#I used to be able to hit a high G sharp like I think it's G sharp 4

[necromancy-savant]

I'm trying to get my voice back to where it used to be so drop a like or comment if you want to hear me do some Broadway/musical theater covers

[toruro]

— ✧ flight of the stars

"It’s funny; Minghao’s whole career is about being in the driver’s seat but somehow when it comes to you, he doesn’t know when to press on the gas or hit the brake."

you go following flights to the stars, and these cars can get us home (zayn)

genre: smut (18+ / mdni), f1 au, brief high school au, angst, fluff

description: being a doctor, you think you should feel guilty when you start to enjoy the presence of a “regular” a little too much, but who can blame you for missing your patient when he's xu minghao. you know—the xu minghao: crown jewel of SECTOR Racing, top pick of the season, and possibly the one person who knows more about you than anyone else in the world.

tags: character death (not reader / hao), discussion of medical issues, descriptions of pain, pining, racer minghao, physiotherapist reader, probably inaccurate representation of physiotherapy, also featuring kwannie, sollie, cheol, wonu, & hannie

w/c: 13.3k

fic playlist

a/n: oh. always thank u to @gyuswhore for helping me w this, and special smooches to han for going over this w me too ^^

smut tags. oral (m receiving), pet names (baby)

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Cheol is going to kill Minghao when he finds out he somehow managed to screw himself over while training. Well, only if Minghao doesn’t kill himself first.

It was just supposed to be a regular session, doing some standard neck exercises with Wonwoo, his training partner. General training shit—you know, the stuff Minghao needs to do so his neck doesn’t snap in half the next time he races and then—pang! Pain flares up in his muscles when Wonwoo adjusts the controls on the harness around Minghao’s head a little harder, the latter losing his form in a moment of unexpectancy.

His hand flies up immediately Wonwoo stops, shutting off the controls and loosening the tether attached to Minghao’s harness, releasing all the tension. “Are you good?” he asks, taking a step closer as he takes in the sight of the racer.

Wonwoo’s heart sinks into his chest when he finds Minghao’s head and neck unmoving, staring straight down as his breaths begin to grow shaky, and—crap, his eyes are glossy and—oh fuck, Wonwoo might just shit his pants.

“Hao—” Wonwoo calls out again, this time his voice drenched with worry as he reaches out to try and untie the harness from around his friends head, but as his hand brushes over the back of his neck, Minghao shifts a little and that’s when Wonwoo hears it—a sharp gasp following by Minghao muttering under his breath:

“G-get the medic.”

His voice is labored and Wonwoo knows exactly what to do and nothing at the same time. His mind is racing because holy crap, SECTOR probably just lost their best racer for a few months, if not the entire racing season, and it’s all because of this stupid neck training session, and—Wonwoo stops himself from thinking about what this means for Minghao’s work and forces himself to scramble back, running out of the training room and down to the nursing hall.

Five minutes and several phone calls later, Minghao is being loaded into a stretcher. He doesn’t say a word though, doesn’t know what to say.

Five hours and even more phone calls later, Minghao is sitting up with a brace around his neck, and his manager and friends around his hospital bed (Wonwoo and Hasnsol are to his left while Seungcheol stands on his right).

“So you’re telling me I won’t be able to compete for the rest of the season?” Minghao finally scoffs out after a couple minutes’ worth of silence in tense air.

“We don’t know that yet,” Cheol responds, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches the racer carefully. Minghao’s lips are curved down in a heavy frown but his eyes remain unwavering as he finally looks up at his manager.

“Fuck,” he breaths out.

“Does it hurt a lot?” Hansol asks worriedly, and Minghao knows that his friend is only just concerned for him but all the pain and frustration is already starting to bubble up inside of him.

“Like a bitch,” he mutters bitterly.

Seungcheol sighs deeply, stepping closer to the bed. He knows the situation isn’t easy for Minghao—it isn’t easy for anyone—and he’s aware of the stakes involved for the team. “Hao, you know we’ll do anything to get you back on the track as soon as possible.”

Minghao scoffs, not meeting the eyes of his manager. “Yeah. I know.”

Wonwoo nearly flinches at the stillness of his friend’s voice. “I’m sorry,” he finally says loudly, causing the other three in the room to look at him. “I messed up with the controls—it’s my fault, and I—”

“It’s fine,” Minghao huffs, tearing his eyes away from his friend. “It was an accident.”

It’s not fine. It’s not fucking fine at all and—

Deep breaths, Minghao reminds himself, but when he actually starts to think about the ache that blooms from his neck and down his spine, it gets harder and harder to keep his cool. He feels like he’s ‘bout to pop a vein from all the blood that’s rushing through his body, the only thing snapping him out of his trance being Wonwoo’s voice.

“You’ll start seeing a physiotherapist tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Best to start the recovery process early, Minghao thinks to himself, mildly calming his irritation. He purses his lips, trying to navigate the cluster of thoughts that plague his mind until he finally musters up the courage to ask, “How long is it gonna take? T-to heal?”

His friends look at him solemnly, and Minghao feels his heart sink right down to his stomach.

“We don’t know.”

“You already sa—” Minghao stops himself from saying something he might regret. “Could I actually be out the whole season?”

There’s silence until Cheol finally decides to speak up.

“There’s a chance.”

Minghao thinks he might scream.

“Hey Seungie!” you chirp, walking into the reception of your office with a bright smile. Your best friend greets you with only an eye roll as you approach his counter at the front, peeking at him from over his monitor.

“I told you to stop calling me that in public!” he whines, nose scrunched up as you laugh at the way he’s pouting.

“No one’s even here, no one’ll hear anything,” you try to reason as he huffs and turns away, refusing to look at you.

“Still!”

You sigh, putting down a brown bag on the floor before raising your hands up in surrender. “Okay fine, I’m sorry.”

“Are you really?”

This time, you roll your eyes. “Yes … Seungie—”

“I hate you!” Seungkwan roars as you double over laughing. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you! I’m officially disowning you as my best friend.”

You gasp, stepping back and picking up the brown bag again. “Are you kidding me? And here I thought I would’ve liked to share one of my Americanos with you but I guess not …” you sigh dramatically, starting to walk away as you lift the bag to wave it in Seungkwan’s face.

“I was just joking! Come back! How could I disown you as my best friend—c’mon, you know I was just joking,” he pleads from behind you.

You grin as you turn around and walk back to him with a grin. “You’re horribly unpersuasive. Like your acting skills are actually an abomination,” you tell him, pulling out one of the cups of the cold drink and handing it to Seungkwan. “You’re lucky I love you,” you continue, laughing a little as Seungkwan snatches the cup away hastily with a bashful “thanks” under his breath.

“Okay, well ditto to you too,” he barks back. “Who else would put up with you and your ugly crying over Taylor Swift music videos?”

“Hey! Wildest Dreams is a lyrical, musical, theatrical, melodcial masterpiece! ”

“Okay, first of all, melodical isn’t even a word, and even if it was—” Seungkwan is cut off by the ringing of the office phone line. “I probably need to answer this but we are not done with this conversation,” he shoots at you.

You giggle, waving him off and heading down one the hall to get to your office, barely catching what Seungkwan is saying, or who he’s even talking to. It vaguely crosses your mind that it’s a bit too early in the morning for your office to be getting work calls, but you brush it off as you slip past your door and into your little room.

It’s a nice little space you’ve made for yourself; your physiotherapy firm was set up a few years back, and you’d even recently gone through a certification process to belt yourself as one of SECTOR’s physiotherapists. Pretty exciting stuff when you think about it—being able to work with such top-notch racers (albeit under rather unfortunate circumstances), and you get to do what you love at the same time.

Now, you haven’t actually gotten any big-shot patients yet, and you’ve started to appreciate that more recently. It’s not as stressful, and you don’t have to navigate a possibly awkward doctor-patient relationship with someone who’s dealing with what might be a career-changing injury.

You wonder when you’ll stop forgetting that your luck ran out years ago.

Just as you set your bag down and slip into your chair to answer some emails, Seungkwan is knocking on your door and walking in. “Hey, uh, this is kinda important,” he tells you, pointing behind him at his desk where he was taking the call.

“What’s up?” you ask, slightly worried by Seungkwan’s quick change in demeanor from playful to serious.

“Some doctor at SECTOR’s facility just called and—” Crap, you know where this is going already. “—Xu Minghao just fucked up his neck. Like yesterday. And he’s getting discharged from the hospital in a few hours hopefully and they’re gonna send him over right away so you can take a look and start working with him.”

You press your lips together tightly, head going slightly dizzy at the mention of his name. Of course, when you finally got yourself licensed to practice under SECTOR, you were aware of the possibility of working with him, but this feels a little too real and a little too fast.

“You good?” Seungkwan asks, snapping you out of your haze. “Lost you for a second—it looks like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

“Sorry, just zoned out,” you laugh stiffly, turning on your computer and taking a shaky breath. “I’m a bit nervous I guess. I’ve never worked with a professional like him—at least not yet,” you continue to say, and it’s not entirely a lie.

You are nervous, and in any other situation you would try your best to just not think about the situation but given Xu Minghao is going to step into your office in a few hours, you figure you should get to work right away.

Seungkwan steps out soon, saying, “You got this. Seriously, you’ve been working so hard for so long and you finally get to work with one of the big shots!”

Chuckling at his optimism, you finally open the email application on your monitor. Your inbox is flooded with emails, most of which are a series of X-rays and MRI scans of your soon to be patient, and so taking a deep breath, you dive in.

“Hey Hannie, did you sanitize Room C?” you ask one of your (few) employees as he steps out from the supply room behind the reception.

“Shoot, was it supposed to be C? I’m sorry, I cleaned up B, but I can go to C and get it sanitized right now—” he starts to say, turning towards the supply room at the end of the hall.

“Hey wait no it’s okay, I just asked for C ‘cause it’s a bit bigger but it doesn't really matter. Don’t worry about it—have you had your lunch break yet?”

“Nah not yet, I was just about to step into that with Seungkwan, but he’s taken a moment to grab coffee from the cafe across the street.”

You chuckle, “Already? I got him an Americano only a few hours ago …”

Jeonghan laughs out loud at that, slipping off his cleaning gloves and patting his hands down on his scrubs. “You know how Seungkwan is with his Americanos.”

“Don’t remind me—he’s crazy. I don’t know how he ingests that much caffeine and still functions like a normal human being but—”

Seungkwan’s voice cuts you off. “I know you guys are talking about me but I’d suggest you take a break and go get ready because I swear I just saw a car with SECTOR’s logo on the back pull up onto the street right up front.”

Oh fuck. You’re already starting to feel awfully nervous.

“Shit, really? I didn’t think they’d be here as early as noon,” Jeonghan says quickly, tossing the gloves and turning to you for instruction. “Anything we need to do?”

“Guys, just chill,” you say casually. Ironic, you think to yourself, because you feel like your heart might pound right out of your chest any second now. “Just handle this like you would any other patient. I’ll probably have to talk to his manager, but while we’re doing that Jeonghan can take Xu into B and just ease him into things. Lay off the tension, you know? He’s probably stressed out as is.”

“Noted,” Jeonghan nods as he walks down the hall, and then you turn to the door of the reception where you see a group of three people walking up.

You try to make out their figures; that one on the left’s probably one of SECTOR’s health directors, and the one on the right is … that’s Choi Seungcheol isn’t it? The one who sent you the emails? He’s Xu Minghao’s manager, you’re pretty sure of it.

You straighten your back when the front door opens, clutching the clipboard full of prints of the scans you were sent earlier. Setting your eyes straight, you take a deep breath and finally take in the sight of the three people filling into the reception.

Yup, there’s Choi Seungcheol … and then Cho Miyeon following behind and she’s pushing a—shit, it’s Xu Minghao in all his glory.

Well, you’re not sure how wondrous he feels right now in that wheelchair, eyes cold as he stares at the floor. His neck’s held up in a thick brace that you can see reaches down under his shirt and over his shoulders; he doesn’t look up, and for a moment you’re grateful.

It puts off the question though, the words that linger in the back of your mind.

Will he recognize you? Well, more importantly …

Does he even remember you?

You rid yourself of the personal thoughts when Choi Seungcheol approaches you, holding out his hand to you. You shake it, strong and firm as he smiles awkwardly. “Nice to meet you, thanks for making time for us today.”

“No problem,” you reply with a nod as Jeonghan comes in from the hallway. “My assistant, Jeonghan here can take Mr. Xu to one of our rooms while I talk with you two about a few things. Does that work?”

“Yeah, sounds great,” Seungcheol nods, motioning Jeonghan to Minghao in his wheelchair behind him. The racer keeps his head down as Jeonghan brushes over and starts pushing him down the hall to Room B. You wonder if he’s even noticed you.

As Jeonghan goes off, you turn back to the other two still in the reception and point at your room. “Shall we?”

Once the three of you settle down, Seungcheol and Miyeon sit across from you, the former speaks up. “Thanks for seeing us on such short notice—this all happened really quick and if you can't already tell, we’re kind of desperate to get him back in the driver’s seat as soon as possible.”

“No worries, please. These kinds of situations are exactly what I’m here for,” you tell them, and they both seem to crack a small smile of relief. “Now I spoke with the doctor that examined him at the hospital, and then briefly with Ms. Cho,” you say, motioning towards the woman on your right, “And there’s a general understanding that Mr. Xu’s suffered a pretty serious strain in his neck muscles.”

“Yeah, uh—how long is this going to take to heal?” Seungcheol pops in, and you sigh.

“I can give you a range, but it’s not so definite … I’d say between three to five months,” you tell him. “But again, it’s different for every patient. Muscle strains aren’t like a clean break or fracture where we can determine almost exactly when it’ll be healed … this stuff is going to take more time and it varies from person to person as well. It all kind of depends on Mr. Xu’s body, and that’s what I’m here for—to help figure out what works for him.”

“We understand that, thank you,” Miyeon nods, sitting straighter in her seat. “How often should he be coming in?”

“Hm, I’ll give you a definite answer after checking in with him today, but to estimate, I’d say around 2-3 times a week, while also using my suggestions outside of our sessions.”

You finish the conversation with the two after that, excusing yourself as you let them back into the reception before knocking on the door to Room B. Jeonghan opens the door from the other side and quietly closes the door behind him before pushing you a little deeper into the hallway.

“He seems like, really sad, so—”

“Well, duh. It’s a serious injury,” you say with a roll of your eyes. Jeonghan clicks his lips and nudges your shoulder.

“Whatever. I’m just telling you to tread carefully,” he says as you make your way to the door. You don’t respond to Jeonghan as you slip in. Minghao’s turned away from you as he sits on his wheelchair in the middle of the room you purse your lips before taking a deep breath and nodding.

You got this. Seungkwan was right—you’ve worked too hard for too long to be rendered anxious ‘cause of a silly little overlap of your past with your patient.

“Hi Mr. Xu,” you greet, making your way to the table right by where he sits, finally seeing him up close. He doesn’t look at you. “I’m pretty sure you already have heard enough about what’s wrong with your neck right now, so let’s talk about how we can make it better, yeah?”

You hear a gruff, “Sure,” escape his lips, and you figure that given his circumstances, it’s understandable.

“The report says that when you first started feeling the pain you couldn’t move your right arm even a little without it hurting in your neck, right?” you clarify as you sit at the chair between him and your table.

“Yeah.”

“Is it better now?”

“A little. Can move my forearm but moving my shoulder still hurts.”

“Okay, this is a good sign actually—you’re getting through the initial stages of healing just like normal. The first week or so of strain like yours might be pretty painful, but it’s over quickly and the pain after that should be pretty bearable, although it’ll take more time for it to heal.” You tell him, looking away to glance at the scans.

As he stares at the ground, Minghao wants to scream. Good sign? What the fuck are you talking about—he can’t even lift his goddamn arm without it feeling like there’s daggers plunging into his neck, and you’re here sitting all calm faced, pristine, acting like this isn’t his fuckin’ career on the line. Acting like your words are gonna make a difference as long as he’s in this stupid ass brace with this stupid ass injury in this stupid ass room with—who the fuck even are you?

His head hurts, and Minghao thinks it’s partly because of his neck, but it’s mostly because he can’t stop thinking. Thinking about the worst possibilities, thinking about everything that could go wrong and—well shit, he chides himself for letting his anger get the better of himself, even if it was just in his head.

Shamefully, he presses his eyes shut and takes a deep breath before finally lifting his gaze and turning to face you. When you look up from your paper and finally turn back to him, you’re met with the sight of pretty brown eyes staring right back at you.

“I—” Minghao starts, but it sounds like the air got stuck in his throat as he finally takes in your figure, and then he purses his lips together and turns back away. “Nothing.” the possibilities of what he could have been thinking ruins your mind just a little.

You can see it in his eyes—Minghao remembers. Still, he doesn’t say anything about it, and you wonder if you prefer things to stay that way.

“What time is Xu scheduled for on Wednesdays? He’ll be coming in on Wednesdays, right?” Jeonghan asks as he steps into your office.

“Uh, he’s coming in for a session from 11-2 today—which, by the way, could you set up Room C for that? I can’t remember if I already put that on the to-do list.”

“Yeah I did it yesterday after our last patient of the day, I was just wondering. You’re gonna lead it with him this time, right?”

“Yeah, since it’s the first session. You were right about him being … apprehensive—”

“Sad,” Jeonghan corrects you. “A sad, sad boy.”

“Yeah well, go figure,” you sigh out of sympathy. “Anyways, like I said, it’s understandable for him to be frustrated, so I’ll work with him at first to ease him into things and stuff. You can start taking over more of the sessions once he warms up to the whole process, and once we figure out and set a routine.”

“Okay great. Does this mean I can go out for my lunch break at 11:30?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” you reply with a casual shrug as Jeonghan thanks you and slips away. You shift your attention back to your monitor before glancing through the initial medical reports you were sent by the hospital, and then the results of your own tests you ran during your first session with Xu Minghao.

It’s a shitty injury, you’ll have to admit. A neck strain on the muscles closest to his right shoulder, not only rendering his neck immobile for a period of time, but also hindering his abilities to move his right arm.

Must hurt like a bitch—physically and mentally—and the image of him staring down at the ground burns in the back of your mind.

With a sigh, you silently wonder if you could offer him the same solace he gave you.

Xu Minghao shows up to your office two hours later with Choi Seungcheol pushing him inside on his wheelchair, and you’re thankful to see that his stature looks much more relaxed than before. “I’ll come by at 2, right?”

“Yeah, that’ll be great. Thank you,” Jeonghan tells Mr. Choi with a smile before taking control of Minghao’s wheelchair and strolling him into the room. You’re already there and waiting for him, standing up to greet him with a smile.

“Hi Mr. Xu,” you say, thanking Jeonghan as he leaves the room and closes the door behind him.

“Morning,” he says quietly, not quite meeting your gaze. The air isn’t as thick as it was the first day, but there seems to be some invisible barrier between the two.

“How’s the pain right now, Mr. Xu?” you ask, pulling out a notepad on your computer to jot down some notes.

Your patient’s eyebrows furrow, and for a second you have a feeling this might be harder than you thought, but his next words are more comforting than anything. “Uh, can you just call me Minghao? Mr. Xu is … it’s weird.”

“Y-yeah of course, sorry about that, Minghao,” you nod with a half smile. “So could you tell me how things are feeling?”

“I guess it hurts less. I don’t really move that much so I can avoid hurting myself though—kinda in this thing most of the time anyways,” he replies gruffly, hitting the left side of the wheelchair with his palm.

“Do you stand up? Walk around at all?”

“Not often.”

“Okay so I think we’re going to try and change that soon,” you tell him. “We’ll do some mobility checks today but if it doesn’t hurt to move your shoulder a little, then I think it’s best you move as much as you can without pain. Honestly, you’re going to be injured for a while and—”

You pause when you hear Minghao inhale sharply at that, making a mental note to soften your words a little.

“—and we don’t want you to be immobile. If you can move, try to. We’ll try and get you out of the wheelchair within the next two weeks, how does that sound?”

Minghao’s ears perk up at that. “Two weeks? Only?”

You nod happily at his sudden energy and the ghost of a smile on his lips. “Yeah, you know the wheelchair is just so you don’t move your upper body too much but like I said the last time we met, the initial stages are pretty painful but once it’s over, you’ll be more mobile. Of course, you won’t be able to get back to racing and training right away, but you’ll be able to be a lot more active than you are now.”

“How long will it take before I can start training again?” Minghao asks curiously, finally looking you straight in the eye with parted lips.

The desperation is painful to watch.

“I don’t know,” you tell him honestly, watching his shoulders deflate. “At least two months.”

“Two months?”

“At the least,” you say with a held breath.

“At the most?” Minghao asks hopefully.

You purse your lips. “At the most? … A year?”

“A year? That’s more than a whole racing season!”

“Yes but neck strains are fickle and we can’t let anything go wrong, and due to the nature of your sport, you really—”

“I think I know the nature of my own sport,” Minghao scoffs, and with the way he says it, you don’t know if you should be mad or sad or disappointed or a mix of all three.

“I—” you pause, “I understand your frustration Mr.—Minghao, but my job is to make sure you’re one hundred percent healed before you set foot on the track again, so please be patient and allow yourself to heal.”

Something about those last few words rings in Minghao’s ears, and he zones out for the rest of what you’re saying.

Allow yourself to heal. Fuck.

Minghao stays pretty much silent for the rest of the session, and you’re not quite sure if it’s out of complacency or indifference. You go through some slow mobility exercises, and figure out a good range for him to stay in for the next few days.

