck between his teeth. 

you nodded nonetheless and grabbed the plate of decorated christmas cookies. you took one for yourself, a delicious looking christmas tree, before you planted the whole plate in front of ron, knowing that he was gonna take one cookie after the other anyway. 

"i think we're good company" harry said, and while you weren't exactly sure what he was talking about, you nodded. 

"obviously we are" 

"i mean, she could've brought luna along, right?" he closed the quidditch book with a thud and crossed his arms. 

"ehh" you muttered. you were saved by the loud sound of the door, that flew open and revealed professor burbage. she walked up to the teachers table in a hurry, quickly excusing her late arrival, before she sat down next to dumbledore. 

you noticed the look of worry on her face and wondered what she was thinking about. 

“what’s gotten into her?” hermione asked and you were glad someone else had noticed the professor’s strange behaviour.

“everyone is stressed around christmas, right?” ron muttered without an ounce of interest. 

“i’m sure that’s it” harry nodded, glad that he could now shift the conversation back to it’s initial topic. “so, about ginny—“

“you’re mentioning her an awful lot, harry” you joked, enjoying how your brother’s face lost all it’s colour and his eyes darted between ron and you quickly. ron hadn’t even noticed the implication, if he had even listened to you in the first place. 

you could read the boredom from the redheads face as he rearranged the cookie plate, until it showed a little scene with a christmas tree, huge presents and two happy gingerbread men. 

you tuned the conversation out too, as harry continued to speak. you decided that it was hermiones turn to listen now. 

you rather turned your head to look at theo once more, who looked up at the very same time, probably feeling eyes on him. but he didn’t look in your direction, but to the teachers table. you furrowed your brows, before you followed his line of sight, your eyes ultimately landing on professor burbage. she looked just as worried as before, as she hectically looked between theo and something clutched in her hand. 

you looked back to theo, who simply rolled his eyes, averting his gaze from the teacher and focusing back on the untouched food beside him. draco muttered something in theo’s direction and the latter barely reacted, managing only a weak smile, before his focus was gone again. 

you sighed, deciding you had spent enough time with your friends to leave without feeling bad. “i think i’m gonna head to bed” you smiled, standing up.

“oh” hermione simply noted. “should i accompany you?”

you shook your head, “i’ll be fine”. her offer was nice, but you wanted to be alone for some time. it was especially during times like these, that you most missed what other people had: a real family. you still had harry and your friends, but it was different from what you sometimes wished for. 

“i’ll see you guys tomorrow” you waved. ron, mouth filled to the brim, only waved back to your relief and harry nodded, muttering something about a game of chess ginny had promised. 

you headed out of the hall just a mere second later, pulling your sweater over your head, that you had taken off in the hall, because of the brizzling warmth of the fireplace at your back. you took the usual route to the tower. it was the place you often spend time at whenever you wanted to be alone. 

the stairs creaked loudly beneath each step you took, indicating how old the whole structure was. you walked across the wooden beams, leaning your body over the railing as you breathed in the cold of the air and your eyes wandered across the snow beneath you.

it was so calm up here, so silent.. until. the wood creaked loudly, indicating steps coming up towards you. your heart began beating faster, debating who could be coming up here. you had never ran across someone else at the tower.

maybe it was harry? you stepped closer to the stairs, expecting your brothers dark and messy hair to peak from the entrance, but it wasn’t harry who then stepped onto the plattform across from you.

“hey” theo nott muttered, hands pushed into the pockets of his pants while he looked at you with an unreadable expression on his face. 

“hey” you said, just as neutral. you tried to act casual, as he walked closer and you followed him back to the middle of the plattform, awkwardly standing next to each other. 

theo fished out a cigarette from his pocket. “is this okay?” he asked, pointing between the two of you. 

you furrowed your brows, confused what he was talking about, before you realized that he was probably asking about your permission to keep you company. “sure” you nodded and the lightened his cigarette. 

“you smoke?” he asked, holding the burning cigarette in your direction as if to offer you a blow.

you shoke your head, although you had to admit that it was intruiging to take a drag when a boy with such blue eyes was the one offering it. 

“do you come here often?” you asked softly, deciding it was more awkward to just stare at him in silence. 

“sometimes” theo shrugged. “they get exhausting, my friends i mean”

“yeah, mine too” you nodded. 

“wouldn’t have held you for a person that particuarly likes to be alone” theo muttered, before he turned his head, blowing the smoke out from his lips, without it hitting you. you appreciated the gesture. 

“it gets too much, sometimes” you shrugged. “i don’t mind to be alone”

“then you probably mind my company, huh?” he smirked, looking into your eyes with a deep kind of sincerity.

“not at all” you shook your head, mirroring the smirk on his lips. “although i would prefer malfoy”

“oh shut up” theo laughed, his eyes glistening, almost surprised at the sudden joke. you felt proud that you had made him laugh, even if you had to mention malfoy. 

“i’m so sincere right now” you giggled, both of you not believing a word you were saying. 

theo threw down his cigarette, stomping on it, before he let it disappear with a flick of his wand. he looked up at you and opened his mouth, about to return a witty remark, when a loud bang rang out. 

you both froze at the sound, the laughter abruptly cut off as the echo of the bang bounced off the stone walls. the great hall felt miles away in that moment, and the air thickened with tension. theo’s playful demeanor vanished, replaced by a look of concern.

“what was that?” you whispered, instinctively taking a step closer to him. the sudden shift from light-hearted banter to fear sent a shiver down your spine.

“the door” theo muttered in recognition. the tower was right on top of the entryway to the castle. now that you thought about it, the bang did sound awfully like a heavy door falling close. 

“who would even go out there now?” you wondered, your heart still beating fast as the shock settled into your features.

“i don’t know” theo stepped away and closer to the staircase. “are you coming or what?”

you quickly nodded, as you followed him back down and through the corridor, before you froze in front of the door.

“maybe it was the wind” you suggested, though the tremor in your voice betrayed your uncertainty.

theo raised an eyebrow, a hint of skepticism dancing in his gaze. “you really believe that?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest, his posture relaxed but his expression alert.

“well, it’s possible,” you replied, though you didn’t sound convinced. the notion felt flimsy in the wake of the unsettling noise, and the creeping feeling of dread wasn’t fading.

“possible, sure,” he replied, “but it sounded too loud for the wind. we need to check it out. it could be something... important.”

your heart raced again, this time from a mix of fear and curiosity. “important? like what?” you asked, biting your lip.

“i don’t know,” he admitted, glancing back at the heavy wooden door. “but don’t you think we should at least look? it might be someone in trouble.”

you hesitated, looking back down the corridor where you could see flickers of light from the torches along the walls. “but what if it’s something dangerous?” you countered, feeling a rush of apprehension.

“better to know than to wonder,” he said, his tone serious yet gentle. there was a spark of determination in his eyes, and you found yourself drawn to his confidence. despite the risk, the thought of turning back felt more frightening than facing whatever lay beyond the door.

theo looked back at you once more, before he sighed and nodded, pushing the heavy door open. what revealed itself was the dark of the night, as snow fell into the entrance you were standing in, quickly cooling your face. 

“it’s too dark” theo noted. both of you took out your wands, using lumos to light the way. theo urged you to follow him. the snowfall was so heavy, that even the light of your wands did almost nothing. 

theo was just a few steps beside you, when you felt it. “theo” you whispered, as your body and heart froze simultaneously. “theo” you repeated, a bit louder. you could see the light of theo’s wand come closer again. he had heard you. 

“are you alright?” 

you shook your head, what he probably couldn’t see. you could only make out his body. “there is something there” 

“what do you mean?” 

“i’m feeling it against my foot” you muttered. “there is something on the ground. i’ll have to come closer to make out what it is” 

“be careful” theo held you hand to stabilize your body, as you kneeled down, moving the light of your wand across the object on the ground in front of you. it was dark, black robes, hiding something beneath them. but you just couldn’t make out what it was. 

then suddenly, you gasped in shock. your light glided over a face, mouth, nose dripping blood. wide eyes, opened in terror as they stared at you unmoving. you screamed, falling back into the snow, as theo surged forward, trying to catch you. 

“y/n!” he called, panic rising in his voice as you struggled to breathe, your heart racing wildly “what’s wrong? what is it?”

“professor burbage” you muttered, over and over again. 

“what?” theo leaned in closer, still holding onto you, his face drained of color.

“she’s dead!” you choked out, voice trembling, eyes fixed on the professor’s face, still staring up at you, frozen in her final moment of horror.

you heard theo gasp, his own breath faltering for a moment as he processed what lay before you both. without another word, he pulled you to your feet, wrapping an arm around you to support your shaking body. “we have to go,” he muttered, his voice tight with fear. with one hand, he held his wand forward, the dim light flickering in the swirling snow, while the other held onto you as you stumbled back toward the door.

the last thing you saw as the heavy door closed behind you was professor burbage’s body, half-buried in the snow, her lifeless eyes still staring, as if warning you of something far worse to come.

taglist: @melsunshine @shereadsandcries @ch3rry-lips @the-sylver-dragon @mayamonroem @allurearia @prongsprincessworld @brokenpoetliz @winterbarnesblog @mysummerwinesblog @cowboy-luvr @ahead-fullofdreams @mietlynn @maxsisly @too-efn-old-to-be-here @reverse-soe @insideoutjulie @thestrawberrythatgotaway @dvartesgfs @chimchoom @eggsysstuff @uku-lelevillain @lexi2005

[sweetnans]

I set myself on fire to keep you warm.

Pairing: f. reader/Bakugo Katsuki.

tw: mention of break up, mention of violence but not described because bakugo isn't a bad boy, soft and persistent bakugo. SMUT +18 minors don't interact. (Soft sex)

a/c: the end of this trilogy, I hope you liked it 💕

Part 1

Part 2

After the party, you didn't see him for a while. At least two weeks. A group of villains attacked his quadrant for a week straight unfolding in pairs each day. Even Shoto, your new partner, had to change teams and do a backup job.

The truth was that you were dying to know about him, and that felt wrong.

Friday came quickly, and so your day off. You were parking outside of your house, bringing the grocery bag with you and some little things you found that could work with your new home decoration. You even bought flowers for your new vessel.

Quickly, you turned the tv on, not expecting to see Bakugo in action, defeating a giant villain on the screen. The scenery was already controlled by the pros, Deku, Chargerbolt, and Cellophane were there, working as a team.

You changed the channel looking for a reality show, something that didn't remind you of your ex and everything that occupied your mind since the last time you saw him, like calling him, for example.

Silly girl knows better, right? But, what if he was hurt?

You shook your head and poured a glass of wine in a cup. That glass of wine turned in two, and when you noticed what was happening the bottle was already empty.

You scrolled through your socials, the guys were headline in almost every page, even the group chat of endeavor agency made a special shout out to them, filling your phone with photos of him in high definition.

You: I think I'm going to do something I might regret.

You waited for the response from Mina but nothing happened. You could blame her later for what was about to happen.

His contact was opened on your screen, the green button functioning as a magnet to your fingers. What was the harm in calling him? You could just ask about the fight, professionally purpose only, to gather techniques. After all, you were a little rusty in battle combat.

You were just making excuses not to feel like a shitty person. You needed to get your head clear but right now you were about to cry. Damn, you missed the bastard.

That was the hint you needed to press the button.

It ringed, one, two, three times.

"Hello?" He asked, agitated.

You felt nostalgic. After every big fight, he liked to steam some stamina off. To cool it down, like he used to say.

"If this a fucking prank you'll hear from me, I'll blast your shitty ass to-

"Hey," your voice sounded light.

You could hear how he dropped the weight he was lifting.

"Is that you?" He murmured, not believing. Maybe it was a prank from one of his friends. No, they would never do that to him. They feared him enough.

"Mmhm," you nodded even if he couldn't see you.

Silence flowed in the line. It was awkward, but not in the bad way. It was awkward for Bakugo, at least, because he never expected to be you when to phone rang. He knew that he had to be the one trying, but right now, after the party, after the fight, he was just taking his time to think about his next step.

"Are you drunk?" He asked straightforwardly.

"What? No!" You tried to defend yourself, but the uncommon pitch in your tone gave you away.

"You sound like it." You could feel his smug smile appearing on his face.

"I'm not gonna lie. I had this bottle of wine, and it just poofed itself out of existence, " you sighed. You were tipsy, but you knew exactly what you were doing.

He barked a laugh. A real one. The kind of laugh that made you feel it inside your bones. The kind of laugh that you missed for an entire year.

"It seems to me that you just chugged the bottle all by yourself." The tone in his voice was playful and his mind started to get those memories where you used to call him everytime you went out with your friends, finding a way to leave your friends alone and sneak to the bathroom or some place quiet just to hear his voice and tell him to pick you up earlier.

"How do you know that I'm by myself?"

The question made him shake his head.

"If you were with Mina or with somebody else, you wouldn't have called." He was probably right, you thought to yourself, Mina would've melted your phone down with acid before you even thought of calling your ex.

He liked the way that conversation flowed. With you, the talking about everything, the expressing, the feeling, everything was so easy for him. He felt nostalgic and eager to win you back. He needed this in his life, and he needed you.

"For the record, I warned Mina that I was going to do something stupid"

"Do you think this is stupid?" He pried for your answer. The moments you were taking to answer something so simple got him on the edge of the gym bench. "No bullshit, okay? Because I don't think this is stupid at all"

You closed your eyes for an instant, trying to think aside from the alcohol boost. You needed to get your mind clear because you had this idea in your mind, but once the idea left your mind, it was over for you and for him. In a good way.

"Why don't you pick up your stuff and come home already?"

...

To say that it took him ten minutes to arrive at your house is just an exaggeration. He made it in seven when most people took at least twenty. You were waiting for him in the front porch, the same porch that he paced over and over the first time he saw you in a year. You were standing there, with your arms crossed in front of your chest because the night was cold, but, you wanted to be there to see him, to wait for him, and to feel the excitement that was seeing him after a long day or in this case, week.

He saw your figure from his car. The tinted glass did him a favor. He was sweating. He couldn't stop rubbing his hands in his pants to ease the feeling of wetness and couldn't stop looking at you while doing it. Bakugo realized that he was taking much time regulating himself so he turned off the car and breathed three times to try to calm his heartbeat. It didn't work. He never had been that pented up about something, not an interview, not even a fight, but now his heart was about to explode.

