#OUT OF MY HEAD AND BLOG RIGHT THIS INSTANT

[nikkento-writes]

Babysitter - Part 1

Pairing: dad!Toji x babysitter!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~1.7k

cw: age gap (reader is 21, Toji is in his 30s), language, cheating, smut – PIV sex (doggy style), breeding kink, daddy kink

Summary: You're hired to babysit little Megumi for the summer, but you end up taking care of his father, Toji, as well.

Author’s Notes: This is repost from my old blog! I initially got this as a request and it became my first Toji fic ever, and certainly not my last lol. I'm posting this again because I actually wrote a Part 2, check it out! Thanks for reading! Divider credit to @/fic-dumpster.

You stand in front of a quaint house, checking your watch for the time. It’s been almost ten minutes now since you knocked, no answer. You gave the number from the listing a call, still nothing. Rolling your eyes, you take a seat on the steps leading to the door, waiting.

It’s the summer before you head back to university for your senior year. In an attempt to make some extra cash, you took a job as a babysitter through local ads in the paper. The first two clients were completely normal; this one is already leaving a bad taste in your mouth. 

Fifteen minutes have passed. You try once more, pounding on the door with your fist as loud as you can. Heel turned, ready to leave, it suddenly swings open, revealing a muscular man with black hair, glaring at you. “What the fuck do you want?” 

You step back, startled by his intimidating presence. Stuttering, you answer, “I’m the babysitter.”

He continues to stare at you, eyes following your body up and down, studying it. “Babysitter?”

Before you can explain any further, you hear a car rolling into the driveway. A woman in professional attire steps out quickly. “I’m so sorry I’m late!” She rushes towards you, holding her hand out to shake yours. “We spoke on the phone. I got stuck in traffic, I’m so sorry.”

You smile at her. “It’s okay.”

She faces the man, expression switching from cheery to dreary in an instant. “Toji, where is Megumi?”

He scratches his head. “Huh?”

“Megumi. Our child.”

He sighs. “Right. Uh, I’ll go get him.” 

While he’s gone, the woman pulls you aside, speaking in a hushed voice. “That’s Toji, my husband and Megumi’s father. Unfortunately, he’s a complete deadbeat. That’s why I want to hire you. I started my new job and I need someone to take care of Megumi while I’m gone during the day.”

She swallows hard, blinking to fight off oncoming tears. “I have no one. I’ve been shunned by my family, my husband doesn’t give a shit about ours, and I’m all alone trying to give Megumi a good life. I know this is a lot to ask, but I’m desperate. This is just until I can save enough money to hire a full-time nanny.”

She grips onto your wrist with both her hands, begging for help. Truthfully, it’s a lot to unravel, more drama than you anticipated. But the anguish in her eyes tugs at your heartstrings. Plus, knowing it’s temporary doesn’t make it seem so difficult. How bad can it be? “Okay. I’ll do it.”

Relief washes over her. “Oh thank god. Thank you. Thank you. Let’s go inside and I can give you a tour.” She leads you through the entrance, removing her shoes as you follow her. “Oh, and one more thing.”

“Sure.”

“Toji is home most of the day, but he’s always couped up in his room, doing god knows what. Just leave a meal or two outside his door twice a day. That should be enough.”

“Huh?!” 

She glances at you with a nervous smile on her face. “Yeah. I told you, he’s good for nothing.”

You don’t respond while you maneuver through the house, barely paying attention while she shows you around. It almost sounds like you’ll be babysitting two children…

~~~

The first two weeks of your new job go by smoothly. Megumi is an adorable baby; he’s almost two-years-old with hair as black as his father’s. While he never really smiles, he doesn’t cry either, expression usually stern, unless he needs a diaper change. He’s self-sufficient, always immersed by his own toys until it’s time to eat. Overall, he’s easy. 

Toji, on the other hand, is another story. 

You follow his wife’s instructions, leaving two meals outside his door, breakfast and lunch. And this asshole has the audacity to critique it! The bread wasn’t toasted enough. The eggs were too runny. There wasn’t enough seasoning on the meat. All this criticism while each plate is licked clean, not a crumb to spot. He’s never even uttered a simple thank you. 

But what he lacks in social skills or personality, he makes up for in his physique. In between meals, he works out in the living room lifting weights, doing push-ups, sit-ups, and pull-ups at the frame of the door. It lasts for over an hour, and by the end of it, he’s shirtless, dripping with sweat. You’ve done everything in your power to avoid staring but it doesn’t prevent your mind from conjuring all types of lewd thoughts about him. You’re ashamed to admit that he is physically attractive, only because everything else about him is utter trash. Still, it doesn’t hurt to look, right?

On the third week, there’s a shift in energy between you two. When he isn’t working out or going out to meet with his sketchy friends, he’s usually couped up in his bedroom, ignoring you and Megumi. This morning, he actually joins you in the kitchen. You stare blankly at him, stunned by his sudden appearance. Megumi is unfazed by his father as he tries to pull your wrist towards him to get a spoonful of mushed up peas. 

When he catches you, Toji glares. “What?”

“Um, nothing. Just surprised to see you here.” You clear your throat, focusing back on the baby. 

He rolls his eyes. “This is my house. I can do whatever I want.”

“Yes, of course. Sir.”

For some reason, this triggers him. He stands up abruptly, stepping to you, leaning his face towards yours. The scar on the corner of his lip twitches when he gives you a wicked grin. “That’s right. I’m in charge here.”

You flinch from him, scared, maybe even slightly aroused. He’s intense, that’s for sure. But part of you finds it exhilarating to be in his presence. 

Megumi whines for more food, to which Toji grabs the utensil from your hands to start feeding him. “Damn kid, he’s hungry all the fucking time.”

You sit up in your seat, regaining your composure. “You shouldn’t curse in front of children.”

He faces you, chuckling. “Curse? Seriously? What are you, five?”

You cross your arms, answering, “I’m twenty-one.”

“Interesting.” There’s that naughty smirk again, as if he’s thinking something obscene in that twisted head of his. And while you should be turned off, you’re not. You squeeze your legs together, pussy throbbing between your thighs. And of course, he notices this. He must, because he leans forward, lips grazing your ear, whispering, “Come by my room whenever Megumi is taking his nap. That’s an order.”

~~~

This is bad. Very, very bad. 

You're supposed to be better than this. Clearly, you aren’t, because you’re currently getting railed by your employer’s husband while his child sleeps peacefully in the next room.

“Fuck, this pussy is tight,” he groans, pumping his thick cock in and out of you. You’re bent over the edge of the bed, his hips smacking against your ass as he thrusts into you. He’s got a tight grip on your hips, nails digging into your flesh, pounding away at your greedy pussy, absolutely drenched with arousal and lube. Your face is sticky with perspiration, pillow soaked with sweat and drool. It’s a fucking mess, but it doesn’t matter, because all you can think about is Toji fucking you until you’re seeing stars. Until your head is empty and nothing but his fat cock is occupying your thoughts.

“God, you’re squeezing me so fucking hard, princess. You gonna come again?”

You nod erratically, reaching your fingers to your clit. He smacks it away, doing it himself, his thumb flicking against your swollen bud. “Fucking come on my cock then. Make it nice and creamy for me, got it?”

His cock is buried deep inside you, hitting your sweet spot over and over until you unravel, gushing around him once more. You’ve lost count on how many orgasms you’ve had in this short amount of time. 

After your climax, he doesn’t pull out, fucking you even rougher. Your body is pliant around him, yielding to his every touch like putty. You’ve lost control of yourself, completely enraptured in the intense pleasure he surrounds you with. 

He leans forward, chest pressed to your back, lips brushed to your ear. “I’m gonna knock you up. Give Megumi a little brother or sister. Would you like that?” He’s crazy. Completely unhinged. Absolutely fucking psycho. 