“Make sure you practice those movements every day,” you note once you near the end of today’s session. “I’ll send you an email listing all of them with instructions so you remember. Please try and do them every day, and it’ll hopefully speed up the recovery process.”

“Thanks,” Minghao murmurs as he carefully sits back down in his wheelchair.

“Is there anything else you’re doing in your free time right now?” you ask, trying to make casual conversation as you start to type up your list.

“Not really. I watch practice videos and stuff, I guess.”

You hum, not really responding until you finally finish the list and send it to his email. “I sent the list, you should start using it tomorrow. Anyways, I think you should try crocheting,” you tell him casually.

Minghao gives you a sideways glance as he raises an eyebrow. “… Crocheting?”

“Yeah,” you say with a shrug, finally turning around to face. “You know, with yarn and stuff.”

“I know what crocheting is.”

“I-I know,” you say awkwardly, slightly thrown off your game by his bluntness. “You won’t have to move your shoulders, only your forearms, so it’s fine.”

“But why?”

“It’s fun. And a nice way to pass time, especially when you can’t move around a lot. Plus, it’s always good to have something to distract yourself from—” You pause, thinking about how to finish your sentence. “—from shitty stuff, y’know?”

Minghao chuckles, and your heart swells a little when you finally see him break a smile. “Yeah, I guess.” There’s a long pause. “Shitty stuff, huh?”

You laugh, nodding. “Yeah. Shitty stuff.”

“You and your stupid Americanos,” you sigh, watching Seungwkan grin as the barista hands him his drink.

“Stop acting like you don’t indulge in me too. Getting me all those Americanos in the morning … I should blame you for this addiction!”

“So you admit it’s an addiction!” you exclaim triumphantly, waving your hands in the air. Seungkwan rolls his eyes, leaving you to sit at a table in one of the corners of the cafe. Laughing at his silent admission of defeat, you wait for your drink patiently.

It’s only a few more moments before the barista is back at the counter, calling out, “Honey lavender latte!” With a smile, you walk over, about to reach for the drink before a hand beats you to it.

Frowning, you look up at the man who’s holding your drink before you say, “Hey, I’m sorry, I think that’s my drink.”

“Uh, honey lavender latte? I’m pretty sure I ordered this,” he says. You look at him with a funny expression on your face, eyes darting between the drink you ordered and the drink that’s in his other hand. He catches your suspicion and shakes his head quickly. “It’s for my friend, I ordered for the both of us so I could get us a spot.”

“Oh,” you breath out, figuring that it probably isn’t a lie. “S-sorry for the misunderstanding. I just—” you chuckle, watching some of the tension from the man’s shoulders wither away. “I ordered the same thing—”

“Oh sorry, I—my friend isn’t here yet so you can just take this and I’ll wait for the other to come out,” he offers, watching your face, and you see something in his expression change. “Hey wait, you look really familiar,” he murmurs.

Your eyebrows furrow as you silently thank him when he hands you the drink. “Uh, are you sure? I’m sorry, I just—I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before,” you admit with an awkward chuckle.

The man shakes his head and laughs quietly to myself. “No, I swear I’ve seen you somewhere, but I’m just blanking on it right now—sorry this is probably so weird but—” The bell of the front door rings and he shoots his head to see who’s coming in, eyes lighting up. “Oh hey, Hao! Was just waiting for you!”

Hao? Mingh—

You lock eyes as soon as he walks in.

The man from before beams as he walks up to him as your eyes finally break away, and Minghao turns to his friend. “Hansol,” he greets with a small smile, and it’s a pleasant sight to see your patient—who’s more often monotone than not—seem a bit more at ease than before.

“How’re you doing? Was just waiting on your drink and—” the man—Hansol—points at you with eyes as wide as saucers, “—oh by the way, doesn’t she look really familiar?”

You chuckle nervously, breaking out an awkward smile and waving at Minghao who returns you by raising his left arm in a sort of half-wave before turning his attention to Hansol to give him a blank stare. “Yeah, she’s kinda like my physiotherapist dude.”

This time, you chuckle a bit more genuinely, eyes darting between the amused smirk that’s just barely there on Minghao’s lips, and Hansol’s agape stare.

“Ohh shit, yeah that’s where I saw you! Cheol and Miyeon were talking about you when they were booking you for Hao at the hospital, and I saw your picture on the screen,” Vernon explains as the realization hits him.

“Oh,” you laugh lightly. “That’s funny,” you reply as you turn your attention to Minghao, “Good to see you’re getting out of that wheelchair. I bet it feels nice to finally stretch your legs and stuff,” you say. If Minghao could move his neck without eruptions of pain, he’d nod his head.

For now though, he settles on smiling and saying, “Yeah, it’s refreshing.” His eyes wander around you, taking in how you aren’t dressed in your usual work attire, but rather clad in a cute outfit. “Is that my drink?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed as he points at the coffee you’ve just taken a sip of.

Hansol laughs and shakes his head. “You two got the same drink so when it came out, I just let ‘er have it, since you weren’t here yet.” He glances around before putting his drink down at a nearby table. “Shit, I think I left my laptop in my car,” he murmurs, looking at his friend. “I’m gonna go get it so I can show you those videos I was talking about.”

“Yeah, that’s chill,” Minghao agrees. Hansol smiles at you and then his friend before quickly retreating from the cafe to get to the parking lot, leaving you and the tall man standing in silence. It’s a few passing moments where you awkwardly sip on your drink before something pops in your mind.

“Hey, it’s actually really funny that you’re seeing me right now because—well it’s not funny funny, but it’s a nice coincidence so I guess that counts as funny but—anyways, look, I crocheted this cardigan.” You smile, lifting your arms a little so he can see the dark, navy blue fabric you made yourself, before turning around to show off the light blue, striped pattern on the back. “Cool, right?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty. Nice color scheme and all,” Minghao agrees.

“Thanks. Have you started crocheting? I can send you some videos to get you started,” you offer. Just as Minghao is about to reply, the barista from behind you calls out another order of your drink, causing both of you to glance back. “Oh, you wait there; I’ll get it,” you say, putting your drink down on the same table Hansol did before walking over to grab Minghao’s drink and hand it back to his left hand.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to,” he says as your fingers brush over each other before falling back to your side. “Isn’t your friend waiting for you?”

“Of course I have to. I’m your doctor! I can’t make you do that,” you reason before pointing back at your best friend. “And are you talking about Seungkwan? Looks like he’s having the time of his life doing—” You turn your head around to glance at him before looking back at Minghao, “—doing god knows what on his phone and—”

“Are you talking about me?” you hear Seungkwan’s voice calling from a few meters away, and the way you cringe has Minghao stifling a giggle. “All good things I hope!” he continues.

“You know it!” you shoot back sarcastically, only to be followed by Seungkwan’s rolling eyes. “That little shit. I pay his bills!” you exclaim, a faux frown making its way onto your face.

Minghao laughs, his head throwing back a little. The small movement flares up a bite of pain in his neck, causing his breath to get stuck in his throat, eyes widening as he slowly shifts back into a comfortable position.

“Sorry,” you murmur sheepishly.

If Minghao could shrug without feeling like his neck would snap in half, he would. Instead, he raises his eyebrow playfully when he says, “Are you seriously apologizing for being funny?”

You roll your eyes. “I’m retracting my apology.”

It’s been around three weeks since you started working with Minghao. He’s warmed up to you a fair amount, and ever since you saw him at the cafe, the air around you two has been lighter.

It’s still a bit awkward at times—skitting around the moments where you wonder if you should say something about the elephant in the room before shaking your head and biting your tongue. Then again, given how often you see Minghao, you’ve gotten used to it.

Seungkwan stops by your office this morning when he walks into work. “Morning,” he greets, dropping a small brown bag by your desk as you file through some papers.

“Ooh, thank you,” you tell him gleefully, taking a break from your task to glance at the chocolate muffin that sits inside of the bag. “I’ve been craving this,” you admit, reaching in and picking out a small piece to stuff into your mouth.

“Your welcome,” Seungkwan sighs, sitting down on the seat in front of you. “Anyways, I found something cool that I don’t think you told me.”

You raise your eyebrows at him skeptically. “Yeah? What is it?”

“You and Xu Minghao are from the same hometown!”

You roll your eyes. “Why do you still keep calling him Xu Minghao? He’s told us to just say Minghao, and even if he didn’t, it’s awkward when you say his full name like that.”

Seungkwan scoffs at you, reaching his hand over to try and flick your forehead but you dodge. “Because he’s Xu Minghao. I can’t believe you aren’t still jumping up and down for getting to work with him, seeing how much you love SECTOR.”

“You want me to be happy that the best racer from my favorite team is injured?”

“Ugh, you know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Whatever,” you shrug, a small hint of a smile peeking from your lips.

“Anyways, you didn’t answer what I actually said. Why didn’t you tell me you guys are from the same area? That’s so cool!”

“I mean I guess,” you say with a shrug.

“And you guys are the same age so—wait, did you go to school together? Oh my god, are you guys like—I don’t know, long lost best friends or something?” Seungkwan’s eyes widen. “Oh, that’d be so cool—I could totally see a movie on this and—wait! If he’s your long lost best friend, where does that leave me? You better not replace me with him!”

You laugh at the progression of his thoughts, almost choking on your second bite of the muffin. “We did go to school together,” you admit. “It’s not like we crossed paths though. He kinda just, I don’t know, existed back then. So no worries for you, you’re not getting replaced any time soon … unfortunately,” you add with mischievous giggle.

“Better not …” Seungkwan huffs.

Minghao comes in a few hours later for his afternoon session. Jeonghan works with him for the first two of the three hours, and you walk in for the last hour. You go over some more mobility exercises, before finally sitting down so you can discuss his progress.

“So things are going really well,” you start to tell him, beginning to list off a couple signs of development which stood out to you. You’re about to commend him on keeping up the exercises everyday, when you notice him staring at the floor with a blank expression. “H-hey, Minghao?” you ask, clearing your voice when he doesn’t respond. “Minghao.”

His eyes shoot up to yours, shoulders tensing for a second before he lets out a deep breath. “Sorry, zoned out for a second.”

You chuckle nervously, wondering if it’s okay if you probe just a little. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Minghao replies casually, but you catch the way he doesn’t meet your gaze. “Just thinking about last night’s race.”

“Oh, Singapore?”

“Yeah.”

“I was able to catch a bit of it last night, but I passed out. It seemed intense though—you see Kim’s pit stop?”

“Yeah, it was kinda insane,” Minghao says breathily. His expression is unreadable, but he’s continuing to respond and so you choose to let things go on naturally. “He’s been living up to his talent now that his shitbox is back to what it’s supposed to be.”

“Can’t imagine how frustrating it is.” Fuck, when Minghao’s shoulders drop, it feels like you said something you probably shouldn’t have.

I can imagine, Minghao thinks after hearing your response, but he bites back the words. “Yeah,” he says dejectedly instead.

Silence. This seems like a good chance to change the topic.

“Uh—” Sorry, you want to say, but you choose to hold your breath instead. “I have good news.”

“Oh?”

“We can get you out of the neck brace today,” you tell him happily.

Minghao’s eyes light up. “Really?”

“Yeah, your progress has been great. Didn’t want to tell you earlier to get your hopes up, in case something went wrong, but everything has been looking really good and you’re at the point where we usually take any supports like braces off.”

Minghao grins, and it’s a stark contrast from the grim shadow cast on his face just moments earlier. You take a few moments to go over the procedures with him, helping him out of the foamy, firm brace with gentle hands and watchful eyes.

“How’s it feeling?” you ask, setting the brace down by one of your counters so you can dispose of it later.

Minghao lets out a low groan of what you can only assume is relief when he looks up. “Like my skin can finally breathe,” he sighs heavily, a bright smile taking over his features as you turn to face him.

“I’m happy for you,” you tell him, before beginning a quick examination process of the area under the brace and going through some quick motions.

“All done?” he asks. When you nod, he continues. “Kinda early, huh?” he say pointendly, and you both quickly glance at the clock on the wall: his session is supposed to end in 43 minutes.

“Oh yeah, uh—actually … I was wondering if you wanted to try something?” you ask tentatively, and Minghao senses your hesitation. “If you have the time.”

Raising a brow, he nods. “Yeah I don’t mind, what is it?”

“One second,” you tell him, getting up and leaving the room to grab something from your office. Shyly, you walk back in and to your seat, all while holding up a brown bag. “Just some old crocheting supplies I thought you might like,” you murmur, placing it down on the counter.

Minghao presses his lips together tightly, not expecting your words. “Oh, uh—I haven’t really … I haven’t taken up crocheting yet. Sorry, uh—”

“Oh yeah,” you say quickly, holding a hand up, using the other to show him the contents of the bag. There’s some balls of yarn and hooks in a little mess, and you reach in to take some out. “I figured—it’s pretty intimidating to take up by yourself but,” you sigh. “I think it’ll be really nice for you. I recommend it to a lot of my patients who can’t do their regular activities and hobbies … and now given your brace is off, your vision will have more range and it might be really fun for you. No pressure if you don’t like it, but I thought it wouldn’t hurt to show you the ropes,” you admit, holding up a ball of blue yarn.

Catching onto your pun, Minghao chuckles and replies, “Sure, why not.”

“Okay great,” you say excitedly, dropping the bag and pulling your chair up in front of him and next to the table, pulling the supplies out.

Minghao is patient as you show off the different yarns and hooks, explaining the very basics in great detail. You can’t quite tell if he’s being so obedient out of genuine interest, pity, or simply polite compliance, but for whatever reason, you’re thankful. Soon, you’re showing him how you do it yourself before handing him one of your spare hooks and the ball of yarn, letting Minghao test the waters for himself.

“Yeah, just do that and—wait,” you mutter, reaching over to adjust the way he’s holding the hook. Your soft fingers gingerly brush over his knuckles, and Minghao finds himself getting lost for a moment. As you innocently fix the position of his fingers, his stomach churns in a manner he can’t quite name. “You got that?” you ask him suddenly, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Sorry, zoned out again. What was that?”

“Singapore really got you thinking, huh?” you muse before shaking your head and laughing it off.

“Sorry, I—”

“Don’t worry about it. Here, I was just saying you should position your thumb like this or else you might start to cramp up really fast. Happens to me like crazy but I didn’t fix my habit and now I just gotta crochet through the pain.”

Minghao looks at you with an odd expression. “Crochet … through … the pain?”

“That sounded cooler in my head, my bad.”

Minghao laughs. It’s not a tight chuckle, or a soft giggle, it’s a laugh. And it’s bright and full and tugging at your heartstrings in a way you’d rather ignore. “It’s okay.”

“Anyways … here, I’ll show you how to start off with a slip knot and then we’ll take things from there,” you instruct.

Slowly, you walk him through the steps. You learn that Minghao is a good learner. He’s intuitive, but it’s not that you expect much different—you figure no one can get to the level he’s at without being quick to pick up on things.

You’re soon showing him how to start a simple chain, the yarn and hook still in his hands as you work him through the process. “Yeah, now you just gotta yarn over like this—no, the other way, just like that … and—yeah … yeah!” you exclaim excitedly when Minghao slips the hook right through, lengthening the chain. “You got it!”

“Really?” Minghao asks. “Simpler than I thought,” he admits aloud, and you nod vigorously.

“Yeah … crocheting looks hard from afar but once you actually get the hang of it, it’s as easy as breathing,” you explain, softly taking the yarn and hook from his hands and showing how it looks once you build in more loops.

He watches you carefully—the way your fingers so gently, with such precision; how your eyebrows furrow ever so slightly as you focus in on the task at hand, tongue unconsciously sticking out from the corner of your mouth, and— 

“You’re really good at this,” Minghao murmurs quietly, and you swear he’s so close, his warm breath fans down on your cheeks. You gulp, pausing what you’re doing to look up at him.

“My mother taught me. It’s been a casual hobby ever since.”

You feel Minghao’s eyes bore down on yours intensely, wondering if he’ll respond. Something is screaming at you to pray he’ll keep his mouth shut.

Minghao doesn’t say a word, thankfully. Still, the possibilities of what could be running through his mind haunt you.

You think you should start feeling guilty. You think you should already be feeling guilty when you start to look forward to seeing Minghao. He’s your patient for fuck’s sake—you should be happy he’s not holed up in here everyday.

Still, there’s a weird feeling that festers in your chest when you think about him.

Minghao, and the way he’s so persistent, so patient, so attentive with all the exercises and information you tell him. Minghao, and the polite smile he throws your way at the beginning of each session. Minghao, and the way his eyes light up.

“We’re going to try some new mobility exercises today,” you tell him today with a grin, standing up from your seat. Minghao’s ears perk up as he catches the bright look on your face, and something inside of him swells with hope.

“Really?”

You smile and nod in return. “Yeah! I mean your recovery has been really great so far and I think this is a good point to move on and see if we can test out an even wider range of motion.” Minghao doesn’t really say anything in response, but the way his eyes light up when he watches you explain the exercises tells you enough.

In the hour that follows, you two walk through the exercises, trying out each one, and you’re almost three quarters through all the motions you planned today right before you show him how to angle his shoulder before a new exercise.

“How are things feeling? Anything hurting? Anywhere?” you ask anxiously as Minghao comes out of the last stretch you showed him with a pleasant look on his face.

“No, not like pain pain,” he says casually, leaning back into the chair. “Not the kinda pain from the strain, but I feel a bit of tension on my shoulder from keeping it in that position for too long.”

“Okay great,” you say, typing it down onto your digital notepad. “We’ll try and switch up that one next time so your body is completely relaxed from now on.”

“Thanks. What’s the next exercise?” Minghao asks curiously upon taking in the information. You vaguely think to yourself about how you enjoy his growing warmness—he’s been a lot more positive these past sessions with his rapid progress, and it’s bringing a much lighter atmosphere to Room C.

You explain the movement to him, explaining to him how to lift his shoulders just enough to circle them backwards without too much movement. It’s going pretty smoothly like the other exercises; you explain, Minghao listens, you adjust, Minghao lets you.

Right now you’re about to lean in, hands brushing over his shoulder blade to guide them to a more steep angle, explaining to Minghao how to fix his posture. Your fingers brush over his collarbone and jaw a few times in the process, your eyes keeping steady on making sure he doesn’t make any abrasive movements.

“There we go,” you tell him after showing him how to do the circular movement with his shoulders. “Why don’t you try it by yourself?”

Shooting you a thumbs up, Minghao complies, lifting his shoulder forward first slowly. He’s going through the motions of everything pretty normally—after all this is just like any other exercise so he doesn’t really worry that much until—fuck.

Holy shit, that quick but sharp pain stings so bad.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” you ask worriedly when Minghao stills, his eyes widening.

So much. So fucking much, Minghao thinks to himself.

“Talk to me,” you say, moving closer to him so you can move your hands over his shoulder and lead them back down to a natural position.

“It h-hurt for a second. Really bad, but then it was gone,” Minghao says breathily. You purse your lips together and Minghao feels his heart sink to his chest when you turn around and type some stuff he can’t read from where he sits. “Is this like—” He needs to pause to collect himself so the nerves don’t get to him. “—is it bad?” When you hesitate to respond, Minghao already knows his answer. “Fuck.”

“Look, it’s just hurting in that spot for this exercise. The rest of your progress is amazing, but we’re just going to need to take it slower since you’ve probably just overexerted the muscle a little bit.”

“So I’ve been set back, basically,” Minghao says bluntly, his tone doing a full 180 from just a few moments earlier.

“Not a setback …” you sigh. “Just a sign that we need to go slower right now.” You watch him worriedly when he presses his lips together and doesn’t meet your gaze.

“So a setback.”

You gulp. “You can’t think of this like that. I told you from the start that progress is never linear and—”

“I don’t give a fuck, okay?” Minghao breaths out, and something about the way he says it with such a curt, tense tone almost makes you lose your composure. “This is—fuck, this my career okay? I can’t afford any setbacks.”

“I know that and that’s why I’m your doctor, okay?” you say, a bit more harshly than you intended.

You don’t understand why you’re letting his hostility get to your head all of sudden—it isn’t like you haven’t had frustrated patients before. Fuck, you’ve had people cry, sob, break down in this same room over slow progress but something about the way he looks so disheartened has your heart clenching.

“I’m here to help you,” you reiterate, your tone more composed than before. “But I can only do that if you let me.”

Minghao eyes flicker between your wide eyes and his hands in his lap. There’s a growing knot that ties in his throat, and he’s too afraid to open his mouth to speak, too afraid of what he might say. Instead, he just huffs and stands up.

“Sorry,” he finally musters up, eyes trained on the ground as you watch him carefully for his next move. “I’m leaving.”

You don’t stop him as he walks away.

When Minghao walks into the reception a few days later, he’s not surprised to see that you aren’t the one greeting him. He thinks back to the way your lips were pressed into a tight line when he walked out last week. It was the last time he’d seen you in the past few days, and some weird mix of worry swirls in his stomach.

Were you avoiding him? He wouldn’t blame you if you were, but he feels guilty for thinking that way. You wouldn’t let something personal get in the way of your work, Minghao knows that for sure.

Still, he bites his tongue when he briefly considers asking Jeonghan where you are. Would that be overstepping? It’s not like there haven’t been sessions where you weren’t there, but something about the thickness in the air around him tells Minghao that there’s something he should be worried about.

As if he could read Minghao’s mind, Jeonghan speaks up. “Doc’ll come in around the end. It’s her mom’s birthday so she’s out for most of the afternoon, but she’ll be back for the last half an hour,” he says casually, not really expecting to turn around to see Minghao looking at him with wide eyes and parted lips.

“H-her—” Her mom? Minghao wants to ask but something stops him from saying it. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re not here. Something feels wrong. “That’s fine,” he mutters, pursing his lips before looking at the ground.