You waved your hand at the sight of him. He didn't reciprocated but instead, he stomped to your front yard, opening the small gate that led to your garden. He climbed one step and the other so his face would be at the same level from your face.

"Hi," you said again, smiling fondly. God, you've missed him.

"Hey princess," he used the same petname that he has called you since he met you.

"Do you want to come in? Or should I go for myself so you can stay and find my spare key and use it? " You asked jokingly. He rolled his eyes but smiled a bit. "I swear that it's in a better spot, I hid it so well this time, you'll never going to find it"

"I bet you bought those fake ass rocks online and put it underneath it"

He knew you like the palm of his hand. You looked shocked, but he was just smug about it. Bakugo found it cute how you could be so naive with your antics and how he could easily read you even in the most idiotic things.

"Fuck, it's always so hard with you. Not my fault that you have such a big brain. " You flicked his forehead, and he was quickly to take your hand in his.

"Not my fault you don't even try"

That was sort of a deja vù. You used to fight on and on when you were in UA. Aizawa sensei loved putting you and him in spare combat that mostly ended up in the both of you yelling at each other. That line was one that you two used the most when he got you pinned down to the floor mat.

You laced your fingers with his fingers and led him inside your house. The TV was on, replaying one of your favorite episodes from your comfort series. He could recite the complete episode without missing a word because he was there every time you put it on his tv.

"You are watching this crap again?" He said mockingly.

"It's a classic, and I needed to do all the things I usually do when I have a bad idea in mind in order to keep it out, but right now, the bad idea is standing right in front of me" you stuck your tongue out and he pinched your nose a little giving you a peak of his soft side.

The vibe was thrilling. It felt like static vibrating his and your heart. You could feel his presence in your skin, aching for his touch, and he could feel your delicacy and love, always wearing your heart upon your sleeve.

"I'm going to make you some food so you can worn the booze off," he walked like he owned the place and moved around your kitchen gracefully, knowing exactly where you placed all the pots and ingredients.

The mere fact that he was there, like old times, made you feel butterflies in your stomach. The domestic treat of him taking care of you never got old in your senses. You had your moment, running away after the argument and the bad mental time that you were having because of lack of reasoning, then you completely ghosted him, trying to put in the past six years like he was nothing. And there he was, acting like nothing ever happened.

"These are very rare. Where did you get them?" He asked, lifting one of the ingredients and taking you out of your dissociation.

"Mhm, I don't remember," you told him, sparing a glance to the object. You walked towards him until you were by his side.

"What?" He said, contemplating your gaze.

You softened your face, and tears pricked at the corner of your eyes. Alcohol made you emotional.

"I'm so sorry," you told him.

His body was stiff, like a rock, but his emotions were blossoming in his face. He turned off the stove and passed his right arm behind your neck, pulling you to his broad chest. He took the chance that you weren't seeing him to give himaself out, exposing every feeling and every thought he had been running in his mind for the past year.

"I'm sorry too, baby," he murmured in your head. "I was supposed to be by your side, and I failed, I was a bad excuse of a boyfriend"

"I should've never abandoned you," you cried.

"I wasn't the one you deserved," he explained. "Right now, I know I am, fuck, I would even set myself on fire to keep you warm, to keep you by my side, to make you happy"

Your tears stained his shirt, leaving marks all over his pecs. He placed gentle kisses in your hair, soothing every regret and remorse out of your system.

You pulled yourself out of his embrace to look at him in the eyes.

"I never stopped loving you," you whispered.

He looked at you like you were his dreams come true. His eyes were glossy, wandering every inch of your face, looking for maybe a mistake, for you backing out of what you just said, but he didn't find a trace of guilt. You were genuine.

He couldn't keep it anymore.

His lips graced yours carefully, waiting for you to flinch or for a reaction so he could stop, but once again, you were eager too, you wanted him in every possible way.

Your lips smashed together, tearing apart all your armors. His lips graced yours, and his tongue made his way to your lips, tracing patterns until you opened for free access. He was desperate to taste you. You grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulled him closely, and then moved your hand to his neck, tugging the baby hairs of the nape of his neck.

"I like your new hairstyle" you mentioned in between sloppy kisses.

"Yeah?" He asked lost in you.

"It's different, shorter in the sides, you look pretty hot," you giggled when his smug smile crashed in your lips. "Don't let that compliment get over your head please"

"Oh, it's already there," he said, grabbing your thighs with one hand and tapping your lower back for you to jump.

You jumped, and he catched you without any effort, putting you on the kitchen table. Even with that boost of inches, you were just the same height as him, looking him straight in the eyes. His mouth was swollen and red, and your lipstick smuged in his lips. Before you could wipe it off, his lips found your neck, and he started kissing and nipping.

"Oh my, Katsuki," you moaned, he grunted at the sense that you were not able to control yourself anymore.

"Damn baby, I don't how I lived without you like this"

You locked your legs on his lower back, leaving him against your core, making you feel the heartbeat of your two members pulsing against each other.

His dick was already twitching in his pants and you were wet just for a few kisses. The time apart made its job. You weren't sure if you could take much time without feeling him completely inside of you.

"Baby" you panted. "I need you, like right now"

He always liked you when you mouthed your desires. It wasn't so common of you, so when it happened, it pented him up even more.

Beneath all the anger and sadness that he felt because of you leaving him, it was this Katsuki, the one who was like a kid with you, the one that could forgive you for everything you do knowing that you wouldn't do anything to hurt him. If you were right here with him, that was enough for him to put all his trust with you again.

You wouldn't leave him either.

Katsuki could feel you writhing against his body. After your plead, he detached his lips out of your neck and moved his hands to undone his pants first, taking all the breath of your lungs because the sight of his cock.

"Shit," you murmured to yourself, but his side smile made you notice that he heard that too.

Without any words, he grabbed your waist to pull you more to the edge of the kitchen table, positioning you to make you two more comfortable. After that, he decided that it was better for the two of you to take you on the kitchen stool, so he grabbed your ass and, without even thinking of it, nor even warning you, he took you and left you sitting in front of him.

"Are you sure?" His voice low ringed in your ears. You didn't want anyone but him. You nodded, allowing him to take off your pajamas shorts. "Open your legs," he demanded, and you obeyed.

In mere seconds, you were exposed to him. Glistening eyes wandered your body like it was sculptured by gods.

God damned him if he loses you again.

Putting his forehead against yours, he aligned himself in your entrance. He showered your nose with little pecks, trying to dissipate the growing but pleasant pain inside you.

"Fuck" you moaned against his lips and he swallowed all your pants like it was an elixir.

"You feel so good, baby," he muttered, buckling his hips into you.

He made it slow at first, but then, you could feel his balls slapping, putting the perfect amount of friction that you needed to be close to cloud nine. You were aching for him, following his pace to make it more delectable. He bit your shoulder to release some stamina and last a little longer, but he couldn't fool no one. His balls were tightened, trying to suppress the instinct to free his load inside you.

"I wont last long" he assured. "It's been a year"

His faint breath against your shoulder made you shiver.

"What? You didn't-"

"No. I tried, " He answered before you could even ask.

"Did you?"

You were curious. You couldn't blame yourself for wanting to know what did Katsuki in your year outside.

"I mean, I tried to date but never made it to the date part. Deku tried to set me up once, but I never showed"

That was kinda sad for the other person, waiting for him and getting nothing but an empty seat.

"I went out a few times, but I always ended up talking about you" you added in between pumps. "Even from a distance you cockblocked me"

He grunted low, almost devilish, like it was everything he ever wanted.

"That's what I needed to hear, that this little pussy is just f'me" he said in the shell of your ear giving you full of his length, filling you nicely and touching with the head of his dick your g-spot repeatedly.

"Shit, fuck, Katsuki-" you were out of breath. He was riding you nice and slowly. "Keep going, keep going, shit"

"Fucking, fuck god"

His seeds sprouted inside yourself, painting your walls with white stripes. Your core squeezing his cock in a way that got him almost gripping to the kitchen table.

You couldn't keep your thoughts in your mind while your orgasm crashed with his together in an instant. He grabbed you by the hair, pulling it back to leave you exposed to him. Panting against your neck, he closed the distance, giving you little kisses in your throat while caressing your thighs with his other hand, your legs trembling on each side of his body.

"A year is too much," you said, touching the locks oh his hair. He let go of your hair just to look at your eyes. You looked exactly how you looked when he fucked your brains out.

"From now on, you're not leaving my side if you want to go and find yourself, we'll find you together"

He was dead serious, but the look on his face made you extremely happy so you couldn't hide your smile.

"I don't need to find me anymore, I know exactly who I am and what I want," you said, trying to give him all sense of security back. He never doubted your words.

That night was his dream came true. You, half naked, against his chest in his big ass bed that he once thought it was too big for him alone, your legs intertwined with his, soft pants leaving your lips. You wouldn't go anywhere.

He knew that, eventually, you would be like this with him. He knew that he needed to be better for him and for you first. He knew that time would patch everything up and make you come back. He knew that this time, he would do everything in his hands to make you happy.

What he didn't know is that you were counting the days to make your way back to him.

He was absorbed in his thoughts while you sleep soundly in his arms. Thinking about the future, to be better, thinking about the past, to not making the same mistakes. He couldn't wait to spend the rest of his life with you, and also, he couldn't wait to rub the news to Deku and to make him feel like a loser for setting him up with a poor girl who never stood a single chance.

Do not edit or reupload my works elsewhere! All rights reserved.

[ozzgin]

Hi, first i wanted to thank you for doing my first request, it's amazing 😍. Since you did it so fast i wanted to ask for something else.

Could you do something with a Prehistoric reader. She's from the Jurassic like Pickle, she was frozen and brought back to life like him. However she's less agressive and a bit smarter than him. I kinda saw her like a big ( dangerous ) mama Bear, who likes those tiny humans.

I trust you for the rest, you can choose if you want to write about first meeting with fighters (which i find funny in the anime by the way ), how she was during Pickle's fight or what's her interactions with the fighters ...

Thank you for reading this , bye.

I’m so glad you enjoyed it! The speed may vary depending on how easily I can visualize the prompt, since I need a solid movie in my head before putting it into words. Not very efficient but so far it’s been working haha. :’)

Baki Characters x Prehistoric! Fem Reader

Featuring Pickle’s challengers: Kaiou Retsu, Katsumi Orochi, Jack Hanma and Baki Hanma.

Backstory

A million thoughts raced the scientists’ minds upon discovering not just one, but two subjects perfectly maintained within the saline block. Were you partners? Would it be possible or expected that you continue your ancient lineage? While the idea was incredibly tempting from a researcher’s perspective, it was equally dangerous. They considered separating the two of you in order to avoid the risk, but they soon discovered that your help was needed to protect everyone else from the enraged prehistoric man.

The female specimen seemed to have a much more docile and cooperative temperament, with strong maternal instincts. Could it be that she viewed the much smaller modern humans as children? (Y/N) wasn’t that dumb. She could very well tell that these new forms of her own image are matured, but she could also easily asses how fragile they are based on their extreme fear and helplessness against Pickle. They haven’t showed any intent to attack her or Pickle, so she had no reason to be hostile. Pickle was rather frustrated by her frequent scolding, but his expressions seemed to indicate that (Y/N) always had a kind heart towards weaker creatures and it wasn’t his first time having to satisfy her pity. He begrudgingly accepted it.

The Meeting

Truth be told, most of the men had gathered in order to measure up Pickle’s strength. And he was eager to prove it after his quick encounter with Yuujirou’s mysterious techniques. It was only when you stood up and let out a warning growl that they realized the faint beads of sweat forming on their foreheads. Pickle had immediately cleared the way and even the Ogre himself grounded his stance, ready for anything. What a majestic creature, they all thought. Feminine beauty carefully chiseled into a powerful physique, adorned with muscles that would put any bodybuilder today to shame. The same arms that lovingly cradle infants with motherly devotion could easily crush bones and twist frail bodies.

The smell of fear lingered for aggravatingly long moments. You gently placed your large hand on Yuujirou’s shoulder and used the other one to point behind him. Only then did they notice the bright helicopter lights and pleading voices asking them to evacuate. You were looking out for them.

Kaiou Retsu

He’d love to challenge you. Truly. But not only are you a woman, you’ve also never shown Pickle’s excitement for battle. He respects your decision and would never impose his wishes on you.

After his fight with Pickle, he wakes up intact and notices you standing over his wounded body. A miserable smile spreads over his face as the realization hits him: you just don’t want to harm them. That’s why you never fight.

He’s not sure what hurts most. The damage Pickle has done, or his ego after realizing that all you have for them is pity. He’s going to need to find other ways to impress you.

Retsu later catches you trying to reproduce some of his moves and wonders if he’d be allowed to teach you martial arts. Or would that make you too dangerous?

Katsumi Orochi

Unlike Retsu, the damage he’s done to his arm couldn’t be prevented. You allow Pickle to remove the limb given the extensive injury.

Like a father that just played too hard with his children, Pickle follows you around apologetically, as if explaining he had no fault in this.

Katsumi is a little shocked to find you in his hospital room. Embarrassed to be seen in such a vulnerable state by someone like you, he waves his arm frantically and rattles the sheets, mumbling explanations and reassurances. You just stare in confusion. He forgot you can’t understand language.

You wonder if he can survive with one missing limb, as back in your day this handicap could’ve proven fatal in the long run. Should you provide the food for him? The hospital staff entrusts you to deliver Katsumi his meals after they noticed you hunting in the guest garden.

You insist on helping with grooming duties like hair brushing, though Katsumi had to thoroughly gesticulate he’s not as open to being naked in front of you. Please don’t assist him when he’s changing his clothes. Let him have the last remaining bit of manliness.

Jack Hanma

How stubborn! Jack is the first one to feel your mama bear anger. After the fight with Pickle he kept coming back for more, despite being barely conscious. Pickle was becoming increasingly afraid of upsetting you and would throw you worried looks, unsure how to proceed. Eventually you put Jack in a headlock and dragged him back to the hospital yourself.

The next time Jack wakes up, he notices you standing in the door frame, arms folded and flexed in a threatening manner. He can’t help but chuckle at the view. To think that a woman would have such an iron grip on him. Well, you’re no ordinary woman.