“Fuck yes, I want that,” you moan. “Give it to me, daddy. Breed me.” 

And apparently, so are you. 

“Oh fuck yeah, take my fucking cum then,” he growls. The bed creaks violently below you, his backshots brutal and frantic now, cock desperate for release. “I’m gonna get you fucking pregnant. Make you mine.”

He shoots his hot load inside you, stuffing you full of his cum. He doesn’t stop until he’s fucked it deeper into your pussy, watching with that sexy look on his face as his creamy cum leaks out of your slit.

Lifting you up to lay comfortably on the bed, he rolls beside you, kissing you sloppily until Megumi’s whimpers blare through the baby monitor, indicating that he’s awake. Toji laughs, smacking your ass as you crawl over him to return to your real job. 

~~~

You spend the remainder of your summer employed at the Fushiguro household until you have to go back to school. You and Toji continue to fuck each other silly every day that you’re working. 

The day before you leave for college, you say your goodbyes to the family. Megumi’s mom, who remains blissfully unaware of your sins, hugs you tightly. “Thank you so much for all your help. I’ve finally saved enough money to afford a full-time nanny, so we’ll be fine.” 

“It was my pleasure. I had a lot of fun. With Megumi,” you clarify, avoiding Toji’s gaze as he watches from the kitchen. 

“Seriously. You’re a good person. I hope you know that.” She smiles, truly grateful. “And thank you for taking care of my good for nothing husband too.”

As the guilt of this dirty, filthy secret eats away at you, Toji stares at you from across the room, smirking. 

[nanaslutt]

shameless

ʚ yuta x reader

ʚ cont: fem reader, fluffy fluff, jealousy, possessiveness, clingy!yuta

note: congrats @dracrimes for winning my fic giveaway, I hope you enjoy ^.^

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT FOLLOW

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

"Um...I'll take the brown sugar boba please!" You chirped to the young-looking waitor, who nodded and smiled as he took your order. "Is it gonna be normal sugar, hon?" He asked, tilting his head at you and squinting his eyes a bit as he voiced the pet name. You were so busy looking at the delicious desserts on the menu that you didn't hear the pet name, and you didn't notice the spike in Yuta's cursed energy. 

"I'll take it a little sweeter than normal please!" You asked, handing your menu to the man in front of you. Yuta's eyes were glued to where your hands met as the waiter's finger grazed across your own. "Extra sweet drink for an extra sweet girl." He said, winking at you. Your eyes opened a bit in surprise, but you ultimately shrugged it off, thinking he was joking. 

At this point, Yuta felt his blood boiling. Was he stupid? Was he so dense that he wasn't able to realize you were on a date right now, or was he so shameful that he didn't even care? Yuta wasn't used to feeling like this. It was rare that he experienced jealousy like this regarding another person. He balled his fist by his side and reached his hand across the table with one hand to adjust your bracelet which had gone crooked, a small show of affection in front of the waitor. 

"Are you getting anything Yu?" You asked sweetly, your chest swelling with love as you watched his fingers drag down your wrist to play with your fingers. Yuta looked up from your hands and smiled sweetly, his jaw clenching under the weight of his teeth as he tried to calm himself before he spoke. "I'm okay baby, I'll just have some of yours." You were unable to stop your eyebrows from shooting upward in surprise at the nickname. 

It was rare that Yuta used pet names with you, he always got so flustered whenever he tried, so you felt your heart jump when you heard the pet name. You missed the way the corner of the waiter's mouth twitched as he watched Yuta talk sweetly to you in front of him. It was quite obvious what he was doing. You on the other hand were in your own little world, listening to your internal voice scream as you replayed the nickname over in your head. 

After the waitor walked away, Yuta quickly got up from his place across from you and scooched into your side of the booth. "You're being so cute today, what was that?" You teased, tilting your head to the side at him as you took his hand in your own, resting your hands over your knee. "You never call me baby." Yuta felt his demeanor change the instant you had called him out. His face went red and he looked away, covering his mouth with his hand as he poorly disguised his embarrassment as a cough.

"I uh, I don't know. Just wanted to say it." He said bashfully, turning his head back your way. "So cute." You gushed, squeezing his hand tighter in your own. Yuta sighed and plopped his forehead down on your shoulder, his breath tickling your arm. "Don't tease me, I just wanted to try it out." He mumbled under his breath. You brought your other hand up and ruffled his hair, making him sit up and look at you with a slight pout as you continued to play with his hair. 

While Yuta looked into your eyes the only thing he could think about was how lucky he is, how grateful he is to call you his. And you were, you were his, not that waiter's. Yuta felt bad for feeling so malicious toward the waitor when you had no idea. Maybe he was overreacting, but it still stands that you were his, and he hated to see people hit on you so blatantly when he was sitting right there. He had enough of being treated like he was being invisible for an entire lifetime. It sucked being treated that way on his own, but it sucked even more when you were involved. 

"Alrightyy, here's that extra sweet boba for you, hun," Yuta swore he felt a blood vessel in his head pop when that same man's irritating voice echoed from behind him. Yuta still had a smile on his face while he looked at you, but the second he turned his head there was nothing but a smile on his face. He would never treat staff this way, but this time was different. He called you that stupid pet name not once, but twice now? 

The waitor had a blood-boiling smirk on his face as Yuta turned around, the two boys making eye contact with one another. You were blissfully unaware of their little rivalry as your mouth started to drool while staring at your drink in his hand. Yuta stopped his hand in motion by grabbing the cup in his own when he looked like he was trying to set it in front of you. "I got it," Yuta said coldly, not even daring to blink as he grabbed the cup from the weaker waitor with ease. 

"Right, just make sure you look on the side of the cup little lady, left a little something for you." The waitor explained, directing his focus on you and winking before he walked off. Yuta grits his teeth as he burns the face of that man into his brain, imagining what he would do to him if he could. "Yu look! The top is a bear how cute." You exclaimed, your voice instantly melting away some of the anxiety and malice he was feeling.

Yuta turned his head back to you and rested his head in his hand by placing his elbow on the table as he watched you enjoy your drink. "How is it?" He asked, his heart swelling with love as he watched your eyes light up with joy. "It's soooo good! Try some." You offered, holding the drink up to his lips. He hated to hear you praise the drink that man made, but he closed his mouth around the straw and sipped down some of the liquid. It was a little too sweet for his taste, but it was fitting for someone like you. 

"Good huh?" You said, smiling as you pulled the cup away from him. Yuta watched curiously as your smile turned into confusion as your eyes read something on the side of the cup. "Oh..." You said, looking uncomfortable all of a sudden. "I think the waitor left his number on my drink." You said, your expression dropping as you turned the cup around to face Yuta. 

The inside of Yuta's head felt like a battlefield as he sat up and grabbed the cup, reading the number over. He took a special interest in the little heart on the side of the cup. "I thought the names he was calling me were a little weird, but I think it's pretty obvious we're together." You laughed. Yuta found nothing funny about the situation, he wanted to throw the drink and the soiled cup at the shameless employee, but he had to hold himself together for you.

"You okay Yuta, don't let it bother you, okay?" You said, caressing his cheek and taking the drink back from him. "I'm fine." He nodded, leaning into your touch. He wanted nothing more than to get out of the shop and go back home with you. Spend some time watching a movie or sitting in the garden alone with you, where he doesn't have to worry about other people ogling you or trying to take you away. 

"Is it okay if we leave?" Yuta asked, grabbing your hand that held his face. You felt your heart skip a beat as you watched Yuta close his eyes and bask in your touch. You think you were starting to catch on to why Yuta was being so uncharacteristically clingy, but you didn't want to say something and make him stop acting so cute. "Of course, you feeling okay?" You asked, letting him hold your hand.