He can feel Jeonghan’s curious gaze burning into the back of his skull, but Minghao only doesn’t move as he keeps quiet. They soon fall into the regular pattern of starting off with mobility exercises before doing a check of his range of movement.

It’s nearing the final hour of his session when Jeonghan excuses himself for a moment. Only two minutes passes before there’s a knock at the door, and then some footsteps leading in.

“Good afternoon Minghao,” you greet softly upon walking in. The man glances up at you, eyes widening when he takes in your figure.

“Oh—uh, hey.”

Minghao wants to bash his head into the wall. Hey? Seriously? That’s all he could muster up? Hey?

“Jeonghan gave me the rundown,” you tell him, looking away as you lift a clipboard and squint to read the tiny text. “No more sharp pains … returning mobilily …”

You hum slowly as you read off the notes your assistant left for you, not meeting Minghao’s gaze. He wonders if that’s what you intended. “Seeing as things are going smoothly for now, we’ll continue with the low-risk exercises and—”

“I’m sorry,” Minghao blurts out. He wonders what compels him to do it, but when you finally meet his gaze, he realizes that he just wanted you to look at him.

“Mi—”

“I’m sorry for how I acted last time. I shouldn’t have said that stuff to you. I was frustrated and took it out on you, and that wasn’t okay. I’m sorry.”

Your lips are pursed by the time Minghao is finished. He’s said enough, but when he peers up at you, his eyes speak a story of their own.

“It’s okay,” you respond with no hesitation, before turning back to your clipboard, scanning over it a few more times and then setting it down.

You smooth your hands over your lab coat, and for a moment Minghao wonders what it would feel like to have your palms run down his neck, pressing into his skin so gently yet with such fervor, fingertips ghosting over—

Minghao shouldn’t think like this.

“Jeonghan told me that it’s your mom’s birthday,” he finally breaks the silence. It’s the first time either of you have actually brought it up, and the reality of it all—fuck, it’s hitting you so hard that there’s already tears pooling in yout lashline.

You silently curse yourself for forgetting to tell Jeonghan not to tell Minghao anything. It’s okay, it isn’t like he knew any better, you tell yourself as you blink rapidly, trying to shoo away the tears.

“Mhm,” you hum, hoping he doesn’t probe any deeper. You aren’t sure what you should say.

You’re silent, and Minghao itches to reach forward, to rest his hand on your shoulder, to smile at you, to say all the things he’s been thinking about you but he just can’t. All he can manage is to clear his throat, causing you to look up at him expectantly.

Fuck, what should he say? “I’m um—I’m glad. Glad that she’s uh—that everything worked out.” That’s fine, right? There’s nothing wrong with that statement, Minghao’s almost sure of it so … so why in the world are you crying?

Shoot, did he fuck up? You’re sitting in the chair right next to him, head in your hands as you cover your face and turn away; your cries are soft but just loud enough for Minghao to hear over the rush in his ears, just loud enough for him to feel the ache, just loud enough for him to get the message.

Oh.

The first time you meet Xu Minghao, you’re in middle school. Seventh grade and walking into Algebra, going to sit down on your regular seat. Five minutes into class and a new boy walks into the room, handing your teacher a slip before being directed to sit down at a spot a few tables over.

He’s got short, dark hair, cat-like eyes, and a bit of tall, lanky figure as he slinks down into the chair. Your teacher claps her hands together and announces that there’s a new student in class. His name’s “Xu Minghao,” she said.

You don’t really remember his name at first. It isn’t uncommon for there to be new students on campus. He’s not in many of your other classes you realize as the day goes on, and so he slips your mind. Maybe you work with him for a few assignments throughout the year, but not enough for you to wave at each other when you pass the other in the hallways.

Five years later and you’re in your final year of high school. Time has passed, you have changed, Xu Minghao has changed, but what remains the same is what you are to each other. Strangers.

You’re paired with a stranger for your final senior Literature project.

“Do you want to write a paper, or do the poster?” you ask as he sits down next to you once the pairing assignments. Your teacher had given you two options on how to go about the project. “I don’t really mind either or,” you admit.

Minghao hums, setting his copy of Macbeth on the table before turning to you. “Poster? I think I’ve done enough writing in this past year to last me a lifetime,” he tells you with an obvious sigh.

“Yeah,” you laugh. “Were you in Biology?”

He nods. “Regretfully.”

“Oh so you also had to write that whole research paper. Damn, that thing had to have shaved at least ten years off my life.”

“Ditto,” Minghao grumbles, running his hands over his face. “Oh god, just thinking about it is making me queasy. I’m so happy we’re in our final semester.”

“So we agree on no paper, just the poster?” you finalize.

Minghao agrees, “Yeah, that’s great.”

One week later and Minghao is at your doorstep. “Cool set up,” he notes, stepping into your room, looking down at the poster splayed out with markers all over.

You grin. “Thanks—I kind of like being artsy and stuff sometimes so I was pretty happy to do this when you said you also wanted to do the poster.”

“Seems like I made a good choice then,” he replies, sitting down on the opposite end of the poster and pulling out a notebook and his book. “I did some work and got a bunch of lines that we could use as citations in different parts.”

“That’s great,” you say, picking a pen. “Let’s get started then?”

You two get straight to work, and all goes smoothly. Minghao is a good worker, you’ve noticed. His friends are quite fun—you’ve seen him with them in the hallways sometimes—but you start to realize that Minghao doesn’t let himself sacrifice his work ethic for fun.

You make quite some progress over the next hour or two, and you’re just about to bring up one of your ideas. “So over here, I was thinking we could write out the context of the play and then—” You’re cut off by the voice of your older brother at your door. He’s looking down at his phone with his lips pressed into a tight line as he speaks.

“Mom’s starting another cycle of chemo this Thursday so—oh, sorry,” Beomgyu says quickly upon looking up and seeing you have a visitor. “Come to my room when you’re done,” he mutters before turning on his heel.

The silence that envelopes your room is deafening.

You don’t say a word as you take a deep breath and pick up a different colored marker. You clear your throat. “So back to what I was saying …”

The next time you work on the poster, it’s at Minghao’s house.

You wear a blue gown at graduation. It’s a sunny day in June, and you’re sweating a little through the silk fabric, but it’s okay.

Your father and Beomgyu are there in the stands, but your eyes can’t help but be pulled to the empty seat next to them. Your mother said she’d try to make it, but broke the news last night that it was a dream too high up to reach.

It’s okay, you had told her, but as you clutch your diploma close to your heart, all you can think is, no it’s not, no it’s not, no it’s fucking not.

You sit through the rest of the ceremony with a silence and all around you, you see your peers’ smiling faces, the encouraging words of the dean, the cheers of the crowds, and somehow you feel so lost in it all. When you’re finally dismissed, everyone claps and revels once more, but somehow you can’t find the voice in your throat to join them.

Slipping through the crowds of people who line up to take pictures with their friends, family, and all the sort, you slip out of the small stadium and into some hallway.

“Fuck!” you finally cry out, raising your hand up and whipping it forward towards the brick wall. You wince, bracing yourself for the pain, but the sting never comes. Something warm envelopes your wrist, and when you finally blink your eyes open, you see a stranger.

“I don’t understand what you’re going through,” Minghao finally says. “I won’t pretend I do either, but it’ll be okay.” He hugs you and your face is pressed into Minghao’s own blue gown that is about to turn a few shades darker.

You cry. You cry harder than you think you’ve ever cried before.

You don’t know what it is about the way he speaks. Maybe it’s the way he holds you. Maybe it’s the way he smells. Maybe it’s everything, but whatever it is or isn’t, you don’t stop crying and for a gracing moment, you bask in catharsis.

And then, you hear Beomgyu’s voice calling for you from a nearby hallway, so you pull back. Minghao presses his lips together and lets you go, hands dropping to the side as you wipe away the tears. There’s a darker blue splotch in the middle of his chest, but he says nothing of it.

You don’t say a word as you step back—the only communication you share is a nod, but you swear on every last star in the sky that he has said more words to you in that moment than anyone has told you in your entire lifetime.

You don’t see Minghao’s face until it’s seven years later and he’s plastered on the screen as SECTOR’s newest recruit. He’s got phenomenal potential as an F1 racer—greatest new talent in a while—you hear the host of the channel say, but as you look at his picture on the screen, all you see is the face of a stranger who’s held you tighter than anyone before.

The last time you saw Minghao, it was through tear-blurred vision as you scurried out of Room C—you had to tell Jeonghan through broken sniffles to wrap up the session with Minghao—that the weight of the day had gotten to your head and that you needed to take a breather.

It wasn’t entirely a lie. You retreated to your office soon after, staring at the photo of you and your mother that sat at the corner of your table, and then you cried a little more.

It’s the next day when you’re back in the office. Two patients had just finished up, and you’re sitting in your office, filing through some emails when you hear the familiar ringing of the front door opening. You furrow your eyebrows to yourself, not recalling having any other patients scheduled for at least another two hours.

Had Jeonghan and Seungkwan taken their break earlier than you thought? No, that can’t be possible because they always let you know when they’re heading out and—

“Doc!” you hear Seungkwan’s voice call out to you from down the hall. “Could you come here for a sec’?”

Frowning, you close your laptop and stand up, walking out the doorway and down the hallway towards the front entrance of the clinic. “What is i—oh.” The question dies on your tongue when you see Minghao standing in the reception.

Something in your stomach churns at the sight of him—eyes slightly blown out, lips parted but somehow curved downward in a way that has your own lips frowning. The events of the past few days crashes down on you, and you bite down on your bottom lips in hopes that it’ll ground you in reality.

Seungkwan stands behind the main desk, looking at you with some sort of awry expression, and you catch Jeonghan coming down from the other hallway to catch the odd situation. Minghao doesn’t seem to mind though, eyes zoning in on you.

“I need to talk to you,” he says. You feel Seungkwan and Jeonghan’s gazes burn into the back of your skull.

Glancing at them, you point to the door. “You guys can take your lunch break now,” you tell them before turning your attention to Minghao. “Let’s go to Room C?”

He follows you in an instant, slipping into the seat that he always does as you close the door behind you and walking up to stand in front of him.

You can hear the words already coming together on his tongue—I’m sorry—and so you open your mouth before Minghao can even say it.

“I’m sorry,” you say, breaking the silence. “I shouldn’t have stormed out like that.”

“No, I—I shouldn’t have said anything. I had no idea you—” Minghao stops himself. He doesn’t know how much is too much.

It’s funny; Minghao’s whole career is about being in the driver’s seat but somehow when it comes to you, he doesn’t know when to press on the gas or hit the brake.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you,” he says. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since graduation.”

“Me too,” you respond in an instant. “I see so much of myself in you,” you tell him.

“Stop, I—our situations aren’t comparable and—”

“Let me be the judge of that, yeah?” you cut him off with a small smile and through tears, cupping his face. The skin over his cheek bones are soft when you run your thumbs over them. “When everything is going wrong and you’re so angry, and you’re blaming all the wrong people but you can’t help it, and it makes you feel worse and there isn’t a thing you can do about it.”

“Yeah.”

You inhale steadily, feeling hot water meet your hands and trickle down to your wrists. Minghao is crying, and suddenly you are hit with waves of deja vu. “I get it, okay?” you tell him, even though you know that Minghao already knows. You get it better than anyone. “It’ll be okay.”

The echo of his words from all those years ago crashes down on you, and suddenly Minghao pulls your arms down causing you to hunch over so your face is right in front of his.

“I’ve thought about you everyday since then.” The words come out of your mouth in a soft whisper. “Even when she passed away a few months later.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he mutters, eyes closing and head titling forward so that your foreheads press against each other. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you tell him, stroking his cheek. “You don’t have to be sorry—you were right. Everything’s okay. Everything’s okay.”

“I—I’m sorry, I just—”

Something about the way Minghao says the word sorry not from his throat, but from his stomach, has your mind twisting in ways that you can’t comprehend. The sound is so guttural and heart-wrenching, and this time you want to cry because he’s got nothing to be sorry for. Not a thing.

And so you kiss him.

You kiss Minghao because he is no longer a stranger. Because he is crying for you and you might as well cry for him. Cry for him, but you have done enough crying to last you a lifetime and so you kiss him instead, because they speak the same words: I love you.

And his lips are soft, his tongue warm, his hand ghosting over your arm is gentle, and you can hear it. You hear it in the way he moves against you—he understands and you want to cry again because he’s always understood, and so you don’t cry but only kiss him deeper.

“I made you something,” he admits. “It’s in the car.”

You’re thankful you sent your two coworkers out when you did, sparring all four of you the awkwardness when you and Minghao slip out of Room C and out the clinic towards the parking lot and to his car.

He pulls a blanket out from the passenger seat. It’s hardly big enough to cover your lower half but it’s bright and blue and warm, and somehow you feel your eyes well up with tears that you can’t seem to stop this time.

“Did you—did you make this?” you choke out as Minghao stands in front of you, handing the cloth over as you run your palms over the loose threads and yarn that poke through.

“Crocheted it myself,” he tells you, standing from a couple inches above, as you marvel over his work. Minghao thinks he’s done a poor job—you could probably do better—but you clutch the blanket with such vigor that he doesn’t have the heart to tell you. “You’ve helped me so much,” he says instead.

“Fuck,” you mutter over harsh breaths. “Y-you made this.”

“You taught me,” he corrects, and that’s when the dam breaks.

And this time Minghao hugs you, and you can tell he’s being careful about his neck and in all your frenzy you almost want to push him away and say, “Don’t move so much!” but then his arms fold in on you like a blanket of their own and you crumble.

You crumble into happiness because through everything you’ve ever been through, Minghao still holds you tighter than one holds onto life itself.

“I don’t think I can come here on Sunday next week,” you tell your boyfriend as you peer down at your phone. You’re leaning over his kitchen counter going between looking at some emails and glancing at the screen.

Minghao groans, and you bite back a smile. “Are you serious? Why?”

“Yes I’m serious,” you huff, rolling your eyes playfully. “My brother’s visiting town for a bit.”

“And I can’t meet him, why?” Minghao asks with a raised brow.

You laugh. “Good point. I haven’t told him I’m dating yet though. Might be too big of a ball drop if I tell him I have a boyfriend right away. A boyfriend who’s SECTOR’s best racer, might I add,” you say, pouring yourself a glass of water from the fridge before joining Minghao on the couch.

“It would be a good surprise though, right?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Yeah yeah, whatever floats your boat,” you shoot sarcastically. “But seriously. I’ll see if I can get you two to meet, but I really can’t see you on Sunday. I have to pick Beomgyu up from the airport.”

“Got it,” Minghao agrees, shuffling closer to you as you both focus on the TV. A live interview with Kim Mingyu plays on the screen, the young man talking about his recent rise in recognition. You two sit in silence for a couple of minutes before Minghao speaks up.

“I fucking hate not being able to do anything,” he groans, shifting onto your shoulder slightly. His condition’s gotten exponentially better in past couple of weeks, but you instructed for him to wait at least two more weeks before fully getting back to training.

He’s been restless ever since, you’ve started to notice. “Do I really need to wait?” he mutters, lips close to your ear as you cuddle into his embrace.

You pull back slightly, narrowing your eyes at him. “Yes! I told you—it’s a part of the process.”

“Fuck the process, I wanna drive again!”

“Too bad I guess,” you say with a shrug, turning your attention to the TV. The channel moves on from the interview to talk about some updates, and eventually somewhere in the mix, Minghao’s name comes up, and you hear the man next to you curse under his breath.

Chewing on your tongue, you debate for a few moments on what to do before reaching for the remote to shut the TV off.

“Hey! I was watching th—”

“Do you ever stop complaining?” you huff, stepping out of his embrace much to Minghao’s dismay. “Stop moving,” you order him, sliding down onto your knees in front of his legs.

“What are you do—oh.” You hear the words dry on his tongue when you nudge your body between his thighs, inching closer to his groin.

“You’re so restless,” you hum, trailing your fingers from his knees, over his thighs, and finally let the ghost over the growing tent under his sweatpants. “Let me take care of you, yeah?” you suggest, toying with the elastic waistband of his pants and boxers.

“O-okay,” Minghao agrees, and you grin at the way you see his cheeks flush pink when you inch the fabric off of his pants. His cock springs out, hardening under your gaze as it slaps against his lower adobe that’s still covered by his shirt.

You think for a moment to help Minghao out of his shirt too, but with the pretty pearl of precum dribbling off his slit, veins pressing up all against the length of his cock—all of him aching just for you—you start to feel your mouth water, forgetting about anything that isn’t having Minghao’s cock in your mouth.

“Careful with the right arm, ‘kay?” you tell him, a sly smirk tugging at your lips when you bring them down, dragging them over the base of his length all the way up to the glossy tip where you place a wet kiss.

“Y-yeah—fuck baby,” Minghao grunts when you envelope your lips around his throbbing tip, tongue swirling over the slit at the top as you do so. His left arm makes its way into your hair, fingers digging into your scalp when you pull back to take a deep breath.

Saliva drips down the corner of your lips, and as you look up at Minghao with wide, glossy eyes, he thinks he might bust in on the spot. “Go on baby,” he murmurs, using his firm grip on your head to nudge your lips closer to his pink tip. “Put it in …” he instructs, and when you grin and open your lips wide once more, Minghao knows he’s too far gone to be saved.

“You’re so hard Hao,” you whisper against him, tongue tracing constellations over the base of his cock when you reach to cup his balls, massaging them under your palms.

“Fuck, just like that baby,” Minghao moans, and the sound is so guttural it has your own pussy clenching around nothing. Your skin burns when you take him into your mouth again, cock sliding further down your mouth than before.

He’s so thick, and you feel every last curve of his cock, every last vein, against your cheeks, pressing against your tongue—Minghao is all you can taste, and you might go drunk on the sensation alone.

And he isn’t faring quite well above you either—his hand in your hair has got a firm hold but if anything, Minghao is losing touch with reality. Your mouth is so soft and so warm, your tongue so meticulous with the way it’s swirling around his tip when you slip off his cock before pushing your mouth back down on him—he’s going fucking crazy.

“Baby—oh baby,” the words rumble at the base of his chest, egging you on. With every bob of your head, you start to take him down further until his fat tip is battering against the back of your throat and yeah, it’s got tears pricking at the corners of your eyes but he’s moaning and grunting and squirming all for you and you just can’t seem to fucking stop.

“Shit, shit, shit—baby, ‘m gonna cum if you keep doing that,” he warns when you deep throat all of him, your nose nearly pressing against his pelvis as you press your eyes tight and revel in the sound of his moans, the feeling of his hands in your hair.

You take his slice of warning as a token of advice, pulling back for only a breath before attempting to do the same thing again, shoving his cock into your mouth and down your throat, rubbing whatever you can’t with your palms as wetness smears all over your lips and cheeks.

“Oh—fuck, I’m—”

When Minghao cums, it’s with his chest singing your name. Breathy moans—calls for you—as you suck him through the high, hot white painting the inside of your cheeks and tongue. You pant heavily when you finally pull yourself off of him, swallowing all that is left of him in your mouth, and then he looks at you with flushed cheeks and you both grin.

And when you climb up, Minghao hugs you. He hugs you like a blanket—like the blanket he made you, the blanket you taught him to make—and you two bask in this moment because Minghao is no longer stranger, but he is here and he is in your arms and you are in is, and there isn’t any other place you’d rather be.

a/n: mika ramble time! whatever demonic sickness has been haunting me for the past 5 days will NOT get the best of me. i have been aching to get this fic out since like september and it was initially supposed to be posted on hubbie's bday but :/ unfortunately i was a bit late bc life gets in the way ;c overall i'm really happy w it! personally, i think this is among the most emotional fics i've written, and i am extremely proud of myself for some parts of this so !! yea !! if u enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it, pls feel free to leave comments / reblogs >_< they mean the world to me ^^

[moonshine-nightlight]

Snapped - Part 4

Mech’s not sure why the aftermath of this mission is hitting him so hard, but he’s doing his best to calm down when Gwen’s presence shatters his control. Now it’s a count down to see if he can figure out how to put a stop to the instincts and hormones that are running wild inside him—before he does something they’ll both regret.

Science fiction, alien romance, male alien x female human, (4 / 4)

Story Status: COMPLETE

AO3: Snapped Chapter 4

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] Part 4 - NSFW

“Who else could it be? There’s no one—” He shakes his head and glares at her, unable to help himself. “There’s only you. Always you.”

Her eyes are wide as she looks at him, genuine shock evident. “Mech…”

The silence that echoes through the room is deafening, even the vents seem subdued in the wake of Mech’s most recent confession. 

It’s only broken when the synthesizer machine beeps, signaling that the compound has been mixed and is ready for use. Mech darts over to it with speed. It’s not going to do enough, he already knows that based on the limited ingredients he has on hand, but it should stabilize the reaction and ideally shorten the duration. 

He refuses to think about anything but the chemistry as he dully loads the dose into a syringe. Shame and fear has crystallized into a shield against the lust raging through his blood that’s proving surprisingly effective. How could he have told her how much he—the sharp prick of the needle as it enters his skin cuts into his train of thought and he lets it. He immediately sets the machine to rigging up another dose. He won’t be able to take it for twelve hours, but hopefully G—hopefully, it can be brought to him wherever he’s isolated.

The diagnostic machine buzzes next and he dutifully walks back over to where it’s been compiling a list of least dangerous medical concoctions to simply knock him out cold. Given how today has gone, he shouldn’t be surprised that nothing has a particularly high chance of either success or safety. As much as he hates this situation, he’s not quite at the level of self-destructive to truly consider taking most of these. Even if he wishes for nothing more than to stop thinking since the ground hasn’t managed to swallow him up.