As before, you’re unsure of his recovering abilities. You attempt to feed him yourself several times and Jack has to politely suggest that he’s not as frail as you might think. Though somewhere deep down he might secretly enjoy being spoiled like this. He’d never, ever admit it.

Baki Hanma

Baki took you through a rollercoaster of emotions; from being worried that such a tiny, young boy insists on challenging the prehistoric man to squealing in shock at his unexpected strength. You couldn’t help but wonder if you’d be able to defeat him if you were standing there instead of Pickle.

Unlike the others, Baki has no issue relying on you. In fact, he’s almost shameless about it. Absolutely he is too injured to walk! You can go ahead and carry him. He’ll quickly wrap his arms around your neck and cling to you, grinning.

I think he’d really love the idea that someone as strong as you is also kind and likable. He doesn’t have to worry about proving himself or that you’d look down on him. He’s really craving this newly fond protectiveness of a mother.

He likes teasing Pickle by holding onto you whenever he sees you. The Jurassic man has been on the edge ever since you’ve started becoming attached to these tiny humans. He almost can’t get a moment alone with you. Which makes him extra irritable. You sigh at the two menaces that find new ways to mess with you.

[madwomansapologist]

stay soft, get eaten | tanjiro kamado x hashira!reader

tanjiro was accused of treason, and there was more than enought proof for you to cut his head and damn his existence. that was your duty as a hashira. but as a friend, you couldn't. you could never.

cw: angst. hurt/barely any comfort. childhood friends to strangers to lovers. kny level of violence. death and gore. more than one character actively trying to kill nezuko.

an: messing around with the idea of an oc. can anyone rec an artist that accepts commissions? another chapter of me finding a way to put a undertale reference on my fics.

A ghost stood before you, forcing you to face your past.

Once more you were that innocent girl unaware of how your life would change. Focused on the basket between your hands, making sure to protect the bread inside it from the snow, you had no real worries.

You didn't saw the blood. You didn't smell the putrid stench. It was right in front of you, and still you noticed nothing. How you despise that clueless girl. She knew the world was a kind place. She didn't believed that, she knew that: nothing bad has ever happened for her to think otherwise.

How dumb you were. To only notice the blood after stepping on it.

You never truly understood what it meant to be a person until that very moment. To be alive is to have a body, and to have a body is to suffer. A layer of skin, a layer of fat, a layer of muscles, a layer of bones. Nothing can change that.

And blood. So much blood. You threw up on the snow, and continued until your throat burned. With the scarlet red carved on your eyes, you saw the graves. That made you remember exactly where you were.

Kie Kamado. Takeo Kamado. Hanako Kamado. Shigeru Kamado. Rokuta Kamado. Nezuko Kamado. Tanjiro Kamado.

All dead.

You were shaking when he came. Was it because of the snow falling on your skin for hours on end, the empty on your stomach, or the violent cries taking over your body? When you left with Giyu Tomioka, you knew why: you were enraged.

From then on, you trained. You almost died, then did it all again. Until you reached perfection. Every movement, every breath, every muscle of your body. You made yourself excelent. You protected those that couldn't, killed oni after oni, slayed a kizuki without hesitation.

That innocent girl you despise died because of what you saw that night. That girl you envy, that had silly dreams and could afford not to learn it was already time to grow for a few more years died that night. So why you're looking at Tanjiro's sleeping face?

Unaware of the string muzzling your heart as if it was a beast in need of taming, the Pillars argued around you. You couldn't quite catch their words, all meaning lost in the air around you.

You pinched yourself, as if you didn't already knew it wasn't a nightmare. Life taugh you a funny trick: when you don't know what's happening, all you had to do is to imagine the worst possible scenario and accept it as reality.

And so you knew: you were late that night. More than you could ever imagine. Late so you couldn't see they alive, couldn't help Tanjiro, couldn't save Nezuko. And Giyu lied to you. If not, he at least omit the truth from you.

"Tomioka", you interrupted Tengen, just now realizing the voice you heard belong to him. You have never been so upset, and still your concentration on your breathing technique never shattered. "You knew from the start, didn't you?"

"I believe Shinobu said-", Mitsuri thought you had misunderstood Shinobu's report, but decided to remain silent when she noticed your clenched fists. She observed you, more carefully now, and saw the truth.

After all, when someone does their best not to cry the only decent thing is to pretend they're doing a good job.

Giyu didn't return your gaze. You were almost grateful for it. You don't know if you could endure his coldness now. "You found me mourning his family, and knowing he was alive you chose to say nothing."

How loud the silence that came after it was. Not a single breath was heard by your attentive ears. In the absence of an response, you found one: your trick never fails you.

Kyojuro turned to you, his smile brighter than the sun. "All slayers involved in this case shall face punishment", Kyojuro's energy had no effect on you. "We'll find a way to punish the Water Hashira."

Instead of moving forward, you looked back. "Tomioka", your calm voice made him look at you. This time, you were ready for what you would face. Even know, he was so aloof. What a nice act.

Giyu Tomioka gave you no comfort when he found you that night, only the truth. Giyu Tomioka told you a tale of demons and slayers, of blood and ashes. Giyu Tomioka gave you a reason to get up, clean the vomit on your face, and pray one last time for the family that always treated with care.

"What I do now?", the wind shoved your tired words towards ears. "How can I stop then?"

Giyu thought about your questions for a while. Just when he decided it was best to turn his back on you, something on your eyes stopped him. They burned. "There is a cultivator a few cities away."

You smiled.

Mitsuri gasped. She can still smile at him even now, her dreamy eyes gazed upon you. Sweet like sakuramochi. And as pretty too.

You thought about hiding yourself behing Gyomei when Tanjiro started to wake up. You didn't, you couldn't move. As he tried with sleepy words to protect his sister, you stood as quiet as you could. But his eyes found you, and for a second the world around you faded away.

⋆✦⋆

Tanjiro was dreaming again.

As the Pillars argued about his future execution, Tanjiro couldn't quite believe it all was really happening. Broken bones, exhausted mind, sore muscles. He must be hallucinating from the pain. That's the only possible explanation.

Because you're right in front of him, and that only happens when he dreams.

And still, even so sure it was just a fantasy from his tired mind, Tanjiro could do nothing but to stare at your sweet eyes and pretend it was reality.

How he wish to go back in time and be that boy who worried if you would look at him at during his daily walks throught the village. He could almost feel the softness of your hair against his once scarless palm, hear the poems you declamed with such a passion, see the careful way you treated your siblings.

Tanjiro isn't that boy anymore, and your perfume reminds him of apple and cinnamon. You smell like exhaustion and regret. Like hopes and dreams. Kindness and duty.

"Were you happy?" He interrupted one of the Pillars, not that he ever heard about them before, and in response to his disrespect Tanjiro was shoved on the ground. He contorced his body to look at you, ignoring everything else. "Was life good to you?"

Your smile burned your cheeks, so big it showed a bit of your gums. Usually you tried to keep it cover, but not this time. This time you could afford to smile without a care. "No, it wasn't", you answered with a voice covered in honey. "But I made it good."

Tanjiro smiled. The pain, the loneliness, the fear: it all disappeared. Smelling joy, Tanjiro was glad it wasn't a dream. But of course that meant the execution discussed was real too.

"That won't be a problem, right?" Shinobu questioned. "As a Pillar, we expect you to do what must be done."

Looking into his eyes, a stare so strong you felt hazy, you didn't hesitate. "The only mercy a demon deserves is a of a quick death." You turned to Shinobu, so she could see you meant it. "It's our duty to do so."

"And the boy?" Shinobu smiled, but it was so emotionless. It felt like a performance, but to what audience? Who Shinobu was trying to fool? You can't imagine.

You could feel his gaze burning your temples. "I won't pretend to be our Master and decide his fate", you wondered if your eyes were emotionless too. Were you trying to fool someone? "I know my place."

As Rengoku reenforced Tanjiro was to be killed by his act of treason, you looked at him again. Hoping to see disgust on his eyes, you saw something you couldn't really comprehend. Something warm and soft.

You saw your Tanjiro again. That sweet boy who would protect you from the snow, even if he would get sick because of it. You wondered if he saw that girl you once were. If he could remember your tales and desires.

You hope that girl is still alive somewhere safe. It would be enough for her to be alive on his mind.

She would've protected Tanjiro now. Don't matter the size of the threat, she would fail but would never give up. Now you're bigger than most threats out there in the world, but nothing could change the fact Tanjiro protected a demon.

You stood quiet, dreaming about a world were demons were still just tales. You smelled like defeat.

⋆✦⋆

And still, despite your desire to never speak again, you couldn't ignore it.

"Nezuko glowed, Master", you gather all your strenght to disagree. It pierced your very soul to do so, but how could you agree with that? "She was the jewelof our village. A dear friend, my Flower, so kind and generous."

You felt the weight of his gaze on you, knowing that Tanjiro would never look at you again. You love him, you really do, but if he really wanted to protect Nezuko he would let her go. You would be kind. You would do it swiftly, and endure the weight of her death for him.

"She doesn't deserve to be remembered as one of them", you said. "If her body won't be respected, then let her soul be. Allow me to free her, please."

Mitsuri would do anything Master asked for, but that made her desire he would want something else. That's a sort of strenght I didn't knew you had, Mitsuri thought to herself. Am I strong like that?

Looking into Tanjiro's eyes, you didn't noticed as Sanemi moved. You only understood when he screamed, and Iguro decided to put him down on the ground. Again and again, Sanemi pierced the box, offending Nezuko.

"Master, forgive me for this", you raised your voice. You would never do that in front of your Master, but he was the one to start this. In a instant, you were besides him with your sword on your hands. "But if Sanemi will be cruel, I will be fast."

But before you could cut off her head, Nezuko looked away.

"Flower?" You asked, sword falling down on the ground. "Are you in there?"

Nezuko hugged you, and once again a Kamado shattered your world.

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

general taglist: @lovelyy-moonlight

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[mind-intheclouds342]

Helping Daisuke!

(I don't know why but i think you all gonna think that the way i write its pretty funny and weird, it's just so different making it in spanish.

My first language isn't english and i'm trying my best doing this for the first time!

I hope that at least you can all enjoy it a little bit)

This is pure fluff

You thought you were going to have a horrible experience on that ship, but a light was there to brighten your days.

After finishing high school, you weren't quite sure how your life was going to keep going or what you were going to do.

Your parents were very worried about you, immediately urging you to do different things that only ended up putting more stress on you.

Until they achieved this, and you accepted, you needed to escape from them and have time for yourself.

You never imagined that one day you would reach space, it was something unreal for you.

The fact that they hire people with no experience at all it seemed so strange, but you didn't complain too much about it or think of it.

You ended up being Anya's intern, who was in charge of the nursery.

You liked her a lot, she was so calm and sweet with you, and you felt secure having another woman on the crew.

At the beginning of the trip, you were extremely focused on learning as much knowledge as possible from her, where the medications were located, CPR techniques, how to perform a routine check-up, and other things.

In any case, you kept a certain distance from others, feeling defenseless in front of everyone else since they were older than you and had the necessary experience to do their jobs, while you only felt like an intruder.

But not with him.

Daisuke had gone through a situation similar to yours, ending up as Swansea's intern, helping him with mechanical work.

But you two hadn't exchanged a word until that day…

Swansea: "Hey (Y/n), I need you to help me with something, and it would be better if you bring your emergency kit"

You had been alarmed immediately upon hearing the man call you, but you nodded to accompany him; he certainly looked upset, making you wonder what had happened.

Swansea: "I couldn't find Anya, you were the closest one to ask for help, because I need you to fix this idiot soon."

He mentioned, pointing at a Daisuke sitting on a box, thinking about what had happened.

You immediately noticed the drops of blood on the floor, you began to carefully examine the boy's body until you found that he had a piece of metal embedded in the palm of his hand.

You tilted your head, analyzing the wound for a moment; it wasn't large, the metal was cylindrical and of small diameter.

"How did that happen?"

Swansea: "Ask the fool, I don't wanna here, if I keep seeing him I'm going to smack him"

He ran his hand over his face in frustration before leaving.

You couldn't help but smile, noticing that he was truly worried about the boy.

You approached and sat down in front of him.

Daisuke looked up to see you, and his eyes soon began to search for something else to focus on.

"I'm going to need you to lend me a hand."

You said, extending your hands, hoping he would do the same.

Daisuke: "Really, it wasn't as stupid as the boss says! Seriously, I was doing something very, very important"

He began to speak nervously, to which you just kept staring at him, waiting for his hand. Defeated, he finally handed it to you.

"So, what was that totally not silly and super important thing you were doing?"

Daisuke: "As you can imagine! Swansea couldn't fix inside the ventilation ducts for obvious reasons! I wanted to help him and I climbed up! But… I fell and my hand got stuck as you can see… It was for a good cause!"

"Mmh"

You hummed, focused, watching the swelling around the metal, and touched the boy's fingers, making sure it hadn't pierced any tendons or bones.

Daisuke: "Does it look very bad? It doesn't hurt as much as you might think"

"It's going to hurt."

You warned him, leaving him confused, when you put on a glove and ripped the metal off, making him let out an extremely high-pitched scream.

Both of them stood there, surprised by how he had shouted, the boy immediately turning red.

"The good thing is that it didn't go through anything important, you were lucky."

You began to clean the wound carefully.

Daisuke: "Great… Great… Soooo… what things are you into?"

You raised your gaze curiously for a moment at his question.

Daisuke: "I need to talk to distract myself from the pain."

"What do I like?… Lemme see… I like watching series… Listening to music… Read… Normal things, I guess? Nothing extraordinary"

Daisuke: "Those are awesome things! What kind of series do you like to watch? Oh! What's your favorite music genre? I can teach you some awesome songs! Do you like movies? I love action movies! Ka-pow!"

You couldn't help but laugh a little at his enthusiasm while you were already bandaging his wound.

"You're going to have to take good care of yourself and we'll do some check-ups from time to time, okay?"

Daisuke: "You mean like dates?…….I mean! Medical! Medical dates!! Medical appointments?"

You were surprised by that and smiled at him, raising an eyebrow, starting to understand what all that nervousness was about.

"We can also have dates, if you like, although it will be difficult on the ship, but if you're okay with a day playing cards and watching the screen, then I think we can make it work."

Daisuke: "Are you serious??"

You could see how her entire face lit up with your suggestion.

"I'm not going to deny it, you're cute, and you're the only one my age, I feel much more comfortable with you."