"I'm okay, just wanna leave now. Getting a little tired." He said, smiling softly at you. You nodded and began to gather your things. "I'll throw this away for you." Yuta offered sweetly, picking up your finished cup of boba. Yuta made a point to find the trash can closest to the register, where the boy from earlier was standing, waiting for customers. Yuta watched him like a hawk, hoping he would notice him throw the cup with his number on it away. Sure enough, the boy looked over and watched with raised eyebrows as Yuta threw the drink away with a little more force than necessary, the trash shaking from the impact.

The boy sucked his teeth and squinted his eyes at Yuta, watching him turn his back on him and walk back to your table. "Ready?" Yuta offered, holding his hand out for you as you got up to sit from the booth. "Mhm." You smiled, letting him take your hand in his and walk out of the cafe. "I'm actually glad you said something, I was getting a little tired myself." You said as you walked hand in hand down the street, drinking in what was left of the sun before it set soon. 

"I'm glad, I didn't want to ruin anything if you wanted to stay," Yuta said, resting his head on the top of your head as you walked together. You smirked and squeezed his hand tighter. "That guy really bothered you huh?" You asked, slowing as you walked up to a crosswalk and hit the button, watching the cars go by. Yuta felt his face heat up as he rubbed the back of his head. You tilted your head at him and smiled, watching his eyes dart around as his face scrunched in embarrassment.

"It's okay Yu, I love you and only you. I don't even remember his face if that makes you feel better." You giggled, smiling up at him. Good thing Yuta remembered his face well enough for the both of you. He wasn't going to let him off the hook so easily. Maybe he would have Panda and Inumaki call the establishment over and over again and complain about him to get him fired. That would make him feel better. Yeah, he would probably do that, and you didn't have to worry about a thing.

Yuta stepped towards you and wrapped his arms around your shoulders, holding you tightly against his chest. "Good, because I don't either," Yuta replied, lying in his words. He would never forget such an ugly face so easily. You rubbed your face against his chest and squeezed him tightly, so tight he let out a funny noise of discomfort as you squeezed all the air from his lungs before pulling away. 

"Don't be jealous okay? We can spend the rest of the day cuddling in my room when we get back." Yuta couldn't help the smile that spread across his face as he looked at you, his heart brimming with joy and satisfaction. He nodded and let you escape his grasp fully as you took his hand in your own and started walking across the street, dragging him along with you. "Just an FYI though, I like it when you're clingy with me, it's cute." You giggled, looking back at him.

"Alright, alright," Yuta said, waving his free hand in front of him, trying to get you to change the topic. You giggled at his embarrassment as he stumbled over his own feet while crossing the street. Yuta was so lucky to have someone as comforting as you as a partner, already he felt the malice from earlier melt off of his body, but the need to hold your hand tightly still prevailed until long after the two of you got back to the dorms.

[b1rds3ye]

Can you make a fic / short headcanon of how the COD men reacts to reader riding those bull mechanical? Their usual bar/pub has installed a new attraction which is that bull mechanical. Either they dared reader or reader wanted to try to ride, depends on the character. You know how those bulls move makes the rider look like they’re grinding?? Yeah I wanna know how the guys reacts to that 👀

OHOHOHOHO GOT IT thank you for sending in the request!! This is the first one this blog has gotten 🥳🥳 I hope you enjoy~

Ride On

The local bar has installed a mechanical bull for an extra activity among the drunk and whimsical. One day off duty, you decide to give it a go and have some fun, and it seems the boys are enjoying it just as much as you.

Characters: Captain John Price, Simon “Ghost” Riley, Johnny “Soap” MacTavish, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, König

GN!Reader w/ no physical descriptions (except you're shorter than König)

Word Count: 2.5k (~500 each)

Genre: Fluff, Spice, established relationship

Warning: Spicy (but no smut), 18+/MDNI,  awkward dialogue (it’s the cutest thing during flirty time fight me)

A/N: I don’t even write stuff that’s mildly spicy so I hope I did a decent job - also apparently mechanical bulls can do some real damage oh my god???

Captain John Price

On duty Price may be your direct superior but off duty you were more than free to do as you please even in his presence, he had always been clear about that. So he knew you were up to something when you sauntered up to him asking him for permission to go on the mechanical bull in the middle of the bar

He could only stare at your deceptively innocent smile for a moment before repeating the mantra that you could do what you want, his free hand automatically reaching into his pocket for a smoke as you strutted to the mechanical bull. You were going to be the death of him

He’s sure this is what emperors felt like in the days of old. Food, drinks, some very enticing entertainment and Price feels like he’s on cloud nine. Sitting by a table, he lounges back, thighs spread as he takes up the entire space of his seat and then some, feeling like a king as he watches you on the mechanical bull. He does not move, save for the occasional shift as his pants tighten

When you’re done riling him up, Price stays put as you approach him again. He can’t hide the incredible smugness he feels when the hungry eyes of strangers trail you, only to look at him in envy when they realise you’re already taken. He isn’t bothered by any of their stares, he can easily give any of them a piece of his mind

“You’ve got guts, love,” Price huffed out a puff of smoke. He remained seated by his table while you stood beside him, his face directly in line with your torso. His gaze travelled along every line and curve of your body that was so tantalisingly close, he could feel the body heat emanating from you. He stifled the urge to lick his drying lips.

“I did a good job though, right?” You beamed. He quirked an eyebrow at your sickeningly sweet voice. So you were going to keep up this charade, as if your face was only flushed from the physical exhaustion of remaining upright on the automaton and not from being so close but so painfully far away from him. Even in the darkness, he could see how your pupils swallowed your irises but he chose not to comment on it - he wasn’t faring any better.

“Passable. You’ve got two choices, sergeant.”

You swallowed, a shiver travelling down your spine as Price tilted his head down, idly extinguishing his cigar against the ashtray.

“Either you go back on the bull for some further training, give everyone here a sight for their sore, miserable eyes…”

Price regards you again, head up so that you could finally see his full face. Like a man lost for days in the desert, he gazed at you as if you were an oasis. Eyes lit up in awe, full of reverence, yet glazed over in carnal hunger.

“Or we leave this pub and you give me a private encore.”

Simon “Ghost” Riley

The instant he saw the new attraction he instinctively groaned under his breath. He already knew that you, Soap and Gaz will be provoking each other for some sort of competition. He’ll interfere if anyone seems uncomfortable but if it’s all smiles and laughs he’ll just quietly watch on with a mirth in his eyes reserved only for you and the task force (he will make a quip about you lot behaving like muppets though)

That being said, he already knows how suggestive a mechanical bull can look. When it’s decided that you’ll give it a go, Simon can only exhale slowly out of his mask, mentally preparing for an unexpected trial of restraint

He slinks back into the darkness of the bar, one with the shadows. His eyes shine like jewels as they reflect the treasure that is you. He drinks in the sight, committing it to memory. If from the bull you manage to see him in the gloom, his gaze is so intense it can single-handedly throw you off the automaton

Even off duty, he’s good at keeping his composure. When you return to him, you almost mistook him for being completely unfazed by your little stunt on the bull. But his voice is a little gruffer, the muscles in his throat straining with every syllable. He shows his neediness through his presence, you won’t be alone for the rest of the night as he accompanies you for even the smallest of errands

Rubbing your shoulder that was bruised from falling off of the bull, you beelined for the rest of the task force, only to get unexpectedly pulled towards the corners of the bar where the lights could not reach.

“Simon?” Your voice is barely above a whisper as you feel his hand splayed across your spine. He was never big on public displays of affection, he was possessive in that all of his love will be seen by you only. Daring a move like this has you turning to him in concern, but he didn’t seem uncomfortable in the slightest.

“We’ve got a problem.”

“And that is?”