Movement out of the corner of his eyes causes him to turn sharply. Gwen’s been silent since she said his name in that quietly devastated tone in reaction to his confession. Now he sees she’s taken a step closer for some gods forsaken reason out of her self imposed corner.

“Stay back,” he hisses even as she walks even closer. And gods, is this dose even doing anything? He swears her scent is heavier, more enticing—richer and more appealing in every way. It reaches him with no trouble despite the vents still pulling air out and away from him and her downwind. She looks even more beautiful, her eyes dark and her blue skirt fluttering around her enticingly. “I told you.”

“Hush,” she chides gently. She walks even closer, with a look in her eyes he can’t fathom. Her hair dances in the breeze too, looking thick and touchable, her figure inviting him to see how soft her skin likely is, to imagine it yielding to–

Frantically, he reaches for outrage or worry or anything other than arousal in reaction to her approach. Where is her sense of self-preservation? He backs up, spines hitting the door behind him. “Do you want to leave?” he asks, grasping at straws. Why wouldn’t she say so? They could find some way to shift around the room while maintaining proper distance. He’s told her what state of his mind is. She can’t expect him to understand what she wants from him when his instincts have such a strong hand on the controls of his imagination. He doesn’t understand what’s happening. 

“Do you want me?” she asks, her eyes intent as she takes another step closer. “Without all this,” she gestures with her delicate hand in a circle as if to encompass the room or his heightened state, “do you want to be with me?”

There’s no point beating around the bush anymore, is there? Even if he thought he’d been plenty clear before, he supposes she wants to hear it outright. “Yes,” Mech admits, hanging his head because now she knows it's his fault his instincts picked her. If he hadn’t already thought of her like this, when she saw him only as a friend, then maybe this, this break wouldn’t have happened. “For…” He shakes his head, unable to remember when his feelings became something other than platonic. “I don’t know why today pushed me over the edge, but I promise I can get back under control.” He can’t lose her, not from something so abrupt and uncontrollable. “I can,” he insists desperately.

Her face softens and she must feel some sympathy for him. Gwen’s one of the most compassionate people he’s ever met, surely she can forgive him for this. “Oh, Mech, you silly alien.” She steps even closer and before he can react, her hand lands on his cheek. It feels electric, each point of contact. His worry and frustration and shame all war with his hormones with her so close. His claws dig back into the wall, venom pools in his mouth, every nerve and muscle in his body straining for her held in check only by sheer force of will. “I don’t want you to.”

“W-” Her lips on his silence whatever protest he was going to attempt to utter. His whole brain skitters to a halt, unable to do anything except stay perfectly still and process what’s happening with every sense. Her lips are warm and soft, pressed with perfect pressure against his half-open mouth. Was he saying something? Her wonderful, delicious scent envelops him completely until there isn’t anything except Gwen. Her hand on his cheek is the comfort of home and hearth. The little stroke of her thumb on his cheek is everything he’s ever wanted.

This perfect moment is all his raging hormones need to take over. Mech has Gwen pushed up against the door within a second. He splays one hand around her hip, holding tight as his other hand laces with her free hand to pin it to the wall. He sucks her lower lip into his mouth as he presses every inch of his body he can manage to keep her there. The ache of his cock finally has some friction to satiate it. His whole body sings with relief, the itch and pull and desperation blissfully satisfied with the contact with his mate. Or rather, his soon to be mate. 

With that thought in mind, he skillfully takes control of the kiss, needing to show her exactly why she should choose him. Why he deserves her regard. He shall prove his worth as a kisser and therefore a lover so she’ll have no doubt in her mind that he should be hers. He can’t resist a more substantial taste of her regardless. Mech slides his tongue carefully and deliberately between her lips to slide against her own. He loses himself in the kiss, in giving and taking in as equal measure as well as he can handle when confronted with the reality of her hot, inviting mouth.

Mech distantly remembers humans' more limited lung capacity and pulls back to trail kisses down her neck, questing for where it meets her shoulder. His jaw opens, fangs dripping and scraping along her heaving body. Gwen whines and pants as he touches her and he never wants to be anywhere else doing anything else ever again. He can only think as far into the future as to picture her with his marks on her and his blood boils with desire.

“Mech…” It’s his own naked wonder at hearing Gwen moan his name that breaks through the haze of lust and hormones and instinct to remind him of exactly what situation they’re in. How nothing he’s ever done with his life would have granted him such bliss.

He wrenches his mouth from hers with all the self-control he likes to pretend he has. Panting, breathing in lungfuls of her scent with her still pressed tight to him nearly undoes that, but he holds fast. He can’t get himself to break from her further, but he just needs her to tell him, needs her to reset the boundaries before he goes too far, before he ruins her and himself in the process. 

A puff of fresh air from the vent above allows him to latch back on to his more rational objections. “I don’t need your pity,” he practically spits, doing his best to find something that can force him to back off and salvage their relationship before he’s doomed it with his rash actions and clouded judgment. Luckily, it is an almost sobering thought—the idea of being with Gwen only to have her reveal she put up with his advances solely in an attempt to help him. That would destroy him.

Instead of helping him, Gwen’s eyes flash with incandescent, fierce anger. She shifts in his grip, not letting go or trying to escape his grasp as might be sensible, but to maneuver him where she wants him. She hitches herself up and then grinds down against his thigh now between her legs. She practically growls in relief as the thin skirt she wears and even the thicker fabric of his trousers do nothing to disguise the heat and wetness he feels against him.

“Gwen,” he gasps in true shock even as his body quickly angles his thigh to an even more advantageous position. His instincts are hyper-focused, straining to satisfy his mate in any way she wants him to.

“Does that feel like pity?” she demands, groaning as he moves and tightening her grip on him. “I want you,” she says plainly and everything in him comes to a halt for the second time in a minute. His eyes faintly glowing red ones frantically meet her own. They’re dilated, black swallowing up brown, but her sincerity, the raw honesty in them is crystal clear. “I want you bad. Have done for a while now.”

“Fuck, Gwen,” is all he can manage to almost whine as his mind frantically tries to make sense of the impossible.

She smirks in response, head ducking close to manage a nip at his lower lip and a lick to one of his fangs. Her eyelids flutter at the taste of his venom as she breathes, “Yes, exactly. I need you.” 

He can’t help but give her what she asks, what she needs. Why in the universe that's an ornery, suspicious, antisocial bastard like him, he doesn’t know. But he’s lost the will to keep fighting her. He chases after her mouth, his chest an iron wall against her own slighter, softer one. She doesn’t seem to mind being caged in by his hand, still pinned as his thigh has her hips. She just grinds closer, releasing hitching little breaths and moans as his venom mixes with her saliva. 

His silvery venom is primarily deadly only on his planet, but plenty of other species have reactions to it. Some it numbs, some it hurts, and others it heals. Humanity seems most varied in their reaction, but his understanding is that it tends to fizzle, to buzz. After all, theirs is a race that poisons itself recreationally, sought out toxic plants for the sting to add to their diet, and regularly ingests powerful drugs most races take in only the smallest of doses. However Gwen’s personal chemistry might feel about it, at least it's nothing terrible enough to break their kiss.

In fact, their kiss only breaks when she runs out of air and tips her head back to breathe. He lets go of her pinned hand, an absent minded extra push before he does to tell her to leave it there, and skims his hand down her flank, strokes across the swell of her stomach. She’s so plush and warm under his fingerpads especially through the cutouts of her dress. His claws snag in the material that does cover her. He can’t retract them. He resists the urge to cut through the fabric still keeping the rest of her lovely skin from him, resists the urge to dig his claws in enough to leave a lasting mark, showing any who might look upon her that she had allowed him the luxurious indulgence of touching her.

It reminds him he still might lose sight of his strength, of everything until it was too late. And Gwen doesn’t deserve this, rutting against the medbay wall while he’s out of his mind. She deserves to be courted and treated and to be laid down reverently in a bed of silk. He should be able to touch her without worrying his darker impulses will overtake him and hurt her. “Not in a sane state of mind to do this right,” he growls out in frustration. His head nuzzles into the crook of her shoulder as even in his irritation he can’t resist the allure of the comfort Gwen offers his soul so effortlessly.

“It's you and me,” Gwen replies, her voice sure, “‘course this is right.” She pulls his face out from where he’s hiding so she can meet his gaze. “You think I don’t know what I’m asking for?” her voice is cajoling and challenging, “I dreamed of you, pressed against me just, like, this.” She punctuates each word with a roll of her hips.

He tries to claw back a hold on his senses. He knows he should, knows no matter her words, Gwen doesn’t know. But she’s intent on wrecking him. “Need you to fuck me now, Mech.”

He snaps his teeth together, baring his fangs as his whole body tenses with the urge to do just that. “Gwen,” his voice is strangled. “For graviels, you don’t know what mating—”

“But I do,” she insists. 

“No,” he shakes his head. “You don’t.” He tries desperately to find the words to explain, but there’s only Gwen. His hands clench tighter in the fabric of her dress and he dares not look down for the tears that have to have accompanied the ripping sound. The fabric is no longer covering her well, but hopefully it’s still enough to keep his claws and venom away from her skin. His eyes track a bead of sweat that drips down her neck. He longs to stop it with his tongue. He longs to sink his teeth into where it pools on the curve of her shoulder.

“Yeah, I do.” Gwen finally sounds serious. “I looked it up.” His eyes snap to her own. She raises an eyebrow. “You think I’ve wanted you this long and not investigated what it would be like?” No, he hadn’t. He’d never even thought she might feel the same, might want this too. Had she really done so? He can almost picture her in her bunk, hair twirled around one finger as she scrolls through articles and stories about the rare couplings of human and graviel. He knows they’re out there because he checked too. “How compatible we might be? I want you and all you come with, no matter the scars. Want you so damn much.”

“Gwen.” There’s awe in his voice he can’t control. Even when humans aren’t put off by the venom and how it feels, many are at how it factors into graviel mating. How it seals over the scratches and bites and marks his kind like to leave on their mates, not too deep, but guaranteed to leave permanent marks. 

Her only reply is to grind against the thigh still between her legs. His tail winds itself up her leg to stroke her upper thigh before adjusting her to an even more advantageous position. There is a fearsome look on her face, as if she feels like she’s made more than enough allowances for his anxieties and fears. Like she’s done waiting. “Gonna fuck me, Mech?” Her smirk is wicked, the look in her eyes even more so. Her hair is spread in a messy halo around her head, her skin starting to sparkle with sweat, her body never ceasing its movement, its gentle undulation against his own. He’s never seen her eyes look so dark or so appealing. She looks edible. She arches with the motion of her grind  and one of her hands reaches blindly behind her, finds the doorpad. “Or do I need to find someone else to?”

Something inside him roars at her direct challenge. Maybe it was more than an internal roar because she shudders in response. There’s triumph in her eyes at his reaction. If she’s aware enough to provoke him… The last piece clicks into place and he finally takes her at her word, That she wants him. He’s got no resistance left. 

All he has is a need to make her his in any way he can. In every way he can. 

“Mine,” he growls as he takes her mouth in a ferocious kiss, hands already ripping her dress to shreds and stripping her of it. He barely notices her own hands scrambling at his shirt except that the feeling of her hand splayed over his stomach is nearly as euphoric as his hand closing around her breast. 

“Wanna mark you,” Mech warns. The urge to properly mark his mate as taken, as his is pure instinct. To leave physical evidence of everything boiling over inside him on her skin is overwhelming.

Gwen’s rucked his shirt up high enough that she can reach up, set her nails to his shoulder blades, and rake her nails down his back. The sharp pressure, the surprising sting of her nails, and lingering feeling of her touch send if possible even more blood rushing to his throbbing cock. He groans, arching into her claim. “Yes. Long as I can mark you too.”

“Perfect,” he says reverently into the skin of her neck where he presses a kiss and sucks a mark. “How are you so—”

Her moan of approval as he begins to knead to soft flesh of her breast under his hand is muffled by his lips back where they belong on hers. He grinds his palm down on her nipple and before long his eyes are fixed on where the claws of that hand just barely scrape against her skin. It becomes pink and sensitive as she squirms under his attention.

His claw finally breaks the skin right over where her heart pounds furiously. A short red scratch that he traces back over, venom running into it. She trembles in his arms with a whine as the cut seals shut, the line a subtle white against her skin. A glance in her eyes, fogged over in pleasure, is all the reassurance he needs. He latches onto her other breast with his mouth, allowing his venom to encase her nipple as he sucks. He twists his grip, claws scraping and healing as he does so around her other breat. Gwen practically screams her pleasure to the ceiling, to the whole damn ship if he’s lucky.

Mech wants everyone to know Gwen is getting the pleasure she deserves nearly as much as he wants them to know he’s the one giving it to her. He brings his fangs down to bear, gazing and abrading her soft soft skin. Gwen whimpers. He’d be concerned if the sound wasn’t also accompanied by the wet slick against his thigh increasing. 

Her hands scrabble at his back and her head thunks against the door as she arches, pressing her chest into him with another gasp of his name.

The sound galvanizes him. Somehow finally giving into his desires has helped the fog in his brain caused by this hormonal snap clear. The door isn’t going to let him ravish her the way he craves. He doesn’t want to be distracted by keeping her held up against it when there are far better things he could be focusing on.

He reluctantly lets go of her breast to grip at her hips again with both hands. She whines when he lets go of her tender nipple with his mouth to trail up to her shoulder. Her whole body tenses when the threat of his fangs are brought to bare, like she’s holding her breath. Still she doesn’t do anything more than whimper when he removes his damp thigh from between her legs, hanging pliantly in his firm hold. 

Gwen’s fingers wind their way into his hair, firm but not tugging in protest—yet. Before she can ask about the sudden stop to the way she’d been grinding herself to some sort of peek, he pulls her off the wall with a grunt. Lifting his head to remind himself of what exactly he’s working with in the medbay, he strides over to the bed in the center of the room where Gwen had been sitting only twenty minutes ago, distracting him while he tried in vain to solve this problem any other way than through.

He’ll bring her to his rooms once they’ve mated here, maybe more than once depending on their stamina and his hunger. This’ll do fine for now. She looks gorgeous, Mech thinks as he lays her out. He pulls the remaining scraps of her dress off. His eyes trace the goosebumps that spring up after he backs off with fascination as he methodically begins to strip himself. Gwen seems more than understanding and is eagerly removing the last of her clothing—her panties—with a quickness that betrays her own need. The scent that flows out of her is nearly enough to bring him to his knees. But there’ll be time for that later.

Gwen props herself up on her elbows to watch him with half-lidded, ravenous eyes. His eyes keep straying to her chest, already bearing the red and white marks from his fangs and his claws. He’s never been more proud of anything in his life than that she let him mark her as such. He’s never giving her up.

“I don’t share,” Mech says bluntly as he places a hand next to her hip. He isn’t arguing or retreating or trying to back out anymore. This is at worst a warning, at most a promise.  “This can’t be a one-time thing. I won’t change my mind, not about you. I’ll keep you all to myself.”

“Yes,” Gwen agrees easily. She lays back down while reaching for him, the invitation in the lines of her body obvious. Her fingers wrap around his forearm, the black spines that line it, and there’s no give to her hold. “Mine.”

He vaults onto the bed, over her, without thought and she welcomes him. Her hands map every inch of his skin she can reach, no fear at the way his black spines lining back and arms are standing at attention. Gwen’s touch starts off light as he arranges himself over her, but once he brings their lips together for another mind-melting kiss, she increases the pressure. Mech can feel each point of contact, each finger tip, as she digs them in and drags her nails connecting th black splotches that litter his red skin. 

Mech pictures his skin turning from red to pink, lightning from the force she’s exerting to try to mark him and he grows harder if at all possible. He ruts against her upper thigh with greater intent, getting impatient. All the relief from this much contact finally not enough to satiate his hunger for his mate. His Gwen.  

She must notice because she hums with smug satisfaction into the kiss and those same fingers start to migrate from his back to rest low on his hips. “Gwen,” he groans, pulling back from her lips just far enough to pant her name against her lips. 

Her fingers brush his cock in a deliberate tease, one he’s past having patience for. His hips chase those fingers for a more purposeful grip. Luckily, she seems unwilling to play this game any longer either. Her fingers wrap around him. “Yeah?” her voice is rough with desire and every nerve in his body sings at the sound, at her touch. She strokes down, from root to tip, seemingly not put off by the black ridges and bumps his red cock has that he knows humans don’t. She must really have done her—Mech’s thoughts scatter when she twists her fingers, lubricated by pre-cum the same silver as his venom which leaks from his erection. She grinds the palm of her hand against the sensitive head and he arches his back with a moan that feels like it's pulled straight from the depths of him.

“Fuck, Mech,” Gwen pants, eyes darting from his face to his cock and everywhere in between, clearly unable to decide where to look while Mech just tries to keep his eyes open so he doesn’t miss a second of his wildest dreams coming true right underneath him. “You’re gonna feel so good inside me, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Mech hisses even as he presses down on her shoulder, moving up to position himself for just that. “Need to be inside you now.”

“Yeah,” Gwen agrees, lining him up with perfect precision. “Now, now, fuck, n—”

Her words are cut off when she moans as he sinks into her welcoming wet heat. She gasps as he pulls her legs open further with his tail, lifting her ass off the bed to angle his thrust home best. He can’t think about anything except how good she feels, how hot and snug and perfect she is. He thinks he babbles some of that aloud as he pushes in. “So wet, so soft. Fuck, Gwen.”

“Ye-es,” she replies back, eyes closed to better savor the feeling of him filling her in one long inexorable movement. She hooks her leg around his for better stability and he takes advantage immediately. Pushing that much further in, massaging her ass with the hand he has on it, letting his claws dig in to her yielding flesh. She groans at the pinpricks of sensation from his claws and venom, from him finally hilting deep within her.

There’s a split second where there’s nothing but the sound of their labored breathing and the whoosh of the vents. The calm before the storm. Everything outside of them ceases to exist as every hormone is his body cries out in triumph. Mech’s eyes meet hers and he ignites once more. He pulls out halfway, but he can’t seem to exist outside of her anymore and quickly thrusts back in, adding a grind to the end that makes Gwen moan deeply. Her hands land on his shoulders as she pushes against him, matching his movements with a synchronicity he never should have doubted she was capable of.

Her palms push on his own chest for leverage and he gasps at how it feels against his nipples. Gwen picks up on his reaction immediately, her focus zeroing in on her new target. Mech bows his head, overwhelmed by all the sensation his touch-starved body isn’t used to. That of course brings his mouth within range of her delectable neck, all that lovely skin and sweat and scent, all uniquely Gwen. He laves his tongue along her collarbone, fangs grazing and mouth sucking in a random, hazy, instinctual pattern that seems to drive her wild if the way she clenches around him is anything to go by.

“So close, so close, so close,” Gwen chants, her hands moving to his spines, holding on tight to ride out how roughly he’s fucking her with his pistoning cock. The ache of her grip is sweet enough his next thrust has an extra swivel of his hips behind it. “Mech! Mech, please. Please.”

He knows exactly what she’s begging for and he’d rather die than let her go unsatisfied. His tail finds and grinds against her clit with unerring accuracy despite the  desperate motion of their coupling. Her reaction nearly throws him over the edge, the throbbing of her walls around his cock exquisite in their increased intensity. Mech preserves through the sensation, determined to make Gwen come before he does.

Luckily, it only takes a few more strokes and making a calculated tug on her clit for her to call out, “Yes! Me-ch!” The final strands of his self-control snap and he comes on the next thrust, his cock and fangs buried deep in his claimed mate. The ensuing euphoria blanks his mind from anything other than pleasure and he slumps against Gwen, satisfaction flowing through his veins.

Mech eventually comes to and finds himself carefully lapping at the bite mark he made on her shoulder, his venom already having closed the wounds, but leaving them sensitive if Gwen’s hums and twitches of pleasure are any indication. Her hands are running absently up and down his arms and limp spines, sending ripples of residual pleasure through him.

He’s never felt this content before, wrapped around this wonderful woman, still buried in her. He can still feel the unusual lust swimming through his body, but it's more than manageable at the moment. All he wants to do is enjoy this culmination of everything he never thought he would get to have.

Of course, that gratification and laziness only lasts so long. Gwen starts to stir more coherently beneath him and that insatiable desire begins to make itself known once more. 

“Are you hard again?” Gwen’s voice breaks the stillness, bewildered and still sounding a little orgasm-drunk.

“Yes,” he acknowledges, pressing a sheepish kiss to her neck.

She shifts, muscles clenching and relaxing. Mech fights the urge to whimper as she asks, more curiously than anything, “Is that a graviel thing or a mating frenzy thing?”

“I can’t remember,” he admits as a few seconds contemplation where all he can think of is how good she feels and what other marks he wants to leave on her. “Might just be a sex-with-you thing.”

“Hm, good answer.” Gwen rolls her hips, mouth nipping at his neck with a promise that sends anticipatory shivers down his spines as they stand at attention once more. “You’ve got five seconds to roll us over so I don’t knock us to the floor. I wanna be on top this time.”

“Whatever you want, my mate.”

[robo-writing]

I saw that your requests are open and we need more Joshua content❤️‍🔥 maybe a fic where reader constantly treats joshua like he's fragile and it pisses him off that reader doesn't see him as a strong man like his brother Clive and at some point his jealousy and anger takes over so much that he shows her in bed how "fragile" he is. maybe pre-realtionship because I love the idea of ​​Joshua longing to be close to Reader 💕

Ooooh, a more dominant-kinda Joshua was def a challenge to write, I like this request a lot! 18+ under the cut.