Daisuke: "Eh-? Seriously, is that all you see??"

"…You have never spoken to me! How could I like anything else about you if I don't know you?"

Daisuke: "It's just that talking to girls makes me nervous… I was afraid of saying something that would make you think I'm an idiot-"

"Okay, so… What do you like about me?"

Daisuke: "…That you're my age… and you're pretty…"

You crossed your arms at his vague answer like yours.

Daisuke: "How handsome do you think I am? The most handsome one in the crew, am i rigth?"

He smiled, running his hand through his hair, making you laugh.

"The second one, I would say~ but Captain Curly is too old for me."

Daisuke: "I didn't want to know that! Lie to meeeee!"

He stayed, and you could only laugh more, to the point where you accidentally started to snort, covering your mouth trying to stop laughing.

Daisuke found that even more adorable and magnificent, his cheeks flushing even more, thinking that he might have a chance with such a sweet girl who laughs at his silly words and actions.

"Remember, no matter how much it itches, you mustn't scratch it, okay?"

You indicated to him after you had caught your breath and stopped laughing, you had to return to the infirmary to leave the emergency kit you had taken.

Daisuke: "Got it!"

He brought his hand to his forehead and smiled at you.

You returned the smile and approached him to leave a kiss on your cheek before leaving.

He stood in place for a few seconds before jumping up, shouting with joy, raised his hand wanting to high-five someone, but realizing he was alone, he high-fived himself.

Something he immediately regretted but it was worth it.

Anya: "Oh, (Y/n) was looking for you"

"I was helping Daisuke, he had hurt himself, here I bring the kit to put it back in place."

Anya: "Yes, it had a very nasty wound"

"…How do you know?"

Anya: "Well, I was the first to see it but Swansea suggested that you should see it to test what you've learned, I'm sure you did great."

You let out a chuckle upon hearing that, so Swansea took it upon himself to help you talk to each other, he really do cares about Daisuke.

[lychniis]

⚘ — YOUR FATE : BOUND IN KNOTS // ZHONGLI.

i. SYNOPSIS : shibari was an artform in your hands, and zhongli your willing model. but hemp ropes, you learn, could barely tie down a dragon provoked. ( aka, my first pwp attempt someone help meee. )

ii. WARNINGS : 5.5k wc. reposted from my alt account. afab ! reader, shibari / rope tying, bondage, dom ! zhongli, sub ! reader, reader and zhongli downbad for each other ( help ), no assigned pronouns but the reader has a vagina, edging, some slight brat taming if you squint, slow sex because zhongli is old and likes taking his time, doggy style / prone bone. reader i tied guys and frustrated and a bit of a gremlin.

this work has been marked mature. readers below the age of 18 / ageless blogs, do not interact. any individual who is not a legal adult or has an age indicator on their page will be blocked without further notice.

# masterlist

THERE IS AN INTIMACY IN THE WAY Zhongli acts around you — between the delicate touches he shares to the comfortable silences spent at home.

There is an intimacy in the way he whispers your name, in how he looks at you ( and his eyes, they light up and they’re the most beautiful thing ), in how he smiles that small smile.

There is an intimacy in Zhongli you knew, locked away in jars as keepsakes to remember.

You liken him to art, in that sense. There were those small similarities, to the deeper nuances within every stroke and the little bursts of imperfections — a smudged spot, a shaky line — you could see if you squint a little closer. And you do, staring at him when you could, taking him in, taking everything in. 

Sometimes you wonder if you could ever emulate all that on paper. The way his nose slopes, or the way his lips curl. You wonder if you could write it down with the justice it deserves, or paint out the heaviness in his gaze and the contours on his face ( six thousand years worth of it ). 

You doubt it; not when mortal hands could hardly scrape the surface. Zhongli says the minds of humans were fascinating things, zipping and bouncing and thinking things too fast, too quick and people could only struggle to keep up with them. 

You find yourself feeling the same way. 

It wasn’t sexual, your initial request. You liked trying out new things, and rope tying found its way to be one of them. The Inazuman who provided the classes called it kinbaku and he taught you and a few interested onlookers the basics over a workshop tucked away in the quieter streets by the harbor — knots, ties, how to tighten and loosen rope and how to undo it all. He taught basic safety and the best materials to use, and hygiene and treatment. It took a week, maybe two, perhaps a few days more.

Then you return home, and bask in your newfound knowledge in the lonesome times of the day, where your thoughts are a little louder. You itch to show it off and it gnaws at the back of your mind with reckless insistence. The rope you impulsively bought was tucked away at the back of the closet with everything else that best stays from unwanted eyes. Even Zhongli didn’t know of it till you mustered up a bit of courage and pulled the bag out.

“Can I try it on you?” you ask Zhongli as he takes the rope and tests it between his hands. His gaze is thoughtful, curious and he tilts his head at the question. “I just want to try out some of the techniques I learned.” you add quickly in a moment of fluster. You do not understand why your cheeks felt so hot. But Zhongli was beautiful, and as a canvas — well you would rather not let your thoughts head there.

( Breathe. This is fine, breathe.

Something deep inside you screams viscerally. You smack it away and cover it up with a metaphorical carpet. There, all gone. )

“I’ve heard of shibari in passing through the centuries. Considering you have a little more knowledge on it than I…why not?” He hands you the rope with a hint of a smile. There is expectancy there, and a flash of something else. You falter just a little ( you know what you saw, you did ). 

Oh.

Oh so you really were doing this.

It’s just for aesthetics. You slap yourself internally and take the rope, watching Zhongli glide the bed with an effortless sort of grace. It’s mesmerizing to look at sometimes, how he feels akin to something ungraspable, immaterial like cloudy whisps or the mountain mist in the break of dawn. But there was solidity too. There was the tremor, the sound of footfalls, the way the mattress sinks beneath him; real, there, present.

Zhongli beckons you to come close. He rests his chin on his hand and there is amusement set awash. “Is something wrong?” Yes, you feel hot all over. 

“Love, I do not doubt your capabilities one bit. But I doubt you could tie me up from all the way there.”

You blink. “Right! Right.” you mumble and shuffle forth, watching him unbutton his coat, his waistcoat, his gloves. With the layers being stripped down to his bare torso and pants, and his eyes lidded in a languid — almost imperious — stare, you begin.

A diamond harness first, something that can tie his arms as well. It’s a simpler one for the struggling novice that is you and the mistakes were easier to unmake ( you do not want to think of the potential catastrophes of trapping him in shibari hell. The humiliation would be horrific ). “You’ll let me know if it gets uncomfortable, right?”

“I highly doubt anything could deter me.” he quotes solemnly in turn. 

“Now you’re just joking.” you kiss his cheek and he has the audacity to chuckle, nose brushing up against yours with fond nuzzling in store. You feel your chest fill with far too much at once ( it’s warm and exasperating and you love every bit of it ).

“It’s you.” he says instead, and there is a sincere weight to it. “And I fail to see why I shouldn’t trust you, dear heart.”

He kisses your wrist and stays still, letting you weave the rope around him. A column tie, a few tugs, a mistake, undoing it all and starting over. You furrow your brows as you work and you let yourself slip into the task with every bit of thought pouring into it like a vat of water. You shift around Zhongli, lean in close and fail to notice how he stiffens beneath your touch. Maybe if your head wasn’t so far into the clouds, you might have.

Zhongli is watching you while you work. This, you notice, for his rapt attention holds an intensity that burns holes in most. You feel a little mousy and slow your movements. You realize taking your time was a wiser choice. Ah, you learn something every day.

Your fingers press up against his palm as you bind his arms down, carefully tugging his hair out of the way lest it get caught. Your knuckles graze the column of his neck — the contact fleeting, a wingbeat. You glance at him. He was steadily getting warmer to the touch and you could see his ears flush scarlet. “Are you okay?” you, concern settling fast. You maneuver in front of him with a position a little too awkward for you to be comfortable.

There was hunger in his gaze. The first glimpse of a dragon prodded and poked too much. The bells in your mind let out their tolls ( it’s resonant, loud ) and you almost speak up. Then it is gone and he looks upon you with placid reassurance. A slate wiped clean. A beast laid to rest.

“I am fine. You may continue.” Your fingers tighten around his arm for a nervous moment. You search his face, the marks beneath his eyes for scales or flashes of fang beneath his lips. None. Your shoulders sag.

“Alright.” you almost sound disappointed; but really, what did you expect? Your boundaries were drawn and Zhongli would stand by them as he always done. He is a darling for that, so you let it be. The frustration sparking inside your chest aches like a flash burn. A painful moment before it dissolves.

The final band was knotted in place and you step back with a sigh, proud of your new accomplishments. It took well over half an hour to finish with, and a bit more rope than you expected. Two whole pieces, with the rest 

“Is it too tight?”

“No.” he sounds breathless. “It’s fine.”

You tug at the rope, testing the tautness and reason that he is fine. Then you tilt his chin up, brushing your thumb against his cheek. “Thank you for being patient.” you add gratefully, adjusting a few wonky binds by hand. You take him in — really take him in this time.

The trembling beneath your chest is a deluge of many things at once. The more fleeting fancies as you rove his form. The more palpable ones, like the awe that surfaces. The forbidden little scraps of smugness, for fettering a god like this is hardly a sight oft witnessed ( and yet you did it, despite that ). 

He is beautiful. 

It makes your heart squeeze. Your touches are innocent, explorative, tracing the indents of flesh, how muscle sinks beneath tight knots. The struggle, the errors, the silly slip ups seemed a far away annoyance with the results at hand. It was worth the wait, and the classes and the sinking embarrassment and that first damning step asking him for his time. A greedy part of you wants to drink him in forever, keep this moment trapped in time for your own guilty pleasures. 

You touch and touch and touch, a vessel of curiosity and admiration. He shudders. His eyes squeeze shut and he looks wound up, like a bowstring, like something was gripping too hard at the edges.

“Zhongli…Zhongli are you certain you’re all right?”

“Yes.”

“It doesn’t seem like it.” You lean closer and check. Perhaps through the feverish daze you lost yourself in, you missed something. Maybe there was an uncomfortable knot. Maybe the wrists were tied too tight. There are many things you could think of and the heat of Zhongli’s breath on your neck is what draws you back immediately with a widened gaze.

There were a rare few who could tug at Zhongli’s stringed patience and suffer little consequence, partly due to the seemingly endless reserves of it he holds much like the gold he bleeds. The other end of the matter was simple closeness; Hu Tao with her youthful impishness and eccentricities, Cloud Retainer who’d nag him as an old, old friend and you, who holds his heart with mortal hands and him, your own.

And in his eyes, you see those threads snap.

“Untie me.”

You nip down on your lips. You know that look. You know where this is going and hot blooded excitement stirs inside. 

“What will you do to me if I listen?” 

If he were free, you’d like to think he’d have grabbed you then, given your hips a rough squeeze, let out a tense growl. “You know well, dear heart. Now, untie me.” 

The order leaves no room for argument. You nod your most obedient nod and undo your work. You wish you could have witnessed it a little longer; but when the ropes finally fall away, Zhongli pulls you closer, and you feel heat beneath your fingertips when you steady yourself. It’s like a forge fire, fed with an intent to fold iron and melt steel. 

He’s touching you everywhere, stealing kisses that you think could swallow you whole. Your clothes are tugged away one by one. You have no time or need to bask in shame. Zhongli made sure to tear that down a long time ago.

“Stay still now,” he whispers.

He starts tying you up. There is a lump of excitement that grows in your throat. You give him tips, pointers and he’s quick to learn from instruction and observation alone. As the moments tick by and your bare skin kisses the cool sheets below you, Zhongli takes his time, like he’s partaking in the finest of indulgences.

You try not to focus too much on the growing heat between your legs or Zhongli’s heated stare. The bustle on the street draws your attention — the clamor, the stalls, the distant opera performance. You recognize that dulcet tune and the flush to your cheeks ebbs away.

Then his fingers dip down and stroke your cunt.

“Eyes on me.” he demands. You yelp, feeling a jolt streak through. The final knot is tightened and he turns you over like a man starved. Zhongli favored many dishes in his feasts, delicacies that ranged between eloquent tastes and visual delights. He regards you with that same gleam. You part your lips. “Hm…how enticing.”

Your eyes flutter shut, resisting the urge to dig into the sheets with a bratty scowl. “Zhongli.” you breathe. “Will you touch me?”

He tilts his head, his smile teasing. “Where?” he asks, grazing your stomach, your thighs, your calves. You cannot muffle out the mewl you let out, arms bound fast. You tug at the ropes. They burn a bit, barring any movement. It’s frustrating and it’s arousing and you want to taste more. 

“You know where.” you snap back, legs coming to part.

He touches the inside of your thigh, sun catching gold and his glamored markings. “Here?” He tests, needle point attentiveness drinking in how you squirm, how you pant and shake your head with a vexed bite to your lips. 

“No. higher. A little higher.” you can feel the dampness pool down. You know he can sense it too, his cheeks dyed a soft pink. Still, he grazes away from where you want him, and you scratch at the hemp fibers with little success as he only just traces over your outer labia and settles just below your navel. 

Your toes curl inwards and you give him a playful, antagonizing kick to his knee. “I think you’re trying to tear me apart.” you declare, till your voice catches and shifts to a subdued squeak as he grabs the intruding foot and hauls your lower half onto his lap ( and you’re taken easily, heart set aflutter ). The exposed vulnerability, the way he spreads your legs apart, it jars you.

“Indulge me.” he purrs his assurance, pressing up to the soft flesh of your thigh. You feel his arousal graze your back, clothes yet impossibly hard. 

A twitch, a shuddering gasp; you grind up into his stomach in a demand to proceed.

Indulgence, in Zhongli’s words, is a slow process of perceiving, savoring and reacting. He tells you so as he pours expensive teas in cups of clay, steel or porcelain and has you smell the aromas and still your nerves to a slowed tempo. Indulgence, it’s a word that feels like saccharine honey, like something rich and syrupy that messes your tongue and weighs it down. 

Perhaps, his favorite part of it was savoring the bite. Feasts are feasts, tea is tea and pleasure is pleasure — every moment of enjoying it is deserving of its own pace. 

It is madness.

He’s moved you once more, resting your back against his chest where his heartbeat is a deafening  rumble to your ears. It speeds up every time you let out a moan, rabbiting through with unbridled excitement and strained patience. Yet…yet he keeps himself together. It’s unfair, how he plays his cards and tilts them away when you beg for a view. 