Simon doesn’t reply, not verbally. He takes your hips in his hands, you can tell he’s trying his best to be gentle but his fingertips dig ever so slightly into your skin. Guiding you back to stand just in front of him, you grunted as you felt a hefty weight against your backside. Now that is a big problem indeed.

“Need you,” he rasps, voice so thick with air they were barely discernible words. You allowed him to pull you further against him, a guttural groan escaping him. “Fuck, didn’t know you could ride like that.”

“I’m a soldier of many talents,” you replied. He huffs against his face mask, digging his face into the crook of your neck. “I suppose I could go again. Just, not on the bull.”

Simon’s lips curved into a smile that warped the mask against your skin. His hands on your hips tighten, you won’t be escaping him anytime soon.

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

When Johnny’s eyes settled on the mechanical bull, he then took a brief glance at you and his mind went places. This absolute menace is conjuring up a million and one ways to get you on that bull ASAP (with your wholehearted consent, of course)

He’ll do anything, making a dare, teasing you, trying to make a bet, just so he can see you mount that thing. He’s a dedicated man, once he has a goal he’s seeing it through, no matter how many playful slaps and lighthearted glares you give him. He’ll even set an example and go first - he’ll be flattered as hell if he can get you out of all people riled up

Johnny thinks he can handle it, but he’s always overestimating himself when it comes to you. He can’t play off how you’re bothering him as your hips slide forward and back against the saddle. He can only clear his throat uncomfortably and choke out a fake laugh when the rest of the 141 comment on how quiet he’s become

He bit off more than he can chew, he thought he was the smooth one for being blessed with such a sight but he’s finding himself more bewitched by you by the second. When you get off the bull he gives you a feeble punch on the shoulder, trying to act like he’s alright but really he’s completely at your mercy, hovering around you near begging you to give him attention

You didn’t even have time to greet him as Johnny pulled you away from the rest of the task force, down into a quiet corridor of the pub. His silence was unnerving, you asked him if something was wrong but his only response was his lips against yours. When you reciprocated, the Johnny you knew was back with you, smiling into the kiss with an exhale of eagerness into your mouth as he traps you against the wall with his body. His weight against you, it was already hard to get a breath in as he claimed your lips again and again and again. But what truly made you gasp was the hardness that brushed against your thigh. It was initially so brief, you could credit it as a phantom of your own lust, but as Johnny got bolder, it rested permanently against your upper leg.

Now that he made his predicament clear, he reluctantly pulled away from you, just enough for him to speak. His heaving breaths burned against your skin, no more than his azure eyes that bored into yours.

“I got another thing you can ride, aye?”

You burst into laughter as you gave him a playful shove on the chest. It did nothing push him off of you, his smile widening at your countenance.

“Johnny, that was awful.”

“I ain’t lyin’. My li'l MacTavish needs some help.”

“I swear to god I’m leaving you.”

“You know you love me. Now are you gonna help me or no?”

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Kyle has a playful streak, when he sees you eyeing the new attraction he’ll approach you with a mischievous glint in his eyes as he slides some cash to you. “This twenty says you won’t last five seconds on that.”

And with that, a light-hearted competition started. Kyle’s intentions were genuinely innocent, he just wanted to have some fun beyond drinking the night away. After you gave the bull a go he was wholly planning to try after you to show you how it’s done - and possibly impress you with superior balancing powers

It started off fun as you laughed at the odd movements of the bull under you and Kyle smiled with you. He’s willing to give up that twenty as you were clearly having fun

What he did not expect was how as the mechanical bull became more erratic, bucking indiscriminately in all directions that the sight seemed more… suggestive. A yelp of surprise from you has him situating himself behind a table, ensuring no one can see the growing issue below his hips

He dares a look at the rest of the task force who are taking in the sight innocently. Soap is shouting encouragements like a battle cry, Price pulls a face that’s a mix of amused and impressed, Ghost offers a single dip of the head in respect and now Kyle feels dirty, guilt mixing with arousal into a sinful concoction that drips down his tightening pants

As you returned back to the task force, Kyle immediately came up behind you. His arms wrapped around your waist, he sat his head on your shoulder, cheek against yours. With his entire body smothering yours, his whole being moved with every inhale and exhale of yours as you tried to recollect yourself after that exhausting ordeal of the mechanical bull.

“Getting touchy’s not going to make me forget about that twenty, Kyle,” you chided with a smile. You hear a little hmph as one of his hands dip into your pocket, resting over your hip bone. He slips the note in but his hand stays there, his thumb tracing over the wrinkles in your pants.

“You looked real nice up there, you know,” he mumbled into your ear before giving it a peck, arms tightening around you possessively.

“Feels like you enjoyed it,” you whispered, voice disappearing as you noticed something firm pressing against your ass. Your laugh came out far too weak. “Is that a pistol or are you happy to see me?”

He chuckled, husky and restrained, too distracted to reply. His hand in your pocket was becoming more animated, rubbing at your skin. Even through the fabric, you can feel how hot he is, only getting warmer as he gets more antsy, his free hand now tugging and teasing at your shirt.

Kyle spares a look at the rest of the task force, clearly distracted with their own drinking and antics.

“Do you think they’ll notice if we leave?”

“... No, let’s go.”

König

König will never ask you to go on the mechanical bull because he’d never go on it himself. Putting on a show for a whole lot of strangers in a pub? Potentially embarrassing himself in front of said strangers, his allies and you? The thought already fills him with dread and he is empathetic to never ask for such a thing from you. That being said, when it’s established you’re more than happy to give the bull a go, he’s not going to stop you

He knew how suggestive a mechanical bull can look but he figured he could handle it; he did not reach the rank of colonel by giving in to every temptation. But he should have known better when it came to you, your mere existence making him feel like he lost all composure and combat experience

Upon noticing the lustful stares of others, König doubles as a bodyguard. He slowly stalks around the bar, using his hulking figure to strategically block the view of you for others. He also takes note of anyone who seems a little too fixated on you, not hesitating to send a glare their way

Once you lose to the bull, he waits by the edge of the ring, taking your hand to escort you back to your friends. He does it both to be a caring partner for you, but also he’s preening as onlookers visibly deflate upon realising that if they want to get to you, they have to go through him

König’s hand was tight around yours, you could feel it occasionally twitch, aware of his own strength and trying to loosen his hold on you.

“Entschuldigung, mein Schatz,” he grumbled. “You wanted the night here, but I must leave.”

“Why?”

König turned his head away in embarrassment, but you noticed his eyes dipped lower for a split second. When you followed his gaze, you took a moment to pride yourself for getting your partner so riled up. It was only broken when he gently took your chin with his free hand, tilting it up - or just anywhere away from his growing predicament.

“It is embarrassing,” he muttered. “You were just having fun, but I am here… needing.”

“Not at all,” you smirked. “I wanted you to notice me.”

“I am always watching you, Schatz,” König whispered. He was getting bolder - or perhaps more desperate - with every word, the hand on your chin moving down to settle on one of your hips. You tilted your hips into his grip and the consequent breath he emitted was forceful and ragged. “I did not think such a machine could be so… crude.”

“But you liked the sight, right?” Your voice was smug as you pulled his face down to be in line with yours. You now had a perfect view of his eyes that were alight with lust, pupils blown so wide you could not distinguish if it was the gaze of a predator or prey.

“Zu viel.”

Call of Duty Masterlist

[momodita]

snapshots. [—chilchuck tims]

TAGS / WARNINGS: gender neutral reader, modern au,       minor pining, background marcille/falin WC: 1,000 NOTE: divorced father of 3 save me... save me       divorced father of 3...

✗ MINORS / AGELESS / BLANK BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED.

“Move over.”