You and Clive had been sighted together often as of late, running around trying to fix whatever may be going wrong with the hideaway, from broken floors to faulty lights. Joshua may only be a new addition to the rebellion but he still wanted to do what he could to lighten the load. He’s offered his assistance multiple times, only to be shot down by you at every turn. 

Confused, he confronted you one day, and after some interrogation you told him the truth: that you’re worried for his health.

“Clive has the most stamina between the two of you, and I don’t want to see you get hurt,” you voiced, a brisk pace to whatever needed your attention currently.

A pang of jealousy travels through him at the thought of you and his brother together. He knows your relationship is strictly platonic, and he knows he has nothing to fear, but it doesn’t stop that ugly feeling creeping its way into his heart. 

At the sight of his dejected face you turn toward him, a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re strong in your own ways,” you sighed. “Clive’s just more suited for this kind of work, I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

Your logic was sound and came from a place of love, but it still hurt. For as long as he’s known you he’s found himself under your spell, but you didn’t seem to notice him no matter what he did. He feared you would never see him as anything more than a friend, and to hear those words leave your mouth was the final straw. 

He wanted you to trust in his strength as you did his brother, wanted to be the one you could depend on, and if words won’t help he’d just have to show you.

Overwhelmed with emotion he moved forward, bringing your lips to his and closing the door behind him.

Your voice is hoarse, almost unrecognizable as you let out a high-pitched whine, face pressed into the soft sheets below. He mounts you from behind, his voice ringing in your ears.

“It hurts to think that you think so lowly of me, my lady,” Another slap of his hips against yours sends you reeling forward, holding onto the sheets for dear life.

He doesn’t stop, uses your body to vent his frustrations and leave you in a state of euphoria. He plows you into the mattress and laughs at your weakened state.

“What’s wrong darling, you seem pretty tired,” he huffs, clearly still sore about what you said. His words are accented by the slap of skin on skin, a roughness you wouldn’t expect from the soft-spoken man you knew for years.

You can’t answer, barely conscious enough to register his words. His touch, his words, the stretch of his length forcing you into submission, it’s all too much, your mind slowly going blank.

His name leaves your mouth between each stroke, a mantra you repeat to the open air. Your thighs burn, you’re barely able to hold yourself up if not for Joshua’s harsh grip upon your body. Arched perfectly for his view, you feel yourself shudder when his lips meet the curve of your spine, trailing kissing into your back as he fucks you roughly.

It’s as if everywhere he touches stokes a fire in you. You moan, press your backside higher and clamber at the bed sheets every time his cock hits your g-spot.

“I wonder, how much strength do you have to keep going?” He asks above you, fully settled against your back.

“I can’t, I can’t,” you cry into the mattress. “Please, I’m sorry—“

A sharp thrust makes your eyes roll back, screaming his name into the pillow. A short moment of rest, he pulls you up by the neck and holds you close, feels your body shake with exhaustion as you desperately catch your breath.

Lips on yours, he brings you for a messy kiss, a thread of spit connecting the two of you when he pulls away. He wipes at your tear-stained face with his thumb, blissfully enjoying the fucked out look you give him.

“Well, we have the rest of the day. Let’s see if we can’t test your limits.”

[poussacha]

My 2023 Fanfiction Wrapped

Hi everyone! It's ya boi spreadsheets back with another fanfiction wrapped! This time I actually took the time to make it look really pretty (see: I half assed this in Google Slides for my discord server's swampmas wrapped event lmao).

Without further ado, here's what I read this year.

2023 Fanfiction Mini Guide

These are fics I rated 7/7 stars on my guide that I would FULLY recommend everyone read if you're into these fandoms or ships.

Stranger Things

Gen (Steve & Robin)

As He Sinks Just Like A Stone by saintmares | Rated T | 5k

The words "Steve Harrington is sooo strong" had always made Robin Buckley roll her eyes. After all, what did it matter if some stupid jock just so happened to use his muscles a bit more than other people? But when her life comes crashing down inside a secret underground Russian elevator, Robin finds a new appreciation for the strengths of Steve Harrington... at least until she has a startling realization about her best friend and his fleeting mortality as the Party patches up his demo-bat bites.

Steddie (Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson)

Black Out Days (Fairground Nights) by OonionChiver | Rated E | 140k (background Ronance)

‘I think,’ Steve says slowly, reaches for Eddie’s abandoned, untouched beers. ‘You don’t know me very well.’

‘I don’t know you at all, man. I don’t really want to.’

Steve’s throat works. It’s subtle, but Eddie sees it. He hides it with a swig of beer, but when he sets it down, his smile isn’t quite so bright. Twice as sharp, though.

‘The self-centred asshole who can only be decent to a single human being, I get it. It works for you.’ Then he takes a thick, heavy breath. The alcohol is hitting him, Eddie can tell. ‘And I am being civil. I’m here, aren’t I? You have any idea how hard it is for me to be here?’

‘In a bar?’

Steve doesn’t answer.

Star vs. the Forces of Evil

Stomco (Star/Tom/Marco)

Monster Carvers by Raikim4Never | Not Rated | 70k (unfinished, but I think about it every day of my fucking life)

Fourteen years after Princess Star Butterfly is kidnapped from her cradle, a terrorist attack on The Underworld results in Prince Tom Lucitor being sent to stay on Earth. Meanwhile, the Monster Carvers plot to bring an end to all non-Mewmans, and Ludo learns of rumors that Tom was given the Butterfly wand for safekeeping…

High School Musical

Chyan (Chad/Ryan)

I Still Don't Dance by Rozavie | Rated G | 20k

Chad Danforth never thought that he would find himself here—washed up, past thirty, teaching at a high school, and divorced. Basically, everything in his life has gone up in flames. No longer being able to play his favorite sport, and coming off of an exhausting (although amicable) separation, Chad decides that it's time to focus on what he can control. Primarily, raising his daughter. As long as she's happy and healthy, Chad thinks that he can manage to be as well.

But when an old friend from high school stumbles back into his life, Chad's world gets just a little more interesting.

Boy Meets World

Cory/Shawn/Topanga

For a good time, call by feyrelay | Rated M | 3k

This headcanon lives rent-free in my head, constantly, and I was so disappointed in how GMW handled a lot of the adult relationships and stickier topics, that I just had to write this. It just might rot your teeth.

Avatar: The Last Airbender

Zukka (Sokka/Zuko)

like the sun inside you by ofherlionheart | Rated M | 200k (Unfinished)

Sokka's expression is caught somewhere between determined and pissed off when he says, “I know you think this is your responsibility. But you’re not going to be alone in this. This is why we’re building you a council.”

“I know,” Zuko says.

“And the only way you’re going to die having done nothing but sit in meetings is if you let yourself do that. You’re not a bad leader if you take a break now and then.”

Zuko scowls. “What, so people can then say at least my father wasn’t lazy?”

Sokka tilts his head. “Don’t you think there’s a difference between laziness and, I don’t know, choosing life and happiness in spite of a terrible dad who tried to take both from you?”

----------

Zuko is sixteen years old when he’s handed a crown, a throne, and a hundred-year ancestral legacy of colonial imperialism. He’s not scared of the work; he’s scared of being consumed by the responsibilities and burdens he’s claimed. What Zuko doesn’t quite realize, yet, is that he’s not alone in this.

(do you take this jerk to be) your one and only by jatersade | Rated T | 55k

Under the leadership of Fire Lord Iroh, the Fire Nation has made every attempt to restore peace and make amends for the harm they inflicted during the Seventy-Year War. Their newest proposal is a literal proposal: a marriage to unite the Fire Nation and the Water Tribes.

The Fire Nation offers Prince Zuko’s hand.

The Water Tribes offer Princess Yue’s.

Sokka is apparently the only person in the world who has a problem with any of this.

Will We Last the Night by CSHfic | Rated T | 144k

Chief Arnook never assigns Sokka to protect Princess Yue, so he goes to fight the Fire Nation with the other men. When the moon dies, and the ocean spirit takes its revenge, Sokka is caught standing on the deck of a Fire Nation ship. Sokka should have drowned… and he would have drowned, if not for a certain Fire Nation raft fleeing the North Pole.

[An enemies-to-lovers season 2 rewrite, where Sokka is separated from the gaang during the Siege of the North, and travels the Earth Kingdom with Zuko instead].

War Crimes by Lovely_Elbow_Leech | Rated M | 90k (MAJOR CONTENT WARNING FOR SA, CHILD SA, TORTURE, MURDER, AND VIOLENCE - PLEASE READ THE TAGS AND CONTENT WARNINGS)

Book one ends with two major diffrences: 1. Sokka went on the mission with Hahn (it did not go well) 2. Zhao survives the North Pole and that proves unfortunate for everybody (except Zhao, obviously) 

Imprisoned on Zhao’s war ship, Sokka and Zuko have to work together to survive. They are not very enthusiastic about this prospect. 

And they argue. 

A lot. 

War games by Lovely_Elbow_Leech | Rated M | 428k (MAJOR CONTENT WARNING, TORTURE, VIOLENCE, MURDER - Unfinished)

After the events of War Crimes, Sokka and Zuko have escaped Zhao’s warship and are fleeing across the Earth Kingdom. As well as unfamiliar terrain, they have to navigate their shared trauma, work out where they fit into the war, and their place in each others lives.

Sokka is aware that being friends with the enemy is going to bring complications, but he probably should have guessed that being friends with Zuko in particular, was going to be a bit like dunking your head repeatedly into a bucket of angry Fire Ferrets.

Katara is also grappling with the confusion of befriending an enemy, something that doesn’t prove as difficult as she had expected with the bond of shared, furious grief bridging old wounds. (Learning a new way to look at her bending doesn't hurt either)

Azula, struggling with the Fire Lord’s mistrust, encounters a few nasty surprises and has to make some difficult decisions. Luckily, she is a great deal better at making sensible choices than her brother.

Her father may have made a slight tactical error.

In the Soft Light by CHSfic | Rated T | 84k

As the newly appointed cultural liaison to Northern Water Tribe, Zuko is the first Fire Nation Citizen to step foot inside the city's walls in nearly a century. He's determined to prove himself—to the Fire Lord and to his father—even if the Water Tribe's spirit-touched prince seems to want nothing to do with him.

or

Moon Spirit Sokka AU

These Things Written by Erisenyo | Rated E (Underage) | 222k

The letter was never supposed to be read, least of all by Sokka. But then, things happen every day that aren’t supposed to, in war.

Or,

On a particularly hopeless night, Zuko sends out a messenger hawk to nowhere. He didn’t realize that his messenger hawk is deeply committed to completing the job. And that Sokka happens to be traveling straight through nowhere, at the time.

These Things Known by Erisenyo | Rated E (Underage) | 400k (Third in series! There is a second one between These Things Written and These Things Known)

[Aang cuts him a quick, guilty look. “I didn’t mean to imply that you…”

Sokka raises his eyebrows. “That I…Focus on the present to the point of blindly committing to enormously questionable courses of action with significant long-term ramifications because they’re gratifying in the immediate moment, which is particularly concerning as our chief Maker of Plans?”

“Uh—That’s basically…Yeah.”]

Surrounded by danger and doubts, separated by war and one irrevocable decision—after the world of just-Sokka-and-Zuko crashes into the world of everything else, what comes next?

Or,

What happens when trusting someone suddenly means something far different out in the world than it did in the space of a Ba Sing Se teashop?

I'll Share the Moon, if You'll Share the Sun by anarchycox | Rated M | 400k

An alternate world where Iroh leads a coup against Ozai on the eclipse and wins the throne for Zuko. The southern water tribe hadn't sent men to fight in thirty years, instead protecting their home, laying traps, using guerilla tactics so the fire nation gave up fighting them.

Sokka and Katara found Aang, but being frozen in ice for a hundred years has ramifications and for almost four years the tribe focuses on healing the avatar.

Zuko is advised for continued peace to have an arranged marriage outside the fire nation. The best option is a the child of the chief of the southern tribe. Katara is in love with Aang and is heartbroken, but will do her duty for her people. Sokka finds a loophole that they can carefully and craftily exploit.

Aka they lie. They lie so hard and Sokka becomes the one betrothed to Fire Lord Zuko. He is sure there will be no consequences to the plan. Certainly not going to fall in love with the man he is lying to. At all. Nope indeedy, no love on the menu. Dang it.

Everything That I Am Not by Benedick | Rated T | 85k (Unfinished)

Sokka isn’t stupid. Not that his sister is, mind you (at least, he’d never call her that to her face now that she’s honed her waterbending), or any of the rest of Team Avatar, although sometimes it feels like he’s living in a different world from the rest of them — a world where running out of food means starving, and walking into a town full of firebenders with the Avatar in tow will get you killed, rather than help you free a beaten-down Earthbender colony.

Anyways.

Sokka isn’t stupid, which is why he laughs directly in Aunt Wu’s face when she tells him that he will marry the Fire Lord.

As always, if you're curious how I get my data or how to do this yourself, shoot me a DM or come bother me in my Discord Server (It's called The Swamp, we're all queer and neurodiverse with various interests and are currently having a pokemon themed Swampmas)

[wonusite]

i have another thot for you!!! imagine this, you get home from a long day at work and are just so stressed and tired. you need a way to relax, so your loving boyfriends minwon offer to fuck the stress out of you :) (or, alternatively, THEY have a long day and decide to use you as a form of stress relief.) -minwon nonny

so i’m gonna write the first one bc i had a long day at work and fantasizing abt minwon just releases the tension lmao. (also u wild for this and ily 🤍)

immediately, your bfs can tell you had a long day. the exhaustion that’s clinging on to your figure is more obvious today, and your eyes seem duller than usual. you feel like you can cry when they immediately come to you, asking you what’s wrong while taking your jacket and shoes off for you.

you lean back into wonwoo, practically melting into his comforting chest. they’re both silent, waiting patiently for you to tell them what’s wrong. you feel mingyu’s large hands soothingly rub your thighs while your other boyfriend lovingly hugs you closer to him. this alone makes you feel better, but selfishly, you want more.

and because you’re their princess, they’re more than willing to give you more.

“oh, fuck!”

your cunt is throbbing with pleasure, still high of your second orgasm. this isn’t enough for gyu and wonu tho. their tongues are licking every inch of your wet pussy, moaning and groaning as they drink up every bit of your arousal.

your bfs tongues messily clash together as they fuck their respective muscle into your hot cunt. you’re tightening so much around their tongues and coating them with your slick that it has their cocks twitching and throbbing. you gently grind against their faces, getting off on the sight of two hot men between your legs.

“fuck, gonna come!”

gyu moans into your pussy while wonu just smirks. “come for us, baby. show us how good we’re making you feel.”

the way their sucking on you and fucking their tongues into you paired with wonwoo’s deep rasp just drives you over the edge. you squirt all over their faces with a loud cry, alternating between their names like a mantra.

your two boyfriends drink up every drop of your orgasm, effectively licking you clean as their cocks twitch and ache with the need to get inside you.

their chins are wet with you orgasm, and you’ve never seen a hotter sight. you’re panting slightly, completely sated. all the tension and fatigue you felt before has definitely melted away, but your bfs can still see some remnants of exhaustion clinging on to you. and they’re determined to fuck every last bit out of you.

“fuck, baby. just look at how that pretty pussy stretches open for us.”

you mewl at mingyu’s words, barely able to form a coherent sentence as your two bfs fuck their big cocks into your cunt. no matter how many times you’ve done this, you’re still not used to the delicious stretch or pleasure it provides. they’re repeatedly hitting your g spot, and you know it won’t be long before u come all over their cocks.

“gonna squirt for us again, angel?” wonwoo groans against your neck, hand slipping down your body to rub your throbbing clit. “make a mess on our cocks?”

“fuck, nu!” you cry out as their thrusts start to get harder and sharper. “gyu! so fucking good!”

it feels even better when mingyu bites down with his sharp canines, silently urging you to let go and cream all over his and wonu’s cocks. which you do. messily and hotly like your boyfriends were craving. it’s all they need for them to fill you up with their cum.

you’re all a moaning mess as they shoot their hot, sticky loads into you. ur eyes roll to the back of your skull as they fuck their cum deeper into your cunt.

“don’t think we’re done yet, baby.” wonu moans as he feels a mess of cum drip down to his balls.

gyu hums in agreement, loving how all your releases are messily covering his cock. “we’re just getting started.”

[aishangotome]

Chapter 6-1 During Extreme Danger, One Must Consider Change (瓜極思變)

Chapter 5 Rumors

.

.

.

Once again, I've spent the night without sleep.

The morning light seeps in through the carved windows, creeping slowly and stiffly across the floor tiles, like the last gasps of a dying tree.

In the past, when I read ancient writings like "The world is cold, human feelings cruel, the rain sends twilight and flowers fall easily," I only felt an empty sadness. Now, I truly understand the meaning behind those words.

Fei Liang: Princess, you haven't slept for days and you refuse to eat. Your body won't be able to handle this.

Fei Liang comes to my side, her eyes red, carefully coaxing me.

Fei Liang: Please, just for Fei Liang, go get some sleep, okay?

Princess: Bow.

Fei Liang: ... What?

I prop myself up on the bed, ignoring Fei Liang's surprised expression, and repeat myself.

Princess: My bow. Bring it.

Fei Liang purses her lips and quickly fetches the bow and arrows hanging on the wall. I grip it in my hands, feeling a flicker of strength return.

Since returning to Shengning, I've barely used this bow. This place is different from the mountains. Its dangers aren't visible to the eye. Weapons, no matter how sharp, are no match for the schemes of the human heart.

I draw the bow, the arrow nocked, aiming at the closed door in front of me.

Princess: Fei Liang, where do you think this arrow will land?

Fei Liang looks at me in dismay, her face blank.

Princess: I've practiced martial arts and studied since I was young. I thought galloping across the battlefield and conquering the world would be exhilarating.

Princess: But after reading so many books, what good is it to be able to hit a target from a hundred paces? One person's strength is ultimately too small.

Princess: In this imperial city, true power has always been the kind that kills without drawing blood.

Fei Liang: The Second Prince will be fine.

Fei Liang tries to comfort me, but I know even she doesn't believe her own words.

Outside, there's a commotion. The sound of footsteps, accompanied by the clanging of metal, approaches aggressively, reaching my door in an instant.

The door is forcefully pushed open from the outside. A man with short white hair, carrying his usual arrogance and disdain, appears in my sights.

Fei Liang: G-General!

Fei Liang instinctively shielded me, fearing Han You might harm me, but a guard rudely pulled her aside.

Han You: Greetings, Princess. May you enjoy eternal happiness and good health.

Han You lifted his chin slightly, looking at me from the shadows as if sizing up his prey. Even the scar on his left eye seemed oppressive.

I didn't move, and neither did he.

In the silent standoff, I released my fingers, and the arrow pierced the door frame behind Han You.

Han You raised an eyebrow, a sneer spreading across his face.

Han You: The princess is as bold as ever. But in the past, you had the means to resist me. What about now?

Han You: Without your protective wings, how high can you fly? Besides...

Han You: Don't forget, it's lonely at the top.

I tried to straighten my back, not wanting to show weakness in front of him. But the more I did this, the more satisfied Han You seemed.

Princess: You brought the poison into the palace. You bribed the Imperial Physician Sun.

Princess: You and Consort Han conspired to kill my father.

Han You raised an eyebrow, neither admitting nor denying it.

Princess: Even if you wanted my brother to ascend the throne, there was no need to go this far. Why... why did you...

I clenched my fists, glaring at him. Han You just scoffed indifferently.

Han You: It doesn't matter anymore. After all... everything is settled.

Han You: The princess has already lost a loved one. Surely you wouldn't want such a tragedy to happen again?

Princess: ... What do you mean?

Han You: In a few days, I have a grand gift for the princess.

Princess: What are you planning?

Han You: Knowing beforehand would ruin the surprise, wouldn't it?

He turned to leave, then looked back at me.

Han You: Do you regret returning to Shengning now, Princess?

Han You didn't wait for my answer and left directly. I don't know how long passed before Fei Liang came to support me, and I realized I was trembling.

Fei Liang: Princess...

Princess: Should I have never come back? If I hadn't, wouldn't...

Fei Liang: None of this has anything to do with you, Princess!

Does it really have nothing to do with me? I'm not sure. In fact, I'm unsure about everything now.

After that night, everything I thought I knew about people and things was overturned. The truths I held dear were shattered.

But I know I can't fall apart yet. For my mother, for my second brother, and to uncover the truth about my father's death.

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Chapter 6-2

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[furyborne]

A Delicate Matter

Personal struggles, below the cut in case the subject matter could be triggering to anyone. It’s a long one, folks...

Struggling with some intense dysmorphia and dysphoria. Haven’t felt this awful about the way I look in a long time. Not sure if it’s particular dates that are influencing this, or if it’s just my brain being... my brain. :/

I’ve never been comfortable with the way I look. Assigned female at birth, I was a “tomboy” my entire youth, with having three brothers being sufficient reason for my “need to fit in”.

Puberty hit like a freight train, and I suddenly had to wear size D cup bras. When one is “trying to be one of the boys”, you can imagine the kind of attention that can draw (not any kind I feel comfortable with now, but then I craved the validation that my body was worth something).

And while this led to a whole new array of therapy-inducing issues, one of my biggest hang-ups was the fact that I didn’t feel comfortable in my body.

I wanted to be attractive. I wanted to be sexy. I was a size 12 throughout high school, and built broad (like a brick house, my da once said), and I hated looking in the mirror and seeing this..... “masculine” physique plastered with sizeable breasts.