“Zhongli.” you mumble, heavy beneath the haze. You gave up trying to fight your bonds. The rope is of good quality and is stronger than it seems. You curse yourself for that choice, after the swift regression of your initial intention. Breaking free felt like such a far off dream. Zhongli replies with a curious hum and a tilt to his head. His hands cup at your breasts, tweaking at your nipples, pinching, prodding in silent demand. 

It flares up, that annoyance. You want to touch him, to drag your nails across his pectorals and feel that heartbeat beneath your palm. You want to claw at his back as he fucks you into the bed. You want so, so much and it’s building inside in numbers and need. It;s spilling over the edges. You want to cry ( it feels so good ).

A gasp. He presses his teeth to your shoulder, leaving deep indents into your collar. It will bruise in the future, but you care little, whimpering as veins rupture and pain steeps into the pleasure. Your mind sinks into a hazy delight, all cotton and clouds and tartness — and the safety of Zhongli’s arms around you while he touches all he could. 

“I think you’re being — AH — petty…” you could hardly articulate. But you’re greedy. You want more. It’s a neediness that slowly creeps up and tangles into your chest like a network of vines. He could have you however he pleased, in whatever position he wishes. You just want him to cease his teasing. You want to feel the burn of his skin, to bite, to mark him yourself. 

“Am I?” he asks, feigning innocence, grinding his hips up into your heat. Your mouth falls open but the sound that escapes is strained. “I suppose I am in need of some introspection, yes? Would you like to aid me, little love?”

You headbutt his jaw gently with a garbled ‘no’, your breaths outpaced. You have a thousand trapped butterflies battering in your ribs. Zhongli lets out a sharp breath, a muffled laugh ( you catch sight of his face. The amused crinkle in his eyes. The smile that threatens to show ). 

He sates your offense with a kiss, deep, slow, soft till tongue laves away at the seam of your lips and you let him in. Your debauched whine is cut short; he pulls you closer with a hunger patience cannot hide, close, so close till your chest is flush against him. He pulls away, wet lips leaving a damp trail of kisses down your neck, your chest, nipping at your nipples with a pleased huff. 

“Is this alright?” he asks, stopping to look at you.

“If you’re not going to tease me anymore.” you mumble. “Then yes.” 

“Noted.” he has the audacity to look cheeky as he pulls at a knot and snaps it back in place. You yip, dragging against his shaft and the hiss Zhongli slips out is music in the midst of cacophony. That bit of control is reined back quickly, however. Zhongli knows how to tune out the best noises and play your notes into a sifting melody. He learns fast and he learns diligently and he knows where to drag those knots and have you fold into him with pathetic little moans. 

He lays you back, fingers splayed along your knees as he parts your legs and slots himself between them with a thoughtful sigh, taking you in once more. “You’re beautiful.” he tells you, with all the sweet sincerity in the world. You’d be a fool to call him a liar when he looks so smitten. “I should buy a kamera one day. I’d like photos of you.”

Your cheeks heat. “You would?” you ask, feeling warm, fuzzy and your core clenches around emptiness. 

He casts you a puzzled glance. “Why wouldn’tI?” he asks, as if the idea was not a compromising slip, rather an innocent request. “Wouldn’t you want some of me?” he dips down, kissing your thighs and he’s smirking against skin. You jolt, cry out ( “Zhongli!” ) and turn your face into the soft pillows in anticipation.

A kiss. “I know you loved seeing me tied up.'' His taunts are effective. Your mind claws into that fantasy like a feral beast. It pleasures in it, delight lining its panting. You did like seeing him tied up. “And I'm certain you wouldn’t object to a few photos of me.” Another kiss. He was close. So close. You feel sensitive, so sensitive and you want, want, want.

Silence.  

His pause goads you to finally meet gilded amber. “It could be a dirty secret…a private contract if you will.” 

You scream.

His tongue was hot, hot against you and you didn’t quite expect the rawness you felt or how wet you were for him. You couldn’t move much and his hold on your hips is an unfaltering thing. He doesn’t wish to be disturbed while he feasts, licking away at your slick till you fumble beneath him.

“MmmMH, m-more.” you groan. You’d have liked to grab at his hair, tug at it a little while you try to catch your breath, every bit of you frazzled and coming apart at the seams. Zhongli huffs, pulls you closer and kisses your clit, then your entrance, drunk in his own way. You see control come away. He’s close to snapping and you shift and press your cunt into his mouth, a craving to watch it shatter. 

“How impatient. How impertinent.”

Zhongli’s coo stills any misbehavior. He eats at you, sucking, nibbling, licking away at all the spots that unravel your being. You mold into his hands like soft clay, and he shapes you, lets you set, pulling away for a few teasing moments before returning to a mix of slick and saliva and a mess that he ( for all his poise and elegance ) revels in. 

There is lust there, a need, a contentment over this. Indulgence, indulgence in its finest form and Zhongli savors the feast with intent and little shame. Some may call him a fool, for a god to fall so far. But he was a god no longer and what were mortals, really, with no desires of theirs to chase?

A finger slips in. You curl up, lifting a leg over his shoulder with a needy, desperate keen. He is careful, delicate, languid and maybe a little cruel in his slow pace. In the far reaches of your lost thoughts, you’re reminded of your first time, where the sting was a little more painful and a little less easy. It’s one of Zhongli’s quiet prides, how the two of you learned to take each other so well, like magnets to metal. His digit sinks into you easily and he passes a pleased lift to his lips.

“N-no more teasing, right?” you ask, voice muffled by the pillows.

“No more teasing.” he promises. “At least, not for tonight.”

You roll your eyes and turn to strain your neck. Zhongli understands, moving up to seal it with a kiss and returns below, beginning his slow thrusts in and out and in. You moan unobstructed, just for him, him to remember. It’s too little yet too much at the same time, a paradox in a paradox of pleasure. You want more. You gasp into the air when he curls into that spot, dragging himself lazily through the motions.

He bends down, takes your clit in his tongue and one finger becomes two.

The restrictive bonds around you, the ones he tugs from time to time dig down hard. You hope they leave marks, reminders. You hope Zhongli looks at them as he bathes you and asks for more. His pace is still slow, but he thrusts hard, taking care to keep his strength tempered through want. It batters you. You love it. You love it so much.

Good. good, you want more.

“Yes…” you sob. “Ah…yes…love, my love…” 

He shudders, flicking your clit with his tongue, keeping his fingers at pace, slick and saliva coating his lips. Zhongli spreads your legs just a little more, pulling you up at an angle with far better reach. Your nerves are abuzz. Everything is and your release is achingly close. He promised he wouldn’t tease you, that you know and you wait, you chase, you cry out with no hands to mute yourself. 

His fingers stretch you out and strokes at your sweet spot with a persistent passion. Your hips jolt and twitch and shudder then you release and Zhongli takes it in, continuing to slide in and out of you. Your trembling as that rope snaps and he pulls out, licking at his fingers and rubbing at your sides soothingly.

“Mh. good.” he praises. “You did well. So well.” 

“I want more.” you choke out between the garbled tears and your lightheadedness. 

Zhongli kisses your cheek. “I know.” he assures you. “Comfort first. You’re exhausted. Would you like me to untie you?” You shake your head. You want to keep the helplessness close. You like the flavor of it. Zhongli hums. “Alright. And you remember our safe word?” He kisses your nape as he carefully turns you over, belly down. 

He loosens some of the knots and pushes some pillows below you for your ease. The fabric is cool beneath your touch, a medley of silks and cottons that you take in. They all smell like him, like sandalwood and tea. He presses against you flush, free hand unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants. He doesn’t remove them all the way. You think his control has slipped too far for that.

And that draws a tired, smug smile from you. Zhongli nips the shell of your ear in teasing response. Don’t get too cocky, he seems to say. You won’t, you assure him. 

“Spread your legs.” he instructs. You obey, twitching and shaking. He shifts a thigh in and chuckles. “Wider.” 

“Wider?” you repeat.

“Wider.” he nods and you do so. He settles between you easier and you stay open and exposed, fists clenching uselessly behind you. Zhongli places a hand there, lacing your fingers with his own. You feel him against your leg. He’s hard, so hard and your mouth waters for it as you hungrily hold his hand for dear life, hoping to be grounded lest your bones give way and you float out of this body while in wait. 

A moment, then another. His comfort eases your muscles into relaxation. You feel his tip slide past your outer lips. It nudges your clit ( and there it was, that pressure slowly building in the bit of your stomach like a rope near snapping ). You pant, bury your face into the sheets and wait, wait for him to move. The tiny sparks were enough to send you reeling. It was liquid want that boils your veins now. 

“You said you won’t tease me.” you accuse. Your voice pitches to something hysterical. You want to tug at his hair, his ponytail, anything, but you settle with his fingers and try not to think about gently gnawing at them if it means he ceases whatever…this is. You’re going to crumble to dust if he keeps this up — you’re sure of it. 

“I’m not.” he states, blinking and he’s smiling, this bastard. 

“I’ll bite you.” you swear. “I’ll fucking bite you if you keep this up.”

“Bite me then.” He seems distracted till he lowers his head by your ear. It tickles, the proximity and you instinctively flinch away. “Do that and I'll see to a fitting punishment.” 

You could do it now. But punishments mean scraping away the nicer things in favor of twisting pleasure into torture. You loved your share of masochism on days when your mind was abuzz and too jittery. Now, you want him inside you. You want to rest. You want Zhongli.

He knows. He moves a bit of hair away from your forehead. “Are you relaxed?” he asks, beginning his gradual push into you. Your lips part into a wordless keen. He kisses your cheek. “Alright.” A whisper. You can hear the shudder, the softest tremble in his voice.

Zhongli is diligent when it comes to preparing you. Maybe that is why he isn’t too fond of quicker sessions behind the scenes, where the strain from taking his cock was a little harsher than he’d have liked. He holds you close now, slipping through the cracks and you think he might bleed into you with how close you’re borne to him. “Easy now…” he soothes a sting. He rubs your arm and kisses your neck. “You take me so well, see?”

You wonder what you look like, beneath him, to bring forth that flush to his cheeks. To watch him tremble, reel with lust. 

( You look like art.

To Zhongli, he likens you to wine, to pleasant summer nights, and the comforting things that make his old heart squeeze. He likens you to home, to the human moments, the tinier flashes that remind him of love and loss and chip away at the stone that ages him.

You’re beneath him now. He’s seen this sight before. But oh, to watch you fall apart and tremble with lust and adoration, into a beautiful sort of mess stirs something primal deep inside. It always wins, even by a hair’s breadth or a long margin. Zhongli knows the dangers of it but he could never truly control himself around you. You’ve ensnared him that way, wholly, completely. 

Zhongli finds solace in it. He lets it constrict his heart. For you are you and he loves you. )

He bottoms out. He’s deep so deep and the sheets fall prey to your teeth and block away the desperation and the whimpers. He buries your nose into your neck. “Qīn ài de.” he mumbles. “Call me that again.”

You tilt your head. Your cheeks burn but there is tenderness in your eyes. “My love.” you whisper.

Zhongli grits his teeth, following it by rolling his hips into you. The sudden thrust nearly knocks the wind out of your lungs. You buck back into him in turn, mumbling out keening, unintelligible nonsense. “Again.” he mumbles. He sounds drunk. You shut your eyes between the tears and the moans. 

“L-love. Zhongli, m-my love — ” it’s an echo. You could barely manage stringing it together. Zhongli’s lips part. He shuts his eyes in bliss, his movements slow, careful but hard in ways that make your teeth rattle and your limbs feel boneless. He mouths open kisses at your neck, your back. 

You press up into the mattress, fucked into it with little mercy yet so much raw affection in how he holds you. There are so many things you want to say. The words could not form. You keep them to yourself. His hands grope down, fingers slotting between your legs. The mess you leave behind is pooling, dripping into the sheets. You feel shame sting at your ears. Zhongli does not care.

“You’ve been good.” he utters into your neck as he cants his hips. You let out a broken sound the moment he drags it against your sweet spot, and he takes it onto himself to gently peel you apart and let pleasure still your senses and every pore inside you. You’re pinned down, you let him use you as he pleases. He devours that chance and he devours you. “Mine, my qingxin.” 

“Yours.” you sob. “Yours.” you’re full. Full of him, full of cock, and you let it consume every bit of you, down to flesh, down to bone. He touches your clit, sensitive, sore and you scream into the sheets, sob, beg — for what, you have no clue of it. You jerk at the binds and his free hand curls round the rope, tugging you up into him, raking across indented skin with a famished groan.

Zhongli thrusts. He thrusts into you, and his tempo stays steady and his face stays flushed. That peak however, it approaches fast and easy, with how you’re being worn down by his sweet words. His hand finds yours again. You give it a squeeze and glance at him through the tears. “Z-Zhongli.” you sob. “Zhongli.”

“I know.” Zhongli does not slow. You’re going to crumble. Your foundations will weather. You’ll be air perhaps, or dust. It feels that way. “Come. Come for me, love.”

You don’t immediately. Not yet and he strokes your clit harder, faster, aiding where he can till that pressure comes loose and you slump into the pillows and sheets with a garbled moan, twitching, writhing. One of his hands rests at your side and the other steadies your form. He continues to thrust, quicker, sloppier, the noises he makes are messy and obscene and wet and you’re left so so sensitive and it feels so good —

“I love you.” You slip out.

He kisses you. Hungry. Tender. Everything at once. His weight is a comfort against it all. You shut your eyes. He continues to fuck you, well into overstimulation till your mind is foggy with little thought. At some odd point, as the fuzziness clears, you think you feel him groan and twitch, then something hot and wet spilling onto your back. 

The ropes fall undone. The harness constricting your chest, your arms. He rubs down the burns and massages any sore spots. “Was it too much?”

You shake your head.

He coos. Zhongli loves taking care of you and you let him, feeling his weight shift and a cool cloth wipe you down. Water is next, as is the routine, sipped as you seat yourself on his lap and he kisses your shoulders and the bruises. You feed him a slice of sunsettia before having one for yourself. Then some of the apples. It’s sweet. It’s comfort. 

He leans his head into your neck. “We need more rope.” he mumbles.

“More rope?” you gawk.