Chilchuck’s voice startles you. The bowl in his hands is steaming: a hearty stew made with Falin and Marcille’s collective effort—(“Senshi’s tried and true recipe!”). A thick slice of bread perches on its rim. It smells just as heavenly as it did at dinner.

“Here?” you ask, stupefied. The armchair you’ve claimed is wide; there’s easily enough space to fit a Chilchuck-sized person, but your mind jumps—unbidden—to the reason he’d been late in the first place.

“Where else?” He nudges you with his knee. “As if I’m gonna sit near that love-fest over there.”

“You’re not welcome anyways,” Marcille tuts, midway through dipping the maraschino cherry from her sundae into Falin’s mouth.

“This is my apartment!”

You concede with a laugh: it’s just your bruised heart working overtime. The moment his body settles, shoulders touching, you stop being able to taste the ice cream Laios had scooped into your bowl. Existence narrowing to that point of contact with a familiar little rush.

It’s Laios’ turn to choose tonight’s movie, much to Marcille’s dismay—(“A documentary classifies! This is a really interesting one!”)—and he scrolls to find it as Chilchuck digs into his food.

Midway through, you engage him in a thrilling mock-battle of fencing spoons. Falin dozes, lulled from the careful stroke of Marcille’s fingers through her hair. By the time the credits roll, they’re folded onto each other, soft snores drowned out by music.

“They fell asleep again,” Chilchuck drawls, chin cushioned against his hand.

“Must be crashing after all that sugar,” Laios suggests, drapes a blanket over them.

“They were pretty high energy tonight. Eager to hear about how Chilchuck’s date went, I guess,” you tease, taking up the mantle with Marcille fast asleep. “You didn’t even tell us her name.” Keeping the tone casual despite the haunting little pit in your stomach.

(It’d been a shock to hear about it: for as long as you’ve known him, Chilchuck has been eager to keep his life private—even from long-time friends. And there’d been no signs of anyone—except you and your little group—coveting his time and attention; no extra, unexplained toothbrushes, no brands you don’t recognize in his pantry, no missed get-togethers.)

“Huh?” He gives you a look, confusion twisted in his features. The TV’s light illuminates a silver hair. “I wasn’t with any girl.”

Your brow furrows. “…His name? Their name?”

Chilchuck stares. This close—where the minuscule twitches in his expression are noticeable—it’s strangely evaluating.

“You know Marcille was joking when she said it was a date, right?” Heat sears along your cheekbones; embarrassment flushing hot under his gaze—the realization of your mistake.

“Of course I knew,” you say stupidly. Chilchuck’s eyebrow quirks. “Shut up. Don’t look at me like that.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Well, then if it wasn’t a date, who were you with?”

“Senshi,” he says. “He was—we, uh,” his eyes slide off to the side, “I asked him for a favor.”

“Oh?” you hum, relief and mirth creating a warm hum behind your ribs. “Looking to get a side hustle as a cook?”

“Not even close,” he grunts, looking away.

“Should we start calling you our little master chef?” You nudge him with a grin.

“Chilchuck is already quite good at cooking,” Laios pipes up without taking his eyes off the screen. “Maybe he’ll learn to make something else after mastering ramen.”

“Hey—”

“Ramen?” you ask, head tilting. “Like, the instant kind?”

Chilchuck splutters. “No!”

“From scratch!” Laios beams. “Senshi’s said he’s been making really good progress since his first day.”

“Oh?” you grin. “Our little master chef is gonna open a ramen shop?”

“Shut up. No way. Not ever,” Chilchuck grumbles, the high curve of his ear a soft pink.

“I hope you’ll make it for us one day—I love ramen,” you say. “Very tedious, though, so I’ve never done it myself.”

His face scrunches, mouth pursing together like he wants to speak, but doesn’t. His cheeks puff with air, releasing as a long, quiet sigh.

“Oh, hey, so after ramen”—you lean a hand on the chair’s opposite arm, boxing him in with a cheeky little smile—“you should look into French onion soup. It’s probably easier than ramen but caramelizing the onions takes so long—”

“You—!” he leans back, shoulders tense and eyes wide. “Don’t go making requests before I’ve even cooked anything decent.”

“Why not? I bet it’ll be great! You’re good with your hands, so soup is probably a piece of cake for you.” You watch—with no small amount of pleasure—as Chilchuck’s face flushes with vivid color.

“Get away from me,” he mumbles, but his tone is so insincere all you do is laugh. He knocks a loose fist against the inside of your elbow. A surprised noise jumps out; you retreat back against the chair, rubbing the spot.

“Mmh?” Marcille rouses with a sleepy hum. “What’re you requestin’?”

“Chilchuck is making us ramen,” you joke, relishing the way he knocks an admonishing leg against yours. “He’s our little master chef.”

“Oh, yeah. Did Laios end up spilling the beans?” Marcille yawns. Falin stirs, eyes fluttering. “Congratulations, you two.”

Chilchuck goes stiff beside you. “What do you mean?” you ask.

Marcille pauses, head tilting with a drowsy look of confusion. “Huh? Didn’t you ask why he’s learning to make it?” she asks. Falin tugs her sleeve.

You blink. “No. Should I have?” Marcille doesn’t respond right away, head bent to put an ear by Falin’s mouth, expression pinched as they whisper. Then, with a sigh, she reaches up to stretch.

“No. Never mind. Forget I said anything.” Laios is quick to grab her attention.

“Hey, so are you actually opening a ramen shop?” you whisper to Chilchuck.

“You’re such an airhead,” he grunts against his palm.

“I’m great,” you reply. His eyes meet yours, holding your gaze. When next he speaks, his voice is soft—acquiescing easily to your jest.

“Guess you are.”

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

Miscalculation

AN: I don't write nearly enough for Felix. Luckily, that SKZCode lab episode planted this idea in my head, and it's taken a viciously hold on me. Also, just to be super clear, despite Reader being a year old experiment, she's very much an adult. She came into the world that way. Also also, I edited this while sleepy so, hopefully it's coherent lol.

Synopsis: Your first heat hits you unexpectedly and violently one day. Thankfully, your favourite person pays you a visit in an attempt to comfort you through it. However, you both severely underestimate just how much your heat affects you. Especially around him.

General tags and warnings: Lee Felix x Fem! Reader, Scientist! Felix, Cat hybrid! Reader, lots of unethical research, Reader is an experiment, Felix tries his best to humanise Reader, doesn't really apply here but, since Reader is an experiment and Felix is a scientist there is the potential for a power imbalance, Reader is in heat, Reader is manipulative and maybe in love with Felix and not much plot.

Smut tags and warnings: heavy dubcon, mentions of masturbation and exploration of sexuality, virgin! Reader, kind of sort of fingering (f. receiving), humping/grinding, over the clothes touching, scent kink of sorts, clothes being ripped, nipple play (m. receiving), Reader takes charge a lot throughout this, little to no foreplay for Reader and a very unrealistic first time, piv sex without a condom, marking and clawing (m. receiving), biting (m. receiving), one mention of blood, possessiveness from Reader, dirty talk, praise and creampie.

Word count: 3.8k.

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

Everything burns. 

Your blankets are a crumpled mess on your floor because you're certain you'll shred them into pieces with your claws if they so much as touch your overheated body right now. The persistent buzz of the air conditioner brings you no comfort. Sweat dots your forehead and you'd take off the oversized shirt that clings to your body within an instant if Doctor Bang, red faced and avoiding your frustrated gaze, hadn't insisted on some sense of propriety. Aren't these men supposed to be doctors? Trained medical professionals? Have they never seen a naked body before? He's lucky that he's the only one out of the three older men that you can somewhat stomach because if Doctor Lee or Doctor Seo had suggested you cover yourself, you would have hissed and clawed at them. 

A frustrated noise builds from the back of your throat when you can feel your sheets starting to grow damp underneath you. You've already had to change them five times in the past two days and, you feel like you're losing your mind. Actually, you just might be. Worse than the burning that emanates through your entire body and the non-stop sweat that clings to your skin no matter how many ice-cold showers you take, is the perpetual ache between your thighs. You're not stupid. This lab may be all that you've known for the entire year of your life but, you have basic instincts and common sense. Coupled with all of the sessions you're forced to sit through with Doctor Bang in an attempt to understand you and aid you in understanding yourself, you're more than aware you're aroused right now. Or ‘wet’ as Doctor Lee and Doctor Seo put it, much to the dismay of the older of the three. 

You just don't understand why. 