Aside from the backaches I used to get frequently, I was becoming more and more uncomfortable with my chest. I grew up incredibly sheltered, thought even the word “sex” was taboo and embarrassing to say, so I didn’t have a vocabulary to explain my feelings, and just leaned into, “the size of my chest is making my back hurt.”

It was said often enough that even my father mentioned he’d pay for a reduction if he could afford it, as one of my great aunts had had done when her bust size became an issue for her health.

Now. How many teenagers, children really, do you know that nearly plead for such drastic body modification?

Needless to say, due to financial circumstances, I never got that surgery.

Fast forward to getting married, having children, and my bust went from a D to a J and I was slowly dying inside. I liked the attention from my husband, but even HE could see that I wasn’t comfortable in my skin.

After our youngest was born, he discussed putting some money away a bit at a time until we had enough to afford the reduction I so desperately wanted.

And then, he died, and for while, that was the only pain that mattered.

I lost a bit of weight and went from a J to a G cup. And still, through my grief, I felt anger at not being able to exist without the bitter tang of my discomfort with my own body.

I bought so many outfits. So many things I never would have thought to wear. So many dresses and shoes and cardigans, trying to embrace my own image. I bought things for ME.

And a few times... A few times, I felt legitimately beautiful.

Then, I was propositioned by a married man because he liked the way I dressed and was dissatisfied with his own marriage, and I was doused in a violent wave of disgust yet again.

That is the moment in which I can pinpoint exactly where my current level of self-loathing started.

I stopped wearing those outfits. Stopped caring about my appearance. Stopped dressing up just to please ME.

Now, it’s been ten years, and the raw ache is still present, and I’m not where I wish I could be, health-wise, weight-wise, appearance-wise...

And the appearance thing is gnawing at me. I look in any reflective surface and feel little but disgust and frustration.

I took to wearing my son’s flannel shirts (as he’s over 6 feet tall, and they fit well on my average, but quite overweight frame) because I could pretend that I was just “that heavy” and not have to look at my chest.

And it BURNS me inside...

I remember a few times, as a younger me, that I tried taping my chest. I new it could be dangerous, but I NEEDED to try it. Similarly, staring longingly at a sharp blade and wondering what it would be like to just slice the bags of fat off my chest.

And I fear, I’ve circled back around to that way of thinking again.

I cannot even begin to figure out how to feel any better about myself...

[curseofbreadbear]

animatronicabundance​:

Rockstar Row? It takes the boy a second to remember where that was, as he didn’t have a map from sheer luck of avoiding mapbot somehow, but how could he forget that area of the mall. It was where he acquired his soft bear friend, one of the glass cases had been open that night and he took a chance. Something about the bear just called to him, and while he’s not sure what or why……..he’s glad he had a friend even if it was plush. Now he has two though and he couldn’t be more excited!

“R-Rockst-star R-Row…g-got it!”

His heart races a bit with nerves, would he be able to keep up with the older boy? He was awfully good at running, the tripping with the bunny didn’t count, but he never had to keep up with another kid. At Least from what he remembers he never had to keep pace with another child.

The boys do mostly well though, getting slightly split up by one staff bot but it doesn’t take long for him to get back to being Gregory’s shadow. Almost there…amost-

A familiar red station beckons as the hour hits, but they both are used to this song and dance by now. Gregory and the boy, who’s yet to give a name neither has Gregory but the night has nerves high, make it safely inside. He puts his hand on his racing chest and takes a deep breath once it’s safe to leave. That was their only problem….it was a straight shot to Freddy’s room now.

[If Gregory had to guess, then this kid probably hadn't made sprinting part of his strategy ( unlike Gregory, who never passed up the benefits of a delicious Fizzy Faz ). Maybe he preferred hiding -- with a hidey-hole like that closet earlier, he clearly had some prowess with stealth. In other words, he was Gregory's strategical opposite...he'd have to keep that in mind if they had to pull another stunt like this. It wouldn't do to have him lag behind, after all -- that gave the bots ample opportunity to catch him.]

[This bout of running went without a hitch...for the most part, anyway. A STAFF bot had almost split them up, but thankfully, the other kid was quick-witted. He'd caught up despite the snag in their route, and now they were well on their way to Rockstar Row.]

[...Not without darting into a charging station first, though. One glance at his watch told him that they had a minute, at best, to do so. Moon was on the prowl -- and although Gregory would usually summon Freddy for such encounters, there was no telling what might happen with the new kid around. He worried that Freddy's frantic stomping might send him into high alert -- that was the last thing they needed.]

[Nevertheless, they were safe once again; the Pizzaplex's lights flickered back on, which meant that all they had to worry about now was getting back to Freddy. That shouldn't be difficult, though -- his entire reason for heading to Rockstar Row ( and Freddy's green room ) hinged on the lack of animatronic presence there. They would be safe.]

❝ It's just a straight shot from here. I don't think we have to worry about those bots anymore. ❞ [Gregory glanced over, watching the other kid catch his breath; all this running must have been taking a greater toll on him than Gregory realized. At least they could probably go at their own pace now.] ❝ ...Catch your breath, then let's go. We don't have to worry about running for a while. ❞

[Once the other kid settled down, Gregory led him out of the charging station. He kept a slow and steady pace this time around, but kept a sharp eye out for the animatronics ( or the dancing rabbit lady )...just in case. It didn't seem like they were in any danger, and Freddy was just around the corner.]

[At last, they reached Freddy's green room door; Gregory pulled out his Photo Pass, but stalled before opening it.]

❝ ...This room is safe. Freddy's in there, but he's our friend. He's not like the others. ❞ [He'd already reassured this other kid about Freddy, probably, but it didn't hurt to encourage him again before they actually entered. He seemed really squeamish around ALL of the animatronics.] ❝ Ready? ❞

[kongkhoi]

do i need to tell you again?

character: scaramouche

warnings: smut, degradation, dom scaramouche, biting, teasing, orgasm denial, blowjob, swallowing cum, hair pulling, creampie, afab reader

word count: 1.8k

a/n: not proofread, enjoy (?)

“sc-scaramouche! ah-”

you’re laying on the bed, the man above you pinning your wrists down into the plush surface. his head is in the crook of your neck, hungrily licking and sucking, marking you as his. he relishes in your sounds and in your scent, his control slipping with every noise you squeak out. he wants to take you then and there. 

it’s absolutely hypnotic to him. how sensitive you seem to be, how he can feel your hands clenching tighter, how your thighs are on the verge of shaking from desire. he wills himself to prolong the moment. extend his patience. 

after all, who knows what cute sounds you’d let out if he were to.. 

you let out a repressed squeal when he bites down into the soft flesh of your neck, leaving you panting. you try to hold back your noises, biting your lip. 

“bastard,” you manage to spit out. “that’s gonna leave a mar- nngh!”

you’re interrupted when he harshly sucks on that same spot, almost making him laugh at your sudden silence. he smugly chuckles against your skin, continuing his kisses. he trails up your now-sensitive neck, to your jawline, to the corner of your mouth. you can’t stop the mewls that spill from your lips, your mind going blank. 

he takes a second to see what’s become of you. face flushed, lips rosy and swollen, pupils blown wide, marks littering your neck. with a low growl in his throat, he licks his lips at the sight.

“already so needy. i’ve barely even started,” he teases, his voice lilting ever so slightly. it sends a shiver down your spine.

you open your mouth to respond. to deny, to retort, anything. but his lips crash into yours before you do, robbing you of whatever you had to say. his kisses are breathtaking. ravenous but reticent. rough and yet ever so slightly laced with sweetness. before long, he has your back arching and your hips desperately rolling into his--despite any of your claims to want otherwise. heat pools between your legs more and more by the second, making you crave for any kind of relief through friction. but you wouldn’t dare let him know about that.

scaramouche pulls away, meeting your eyes, loving the way your eyes look distant and hazy. smirking, he releases your hands to trail one down to your slick cunt sopping with arousal. your eyes widen at his touch, wanting to become undone with just his fingers alone, only your pride stopping you from outright begging.

“look at this, he hisses. he brings his hand into view, his fingers glistening with your slick. aware of every detail, you take a sharp breath in, entranced.

“such a slut. this wet already? i can only wonder what goes on in your head right now.” he smirks. bringing his fingers to his mouth, he slowly drags his tongue along them. he maintains eye contact, not for a moment missing any of your reactions.

the feeling in your gut tightens at that, almost making you whimper. 

with your hands now free, you flip him over with you on top. you’re freeing his cock from it’s confines when he grabs your hair and tugs, making you moan and look up at him.

“ah, ah, ah,” he reprimands.

it’s a simple gesture. yet for some reason it sets a fire within you. you want to see him cry out in pleasure and yet you obey, staying a hair’s breadth away from his angry cock. you’re eager and awaiting, even enjoying the ache his grasp on you brings.

so you feign annoyance. “what is it this time,” you grunt.

“as nice it would be to have you doing this on your own accord, i could only imagine what a view it would be if i did...this.” his grip on your hair tightens enticingly.

“open,” he commands, and you do, leaving your mouth wide open for him to use like a toy.

not wasting any time, he brings your head down onto his cock. you gag at the sudden intrusion and he lets out a low moan at the sudden tightness your throat brings. tears sting the corners of your eyes and your glare shoots daggers up at him, making the man laugh.

“it only gets rougher from here. but i’m sure you already know that, whore.”

you suck harshly on his dick in retaliation, shutting him up with a grimace.

he thrusts up into your mouth again, building up a regular pace. gagging and choking on his cock, you elicit long, drawn out moans from scaramouche. fucking his cock into you deeper, his breath hitches, his other hand tangling into your hair as well. 

you swirl your tongue around his length and groan, making him pull your mouth off of him.

breathing heavily, he demands, “what do you think you’re doing?”

“can’t handle it?” you chuckle. the spit your escaping from your mouth and the darkened blush on your face drives him crazy. before he can answer, you blow hot breath onto the tip of his cock.

eyes darkening, he grips onto your locks once again, his cock filling your mouth. the even faster pace and the lack of air makes your head spin and your vision blur.

heavy breathing fills the room as you continue to struggle for air, the man above you adoring just how tight and warm your throat is around him as his visage contorts in pleasure. the tears falling from your lust-shrouded eyes is the icing on the cake, and it’s not long after until scaramouche shoots hot cum down your throat.

he releases his grip on your hair and you pull off, wiping the tears from your cheeks. you’re finally able to breathe when he shoves you onto the bed again, your back meeting the cushiony mattress.

scaramouche positions himself between your legs, gripping your thighs so tightly it was sure to bruise. but you’d be a liar if you said you didn’t like it. after much anticipation on your end, he hauls your legs over his shoulder, and easily slips his cock into your sloppy cunt, making you cry out.

“hah, you’re not even putting up a fight anymore. has my stupid little slut finally come to her senses?”

you manage to squeak out a response.

“hm? speak up,” he sneers.

“yes!”

he raises an eyebrow and pauses. “yes, what?”

you hesitate to answer. but the way the desire pools in your stomach is more than enough to make you swallow whatever dignity you have left. anything to relieve the burning ache that only builds.

“i... i need you to fuck me, scara. please.”

“not good enough.” he begins to stroke his cock, to send a message. “if you keep this up, i’ll leave you here and get off by myself. so tell me. what do you want me to do to you?”

your throat bobs as you gulp. with a deep breath, you beg. “please. please i need you to fuck me, scaramouche. i-i’m your dumb slut and only yours, just pl- ngh! ah s-so big!-”

upon his bottoming out into you, the only thing you can do is curl your toes and throw your head back in pleasure as his cock drags so deliciously between your walls and his skillful fingers rub circles into your sensitive clit. you can only grip the bedsheets and watch with blurred vision as he thrusts deep into you.

scaramouche fucks into you and ravages you better than you ever could with those fingers and toys. almost pulling out, he rams back into your tight cunt, making you scream. “i can’t -ngh- i can’t, scara-”

“take it,” he growls in between thrusts. “you’re gonna take anything i give you, understood?” 

his head perfectly aimed at that spot you love, hitting it with every thrust makes your mind go blank. it feels so good, you can’t help but babble out incoherent “yes, thank you”s and “feels good!”s. the coil tightening in your stomach and the way you clench around his dick tells him everything he needs to know.

right before you can cum, he pulls out of you, eliciting a whine from your lips, now bitten raw and red.

“hah,” he pants. “bend over. the side of the bed. c’mon, you can do it.”

it takes a few seconds to process. “b-”

“do i have to repeat myself?”

you blush and shake your head, doing as he says. your ass now exposed, back arched, cunt dripping, you manage to comply. the lack of vision you have in the new position sends goosebumps across your skin.

he rests his hands on your hips and caresses your ass, making you shiver. he lines up his cock to your welcoming entrance, groaning at how it sucks him in so nicely. wet, hot, and tight for him, he bottoms out into you. its cruel and torturous, the pace he sets. his cock kissing your g-spot, you press into the mattress at the pleasure it gives you. but you want more. and he knows it.

“more! please,” you sob. “f-faster!”

“all you had to do was ask.”

the harsh thrusts and his fingers digging into your stomach bring you closer and closer to your high. your whimpers and moans come out higher pitched as you near your climax.

it hits powerfully, amplified by your previous denied orgasm. you near scream into the bed, your sobs muffled and your tears flowing. but he doesn’t stop there. you’re still sensitive when scaramouche bends down to whisper in your ear, “god, you’re so -nngh- so tight! does my cock feel that good? going stupid already?”

you try to respond, but can’t form the words. your tight hole clenching tighter around his cock at his venomous words.

“you like that? is that gonna make you cum? go on, then.”

your thighs have long given out, your body convulsing under him. mind screaming from the pleasure the overstimulation brings, hearing nothing but scaramouche’s voice and the sound of wet skin against skin. it’s all too much. you cum for the second time, making him groan at the feeling.

he thrusts harder into you, causing you to cry out. his voice husky and moans broken, his hips stuttering, and his legs giving out, he cums inside. the hot liquid shooting deep mixes with your own slick and cum, slowly dripping out as he pulls out of your used hole. he uses two fingers to swipe up as much as he can and stuff it back into you.

“good,” he pants.

you tilt your head to the side, face red. “mmm. good?”

he nods. he moves the stray hair away from your face and sits down, fixing your body in a more comfortable position. “yeah. we’ll sort things out in the morning.” he pulls a blanket over the two of you. “rest up.”

you sigh as you take one last look at him. “alright.”

[azaleavi]

Good morning

Summary: Bucky wakes you up in the best way possible.

Warnings: smut, +18, language, dirty talk, kissing, oral sex (f receiving), light fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms

Word count: 1.6k

Author's note: This is my first ever smut so please please give me feedback. I'm happy with anything even if you tell me it's not good as long as you explain why you didn't like it.

Feedback is always appreciated and don’t forget to reblog and like if you enjoyed it and want to see more. Thank you!

Masterlist

18+ MINORS DNI

The crisp morning air hitting your naked body made you stir in your deep sleep. It wasn't cold, but you could have used a blanket. Which you were sure you had when you went to sleep the night before. You groaned, frowning as you reached out in search of the man next to you. When you didn't feel him you struggled to open your eyes his name leaving your lips.

You were almost fully awake when you felt something wet touch your knee, making you jerk. Looking down you were surprised by Bucky on his knees between your open legs, his mouth on your skin, looking back at you. Jaw hanging open, you sighed at the sight in front of you, moving your body closer to his as his lips were leaving a wet trail on your skin, going up your leg. His hands gripping your hips he nipped at your inner thigh.

"Bucky" your hands went into his hair with a sharp intake of breath.

"Let me make it a good morning for you, doll." his palms splayed on your inner thighs as he pushed them open to reveal your wet flesh. He blew cold air on your folds, making you tremble and pull on his hair.

"Please." you keened, back arching off of the bed.

"Please what?" he pressed his nose against your clit to inhale your scent. "Use your words, baby." his tongue darted out to give your already wet pussy a teasingly slow lick. "What do you want?" the mumbled into your flesh, making you writhe.

"I want you." you choked out. He hummed into you, making you move your hips upwards with a whimper leaving your lips. As a result of the movement his lips pressed more strongly against your folds as his metal hand left your hips to place his index finger at your entrance. His tongue continued to move up and down on your clit.

Sweat broke out on your body, the butterflies in your stomach going crazy at his touch. His tongue started moving faster as you came closer and closer to release without him having to do much. But he wasn't about to let you get what you wanted as he pulled away from you. The lower part of his face covered in your juices. Your legs trembled as he looked up at you fully immersed in your lust, mouth open and eyes half closed in desire.

"You are so fucking delicious" you looked down on him just as he dived in once more so fast that you couldn't help but let out a loud moan.

"Fuck, Bucky" his finger finally entered your body, your back arching with long breath. His thumb moved against your clit along with his tongue. Your brain no longer had control over what came out of your mouth as you went between moaning his name and just saying please. Another finger entered you, your eyes rolling back into your head at the sensation. The metal against your hot flesh felt like heaven. He was like a starved man finally getting his first meal as his lips moved on you fervently.

"Shit" you moved your hips for more friction, but his right hand held you down, making you let out a whimper. The sounds of your wet pussy became louder as he moved his finger in and out of you faster.

"I'm close Bucky, don't stop" your voice cracked as he started moving impossibly faster, his fingers hitting the spongy spot inside you, making you throw your head back with a loud whine.

Seeing how close you were he detached his lips from your clit and pulled his fingers out to spread you legs more open to give more space to his head. You whined at the lack of touch, but it quickly turned into a loud moan of his name as he strongly sucked on your clit.

"Bucky, fuck" your legs not being able to close because of his hand holding them open made it even more intense as his tongue pressed even more against your clit.

"Be a good girl and come for me, doll" you couldn't hold any longer as white hot pleasure tore through you, making you let out a scream and pull on Bucky's hair. Your muscles relaxed as you came down from your high, body sweaty all over, completely spent. Your hands left his hair to lay next to your head as you tried to catch your breath from the mind blowing orgasm you just had. He was always good with his fingers, but his lips were other worldly.

Your inner thighs burned from his beard giving you a delicious pain you didn't want to forget.

"I hope I made your morning better baby" he smirked as he climbed up to come face to face with you, his dog tags hanging from his neck and resting on your chest. Chuckling you pulled him in a passionate kiss, wanting to feel his soft lips. You tasted yourself on his tongue, making you groan into the kiss.

"Definitely better" you answered as he lied down next to you and draped his arm across your torso.

"Yeah? Then how about round two?" he whispered and smirked into your neck.

"With you? Always" you sat up to sit on top of him, his hand flying to your hips as he felt your still wet pussy on his abdomen. You lied on top of him your bare breasts pressing against his chest. You felt his now hard cock against your ass as you moved. "Someone is ready" you teased, but it didn't last long as he flipped you over in one swift motion.

"For you? Always" he rephrased your words, making you chuckle. His fingers found your clit again earning a moan from you. "You are always just so ready to take my cock huh?" he growled into your ear, your hips lifting at his words. "I believe I asked you a question" he stopped moving his fingers, waiting for your answer.

"Yes, yes I am" you managed to get out.

"Good girl" you whimpered at the praise. He knew how much you loved being called that during sex and he used it regularly. His fingers started moving again as wetness pooled between your folds for the second time this morning. You reached down between your bodies to wrap your hand around his cock and give him a few strokes. He hips buckled into your hand with a growl leaving his lips.

"I want to be buried inside your pussy not in your hand" he nipped at the skin on your neck as his hand left your clit to pull your needy hand away from him. You circled your hips in the air at the loss of contact, which he noticed.

"Look at you trying to get my cock inside you as soon as you can" he grabbed himself and positioned the tip at your entrance. "Is that what you want babydoll? For me to be inside that tight little pussy? You want to feel full of my cock?" he coated himself in the wetness between your folds, a moan leaving your lips.

"Yes please, Bucky, yes" you arched your back. He pushed into your warm heat as your mouth hung open in a silent moan. You welcome the familiar stretch in your pussy. A feeling only he can give you, his cock fitting you like a puzzle piece.

"Fuck you are so tight" he grunted at your walls tightening around his cock, taking all of him. He started rocking his hips into yours as he grabbed on of your legs to put it on his shoulder, giving him an entirely new angle. You moaned as he hit your g-spot, his lips kissing along your neck.

"There Bucky, oh god" you threw your head back, right hand gripping the hair on the back of his head as your left hand's fingers was intervened with his. He set a slow pace, enjoying every moment of your tight walls against his hard cock. The sounds grew louder as he picked up the pace after a while, skin slapping against skin, creating a obscene noise. You were getting closer and closer to your second orgasm. He felt your pussy clenching around him, a dead giveaway you were close.

"I can feel every part of your tight little cunt baby" his metal arm went to your clit and started rubbing it, your hips moving along his fingers, your lips moaning his name. "Let me feel you cum around me. Come on be a good girl for me" he moved faster, hitting the spot inside you which sent you over the edge, your mouth falling open as you came around him. He followed after a few snaps of his hips, cock twitching and filling you up with his seed with a loud moan leaving his lips.

Bucky fell on top of you, his huge body almost crushing you, but you liked to feel his weight on you. He rolled off onto his back as both of you tried to catch your breaths. He moved after a few seconds, his lips finding yours in a lazy kiss as you basked in the afterglow of sex.

"I think I should wake you up like this every morning." he grinned at your completely fucked out state as you barely had energy to move your head to look at him.

"You can if you let me sleep in afterwards" you replied, your eyelids dropping sleepily.

"Go to sleep, doll. Maybe I'll wake you up the same way again" he pressed a kiss to your cheek, but you were already out.