“I could choose colors that suit you better.” a pause. “And we need a kamera.” he adds. Now you’re gaping.

“Zhongli, Zhongli I adore you but the mora — ”

“I’ll have Northland Bank foot the bill. They have plenty.” cheeky bastard. He kisses you. “Let this old man enjoy the little things, love. Or would you consider adding it to my list of birthday presents?”

Oh, this man. You sink down and finish your sunsettia slice. You take one more, pressing it to his lips. He takes a bite. Chews thoughtfully.

“I’ll consider it.” you sniff. ( “How haughty.” he croons into your neck. You shake your head. ) “Maybe I might just buy one for you.”

❪⠀🎬⠀❫ AINE SPEAKS ;;

*screams* after the upheaval of my smut alt...yeah i thought of reposting here for the sake of comprehension XD. so don;t panic guys. it's right here. *praying that i don't get nuked*.

many thanks to the sweet comments i received in the old post and all the reblogs. really, you guys are igfghjk.

taglist — @silentmoths @crystalflygeo @moraxsthrone @silkjade @meimeimeirin @euniveve @sheepmc @chiyoso @timeofsilversstuff @francisnyx @laughterofthetombs @ollieink @localplaguenurse

AINE | lychniis. do no plagiarize, repost or rework this piece.

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DP x DC prompt. ~“Unstable connection”~ Dead on main.

Part 13. Hungry Ghost Festival 2

or Unplanned Criminal Lord’s Vacation with uncle John.

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7.

Part 8. Part 9. New: Part 9.1. Part 9.2. Part 9.3.

Part 10. Part 11. Part 12. Meme break №1. Part 13.

~~~~

Jason looked at the phone screen and didn’t believe Danny has really decided to entrust his safety in the haunted lair to one drunk and unrequited Phantom.

He had enough. Jason jumped up and grabbed his helmet off the table.

‘Where do you think you’re going? Patrol’s coming soon.’ Tim took his eyes off the documents.

‘None of your business.’ Red Hood quickly found keys to a jet and ran for an exit. ‘Cass, while I’m gone, you’re in charge of the alley.’

~~~~

Demons, spirits, and ghosts swung around as if in a dance. And Danny, whom Jason easily spotted entering The Gambler’s Den, did not seem foreign at this festival of death. The red light gently illuminated his pale skin, which almost fused with color of his white kimono. The flowing fabric made his silhouette as blurry and elusive as most visitors.

One second without looking at the boy, and he was in the opposite corner, where the crowd were much smaller. VIP zone? Otherworldly creatures, deserving special treatment, were rarely friendly to humans. And Jason was tense about it for a moment. But after noticing waving with enthusiasm teenager, a man in white clothes rushed to respond to the gesture and a ghost with an eye patch sitting in the chair nodded to him, ringing with silver earrings.

Jason let his guard down a bit.

Another man in the black robe was not distracted by Danny. He threw the bones and glanced at them in disappointment. Then ghoul banged the table with fist. He rose, grabbed from a nearby bowl a mantou and bit. The next second his face was distorted by awareness and disgust.

He abruptly removed the triangle-shaped headband from Danny’s head and spat out a bite into it. Then ghoul fell to a floor. Well, nice carpets have softened it.

Jason shook his head, trying not to laugh at the strange situation.

At the same time, Danny boldly stepped over the fallen player and sat in a chair in front of the ghost in black and red clothes. The man began to demonstrate a technique of throwing bones, with continuous ringing after moving of his hands. Danny seemed passionate about this.

Constantine, who did not come with the Red Hood voluntarily, decides for the first time in the evening to speak out.

‘That’s weird.’ Constantine said with an intonation that spoke of his distrust of the situation.

‘What is it now?’ Jason took his eyes off the object of interest.

Fenton must be watched for his safety. Why did the warlock distract him? Jason completely distrusted Danny’s promise not to use his body parts as a bet.

‘His clothes.’ Constantine looked at the boy with discomfort. ‘Boy, are you sure your lover is alive?’

‘Don’t be rude. He looks great,’ said Jason ‘Maybe Danny wanted to dress up in a traditional costume.  And it's not polite to ask people if they are alive. He’s always pale in all the photos. ’

 Jason didn’t think costume selection was such a big deal.

‘No.’ Warlock shook his head ‘Kimono is Japanese national costume, not Chinese at all. And it’s on the left side which means your boyf..’ 

Unfamiliar to Jason spirit came up and patted Danny on the shoulder. The spirit and the boy bowed to each other.

‘I see.’ The puzzled expression on the warlock’s face is gone. ‘Your lover has interesting friends, Hood.’

 ‘Who is this guy? Explanation. Now.’ Jason barked irritably. Why did he always have to pull every word out of John?

‘Nurarihyon. Don’t be so nervous, he’s not dangerous to people. I just realized your boy here after a walk with Hyakki Yakko. Which explains the clothes.’ Сonstantine exhaled cigarette smoke and continued. ‘Your love doesn’t waste any time. In one evening, he met three ghost kings.’

‘Hyakki Yakko?’ Jason asked a lot calmer.

‘The night parade of one hundred demons when all of the yōkai, oni, ghosts parade through the streets.’ John shrugged his shoulders and shook the ashes off the cigarette into the nearest ashtray. It was also red and black. Warlock winced. ‘But your boyfriend feels like a fish in the water. Whoever his protector is, he is respected enough here. Let the guy have a drink and have some fun, he’ll be fine.’

‘God. Danny’s like a sheep in wolf’s clothing’ Jason sighed anxiously. ‘His parents are ghost hunters but he’s here as a plus one for Phantom, a ghost from Amity Park.’

‘More like a wolf in sheep’s clothing.’ Constantine muttered to himself. But when he saw a silver butterfly nearby, he decided that revealing other people’s secrets was not his problem. ‘I know who the Phantom is. Everyone has heard about Pariah Dark.’

Jason has not heard about him, but decided to keep quiet so as not to make a fool of himself. He will ask Danny about it.

Constantine took a brandy from the bartender. Then he took a big sip and looked at Jason. ‘You know, I always thought Little Red Riding Hood was incredibly stupid to let a wolf eat herself.’

‘What’s this about, Constantine?’ Hood rolled his eyes under the helmet.

And immediately he was glad that John did not see it. In the end, he helped him a lot not to scare Danny. Without the old man’s comments, he could have easily carried the boy away from the local ghosts on his shoulder like a caveman.

Jay didn’t want to spoil a first impression of a face-to-face meeting because of a kidnapping. Although, looking at how comfortable Fenton was among the nonhuman creatures, Jason doubted that Danny would have been screaming and panicking. But he wouldn’t be happy about being distracted from the fun. Hood shook his head in disappointment.

‘Nothing important.’ John brushed the silver butterfly off his shoulder. ‘You know, I’m in debt to the owner, so..If you don’t need my favors anymore, I’m leaving.’

‘Wait. Help me find Phantom.’ Сrime lord stopped him. ‘I need to make sure he doesn’t leave Danny here alone.’

John turned and looked at him as if he were terminally ill. ‘Phantom is in this room now. Only an idiot would have missed him.’ John spoke slowly and clearly, raising one eyebrow. ‘A conference of four kings. No joke. Stop poking around and messing up international relations, kid.’

Jason looked around the room again. ‘I don’t see him.’

‘Because you’re an idiot, kid’ John patted Jay on the shoulder and left. ‘Good luck explaining to Batman why you stole his jet.’

‘Heck.’

[lehguru]

MUSCLE MUSCLE! + ONE PIECE MEN

one piece men having a muscular fem!s/o feat. monkey d. luffy, roronoa zoro, trafalgar d. water law, sanji, donquixote rosinante, buggy the clown

info: again FEM!READER , this is so self indulgent its embarrassing; not proofread

luffy wouldn't mind you having muscles. he thinks that's something normal – just like some women can be skinny or chubby, others can be muscular. he would love to compare his biceps to yours if you love to flex, he takes it as a fun playful thing. he would adore to train with you, it gives him a big motivation; not only because it's someone as strong as him training, but also because he would adore to share earbuds with you and do silly dances to make you laugh between your sets.

zoro thinks the way you managed to build up your muscles is amazing. he often talks to you about your training techniques and diet; you're also one of the few – three – people he invites to workout with him. if you spot him during bench presses, he always puts a higher weight than he would while alone – that's his way to show that he trusts you and your strength. he will often stare at your body at the gym, but it's never in a creepy way, he just wants to make sure you're okay while doing your exercises (and he secretly enjoys to see your muscles working).

law is constantly wanting to rip his hair off with worry for you. he thinks your psyche is nice and he have no problem with it, his fears lie on your diet and your bones/joints. he fears that you might get an injury and you're not keeping a healthy fat percentage; even if you reassure him and say everything is fine, he always show up with food at your place. if he's not in that worried state, he loves to feel your muscles while you hug him (he has a skinnier build, so he enjoys the contrast). his favorite thing ever is to feel your arms around his head while he lays on your stomach.

sanji would love your body no matter what, but there's something about you being able to lift him up – and even throw him around if you want to – that drives him insane. if you post a picture with any of your muscles flexed, you will get a dozen of comments from him. if you take him to the gym to train with you, he will praise you and won't even train so he can "appreciate and help a goddess like you". he begged you for a long time to give him a headlock so he could take a picture and make it his profile picture in every single social media he have (and the background on his phone).

corazón always get shy whenever he looks at any of your muscles – you often notice it, because his cheeks become a nice shade of pink. at first you thought he didn't like you being muscular, but quite the opposite. unlike his brother, he doesn't build up muscles that easily (they have the same genetics, but he always says he was born to be the skinny brother), so you, the love of his life, being muscular? he is over the moon. if he gets your consent to do it, his hands will be all over you. if you need a massage, he's there. if it's just resting on your thigh or your back during a cuddle session, he's happy. he loves your muscles a lot, not more than he loves you.

buggy thinks you're one of the coolest people because of your muscles. he always wanted to be bigger and scarier, but his muscles always seemed to grow on his legs and stomach only, so if you are well-balanced on all your body, he is smitten. he loves to lay on any part of your body, giggling to himself if he thinks about doing that when you two are apart. he is constantly praising you, but, unlike sanji, they come in a more "if you were the queen, i wouldn't mind being the jester" way. he wouldn't mind tagging along with you to the gym, but he would spend more time glaring at any other men that looks your way than actually training.

2023 © content belongs to lehguru, but the characters used in them belong to their respective creators!!

[reidsworld]

Winter’s Constant

Summary: You have always dreaded winter, every year it’s a challenge just to make it through the day. Except this year, things are a bit different with Logan by your side. Based on this request.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader

Category: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

Content Warnings: Seasonal Depression

Word Count: 0.6k

Mars speaks… Thank you so much for requesting this, sorry that it is kind of short! I don’t know a lot about depression and seasonal depression so I tried my best to portray it.

Masterlist

Winter was on its way, and you could feel it in your bones. Every year, like clockwork, the first chill in the air sent a shiver down your spine, not just from the cold, but from the dread that settled in your chest. You knew what was coming—what always came with the snow and shorter days. The energy that had you buzzing with life in the summer, the endless side projects, the laughter that could fill a room, all of it would start to fade.

Every year, you told yourself it would be different. You’d try new techniques, new routines, anything to keep the shadows at bay. But each year, the same thing happened. Slowly, like the setting sun, you’d start sleeping more, your projects left half-finished, your once-lively spirit buried under layers of fatigue.

But this year…this year was different. You had Logan.

He noticed the shift before you even said anything. It started with how your hands slowed when working on your latest project, how your once constant, lively chatter—often rivaling Wade’s in volume and enthusiasm—began to taper off. The way your eyes lingered a little longer on the darkening sky. By the time you found yourself sleeping more than you were awake, Logan was already there, silently offering his presence, his warmth.

One day, as you lay curled up in bed, Logan slipped in beside you, his weight comforting as the bed dipped. He didn’t say anything at first, just laid there, letting you know he was there, that he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Thought it was gonna be different this year,” you mumbled into the pillow, your voice thick with exhaustion. “I told myself…just this once, it wouldn’t be like this.”

Logan’s rough hand found yours under the covers, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. “Ain’t your fault, darlin’,” he said softly. “You don’t have to fight it alone this time.”

His words were a balm to the ache inside. You knew Logan wasn’t the type to sugarcoat things or make promises he couldn’t keep, but when he said those words, you believed him. You believed that, even if the winter was dark and the shadows crept in, Logan would be there to light a fire, to keep you warm.

As the days grew colder, Logan stuck to his word. On the mornings when getting out of bed felt impossible, he’d coax you up with a cup of coffee, holding it just out of reach until you groaned and sat up. On the days when all you could do was lay on the couch, he’d sit with you, your head on his lap, as he absentmindedly stroked your hair, his presence alone enough to calm your racing thoughts.

And when you’d have those rare bursts of energy, when you’d suddenly decide you needed to finish that project or bake something, Logan was there, helping you without hesitation, never making you feel like you were too much or too little.

There were still bad days, of course—days when the weight of it all felt crushing, when you questioned whether you’d ever feel like yourself again. But with Logan there, those days didn’t seem as hopeless. He was your constant, your anchor, and though he never tried to fix you, his steady presence reminded you that you didn’t need fixing.

You knew winter would always be hard. But this year, for the first time in as long as you could remember, you felt like you had a chance. You had Logan, and that made all the difference.

Mars speaks… (again) Depression is a serious condition, and it’s okay to ask for help. You don’t have to face it alone. If you are struggling or just need someone to talk to, my dms are always open🫶

[hunterwritings]

𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲 | 𝐛𝐢-𝐡𝐚𝐧, 𝐤𝐮𝐚𝐢 𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐠, 𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐬, 𝐬𝐲𝐳𝐨𝐭𝐡

summary: "Ayoo!! May I request for headcanons on the Lin Kuei Trio and Syzoth (need to give that lizard some love) on how they’d react to being jealous? Like their s/o is getting flirted on by someone stuff like that?" | requested here warnings: creepy men, mention of violence, blood, etc., suggestive, implied smut notes: why do i write better in the middle of the night | there might be spelling mistakes

↳ 𝐁𝐢-𝐡𝐚𝐧

oh this man will get violent

out of the four, bi-han holds the most jealousy over his partner and can sometimes be possessive

he knows you can hold your own, your his partner after all, but every time he sees someone trying to take your as theirs, it sets off something in him

"You are one of the most beautiful warriors I've ever seen." The man pressed as he leaned over the table in the dining area of the temple. You just nodded as you tried to subtly tell this man off. Your eyes scanned the room to see if there was anyone too help you, then you noticed your husband staring from across the room, you cold practically feel icy blades digging into this man's head. He crossed his arms tightly as his gaze never left you.