In the rare moments that you've wondered about your sexuality and sex in these sterile walls, it's rarely gone beyond a few curious pokes and prods at yourself. It's mostly been a neutral experience and you didn't derive much pleasure out of it. You're sure your limited knowledge and experience on the matter has hindered your ability to enjoy masturbation much but, it's not as though the four men will just give you the material or knowledge to help pleasure yourself. You're not even sure you care all that much.

Except for when you do. Thinking back to quiet nights where the silence and loneliness of the lab was too much for your mind to handle and masturbation crossed it as a hope for distraction. A brief escape from the life you've been forced to endure. So, you tried it. Flashes of a kind smile and blonde hair making your stomach twist in a way that wasn't unpleasant, just unfamiliar. Full lips and memories of a deep voice causing arousal to trickle onto your inexperienced fingers. You'd even managed to make yourself orgasm once. It was one of the few sincerely pleasant moments you've had. 

The rest centred around him too. 

“–she's deep in heat right now, Lix.” You recognise the voice as that of Doctor Bang. Your ears twitch atop your head in interest at the conversation he's having with the only doctor you've grown fond of. You're always grateful for your hearing abilities in moments like these. 

“We can't just keep her in the dark,” Felix argues and your heart hammers loudly in your chest. Electricity zipping through you just at the sound of his voice and the knowledge that he's just beyond your bedroom door. The throbbing between your thighs worsens. 

“I know,” Doctor Bang sighs, “but, we won't be getting a shipment of suppressants until three days from now. We're just going to have to wait it out.” 

“We?” Comes Felix's incredulous reply, “We're not the ones suffering right now. I went to visit her last night Chris,” your eyes widen at the confession, “She was burning up and covered in sweat and, she's only had to deal with two days of it. You know it's not fair to her.” 

“What do you want us to do, Felix?” The older man argues, his voice heavy with frustration. 

“Treat her like a fucking person,” the younger man argues just as frustrated, “Tell her what's going on. We know she's incredibly smart. Maybe she has some biological way to make herself feel better that we haven't thought about or explored.” 

Silence stretches between the two for a few, long moments. 

“I don't think that's a good idea,” comes Doctor Bang's resigned reply, “Look Lix, I know that you care about her and the two of you have always been close. Too close for what could be considered appropriate,” you snort at that. Now he cares about ethics and what's appropriate? How funny. “But, Minho, Changbin and I care about her too. She's not just some experiment to us,” you find that hard to believe, “We just know when it's appropriate to step back and keep our distance. This is one of those times. We're going to try and help her through it as best as we can but, we're going to wait for the suppressants then feed them to her. That's it. End of discussion.” The sounds of footsteps echoing through the hallway are all that accompany his words. 

Well, at least you finally know what's wrong with you. You're in heat. Something they've apparently known you're capable of experiencing and have been suppressing since you gained consciousness. The fact that they're so blasé about letting you suffer in your room and wait days until you're able to find any kind of reprieve boils your blood in a way that has nothing to do with your biology. Yeah, so much for caring about you. You haven't even seen Doctor Seo and Doctor Lee since your symptoms first started. You don't even notice your claws prodding in your anger. You should have attempted to escape on those rare trips Felix had taken you outside of the lab. Consequences be damned. At least you'd have a shot at a normal life. You should have never let his warm eyes and compassion keep you coming back to this hellhole. 

Your furious, internal tirade is interrupted by your door sliding open. You don't have to turn around to know that it's Felix. His scent always betrays him before anything else. The familiar mix of bamboo and vanilla hit your senses. However, unlike the other times you'd bask in his scent, now it worsens the thundering of your heart and you notice the slick between your thighs increasing. 

“Hey,” he says gently, shutting the door behind him. All you can think to do is stare at your wall wide eyed as his scent grows closer with every step he takes towards your bed. Saliva begins to pool in your mouth just at the smell of him and the soft timber of his voice adds to the pit forming in your stomach. Your hands desperately grabbing at your arms in an attempt to calm you down. It's just Felix.  

“I just wanted to check up on you,” he adds when his greeting is met with silence. You have to fight extremely hard to not let your tail move wildly and to keep your claws retracted when he sits down on the edge of your bed. Fuck. He's so close now and his scent is overwhelming. The smell that used to bring you comfort now puts you on edge. A feeling that you've only felt sparks of now sets your entire body alight and the ache between your thighs starts to become unbearable. He needs to leave before your heat causes you to do something very, very stupid. 

“I know you've been struggling a lot lately,” the apologetic tone to his voice melts your heart and your impulses yell at you to crawl into his lap and nuzzle at him until he no longer sounds upset, “I'm sorry. We should have told you this when it started but, you're in heat. That's what's causing you to feel this way,” he explains, as though you hadn't overheard (more like intentionally listened in on) his conversation with Doctor Bang. 

“I know you're probably mad at us, at me,” you want to tell him no, you could never be mad at him but, you're afraid that if you speak now, you'll say something you can't take back, “I'm truly sorry. The suppressants will be here in a few days. Till then though, I'm here for you,” he says softly, laying a hand gently on your arm in what you assume is an act of comfort but, it has the complete opposite effect. 

Your blood turns molten in your veins and the fog that's been on the edges of your mind swallows it whole. All you can think about is getting your hands on him. Touching him. Feeling him. Mating with him. You've never felt more animal than human. 

One of the major perks of being a cat hybrid, you've come to learn, is your quick movements. Before Felix can process it, you're sitting up and pressed to his side within an instant. The confusion and concern on his handsome face is so endearing. He's so cute. You just want to devour him. 

“Felix,” your voice sounds near unrecognisable to even your own ears, “I want you to help me with my heat,” you practically purr into his shoulder. Grasping his arm and delighting in the pretty flush that spreads across his face. The ache of your canines extending doesn't bother you in the slightest. Your mind focused on nothing else but, the man that's been your lifeline for the past year. 

“I–I um I ca–can't do that,” he explains, his voice sounding strained. His attempt to pull his arm away proves to be futile. Not that he was trying particularly hard anyway. “But, Lix,” you whine, pushing your body closer to his, your breasts pressing against his arm, “Didn't you say you'd help me?” 

The way he attempts to stammer out a reply just makes him so much cuter to you. Nothing but, instinct driving you to press yourself even closer to him. Delighting in the shudder you feel run through his body when your breath hits his exposed neck. “Don't you want to help me, Felix?” You ask with a desperate edge to your hoarse voice, one of your hands travelling down the span of his lab coat until you reach his soft hand. Moving it until it's between your slick covered, inner thighs, “It hurts, Lix.” 

Felix, for his part, looks absolutely shell-shocked. Warm, panicked brown eyes staring at you unblinkingly but, he doesn't move his hand. Not even when your own is no longer holding it. Your body moves on its own. Hips chasing the brush that his fingers offer. Your lashes fluttering at the pleasure courses through you. You feel so sensitive, even his barely there touch is enough to cause you to gush further onto his fingers. 

And Felix watches it all. Watches the way you clumsily try to hump his fingers. Watches the minute expressions of relief and desire and frustration that all cross your beautiful face. Watches the way your canines sink into your bottom lip. Feels the way your sharp claws dig into his lap coat. He doesn't miss a thing. 

Impulse and maybe a fraction of ration desire push you to tug on his button up shirt and kiss him. You're moving completely on what feels natural and what you've seen a couple of movies he's watched with you. It takes him a second to kiss you back. Tentatively following the movements of your lips and guiding you in more comfortable and enjoyable directions. You swallow his stuttered groan greedily when your tongue invades his mouth. Searching for more of him to explore. To taste. To burn into your memory. 