[summerbummin]

Hawks’ Bird Traits Headcanons

Physical Traits

-The wings ofc

-Actually his wings were originally a light brown when he was a kid but once he hit puberty (or started T if u subscribe to the trans Hawks agenda like I do) then they started turning red, from light brown to copper to scarlet. The reason they changed to a brighter color was bc male birds wings are actually more colorful to attract mates and get sum fuck

-Tail feathers, they act as an airplane’s rudder would and help him with steering and balance, but the hpsc doesn’t like the tail feathers because it disrupts the angelic image they’re trying to sell, so they have Hawks pluck them or hide them in his pants (which is why they’re so baggy)

-Talons on his fingers and toes, he clips them regularly in case he has to take his gloves off so people will just think he’s wearing black nail polish, the hpsc has him hide them because they want him to look angelic, not predatory

-As well as the talons, he also has patches of scales on his feet like an actual birds, (don’t ask him why they’re not on his hands he couldn’t tell you, birds aren’t supposed to have hands in the first place but here he is) he keeps ankle high boots and socks on whenever he’s not alone to hide this

-He has extremely good eyesight, he can see 8-10 times better than the average person, he could see a mouse scurrying on the ground from 100 feet away

-The black markings around his eyes isn’t eyeliner, it acts like eye black on baseball players and helps him see against the glare of the sun

-He three eyelids, which means he can go for an unnervingly long time without blinking

-His third eyelid is a special one and is what’s known as the “nictitating membrane” its translucent and goes over his whole eyelid and protects it, it allows hawks to keep his eyes open when he’s flying at fast speeds on the occasion he loses his visor, and luckily since he’s so high up people won’t be able to see how milky his eyes have gone, it only really comes out on ground level when he’s either relaxed, half asleep, or wasted

-He has sharp canines/teeth as a way to make up for his lack of a beak so he can easily eat the tougher meats his inner raptor craves, but the HPSC does not like this because it makes him look predatory, so they did dental surgery on them

-High pitched noises drive his bird brain crazy, like metal on metal or nails on chalkboard, and those type of sounds are way worse for him than the average person, he’ll either want to fly away or stop the source of that sound

-He has oil/preen glands on his lower back (like right where back dimples would be) and he can use it to clean his feathers, waterproof them, and keep them in tip top condition! He has designated “preening” time but with how busy he is... a lot of the time he skips it rip

-He molts twice a year, because even though he’s constantly using up feathers doing hero work, he has little baby ones closest to his back which don’t detach and always stay on, he molts those along with the feathers he hasn’t used up and he Hates when he molts because his back gets so fucking itchy, and also because he can’t do hero work when he’s molting

-He has a very fast bird metabolism, which is why he’s always stuffing his face with food, flying takes a lot of energy so he constantly has to “refuel”

-He has hollow bones and despite common misconception, that doesn’t make them lighter, they’re actually hollow so they can hold extra air/oxygen to help with flying which takes up A Lot of breath

-He gets cold easily because the rest of his body isn’t covered in feathers like an actual bird would be, that’s why he wears a fluffy coat and an insulated flight suit under that to trap the heat in, also it gets very chilly high in the sky

-He will actually grow a “winter plumage” during that time of year, and his feathers with get very fluffy and poofy to try and insulate his body. When he’s cold he’ll turn into a little puff ball and people tease him mercilessly for this

Behavioral Traits

-Stress grip, if he gets stressed/highly stimulated, and if something moves within his line of sight, he’ll grab it. But the problem is he physically cannot let go until he’s calmed down. The hpsc tried to train this out of him but when realizing that wouldn’t work, no matter how hard they tried or how hard they pushed Hawks, they instead trained him to grab himself or inanimate objects instead, but absolutely do Not grab people. And Hawks has gotten pretty good about redirecting his raptor grip, but in the few situations when he doesn’t manage to... it’s a Yikes

-He really likes shiny things. When he first met Dabi he had to resist staring at the way his staples glimmered, Dabi thought Hawks was staring at him because he was analyzing him or smth but nope, it was bc bird brain go brrr

-Because of his love for shiny things, Hawks has a “cool rocks” hoard, and if he gives you one of those rocks that means you have unlocked the “hawks will now die for you” level of friendship

-Hawks Loves head pats or having people card their hands through his hair. Birds can’t reach the top of their head so other birds do it for them (allopreening) and it’s considered a social activity and one of acceptance, so Hawks will unconsciously pat or ruffle the hair of people he’s fond of, like Tokoyami for example

-He’s very carnivorous and because of that he will Tear into meat, especially the raw kind, but he never eats raw meat in public because that’s seen as “gross”

-But he can also eat other foods, and some he even has different reactions to, like with peppers. Peppers don’t taste hot or spicy to him because birds don’t have receptors for it, they taste sweet and he loves the way the juices taste. He also finds it amusing when people look at him in horror when he chomps down on a carolina reaper like it’s nothing

-To impress people he’ll do crazy dives. It stems from bird courtship rituals, but Hawks never really had anyone that special to him for most of his life, so he uses it as a trick to wow people instead and it comes in handy for heroism

-Hawks will cock his head to the side when he’s perplexed or thinking especially hard, little head tilts ;-;

-He’ll also bob his head along to music he’s enjoying, his coworkers find this hilarious and they’ll rate music on whether or not it gets Hawks to “bob” and they call it a bob instead of a bop lol

-Perches, he’ll perch on the arm of the sofa instead of sitting on the actual cushions like a normal person and he always likes to have the high ground so he’ll sit on top of tables or counter tops, he’s even gone so far as to perch himself on a lamppost once or twice, like a gargoyle

-Blindfolds calm him down because to his bird brain, being unable to see makes him think he’s safe. Or at least they used to, the hpsc used blindfolds on him when he started training as a kid, and while they might calm him down after a training session, using that technique during one would freak him out because he’s being asked To Do Something when he can’t see and birds rely heavily on their sight to function. They used that “technique” on him so much that now if someone put a blindfold on him he’d panic because of that childhood trauma tm

-He isn’t scared of the dark though, he actually has a habit of sitting in dark rooms for a bit because when he overuses his quirk, he gets migraines bc of that telepathy stuff (I know this isn’t a bird hc but I had to include this)

-He makes bird noises, like coos and chirps when he’s happy, which isn’t a lot (can we get an F in the chat), squawks when he’s startled, and raptor screeches when he’s trying to act scary. The hpsc put him in speech therapy to keep him from making bird noises, and because when he was younger he had trouble speaking and also Trauma from it because his parents treated him like a disturbance, so he’d always try to make as little noise/take up as little space, as possible. Now he’s a great talker, to the point where he won’t shut the fuck up, but when he’s extremely distressed he sometimes can have trouble speaking “actual words”

-Hawks’ feathers often react to his emotions, he can puff up/raise his feathers to make himself look bigger when he feels threatened, or they’ll bristle like pinecones when he’s annoyed, or get all soft and fluffy when he’s around someone he likes/feels safe with

-Because of his adverse reaction to the cold, Hawks loves warm things like heating pads, hot water bottles, Dabi. He loves to sun his wings too and sunbathing is his favorite way to relax (on the rare occasion he has the time to)

-He also really likes blankets, but not just because of the warmth, he has nesting instinct. He will pile a bunch of blankets and pillow and all other kinds of bedding and soft things on top of his bed. Also if there is a certain person he’s missing, articles of their clothing get added to the pile. But this “instinct” only really happens when he’s feeling lonely aka without a home

-Also if he ever had a kid his nesting instinct would go insane trying to make his house/nest “suitable” since that’s the whole purpose of nesting, making a safe place to have babies and raise them

-He is very monogamous because of the whole “raptors mate for life” thing, and because of this he’s very picky and will only actually consider a person as a life partner if he trusts them and loves them unquestionably

-However, the whole “mating for life” thing also means he can be a bit territorial of his partner, wanting to leave marks on the to show that they’re His. Like once someone put a lingering hand on his partner’s arm and he had the unreasonable urge to claw their face off

-But it’s not all bad, as a courting ritual he’ll give gifts (mainly food) to show he is able to provide, which is unfortunate because in my mind, Hawks is a terrible cook. On the plus side, he has lots of cash money that he can spend on expensive restaurants and bakeries

-Basically he’s a bird sugar daddy

Thanks for reading!!

[ratsoh-writes]

What are all the boys weapons? (I know we've had a few reveals... but I can't remember who it was).

Ooo let’s do this one!

So a little background: every monster has their own magical weapon. The first form of magic all monsters learn are pellets (think the little balls flowey uses to attack the player at the beginning of the game). As the kids grow older, they’re taught to shape and change these pellets to their own design. In order to be considered in control of their magic, each monster must be able to create their own weapon and summon it at will. So every monster has at least one special weapon by the time they’re in their teens (not that they use it much).

I’ll reveal all the guys go to weapons here

Sans/Oak: he made his weapon back in the day when he was into school and wasn’t a lazy slob. It’s a full on laser canon modeled after his gaster blasters. Sans only brings that baby out to scare people since it can’t stack damage like his blasters can

Papyrus/Willow: it’s a giant catapult made of bones!! Papyrus wanted that engineering extra credit! 

Star/Lilac: it’s a shooting star that he can increase the size on to either ride or use as a ninja star. He’s very good with it

Honey/Basil: he’s not the most powerful so he didn’t make anything big or flashy. It’s a spoon ladle, with spikes lol

Red/Rust: spiked baseball bat. He’s a simple guy

Edge/Noir: the first thing he created and learned to summon at will was a rapier of course. Edge got into fencing real young.

Mal: his is technically a switchblade, but he’s made changes over the years. Nowadays mals blade will cover over his fingertips to make much longer and sharper claws

Cash: his magic weapon is very basic looking, a rope, but it’s damage is ingenious. It has tiny pinpoint needles on the rope that slowly sap HP from the target. Low damage on first strike, so low it’s easy to miss that the damage is increasing every turn, whether he’s hitting you or not.

Charm: his is a whistle that’s designed more to stun than actually hurt. It does cause some damage though so charm never uses it except in emergencies

Sugar: he can’t bear the thought of hurting anyone, so his “weapon” is a shield. A very pretty lacy looking shield, but it does it’s job.

Lord: his weapon is an extremely large hammer. The sucker is practically the same size as him. It takes a lot of energy to make, but the damage it causes is worth it.

Mutt: he copied his brother and also went the hammer route, but his is more hatchet sized, and mutt makes two of them. One for each hand.

Wine: a beautiful terrifyingly sharp looking reapers scythe. The weapon is a piece of art, and wine wields it like a master. If you see it, you’re already dead

Coffee: he makes a large snipers gun. It takes a massive amount of energy for him to make, but that’s because it’s designed to take out an enemy in one shot. Coffee needs to make sure that shot is worth it

Pop: it’s a soccer ball!! But it moves like a bouncing rubber ball. And pop is pretty good with his aim when he kicks

Rhythm: his weapon is his shoes. You only see a thin orange sheet surround his shoes, but when he swings his legs, waves of magic pour out like the waves of the ocean. However it’s more show than damage and doesn’t do much. It does have good push back though

Pluto: the best offense is a good defense! Plutos is a light looking suit of armor. He can take a few hits in that, long enough to get away hopefully. Pluto was never a fighter

Jupiter: it’s a heavy looking great sword, and the thing can really pack a punch. Jupiter has his family tree inscribed on it which gave him a nice chunk of extra credit in high school

G: he has two magic weapons, a backpack with two arms acting as tentacles, and a single claw on his right hand. The tentacles are just a distraction meant to keep his enemy busy, all the damage is in the claw

Green: his is a fancy looking pistol. The “bullets” spread out in a small wave blast wherever they land

Peaches: his is a familiar looking shotgun. If you ever saw ranchers room, you’d realize peaches magic weapon looks exactly like the shotgun above ranchers bed, minus the color of course

Rancher: his is also a giant hammer, the damage is pretty minuscule, but his strength behind the swing makes all the difference. Nobody expects the skeleton monster to have the strength of a golem. Ranchers case is not common

Snipe: surprising no one, his weapons are twin pistols, one for each hand. They do have an automatic function though so the sheer amounts of bullets he can rain down is pretty impressive

Bruiser: his is also a spiked baseball bat. Bruiser isn’t fancy and likes something he can use in almost any situation

Butch: his weapon is a large wicked looking battle axe. The blade alone reaches his shoulder when it’s resting on the ground. Butch rarely uses it

Boss: he uses a beautiful long sword one handedly. It’s a bit on the thin side and works as both a rapier and a normal sword.

Ace: twin switchblades, one for each hand naturally. Ace is very good at throwing them too

Slim: his is a small frisbee looking thing. He throws it, and it sends out a shockwave designed to freeze anyone near. It’s a weapon for escape, not killing

Sparks: he throws out firecrackers! They’re more show than damage, but because they’re small, they’re very easy to re-make so sparks can chuck loads of them at the same time

Salt: his is a chainsaw lol. He was inspired by a horror film he found in the dumps.

Lush: some wicket spiked gloves naturally. They’re meant more to cause pain than kill. Lush wants his opponent throughly punished before he finally ends them

Pepper: he has a rather dainty looking whip. Don’t let it fool you, the end of it has small holes where needles can appear. He uses it both in battle and for fun ;) (no needles during fun time of course)

And for gears and compass, they actually don’t have magic weapons as they can’t produce magic pellets, but they do have a favorite tool they use. It should be in their descriptions somewhere in masterlist 17

[tenseoyong]

I just know that yuta would be the type to just casually finger you with a straight face while like talking on the phone or watching tv and then if you act squirmy he’d be like “oh is something the matter?”

yuta absolutely is the type to toy with you and be completely stone faced the whole time like it’s not affecting him at all. finally having a night alone, yuta obviously took the free time as an excuse to get you out of your pants. he’d shed your clothes instantly, not wanting to waste even a second together before his schedule resumed the following morning.

skilled, slender fingers quickly found their targe; twisting and teasing your sensitive clit, ghosting over your entrance until he deemed you wet enough before just barely dipping inside your needy core—and then his phone rang. you didn’t try to stifle the disappointed sigh when you saw mark’s caller ID on the screen, assuming yuta would cease and answer his friend, and the night’s entertainment would have to end. but when yuta’s mischievous eyes caught yours as his free hand picked up his phone, hit ‘answer’ and sunk his fingers inside your warmth all the way to his knuckles; you didn’t hide the confusion spreading across your features.

“mark~what’s up?” yuta’s tone remained light and casual as he answered the younger boy, not at all giving away what he was currently doing—slowly massaging the warm walls of your core, teasing his thumb around your swollen clit and beginning to slowly thrust his index and pointer finger in and out of you. “ah, im just with y/n, relaxing for once.” you couldn’t hear mark’s reply, but you were sure he could hear your sharp gasp when yuta twisted his fingers, expertly curling them and finding your g-spot, pressing the tips of his fingers into the smooth nerves over and over, feeling your walls fluttering and clenching around his digits.

“huh, what sound? i don’t hear anything, it must be on your end.” with a phone in one hand, yuta wasn’t able to hold you down, stop you from thrashing about like he usually did. the bed creaked from the way you twisted and turned, you pressed your shaky hands over your mouth, sinking your teeth into your own skin when yuta’s gentle massage on your g-spot turned into full on attacked, trying desperately to muffle the scream; you were positive mark could hear the slick sounds echoing through the room through the phone, and you knew he’d heard you just now, there was no way he didn’t hear the high pitched moan you released at the coiled in your tummy snapping, “eh? oh, that, yeah, i think y/n has a bit of a...tummy ache...groaning a bit in...pain, ill call you back later, yeah? okay, sleep well.”

completely out of breath and twitching slightly, whimpering from yuta’s fingers still moving inside you—though, now more slowly, gently than before, you watched yuta finally hang up and toss his phone to the side. “i think, our little mark is on to us. you’re so loud, felt too good to hide, huh? that’s okay, we’ve still got all night...”

[aliendes]

BTS reaction to you squirting (M) NSFW

BTS reaction to you squirting NSFW 18+

This is my first time using the Tumblr GIF feature. If you do not want me to use your GIFs please let me know, I am new to this!

Warnings: squirting?, fingering, oral, overstim, toys, they’re mostly all kind of soft doms? lol oops, marking, exhibitionism kind of

A/N: Ok so I got a request from @blushingatyou for a soft dom Namjoon with marking, praise, and oral, so I included that in here! Hope you like it! :) and also I think I have a thing for Taehyung… he’s literally never been my bias or my bias wrecker, but I can’t help but write the filthiest things for him… why lol. Some of them are short - I’m sorrrrry. If you have a request, send me an ask ;D

Seokjin was on top of you thrusting his thick cock into your pussy. He was hitting all the right spots, the tip of his dick bumping into your cervix with each thrust. You could feel the pressure building in your core causing you to clench around Jin.

“A-ah!” You yelped as Seokjin brought his hand between you and pressed his thumb onto your swollen clit, “Jin!”

“Come on baby, cum for me,” his voice was low and breathy. He was panting hard, exacerbated from the quick pace he was keeping up. The room was filled with both of your heavy breathing and the sound of his balls smacking skin with each thrust.

“So- so close, Jin,” you were out of breath, eyes screwed shut as you let your orgasm build. You started to feel a pressure in your pussy that felt foreign to you, but it felt good. Really good. “J- Jin - I,”

Before you could finish your sentence the pressure snapped and you swear you lost consciousness for a moment, only seeing white behind your eyelids. The next thing you knew, Jin had halted his movements and was staring at your pussy in awe. You looked down and saw that his crotch and abdomen was soaked. He looked up at you, a goofy grin on his face, “You just squirted, babe.”

Your face flushed at his words, one hand coming up to cover your face. “Hey,” Seokjin leaned down and pulled your hand down, “don’t hide from me. That was insane. You are so fucking hot. Do you feel good?”

You did, you really did. You nodded at him and he leaned down and kissed you softly. “Think you got another one?”

Yoongi currently had you bent over your makeup vanity in your room. You were supposed to be going out for dinner tonight, both having the night off from work, but neither of you were able to keep your hands to yourself. The two of you hadn’t seen each other in almost a week, too busy with work. You didn’t even have time to touch yourself properly. You had a lot of built up desire and the moment your boyfriend walked through your door, all bets were off. 

A sharp slap came down hard on your ass cheek as Yoongi relentlessly pounded into you from behind. Your arms were bracing you against the desk, both of Yoongi’s large hands on your hips pulling you back to meet every thrust, one coming up every once in a while to give your ass a nice slap. You had a blooming red print on your cheek and Yoongi was loving it.

“That’s it baby girl,” he drawled, voice deep with lust, “you take my cock so well.”

You moaned at his words, pussy clenching hard around his thick cock. “Mmm, you love it don’t you,” he growled, “you love this cock.”

“Yoongi!” You yelped as his hand came down another time. Your nerves were on fire with arousal, pussy dripping down your thighs and onto your bedroom floor. The pleasure Yoongi was giving you was heightened because of your lack of release this past week. 

“Scream my name baby, let everyone hear whose fucking this pussy raw.”

“A-ah! Y-Yoongi!” You screamed as his hand snaked around your front, tips of two fingers rubbing vigorously onto your swollen bud. He reached down a bit gathering up your arousal and spreading it over your clit again. The moan it drew from your throat was so lewd it had him throwing his head back as he fucked into you with all his strength. He wasn’t usually this rough, but he missed your sweet, sweet cunt so much. Yoongi bent his knees slightly, fucking up into you so he could hit your sweet spot. “Ah!” You were sure your neighbors would call the cops soon.

“Cum for me baby, cum on this cock.” 

You felt the pressure in your pussy build and build until you couldn’t take it anymore and your legs were shaking with pleasure. Yoongi grabbed onto your hips, steadying you as he fucked you through your high, never letting up his pace. It wasn’t until your post orgasm haze started to fade that you realized the puddle on the floor. “What.. the…” you trailed off as Yoongi’s thrusts started to slow.

“You squirted all over me babe,” he said, smirk apparent in his voice, “you’re so fucking hot.” He picked up the pace again and slammed into you, chasing his own high. “Let’s see how many more times you can do that tonight.”

Hoseok knew exactly what he was doing, and you fucking loved it. He currently had you blindfolded on his bed, teasing your sensitive clit with a vibrator. He’s been edging you for the better part of the last hour, bringing you so close to orgasming and then pulling away completely. You were a writhing mess on his satin sheets, heightened even further by the blindfold you were currently wearing.

“Hoseok-ah!” You screamed as you felt his tongue plunge into your pussy without warning. He still held the pink silicone vibrator against your clit and he fucked his tongue into you, drinking up your taste. “Ah!” You couldn’t control your volume at this point, hands reaching to grab onto his hair.

He instantly pulled away at the feeling of your fingers in his hair, still holding the vibrating toy. “Uh-uh kitten, hands off,” he growled lowly, “only good girls get to cum. Now behave.”

You whimpered, slowly removing your hands from him and fisting the soft sheets instead. After a moment, you felt Hoseok inching closer to you until you could feel his hot breath of your dipping pussy making you jolt with excitement. He brought the vibrator back to your bud, just lightly touching it. The pleasure bordered on painful, not quite enough to bring you over the edge but enough to have your legs shaking. “You look so hot squirming under me, kitten,” Hoseok whispered against your pussy, licking a stripe from your hole up the side of your clit. You were a moaning mess, screaming at the intense feeling of his wet tongue and the strong vibrations. 

Just as you were about to topple over the edge, you expected Hoseok to pull away again, but instead he clicked the vibrator’s strength up all the way. “That’s it baby, cum for me,” a high pitch scream left your lips as your orgasm washed over you quicker than you expected, back arching high off the bed and you clenched down on nothing. Hoseok quickly stuck his tongue inside you and you came to ride you through your high. 