You have taught Bi-han to try and not resort to violence where it is unnecessary, so in most situations, he will walk up to you and snake his arm around your waist as his eyes beam into the person in front of you.

Now, if someone had done anything to make you uncomfortable? Then blood is being drawn.

This man will beat down whoever dares to make his partner uncomfortable in anyway, not stopping until various bones are broken or until you command him

Whenever you two are out, he now will instinctively wrap his arm around you whenever he feels someone staring and will follow their gaze every second. He's not ashamed to stare, he thinks of it as a power move to make them uncomfortable. But if he had it his way, he'd beat down every person that tried to take you as their own until they are nothing but a pile of blood and guts.

You would reassure him that you were his as you kissed his neck and whispered in his ear. He would take the opportunity to fuck you any way you wished as you'd tell him that he was the only one for you.

↳ 𝐊𝐮𝐚𝐢 𝐋𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐠

although he has his hot nature, Kuai Liang isn't as easy to be jealous

he is very secure and knows that you are bound to him when you agreed to spend the rest of your life with him

even though it can be rare, there are still moments when Kuai Liang can get jealous

If he happens to see someone spending a lot of time with you and become increasingly closer to you, he can feel that pit of jealousy build in his stomach. He knows it's wrong to feel this way and knows that you would never leave him, but he can't help himself.

His jealousy wouldn't be something he would express outwards unless he felt he had to to get someone away from you.

Kuai Liang's eyes pierced you as you spoke with another Lin Kuei member. He had gone on about fighting techniques and how he thought you were a great fighter and asked if you could teach him some moves, to which you politely declined. As you felt eyes on you, you turned your head to see Kuai Liang staring through your soul. As your eyes met his, he looked down and away, as if he had gotten caught. After the training regime, you confronted Kuai Liang as the two to you returned to your shared bedroom. "What was that?' You ask as you stand on the opposite side of the bed as him. "What was what?' He tries to seem clueless but can't help but avoid your glare. "Kuai Liang." You spoke his name and he knew well enough to look up at you, your arms crossed over your chest. "He's just very talkative with you, it's obvious to everyone else." He explains. "Is that jealousy?" You rhetorically ask as you walk over to him. "You have nothing to fear, my love. I have no interest in him." You speak as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. "I know." He says softly. You pressed your lips against his before pulling him back onto the bed. If he was so worried, then you were going to prove that you truly belonged to him.

↳ 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐬

Tomas is also quick to be jealous, but unlike Bi-han, he will not address the situations through violence

Tomas has much faith in you and hates the fact that he has the thought of someone else making you more happy than him. When he sees another man making you laugh or impressed, it makes him feel bad about himself. He will go out of his way to do something impressive in front of both you and your admirer as a way of showing them that you liked him more.

You stood at the edge of the training arena as you watched your husband, Tomas, demonstrating his skills on a test dummy. Your smiled as you watched him hit and slice at the dummy, seeing all the younger initiates at your sides as they watched him.

"Any one of us could do something like that. Put me in there and I'll show you a real man." One of the other Lin Kuei members had leaned down and spoke to you with a large smile on his face. "Excuse me?" You say, a bit taken aback. "I just don't understand why this guy is praised for something everyone else can do." He adds. You turn to see Tomas glaring at the man next to you, he never heard him speak but somehow he was still fully understanding of what he was saying. Toomas grunts before turning back to the dummy and cutting it clean in half using his karambit. Then, he tightly grabs ahold of the dummy and turns to fling it in the air, launching it over 100 feet. As it flies through the air, Tomas grabs a large boulder and spins around to launch the boulder into the air, using both his strength and smoke to guide it to hit the dummy mid-air, smashing it to bits. The younger children around stared in awe as they talked amongst themselves. "I doubt it will be easy to do better than that." Tomas bites as he walks back over to you. The man scoffs before walking away. "That was quite a show." You smiled as he rested his hands on your hips. "It looked like he was getting top comfortable." He smirked before leaning in to press a sweet kiss to your lips.

↳ 𝐒𝐲𝐳𝐨𝐭𝐡

Syzoth isn't an inherently jealous person, but he can find himself being jealous and almost possessive of you at times

With everything he had lost from Shang Tsung, he is very protective of his partner and wouldn't let anyone get a chance to steal you from him.

If someone were to approach you and flirt with you, he would be open about his feelings. He would stand close to your side and let them know at the first given moment that the two of you are betrothed.

A man began to approach you as you were standing outside of Empress Sindel's castle, waiting to hear about certain arrangements. "Well look at you, just waiting to be swept off of your feet by someone like me." The man shot you a wanting smile as your face contorted in disgust. Before you could even protest, Syzoth was at your side, standing slightly in front of you. "They do not need anything like that, we are already happily vowed to each other." Syzoth explains, taking in pride in your relationship as he holds your waist tightly. "Exactly." You add on with a proud smile. The man rolls his eyes before grunting and waking away, Syzoth's eyes following him as he walked away. "I didn't know you were a jealous Zaterran" You smile as you held the side of his face, he brought his hand to lie over yours. "I will not lose what is mine." He shakes his head as he looks up to you with a smile before pressing his lips on yours, holding the crook of your back to pull you closer into him.

Sometimes, if people really get on his nerve, he will go into his Zaterran form to intimidate people.

[jakescakeislateforourdate]

omg that don fic was amazing!!!! could you write another smutty one please? 🥹🫶🏻

your wish is my command so I present to you nothing but Don and his lovely hands

Piano Man

Jack's Don Hume x reader

wc: 4,000

⚠️ WARNINGS ⚠️: fingering, oral, riding Don, Don trying to be bossy, minors do not interact lest I have to water board you

Enjoy this garbage!

Don Hume always had gorgeous hands. They had elegant curves and dignified bones and moved so forcefully yet gracefully. And he was downright intentional in his every use of them. 

He always had immaculate technique when rowing, perfectly executing every twist and pull of the oar. He was a most excellent pianist and could play almost any piece he wanted. He had beautiful handwriting. If there was anything that had to do with hands, Don could do it. Better than most.

You know this to be true. 

Mostly because you felt them on you.

It happened the night of their first win. The boys dragged poor Don on stage and made him play. The simple then was too humble for him but he was nervous. Once it was over and he was allowed to leave the stage, he made a point of sitting on the same bench you were. By himself. Just a few feet away. 

“Congratulations on your big win, Don.” You scoot closer so he can hear you. His face drains of color. He’d always thought you pretty but that’s exactly what made him shy. Too shy to ever really make a move or even talk to you outside of your shared classes. 

“Th-thanks.” He stutters and jams two fingers between his throat and his collar, trying to swallow down the lump of nerves choking him.

“I had no idea you played the piano.” 

“Oh yeah, I uh…” 

You keep talking to him, and he keeps responding. The people on the dance floor become a blur in his peripheral and the music is a jumble of white noise. He doesn’t even notice the boys pointing and shouting excitedly at seeing Don talking. They would come looking for him eventually, thinking he was dancing with you in a secluded corner, but by that time Don would be long gone.

Walking you home had turned into a kiss on the cheek to the full enclosure of lips. He was so dizzy. So unable to comprehend the earnestness in the kiss until you grabbed the lapels of his suit coat and pressed him to the door. “Maybe you should come inside?” Your whisper against his lips makes his vision spin. He’s half worried he’ll pass out on you but that doesn’t stop his eager nod. 

Your hand closes around the brass doorknob and you twist. Don is met with the sensation of falling. But he’s weightless; he hardly feels the stumble and scuff of his shoes. The door closes and locks and it’s just you and Don away from prying eyes. Something happens that Don cannot explain. His initial shyness dissipates; and he finds himself tugging you onto his lap when you collapse onto the bed. 

Your dress skirt, soft as silk over his rough knuckles, sweeps up your thighs as he wanders. He distracts you with kisses as his fingertips brush the hem of your tights. They trail over and find the seam, tracing downwards towards the gusset. One of Don’s tentative fingers rubs over the gusset. There’s a slight dampness over the puffy labia and his fingertip lingers. Gentle swipes of the digit tease your slit; his touch is just light enough to map out the ridges and valleys of your core. He graduates to two fingers pushing through the growing wet patch. He enjoys the huffs and gasps against his lips, drinking them down to fuel his newfound confidence. 

You’re busy too. You undo his tie and fling it onto the nightstand. The buttons of his halfheartedly ironed shirt come next, exposing the scape of his alabaster skin. When your hands touch his bare chest, he flushes all the way down to his clavicles. Your touch is so cloud-light he’d miss it if he wasn’t so intensely absorbed in the moment. You break apart just so you can look down while you explore him. 

He thinks it’s the first time he’s ever been touched like this, by someone who has more care than greed. It’s not hasty or ravaging, the way some others had been before you. Where theirs was trying to get in and out of his pants, yours is trying breach something deeper than just his body. Don had never felt this before. This tingling in his muscles and nervous that resonated from the places your skin meets. How his heart hammers and blood rushes in his ears. He’s tempted to let you strip him down and take him apart like he’s done so many other nights. But he can’t. Tonight, cannot be those other nights because you are not those other women.

Don bunches up your dress in his fist and yanks it over your head. He takes note of the goosebumps rising on your skin from the kiss of the cold air and he brings you in closer. Hot breaths puff over your cheeks as he rubs over the gusset more seriously, fervently. 

“Don—”

His name passing through lips is like the call of a beloved memory, of a favorite song over the radio coming to life on a piano’s keys. He remembers hearing you say it for the first time when you met up in the library for a group project. “You’re Don, right?” That melodic “aw” was beautiful in your mouth. It became ingrained in the folds of his brain as he heard it again and again until that sound could pluck his heartstring when it rattled his ears.

And you had no fucking idea just how deep it ran. 

You’re pushing at his shirt now, wanting it off him so you could know more of him. He allows you this because it’s only fair. And also, because he’s addicted to the zap of connection. He calls your name back as he applies more pressure through his fingers. You’re dripping now and shifting uncomfortably in those tights. Time to get you out of them. 

Don slips his arms around you, bundling you up as he swaps your places and gracefully lays you down. He fixes a kiss to your lips as he works the tights down your thighs, over your knees, and off your ankles. His kiss slides from your lips to the underside of your jaw and begins to travel down your throat. He moves to slide a finger through your folds only to find a paper-thin strip of lace keeping him from you. 

He pulls away and stares down in shock. He hadn’t even noticed them. How had he not noticed them? They’re frilly and black and coordinate with your bra; you’ve put on a matching set just for him. You’d planned on bedding him long before he’d gotten the balls to kiss you. 

“Everything okay?” You ask, hips canting upwards. 

“Yeah, yeah—” he’s just speechless.  The longer he thinks about it, he realizes he’s always been the one to initiate things. He had never considered that someone would want him back enough to actually plan ahead. He’s never actually seen lingerie before, and he feels stupid and inexperienced for it. He should say something so that the silence doesn’t stretch for too long. “You might just be too pretty for—”

“Oh, don’t even start with that.” Your legs settle around his waist, “You don’t hear half the things people say about you, women in particular.” 

“They talk about me?”

“All the time. Usually about how cute you are. Or how strong you look. And sometimes, about these beautiful hands of yours.” You lift his hand and suck two of his fingers into your mouth. 

Don gapes at you. As you suckle at his digits, he absentmindedly makes a pass over your clit with his free hand. You gasp as he slips one fingertip under the lace and drags it through the sticky slick. As your mouth opens wider, he pushes his fingers further across the velvety expanse of your tongue, pressing down on at the back of your throat.

You don’t choke.

Good hell, you don’t even gag. His fingers are sunk to the third knuckles, and you hardly react save for your fluttering eyelids and belabored breaths. He’s hypnotized by the sucking sensation and flow of saliva and the scrubbing of tastebuds. He dreams of stuffing his painfully hard cock into your mouth and prays you’d be able to deep throat him even further. 

Shit, if he keeps going on like this in his head he’s going to cum in his pants.

Don musters up enough sense of mind to tug his fingers free of your drooling mouth. He takes your jaw into his wet grip and lays a vigorous kiss on your lips. Meanwhile, his other fingers trace your clenching entrance and tease the gushing hole. In that bleak, dead quietness of night he can hear it; he can hear the faint squelch of his finger pushing in and stretching you out. You whimper against his lips. Your sweaty palms ball up along the rise of his spine. 

After he’s done bruising your lips, he strips your drenched panties off and shuffles off the foot of your bed. He drags you down until your feet hang off the edge and your cunt is set before him. 

A real delicacy you are. 

Slick strings across your folds and clinging to your most pleasurable spots. One careful stroke parts your folds so he can put it in again, carving along your walls. Each careful push and pull of his finger ricochets from nerve to nerve like wildfire and leaves your chest heaving. He begins to meticulously unravel your stroke by stroke. 

Patient, he needs to be patient. He remembers spending hours and hours practicing the piano as a child and into his teen years. How that progress took so much time and patience. Sometimes he’d felt so frustrated he’d wanted to rip the pages out of his piano books, but he knew that wouldn’t make him a better player.

Similarly, rushing this night just to get an unsatisfying but instantly gratifying high won’t make him a better lover. At least, not the kind he wants to be. He recognizes that keeping you means showing you a good enough time that you want it from him again. That you need to be just as hooked on his every breath as he is on yours. 

“Want another—” 

Your airy cry rips him from his stupor. He registers the arousal dripping down the back of his hand from your pussy. His middle finger unfolds as his index finger withdraws. Two blunt fingertips greet your hole this time, wriggling past the initial tightness of your entrance and resuming his ginger pace. This is about building up, he reminds himself, his foreplay has to fulfill you but leave you desperate at the same time. 

While his fingers find a steady rhythm and pattern of thrusts, his tongue wanders out of his mouth and the very tip curiously tastes the wetness on your swollen clit. 

You choke, “Sh—it! DON!” feet scraping over the sheets as your knees come up. He’s sure he’s not giving you enough to cum but the way you react to each circle of his tongue around your clit makes him wonder if he underestimated your sensitivity. 

“Feel good?”