As nice as it feels to kiss him like you've thought about far too many times in the silence of your room and, use his fingers and hand to help satiate the persistent ache that sits in the pit of your stomach, it still all isn't enough. Not even close. This time, you moan into his mouth when one of your hands snakes its way down the front of his body until it comes to rest on his lap. A particularly painful throb coming from the apex of your thighs when you feel how hard he is beneath your touch. 

“So you do want this just as much as I do,” you sigh dreamily against his lips, sparks of desire shooting through your entire body with every palm of your hand over his clothed cock. All of his adorable, little noises making your walls clench. You don't think you've ever felt pain like this in your entire, short life. Saliva pools in your mouth as his scent wafts to you. Much heavier and headier than earlier. Beneath the anxiety and fear, the arousal makes its presence known clear as day. 

“W–Wait, I–” Whatever he was going to say is cut short by you shoving him onto your bed. His wide eyes, pupils blown out and completely swallowing his irises, meeting your lidded ones as he watches you straddle his slender hips. You've always thought he was a good-looking man but, he looks even better like this, underneath you. 

Your eyes practically roll into the back of your head when you press down on him. Your drenched folds coming in contact with the evident bulge in his dress pants. Resting your palms on his stomach, you start to move. Chasing the friction against your clit desperately. Not caring all about the mess you're making of his pants. Your eyes focused on watching the way he tries very, very hard not to lose himself in the way you grind against him. His hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as he lays there and let's you use him. 

Fuck. What a cutie. 

His eyes shoot to your face when you use your claws to rip his blue button up open. While the colour looks absolutely lovely on him, you much prefer the sight of his bare chest. Your tongue running over your teeth at all the skin that you now have access to. 

“He–Hey, I think we should calm d–down a bit and–” Felix tries to interject, the drop in octave of his voice doesn't go unnoticed by you. You disregard his words easily. Leaning down to shut him up with your mouth while your hands busy themselves with exploring his chest. Your canines nipping his bottom lip when he gasps into you while you trace his nipples with your claws. Sensitive too. Perfect. 

“Why stop when I can feel how hard you are for me, Lixie?” You whisper against his full lips, fingers tracing random patterns into his nipples. His hips jutting up to meet your drenched core every time you touch him a little too harshly or drag yourself along his entire length. 

“Don't you want to just give in?” You ask, meeting his blown out eyes as your hands move their way along his lithe body until they reach his belt buckle. 

“I–I–” he stutters out when you sit back up so you can gain a better view of his frustrating belt. He must see you preparing to rip his pants off too because he stops you immediately, ��I–It's okay, I got um it,” he quickly responds. You shift down him a little to provide him with space to unbuckle his belt. Fortunately, he doesn't take too long. You're sure your impatience is rolling off of you in waves. 

Much to your surprise given how bashful he's been, he tugs his pants and boxers down in one go. His hard, pre-cum covered cock slapping against his stomach in his rush, his eyes pointedly looking at everywhere but, you. 

It's one thing to feel him, it's a whole different matter entirely to have his cock right there, ready for the taking. And take, you do. It's adorable how red his face is and the way he sneaks glances at you shyly when you shift back up his body until your dripping pussy is hovering over his twitching cock. Your shirt sticks to your damp body uncomfortably and, the reminder that you're still wearing it is an unwelcome one. So, you simply tug it off. Exposing yourself freely and readily to his shy eyes. 

Not that he's all that shy when you're bare for him to fully drink in. Bruised lips parting as he watches you grasp his cock with an impatient hand and align it with your dripping hole. He doesn't stop you when you begin to sink down onto him. Strained whimpers falling from his pretty mouth with every inch you eagerly swallow. The stretch only stings a little. The sensation of his scorching cock dragging along your walls more than makes up for it. It's your turn to moan once he's fully sheathed inside of you. Your clumsy attempts with your fingers don't hold a candle to this. 

The way Felix chokes on your name when you start to move will forever be etched into your memory. The pleasure clear as day on his face spurs you along with the desire to feel him inside of you for as long as you can. To make love with him in this awful place that only he gave any semblance of meaning to. To mate with him. 

You lose yourself in the way his cock feels easily. Fluttering lashes threatening to shut every time he hits a spot inside of you that makes your pace falter and your claws dig into his soft stomach. The faint, pink lines that decorate his skin cause you to preen. They look gorgeous on his skin. They look like they belong there. Like they were meant to be there. Based on the way his hooded eyes switch from watching the expressions your face morphs into, the way your breasts bounce with every movement on his cock and the way you swallow as much of him as you can, you don't think he minds or cares all that much. 

Your skin grows impossibly hotter when his hands touch you. He's careful. Watching for any discomfort but, there's none to be found. If anything, you revel in the gentle hold his hands take of your hips. Not controlling your movements but just enjoying touching you while you bounce on his cock. 

You might actually love him. 

The thought prompts you to lean down and smash your lips to his once more. The metallic tang of blood lets you know that you nipped him too hard but he doesn't care all that much. Letting you take everything you need from him right now while he lets you. You can feel the way he throbs inside of you. He tries to stop himself but, you notice the way his hips sometimes jerk up to meet you, to move with you. And the knowledge that, on some level, he wants you just as much as you want him sends you into overdrive. 

His sharp inhale echoes through your room when you sink your canines into his neck. The punctures aren't deep but, they're more than enough to satisfy you. You're not sure why or how you knew to do that but, instinct has been your driving force all night and you're going to continue to trust it. 

“We're mated now,” you sigh, thumbing his flushed cheek. 

He just looks up at you for a moment, attempting to digest your words before responding, “Mate–Mated?” 

“Mmm,” you hum in confirmation, purring when you notice the way his twitches like crazy inside of you, “You're my mate now, and I'm yours,” you explain breathlessly. A tension you're barely familiar with building in the pit of your gut that you chase. 

“But we fuck can't–” his sentence is cut off by the drawn out moans from the depths of his chest, his eyes rolling into the back of his head when you pick up your pace. He looks so attractive like this. A bruise already forming on his neck and his chest littered with faint marks from your claws. He's gorgeous. 

“I'm ah cl–close,” he gasps out, his glazed eyes meeting yours and his hands desperately gripping your hips, “You need to shit st–stop,” he manages to stutter out. You think it's amusing that he thinks you're going to stop now. Especially when you're just about to get what you want. Leaning down to his ear, you whisper, “Why, Lixie? You look so cute like this. Why would I ever want to stop?” You smile when you hear the way he whimpers and his cock pulses harder inside of you, “Don't you want to cum inside me?” His hold on you grows tighter, “I want you to. I want you to cum inside me until it's spilling out of me,” you emphasise your point by intentionally clenching around him, “For days.” 

That's all it takes for him to break. His cock throbbing as he shoots his cum into the deepest part of you. A mix of his whimpers and strangled moans of your name tickle your ears as his cum fills your eagerly awaiting pussy. Your tail swishes in glee and your ears twitch in happiness. Your own orgasm creeping up on you when you feel the last of his cum spill into you. Truly, the late nights alone in your bed could never compare to this. To him. Your first orgasm could never hold a candle to this. Your entire body is riddled with quivers and shakes, your wetness gushing onto Felix's softening cock. Your thighs are sticky with cum and you're drenched in sweat but, you've never been more at peace. 

For some time, your shared laboured breathing is the only sound in your room. Fondness bubbles up inside of you when you glance at his flushed, sweaty face. His golden hair sticking to his forehead while he takes some time to come back to himself. Your fingers move before you can even think about it. The fog retreating slightly while you play with his hair and enjoy the simple pleasure of watching him while your combined releases trickle out of you. Much to your displeasure.  