You laid back on the bed, head hitting the soft pillow as Hoseok clicked off the vibrator and slid up the bed towards you. “Feel good, kitten?” 

You nodded at him, a hazy look on your face as he reached over and pulled the blindfold off you. Your eyes took a moment to adjust, and the first thing you saw once they did was Hoseok’s glistening, grinning face. “What?” You asked hesitantly at the look on his face.

“You squirted,” he smirked.

You looked down between your legs immediately noticing how wet the bed sheets were. A blush instantly rose to your face at the mess. “S-sorry,” you mumbled, embarrassed.

Hoseok propped himself up over you and leaned down and kissed you passionately. “Sorry? No - baby that was so fucking hot. I can’t wait to do it again later.” You giggled at his salacious smile, covering your face with your hand.

“You look so good, dripping wet for me, love,” Namjoon whispered in your ear. He was propped up on one hand leaning over your body, the other hand traveling down your naked body until he reached your pussy. He ran two fingers through your slick before inserting them into you, causing a soft mewl to leave your throat. “So wet, so perfect.” His mouth traveled down your neck kissing and sucking lightly on the skin until he reached your collarbone. With his fingers still pumping slowly in and out of you, he sucked light purple bruises onto the skin of your decollete, marking you for everyone to see tomorrow. “Such a pretty baby.”

“Joon,” you moaned, drawing out his name. 

“Hmm,” his lips were still sucking at your chest, moving a little lower until your perky nipple was in his mouth. He lewdly sucked for a moment before pulling back with a ‘pop’. “Tell me what you want, love,” he looked up at you, lust present in his eyes.

You squirmed a little, making him halt the movement of his fingers inside you. You let out a loud whine at his actions, making him pull completely out of you and lightly slap your clit with his wet fingers. “Use your words baby,” he growled leaning up to bite your neck in warning.

“Ah!” You yelped, “Y-your fingers, Joon!”

“What else, love?”

“Y-your t-tongue!” You gasped as his fingers entered you again, adding a third one to stretch you further. You moaned at the slight burn in your core as he curled his fingers up to hit your g-spot. “Feels so-o-o good!”

“Mmm,” Namjoon made a noncommittal noise in his throat before moving down your body, fingers still wriggling inside you. “Such a good girl,” he whispered before slotting himself between your legs. You looked down at him as he looked up to meet your gaze, “Tell me what you want again.” He loved hearing you tell him how good he made you feel, how much you wanted him and you were happy to give it to him.

“Need your t-tongue, Joonie,” you whimpered, bottom lip jutting out slightly as you bucked your hips up into his hand, “ah!”

Namjoon placed his free hand on your stomach, holding you down as he smirked, “Dirty girl, can you squirt for me?”

You could feel the tell-tale pressure building inside you as he continued to wiggle his fingers upwards. You nodded your head quickly.

“Good girl,” he growled as he dove forward and latched his lips onto your pulsing clit, pulling a guttural scream from your lips. Namjoon pulled your clit lightly between his teeth and sucked, hard. Your vision went black, hands grabbing onto whatever you could of the bed sheets, back arching violently as your high hit you like a truck. Namjoon watched in awe as your pussy clenched around his digits, liquid squirting all over his hand and face. Your body was shaking under him as he slowly finger fucked you through your high. 

Once you came down from your high he brought his plush lips back down onto your swollen bud, gently lavishing you with his soft tongue. He slowly pulled his fingers from your aching hole and ran his wet tongue through your folds, lapping up your release. His goal wasn’t to make you cum, but instead to soothe you and clean you up. He was careful to avoid your sensitive clit, pressing light kisses against it. The sweetness of his actions severely contrasted his dominant demeanor only a moment ago. 

You let out a soft sigh at the feeling of his wet muscle moving over your worn out pussy, loving the way he cares for you. Once he had you cleaned up sufficiently, he climbed back up the bed, slotting himself against your side. You reached your arms around his neck, turning onto your side. 

“Good?” He asked quietly.

You smiled softly at him, “Good.” 

“I love you, baby.”

“I love you too Joonie.”

“Scream for me baby,” Jimin whispered in your ear before biting down on your earlobe, pulling the sound he wanted from your lips, “that’s right. Let everyone know whose cock is making you feel this good.”

“J-Jimin!” You screamed, legs wrapping around the hips that were pounding into you relentlessly. Jimin picked up his already impossible pace, balls making a lewd slapping sound with every thrust. 

Jimin’s hard cock curved in the most perfect way, and you truly admired his thick girth. It rubbed your walls in a way you’ve never felt with any other person. He hit all your sweet spots, and now was no exception.

Jimin brought two fingers up to your mouth and you obediently opened, allowing him to insert his digits and swirl them around on your tongue, collecting your saliva. Quickly, he reached down between you both and rubbed quick figure eights onto your sensitive clit. “O-oh Jimin!” You yelled again, not caring about your volume. Jimin’s roommates were out tonight so you didn’t need to worry about anyone hearing you.

“Are you gonna cum baby?” You nodded quickly, eyes screwing shut at the pleasure Jimin’s cock and fingers were giving to you, “Cum all over this cock baby.”

At his dirty words the band inside you snapped, arms reaching up and pulling his shoulders down to help ground you. You felt Jimin’s hips stutter slightly as he slowed down his movements. “Oh shit,” he growled, looking down between your legs. You quickly looked down to see yourself squirt all over his dick and thighs, leaving a glistening sheen on his tanned skin, “That was so fucking hot, YN.”

Jimin looked up at you with love in his eyes, like you hadn’t just squirted all over him and his bed, “You’re amazing baby,” he leaned down and kissed you sweetly before pulling back and looking at you with fire in his eyes, “my turn.”

Taehyung smiled at you as you sat down on his lap. He was sitting in the studio working on lyrics when you decided to stop by and bring him coffee. Wrapping his arms around your waist, Taehyung leaned his chin on your shoulder, “Thank you, baby.”

You smiled sweetly at him, “You’re welcome Tae. Do you think you’ll be done soon?” As you questioned him, you wiggled your hips a bit to get more comfortable on his muscular thighs. 

“Hmph -” Tae squeezed your middle a little tighter at the movement, “baby,” his voice was suddenly lower, gravely, “don’t do that.”

You looked at him, confused for a moment, before you felt his growing member on your backside. You gasped at him, turning to face him, “Tae!”

“I can’t help it!” He defended, hands sliding over your waist and thighs, “I’ve been horny all day and you sitting on it is making it worse!” He whined. 

He’s been horny all day? Well, you could help him with that. You smirked at him, causing his dick to twitch in his pants at what was about to happen. “Can I help you baby?”

His normally sweet eyes turned dark at your suggestion, “What did you have in mind?” You knew where his thoughts were going. He probably wanted to bend you over this desk and dominate you, but you had other ideas.

“Let me ride you, right here,” you punctuated your sentence with a roll of your hips, earning a groan from Taehyung. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” he mumbled as you stood up, slowly sliding your jeans off your legs, giving him a show. As you pulled your pants down, you turned around and bent forward so he could get a view of your already wet pussy from behind, covered by white panties. He could see your wetness seeping through the fabric and it made his cock throb in his pants. “Ugh, YN, look what you’re doing to me.”

You turned around and tossed your pants behind you, looking down at his crotch. He was currently sporting basketball shorts which did nothing to hide the tent his dick was making in his underwear. As you walked slowly back towards him, he slid his shorts down a bit, hard cock springing free and slapping his stomach. He wrapped a large hand around himself and gave a few lazy strokes before you straddled him.

As you slotted yourself on top of him, he pushed your panties to the slide and lined himself up with your core. You locked eyes with him for a moment, both silently giving permission to go forward. Taehyung rubbed the tip of his leaking cock through your folds, gathering up your arousal before sliding easily into you. You both moaned at the stretch of your walls, your voice cracking a bit at the delicious burn.

“Oh my God, baby, you’re so tight,” he mumbled into your hair as you leaned forward, wrapping both arms around his neck. He let out another low moan as he fully sheathed himself inside your warmth, “I love your pussy.”

You smirked, placing a wet kiss on his neck. You slowly began to grind on his dick, reveling in the way it rubbed against your sweet spot. With every roll of your hips you let out soft whimpers, spurring Taehyung on even more. He was losing himself in the pleasure of you taking control, letting his hands roam your tight body, finally resting a large, veiny hand on your ass. God, you loved his hands. His other hand came down between you two, thumb pressing onto your clit. 

You buried your face further into his neck, hips still rolling against his. “Your cock feels amazing, Tae,” you mumbled against his hot skin. 

“What can I do?” So considerate, always wanting you to cum first. 

“Lean back a bit?” You asked him quietly. He did as you asked without hesitation, leaning back in the office chair until he heard you moan loudly. The new position allowed his cock to rub against your g-spot perfectly and you could feel your orgasm building quickly. 

“Can you cum for me, princess?” He was so sweet. Something about that name sent you over the edge, halting your movements. Taehyung took over for you, slowly grinding up into your hips, helping you ride out your orgasm. “Oh god,” he groaned, his voice breathy, “are you squirting?”

You looked down, noticing the hot liquid squirting from your pussy. It wasn’t much, but it was definitely noticeable, the feeling too much as you quickly swatted Tae’s hand from your clit. 

“I- I think so?” You had never squirted before, all you knew was that you felt amazing, a little hazy, but amazing. 

“God, YN,” he groaned again before grabbing your hips and fucking up into you with abandon. You squealed at the sudden roughness of your boyfriend, which probably wasn’t the best choice, since the next sound you heard was a knocking at the door and Namjoon’s deep voice.

“You guys ok in there?”

Jungkook was currently knuckle deep in your pussy, fingering you against the wall of the bathroom. The two of you decided to go out with the boys to celebrate the completion of their album, but snuck away to have a little celebration of your own.

“You like that baby?” He asked, voice low, “Want someone to walk by right now and hear exactly what you’re doing in here?”

You moaned at the suggestion. Who knew you had an exhibitionism kink? 

“Yeah? I just felt you clench around my fingers, YN,” he whispered into your ear, which was pointless really with how loud the music outside the door was, “are you gonna squirt for me?”

You wrapped your arms around his neck as you swung one leg around Jungkook’s hips, leaning farther back into the wall. “Mhmm,” you moaned into his neck, sighing at the feeling of his thick digits wiggling inside you, “feels s’good.”

Jungkook added a third finger at your admission, not quite finger fucking you, instead wiggling his fingers back and forth inside your heat. You could feel the pressure building everytime he rubbed against the spongy spot inside you. Jungkook knew how to make you squirt. Always wanting to be the best at everything, when you first got together years ago he asked if you had ever squirted. You told him you hadn’t so he made it his mission to be the first, which he succeeded in. Ever since then he could do it easily with this technique. 

“Squirt for me baby,” he mumbled into your hair as he felt your pussy tighten around his digits, sending a searing heat through your nerves. You screwed your eyes shut and twisted one hand into Jungkook’s long, curly hair as you came. Jungkook quickly pulled his finger from you, allowing the built up pressure to release all over the bathroom floor. He backed up a bit, careful not to get your release on his dark jeans. You were panting hard, hands on your boyfriend’s shoulder as you caught your breath. He reached forward and pulled your dress back down your body and fixed your panties. “You good, babe? Let’s get you cleaned up so we can get back out there.”

“Wait - don’t you want me to suck you off?” You looked at him, eyebrows raised, still slightly panting.

“Nah,” he said, a devilish smirk appearing on his face, “I’m going to ruin you when we get home.”

You gulped. You couldn’t wait. 

[itjazzbicch]

2-0

Pairing:  Matt Jackson x Fem Reader

Summary: Based off Surging Waves:

The reader and Matt have a wonderful first date that ended with some spice and created a strong bond between them. With a busy schedule, the reader tries to make some time for them and they do find time in the ring, learning their ring chemistry and then some...

Warnings:  SMUT! (18+ ONLY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

Requested by:  No one (But I hope you all enjoy!)

Word Count:  2043

Tag List: @demonqueen29​ @jessiebean00​ @new-zealand-chic​ @crowleysqueenofhell​ @justamess44​ @thatpanpal​ @hungmanhorsecarriage​ @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch​  @linziland13​ @xxx-jazz-xxx​ @writtingrose​

I DO NOT OWN THIS GIF

[Hey Matt, I know we’ve both been busy lately, but here in the city, I have my own ring. Wanna hang out and get some training in? Here’s the address if you decide to come]

A true connection was established during my first date with Matt, that connection making my heart ache a little every time he was away.

It had been a little over a week since we had time to ourselves because of how filled our schedules were but with a day between shows in the same city, I figured this would be the perfect opportunity.

I was hoping I didn’t come off as clingy or desperate by that message. Not receiving a response was a bad sign in my eyes.

An hour had passed when I gave up. Matt wasn’t coming. With a tense, angry hand, I snatched my sweat towel, ready to exit the ring, but then I heard knocking on the door.

“It’s open!” My voice echoed throughout the room, eyes exploding with happiness and relief at the sight of Matt walking through the door with a gym bay.

“Nice ring!” Matt complimented, finding the apron and jumping up, getting a good feel of the ropes, “Man, I don’t think our crew even does this good!”

“Thanks,” I appreciated, “I put a lot into this ring.”

Matt always knew how to make my eyes lock onto him, adoring his tye-dye t-shirt, but enjoying the show much more when he revealed his bare chest, his abs built and tone, tossing his shirt off.

I was enraptured by his every move but also distracted and just able to roll out of the way when he jumped off the top rope and into the ring, coming at me.

A sharp wheeze made my chest seize, exhaling deeply in the corner, stressing, “What was that about?”

“I told you, next time we’re in a ring, we’re having a match,” Matt recalled, “Remember?”

That was during our first kiss and I remembered, clear as day.

A fiendish, playful smile was my response; nodding my head when I stood up in the corner across from him, smiling, “Oh, I remember. Remember what I told you? Don’t get too ahead of yourself.”

It was hard not to laugh when Matt turned away, as if there was a timekeeper's area, yelling, “Ring the bell! Ding! Ding! Ding!”

The first thing we did was get into a lock-up and this time, I actually had to use a good bit of strength. Matt was a lot strong than I anticipated, but I was able to keep up.

I tried keeping it simple with some chain wrestling, but our pace picked up a lot, especially since I was a high flyer. I was so used to moving so fast.

Lucha rolls, jumping off the ropes, dropkicks, arm drags, cross bodies; If we were on Dynamite, the fans would eat it up. We were basically wrestling a real match and it was astonishing how evenly matched we were.

All that fast-paced wrestling was wearing me down, so I decided to go for a pin. Matt and I’s hands were interlocked, trying to overpower one another, but I swept out his leg, then jumped on top of him.

With my head pressed hard against his shoulder, pinning him down to the mat, I called out, “One! Two!”

He kicked out and I tried again, pushing my head against his other shoulder, yelling, “One! Two!”

Matt was truly proving his strength, almost breaking my hold, trying to throw me off with a thrust of his hips upwards, but with a loud groan, I pushed them back down, keeping mine pinned against his.

Silence fell between us, a desirous look in his eyes when our eyes met, both of our chests heaving.

“Got damn it, I can’t take it anymore,” He heaved, breaking my hold and sitting up, cradling my face with both hands, powerful zealousness in his lips when they met mine.

His passion was so strong and stirring, small trembles radiating through his body, tensed up muscles that made his arms latch around my waist, keeping me in a warm embrace.

All those feelings flowing between us continued to grow stronger as my reaction was to return an even more spirituous kiss, my hands now cradling his face.

We probably could’ve kissed each other to the point where we stopped breathing and collapsed, but the sound of our lips popping free echoed in the room, the look of lust being shared between us.

“God, have I missed that,” Matt confessed, taking the moment to catch his breath.

“Really?” I whispered shyly; swimming in those deep brown eyes made me a little nervous. Everything about him was so striking, anything he did made my heart flutter and that intensified the second I felt his lips against mine.

“Yes,” He assured, chuckling like I was speaking nonsense, but the lust came back and kicked in hard, making me even more flustered, “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you and it feels so good to have what I want.”

Knowing that we were experiencing the same emotions regarding one another made that nervousness fade away, getting what I wanted to, kissing him along with a scruff of his beard.

I fell in deep, getting lost and we began to think unconsciously, our bodies beginning to move together.

“What do you think of turning this match into a submission match, hm?” Matt offered, thrusting his hips into me gently.

“You think you can make me tap out?” I snickered, shaking from arousal when his hands pinned my hips to his, biting at my lower lip and growling:

“I know I can.”

“I’d love to see you try,” I grinned, slowly grinding against him, able to feel how the tension bulging between his thighs, his erect cock creating tight friction against his shorts.

“Oh, I’m going to,” He pledged, swapping positions and slamming me against the mat.

Clothes were flung all over the ring, shoes kicked out to the floor. For a moment, I couldn’t believe I was doing this in my ring, but the emotions between made me careless.

Only focused on Matt, kneeling back down to the canvas, hand giving soft strokes, attending to the length and thickness of his cock.

Stars were spinning around my head already, my brain so pleasurably dazed that I had my own, slow-motion view, but the speed of our movements caught up to me.

Our skin was hot pressed together, stinging steaming trapped and it wasn’t going to get any cooler from here.

His smile against my lips showed his excitement, enjoying the squish of my thighs when he spread them wide.

Sweat was forming and I was filled with heat, moaning against his lips, looking down for a moment to see his cock slowly disappear inside me, inch by inch.

My body showed how hungry I was for this, walls keeping ahold of him and not wanting to ever let go, slicking him so much already.

I could feel him being milked with every thrust, fighting some noise that could be declared sinful, feeling a pinch in my lower core that made me groan, “ugh!”

“You hiding your moans? Don’t act all tough “ He panted, holding my face by the jaw, sloppily kissing, “I know every noise you’ll make will be beautiful.”

“Ugh!” I gasped, still registering that pinch, “M-Matt!”

It made my body tremble, my brain having to process every move he made because it was so overloaded with pleasure and bliss, his pace quickening to satisfy both our needs.

A hand got tangled in his hair, pulling unintentionally, I just needed something, getting the contact I needed when I latched around his body, eyes rolling to the back of my head.

“Still not ready to tap yet?” He teased, not ready for the moan that jumped from his chest due to the feeling of my hips beginning to chase his, moving faster this his current pace.

“You should know by now, I don’t go down without a fight,” I growled, pulling at his hair a little again.

“You don’t go down without a fight?” He repeated with a deep grunt, making it tough for me not to fall into a puddle when he went off like a jackhammer, sentence being finished with a rough thrust.

With a tight scrunch of his nose, he sat up to admire his cock pulling back just to be sucked back in so quickly, biting his lips and focusing on the squelching sound being created between us, making an even bigger mess of me.

“G-go-“ I stuttered, a sharp arch forming in my lower back, fingernails scratching at the canvas.

“Spit it out,” He smiled, curious as to what I was going to say, thinking I was ready to tap.

“Got damn you, Matt,” I whined, gasping at the feeling of my sweet spot being hammered, rattling my body like an earthquake and I didn’t know how much my body could take before I became undone.

Matt could always read me well, doubling his efforts, such a sexy but devilish look on his face; hair falling down past his eyes, that look alone had me ready.

His eyebrows raised with expectancy when I became so dazed I could only babble out his name, lips having trouble that I made me drool.

To keep a stabilized flow of pleasure through me, he established a quick, pounding rhythm, balls slapping against my wet skin, raising my legs a little higher with a tight grip of my thighs.

It was as if someone was taking bumps in the ring with the way he was going, feeling every movement vibrate against my back and spine, ricocheting all over the place and making all of the pleasure ping around me and hit hard like a pinball machine.

There was no way I was going to get the chance to turn the tables and I didn’t want to. I wanted this and Matt blew my mind.

“I can’t understand you when you’re babbling like that,” Matt noted, wanting my words to express what was happening to my body.

My core coiled up like a spring, a spring that was ready to snap. It made my back arch harder on its own, almost making me sit up, but my body was also ready to collapse, keeping my shoulders down.

The heat was growing in the air thickly, making me overhear, breaking out in small sweats and with Matt going and going, his stamina showing no end, there was no running from the orgasm that lurked.

The squelching grew louder, deep groans rumbling in his chest from my walls pulsating, but there was no slowing him down.

“Matt!” I cried out loud, frantically grabbing him by the shoulders, needing his body for support, his heart pounding hard against my chest when gushing slick drenched his cock and thighs, making his cock pulsate, not daring to slow him down, delivering deep thrust and continuing to fuck me thoroughly.

There was no denying how good every part of it felt, but with all the heat trapped in my body, how my legs were shaking like hell, a faint ring in my ears when my chest stopped heaving, heartbeat echoing with a pound in my head.

With a faint wrist, I tapped his shoulder, holding his head that fell to my shoulder, kissing it with a smile, pinning his hips against mine to take a moment of his own to breathe.

The ring shook a little when he moved his knees, faintly giggling, “Your winner! Matt Jackson. Undefeated against Y/N!”

He was such a goof sometimes and I loved it, making me laugh hysterically when he added quickly, guilt in his voice, “Also, uhhhh, a new canvas is in this ring’s future.”

“Courtesy of Matt Jackson!” I huffed, mocking his announcer's voice.

He wasn’t done getting moans of out me yet, sharp whines falling from my lips when he sat up, slowly pulling out with a languid thrust, smiling into my eyes, “I think you and I should have more matches like these.”

“Oh yeah,” I grinned, blowing him a kiss, “I’m beating that undefeated streak of yours.”