“So fucking good!”

This makes him grin, tongue retracting so he can place a loving kiss to your folds, “I’m glad but try to keep it down. I’d prefer to be the only one hearing you like this.” Then his tongue is back at its nagging swipes. You’re burning to the touch, pulsing against his splayed mouth, and glistening like a crystalized renaissance painting. You talk of his hands like they’re something magical and he wonders if they might just be with what they’re doing to you. It makes him proud. 

Don slows the thrust of his fingers to a maddening caress that grazes your walls like the edge of a feather. “What do you need?” Don mutters between licks. He’d tell you to beg because that’s what he really wants but he doesn’t know how far he can push you and he’d rather play it safe than sorry. Patience, care, and tact, he tells himself. Tonight must be handled delicately.

“Wan’ you.”

In a moment of ego Don breaks away with a wet pop, “I know, sweetheart, but you’re going to have to do a little better than that.”

You whine and nudge him with your ankle, but Don doesn’t budge. He simply returns to his shallow thrusts and slow, sloppy kisses. He figures you’ll give in and, “You said to be quiet.” You complain.

“Bullshi-that’s not what I meant!” In a way you’re not wrong but he did not expect attitude, “and complaining won’t get you anywhere.” He withdraws his fingers entirely, leaving his only his lips to soothe your burning skin. 

You chuff unhappily and thread your fingers through his hair, “Want you in me, Don, ‘ve been wanting it for a while.”

Finally. 

“Why didn’t you say so?” 

You’d love to get smart with him and slap the smirk off his lips but he’s undeniable cute in his smugness. It doesn’t help that you find his secretly darndest behavior very much attractive. You would have never guessed this about him; that he would be so authoritative when intimate when his mellow demeanor had blindsided you. 

Don dusts kisses up your tummy and breasts as he moves the both of you back up the bed. His knees dig into the mattress as he kneels, pulling you up to straddle him. Chest to chest, you wrap your arms around each other in a sweaty embrace. The bedframe rattles slightly and you can see the midnight sky out of your window now. You wonder when the dance ends and pray that it’s not soon so you can take your time with him. Or more likely, so he can take his sweet time with you. 

“We can stop if you want?” You must have been staring out the window for a moment too long because when you look back at Don, there’s concern filling his shadowed eyes. Nighttime is just as pretty on him as afternoon sun on his shoulders as he rows or the warm stage lights as he plays. He probably thought he overstepped. 

“You’re gorgeous, Don.” 

Even in the dim moonlight you can see his blush. The red blooms swallowing up his freckles and erasing his nervousness. “Where do you find the gall to be so blatant?” It’s a genuine question, he’s never been able to be so flatly open about what he thinks. He’s always marveled at the people who can 

 At some point he must have shed his pants because you realize that he’s bare beneath. A happy trail of dark downy hair winds down his navel. Then there’s his erection, where the rest of his body is pale as porcelain, his leaking cock is ruby red and glistening with a rivulet of precum streaming down the underside. 

He guides himself to your entrance and replaces his arm around your waist. “Tell me if you need a moment.” He his head tilts forward, forehead pressing against yours, eyes sweeping over your face.  He pushes his throbbing tip into your entrance and sucks in a huge breath. You both clutch each other tighter, fighting off moans as he works himself in. His eyes have fluttered closed and his jaw his clenched painfully. 

He bottoms out, thighs flush with yours, and sighs mightily as you relax around him. You cup his face to keep your foreheads together. He resolves that you must like this proximity then. That you like it enough kiss him hard and drain away his composure. Before he can lose too much, Don’s arms flex, his abbs tensing as he drags you up his cock and then drops you back onto it. Two strained cries echo off each other. He does it again, again, bouncing you on his lap. You grip his shoulders for better support; your nails digging into his sun-bitten skin. “Don, baby—” 

“Holy f-fuck!” His voice breaks into your mouth as he slots your lips together. Earlier he’d been drunk on the pulse of your cunt against his tongue but now that it’s surrounding him, he feels helpless. A ringing fills his ears, he squeezes his eyes shut, and his entire body clenches up as he slams you down harder. His hands splay over your waist and are probably bruising you but both of you are too absorbed. At some point you’re done kissing, but your lips stay brushing each other, open mouthed and utterly consumed in a mind-melting pleasure. 

Sweat trickles down Don’s face. His hair is a mess from your fingers raking through it and he’s flushed from the tip of his nose to his belly. While he’s on the border of knocking himself out, you find it in you to slip your hands off his shoulders, trusting his strength, and bring your uncoordinated fingers to his chest. Don practically screams when your fingertips graze his pert nipples. His back bows into you, pushing his chest into your hands. He nearly loses his balance. You pinch them, hard, and Don has no choice but to drop one hand to the mattress and lean away from you. In this position, you’ve got enough leverage to ride him yourself, bringing your hips down to meet his thrusts. And no matter how Don seems to squirm, he can’t escape your mean fingers. Then you’re bending down, and your lips wrap around the sensitive bud. 

Don is beside himself. What is he supposed to do? You drooling pussy is swallowing him every heartbeat and your tongue and lips are ravaging his chest. He feels a low pulsing deep in his stomach and knows he has to stop this now. The remaining hand on your waist travels up your spine and tangles in the roots of your hair. He pulls. Your lips pop off his chest and you peel away from him. He must not let tonight go like those other nights. He reminds himself.

“If I remember right, I’m supposed to be treating the lady.” Don sits back up which forces you to slow your pace, your balance off kilter now. 

“You were.” 

“Turn around.” There’s newfound resolve in Don’s eyes and you want to test it, but you can sense his restraint. He’s been playing nice for most of the night probably. “I’d rather not ask again.” You listen to the bite in his words and climb off him. Once you’re on your hands and knees, Don takes your hips in his hands. You feel his tip at your entrance again. He bottoms out in a single thrust this time and decides to show you a bit of the endurance he’s been able to pick up. 

You were right about him holding back earlier because now he’s truly fucking you. And he’s doing it just right, hard enough that your walls spasm and clench but not so hard that it hurts. He’s managing to tiptoe the border of pain and pleasure. His chest (still wet with your saliva) presses to your back as he adjusts himself. A hand has returned to your hair, guiding your head up and back so he has access to your throat. Briefly you wonder if all those girls who talked about his body and hands knew anything at all about his mouth. Maybe you’d keep it as a coveted secret. 

The sound of it all is absolutely ludicrous. His hips bruising your ass creating a sharp smacking sound. Occasionally the sound of his lips sucking at your neck. But worst of all are those moans he’d told you to keep to just his ears. You can’t help it. He’s efficiently fucked himself into your head well enough to keep you hooked on his every move and careless to the outside world. 

“All you wanna do is talk about how pretty I am but you forget yourself.”

Don’s voice has picked up a rasp. He may have incredible stamina, but his care is costing him. Each squeeze of your walls is bringing him closer to an edge he’s not ready for. He needs you to cum first which is why he had to abandon the softer sex because he’s too prone to the intimacy. He’d have been finished minutes ago if he hadn’t pulled you off him. 

“You’ve got no idea how badly I’ve been wanting to do this. How many times Bobby’s had to curse me out for letting me mind out of that boat, or how many times I miss lecture notes because I can’t take my eyes off you, or many damn times I fall asleep to thoughts of you and wake with cum in my pants. Fuck you! Fuck you for making me like this! What the hell!”

Then comes that victorious moment when he feels your whole body tense up. 

“You gonna cum? Gonna fuckin’ cum for me? That’s right! C’mon, let go. I’ve got you.”

Don let’s go of your hair and cradles you to his chest as he holds his pace steady. A shudder racks your body and you let out a strangled moan as the blinding hot heat washes over you. You go silent, drool pooling on your bedsheets, cum gushing as you squeeze the life out of him. Your head spins, body becoming light, it shocks you to the core.

“Baby! Baby!” Don pleads into your ear. He’s gonna cum, he swears it’s taking his everything not to. “Sweetheart!” 

You vaguely register him begging you for something, reaching a shaky hand to clutch his forearm. 

“Where do you want me?” He sounds like he’s going to cry. 

“Please!”

“—please!”

He doesn’t know what to do. He should probably pull out but then what. He doesn’t have enough time to think too hard. He jerks away and falls back on the bed. His rough hand, much less favorable to your gummy soft walls, strokes rapidly over his cock. He wails and grips himself too tight but then he’s cumming, hot spurts of white seed splattering on his torso. 

Both of you stay frozen in place, shaking from your orgasms. Don recovers enough to reach a now clumsy hand for your waist and roll you over. Your eyes a shut tight and you’re breathing hard. Your thighs quiver and close as the cold night air chills your body. He knows it’s probably time to leave. The party should be ending soon, and your roommates will be back. 

He soothes a hand over your thigh before getting up to open the windows. He cleans his cum off his stomach the best he can and then scoops you up into his arms. “Donny.” You curl into him, and it breaks Don’s heart. He really just wants to stay right here but he can’t.

“I know,” He strokes your hair and kisses your forehead. For the first time he feels truly satisfied. He feels loved and like this is how it’s meant to be. And it’s only reaffirmed when straighten up and kiss his balmy cheek.

“Promise me we’ll do this again.”

“Swear on my stroke seat.” Don murmurs, sharing a tender kiss with you.  He feels you smile and congratulates himself on the accomplishing his goal. “You need to get cleaned up. Your friends will probably be back soon.”

You sigh and slowly extract yourself from his arms. You open your wardrobe as Don redresses himself. “You really mean you’ll come back.” 

“Truthfully, I wasn’t intent on leaving at all, but these dorms—” he trails off. It’s a curse for everyone he supposes. Once he looks suitable for going out, Don hugs you one last time. His forehead rests on yours, a position he must like, and he gives you another soft kiss. “See you tomorrow in geology?” He asks, sweeping the hair out of your face. 

“Only if I can walk to class.” 

“C’mon now, you said you’d tell me if I went too hard.”

“It wasn’t too hard. It was perfect. You’re perfect. Now get out before anyone sees you.”

“By the way, I’ve got about an hour between geology and English, we should you know—”

“Out, Don.”

…

Masterlist

[irisintheafterglow]

head empty no thoughts just rengoku x ice hashira!reader

you joined the hashira ranks shortly after he did in your late teens

you were incredibly put off by him at first as his unrelenting enthusiasm made you uneasy

you thought it was hard to read him because of how jovial he seemed all the time

but after getting to know him, you realized that there's no reading him at all; he states very plainly how he feels whenever he feels it

he also asks you how you're feeling directly and will call you out if he believes you to be lying

"hello! how are you doing today?!"

"i'm fine, how about yourself?"

"you do not seem fine! as you have not eaten today and sustenance is essential for survival!"

"it just slipped my mind, i'm okay. really-"

"i will fetch you something to eat! do not move!"

"kyojuro-"

"I SAID DO NOT MOVE!"

he fixates on getting to know you better after you're assigned to a joint mission and is fascinated by your frost breathing technique

he admires that when you're fighting, nothing else matters to you but curbstomping your opponent (not the correct language but you get what i mean)

the mission goes smoothly despite never working with him before and you find yourself a little frustrated how you naturally gravitate to him in every single room you share

it's just instinctual to be by his side, and you notice the same sentiment in his body language too

during meetings he's always next to you, even if you two don't speak

you're a little cold guarded around him but he doesn't give up and you gradually let down your walls as you work with him on more missions

he's actually really fucking funny because of how straightforward his words are

"is that man bothering you?!"

"he was just looking at me funny, let's just keep moving-"

"i will not hesitate to verbally reprimand him for disrespecting you if that is what you wish!"

"kyojuro-"

"I CAN ALSO PHYSICALLY BEAT HIM TO A PULP!"

as you start warming up to him and opening up about yourself, you find he's an incredibly good listener as much as he likes to talk

you share about your family and your techniques and your dreams for the future

being a hashira is a taxing line of work but he's stable, probably the only stable thing you have at this point

when you come back late at night from a particularly tough mission, he's waiting for you in the butterfly mansion

upon your return and taking in your exhausted body language, he softens his voice and asks to pick you up to bring you to your room

you oblige, too tired to question him, and his arms catch your knees when they give out, supporting your back while you slump into him

he gently cradles you into his chest and your head falls on his shoulder

he's warm like a fireplace in the dead of winter and smells like smoke and citrus

when he lays you on your bedroll you shiver at the sudden chill after you overwork your technique and quietly ask him to stay with you until you drift off

he stays with you until HE drifts off, baby

you wake up later in the day with your head under his chin and his arms protectively wrapped around your body

you just look at him sleep so peacefully it's the first good night of sleep he's had in months

his hair's a fucking mess all over your pillows and he's hogging the blankets but you don't mind since he's literally a furnace

when his eyes flutter open, his voice is raspy and low

"good morning, love. did you sleep alright?"

so yeah

he cares about you a lot right

and would do anything for you if you only asked

but here's the final nail in the love-struck coffin, okay?

so you're on a mission together and he's working his technique to the absolute bone

you've hit a wall with your ability and he stepped up to defend you against your wishes for him to retreat

he's dangerously close to surpassing the limit of his limits and after the demon's head is rolling across the floor, he falls to his knees

his temperature is fatally high and any longer at this temperature, his blood would boil and burst

you're there to catch him and activate one of your forms, using the frigid air generated by your breathing to cool his sweltering skin

your hands are steaming against his cheeks but all he could see is you and he never stops smiling, constantly reassuring you that you both were going to be okay

once his temperature lowers to a safe number you kiss him for the first time

or maybe he kisses you, you can't really tell who initiated it because you both leaned in at the same time

whatever, you kiss each other

afterward he gives you a fiery red promise band and you give him an ice blue one

while you're together, he says i love you about 10 times per minute and means it every single time

the man's love language is LITERALLY words of affirmation can you blame him

missions together after you become official are filled with non-stop praise

"that attack was incredible, darling!"

"you're doing great, my love. just keep fighting."

"have i already told you how much i adore you? no? well i do!"

and sometimes he's less...composed....like

"YOU ARE VERY ATTRACTIVE WHEN YOU ARE KICKING ASS!"

when you're apart, the only thing on his mind while he's fighting is you

and it always will be you, in this life and every life afterward

hahahaha don't you love at the end of mugen train when rengoku just takes a long NAP at the BUTTERFLY MANSION and he's SAFE and everything is FINE

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)