You smile at him when he finally blinks his eyes open to meet yours. Your fingers ghosting over his mate mark as something primal and affectionate simmers in the pit of your stomach. He really is yours now. Your tail wraps around his leg without you even noticing. 

The smile he gives you is small but, it's still one of his smiles and the way your heart hammers in your chest lets you know he really was meant to be your mate. 

Reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Do not repost, edit, copy and/or translate my work. I do not give you my permission to do so, nor will you ever receive it.

Stray Kids Masterlist | Ko-Fi

[novaursa]

The Cost of Fire

- Summary: The conclusion of the Dance. Where Gwayne and the reader married under watchful eyes of the Seven.

- Paring: targ!reader/Gwanye Hightower

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, is younger sister of Rhaenyra, was bonded with Silverwing. These events happen right after Where Honor Burns. If you want to read all parts before this in chronological order, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top. This is the final part of this series. That being said, it doesn't mean there will not be separate works posted that are reader/Gwayne themed.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 4 299

- Tag(s): @deniixlovezelda @duck-duck-goose2 @aadu2173 @holdingforgeneralhugs @sachaa-ff

The Sept is quiet, save for the murmured prayers of Septon Eustace. The light of a dozen flickering candles dances across the stone walls, casting long shadows as you stand beside Gwayne Hightower, your hands tightly clasped together. His touch is warm and reassuring, but the gravity of the moment hangs heavily in the air. This wedding is not grand; it is far from the dreams of princesses and noble ladies. Still, for you and Gwayne, it is enough—a small sliver of peace amidst the ruins of war. The words of the Septon flow through the chapel, sanctifying a union that has been long denied, long awaited.

You chance a glance at Gwayne as Septon Eustace speaks the final vows. His eyes are on you, soft and brimming with a tenderness that you hadn’t known you longed for until now. In his gaze, there is no regret, no fear—only the promise of something different, something better than what you have known. He mouths your name softly as the Septon pronounces you husband and wife. When the time comes for him to kiss you, it is gentle, his lips lingering just a moment longer as if savoring the taste of something long forbidden and precious. For a brief instant, it is just the two of you in that small Sept, the world beyond forgotten.

But the world does not forget you.

The doors to the Sept creak open as you and Gwayne step out, hand in hand. The air is thick with tension, colder than it should be, and it prickles at your skin. Otto Hightower stands at the foot of the steps, his eyes narrow as he takes in the sight of his son beside you. There is a hardness to his gaze, a judgment that has yet to be spoken but lingers between you all. Alicent is beside him, her hands clasped in prayer as if she’s hoping the gods will deliver some miracle to mend what remains broken.

“Father,” Gwayne says, his voice cutting through the chill.

Otto’s gaze sharpens. “You’ve married a traitor who crippled your King,” he replies coolly, his words laced with venom, though his voice remains calm. “This will not save us from the bloodshed to come.”

Gwayne straightens, the steel in his tone unmistakable. “It is done. I stand by my wife and our family.”

Before Otto can retort, the blaring of horns slices through the air, causing heads to turn skyward. Your heart seizes in your chest as a shadow ripples over the courtyard. Merothrax, sleek and deadly, his wings slicing through the clouds, circles thrice above the Sept before descending. The air hums with the sound of his wings beating against the sky, a warning in every gust of wind he sends tearing through the grounds below. The dragon's indigo scales shimmer, streaks of silver catching the sunlight as he twists in the air with a grace that belies his size.

When Merothrax finally lands, the stone steps of the Sept crack beneath the weight of his claws. The ground shudders as his tail swipes across the rubble, a low growl rumbling from deep within his chest. Vaeron, your son, dismounts with the ease of one born in the saddle, his blue eyes gleaming as he surveys the scene below. The Kingsguard react immediately, swords drawn as they move to surround him.

“Hold!” Gwayne’s voice booms with authority, making even the Kingsguard hesitate. His grip tightens on your hand as he steps forward, positioning himself between you and the threat. “Any man who dares raise a blade to my son will answer to me.”

Otto’s eyes flash with anger. “That boy just desecrated the Sept with his dragon’s claws!” he snaps, his voice harsh with barely concealed fury. “Does he think himself above gods and men alike?”

Before Gwayne can respond, you step forward, your voice cold and unwavering. “He is a dragon, Lord Otto. He answers to neither gods nor men.”

The defiance in your tone sends a ripple of unease through those gathered. You see the way Otto’s eyes narrow, his jaw tightening as he weighs his next words. Alicent’s hand rises to her chest as if she might speak another prayer, but she remains silent, her eyes flicking from you to Vaeron, studying the boy—no, the young man—who now stands before her. She has not seen him since he was a babe cradled in your arms, and now he stands tall, a rider of Merothrax, with your fire in his blood and Gwayne’s resolve in his bones.

For a moment, the tension is suffocating, the silence heavy with unspoken threats. But then Alicent speaks, her voice soft yet firm. “We are not here to fight,” she says, her eyes lingering on Vaeron. “The war has taken too much already.”

Otto’s lips press into a thin line, but he swallows his anger, his eyes flicking between you, Gwayne, and Vaeron. He does not bow his head, but there is a begrudging acceptance in his gaze. “The boy has power,” he concedes quietly, though there is no warmth in his tone. “Power that may yet be of use—if he can be controlled.”

Vaeron steps forward, his gaze fixed on Otto, and the shadows seem to deepen around him as Merothrax rumbles behind him. “I am no one’s pawn,” he states firmly. The certainty in his voice leaves no room for doubt, his defiance a mirror of yours. “And neither is my mother.”

You smile faintly at the pride in your son’s words, a rare moment of victory amidst the mire of this bitter world. Gwayne’s hand finds yours once more, a silent reassurance that you will face whatever comes together. 

Otto watches the scene with thinly veiled calculation, but as he turns to walk away, you catch the barest flicker of doubt in his eyes. Whether it is fear, respect, or something else entirely, you cannot tell. But as Alicent follows him, her gaze lingers on Vaeron one last time, as if she sees a glimmer of hope—or a threat—that might one day change the course of all their schemes.

And as Merothrax’s low growl echoes through the courtyard, you know that the game has shifted, and your place within it is no longer one to be overlooked.

The Great Hall of the Red Keep is bathed in the warm glow of flickering torches. Though it lacks the splendor and grandiosity of past celebrations, tonight’s feast is still an occasion. Gwayne had insisted on it—an attempt to stitch together what remains of your family, to find a sense of normalcy, even if only for a few hours. The food is simple but well-prepared, roasted meats and seasoned vegetables set upon long tables adorned with the banners of both House Hightower and House Targaryen. The tension from the day still lingers, like the ghost of smoke clinging to the air.

You sit at Gwayne’s side, your gaze moving from your husband to your son. Vaeron, with the confidence only a dragonrider possesses, takes his place among the gathered lords and ladies, every inch the prince, despite the wary glances cast his way. His presence dominates the hall, drawing eyes even from those who once might have doubted him. He bears a regal poise, his indigo riding leathers still marked with faint streaks of ash from Merothrax’s flight. But there’s also something wild in him, a restlessness that speaks to his upbringing under Daemon’s shadow.

At the end of the table, Queen Helaena sits, her soft-spoken nature a stark contrast to the world that swirls around her. She picks at her food with delicate fingers, humming quietly to herself. Her gaze occasionally lifts to Vaeron with curiosity, though she remains distant, her thoughts known only to her. You can’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for her—a queen trapped in a cage of tragedy, even as she clings to her gentle nature.

Gwayne breaks the silence between you, his voice low but filled with determination. “Vaeron,” he begins, drawing your son’s attention. There’s a pause as Gwayne studies him, as if seeing the boy for the first time—not as a distant figure raised on Dragonstone, but as his blood. “It has been far too long since I had the proper chance to know you.”

Vaeron meets his gaze, unflinching. “Perhaps that was no fault of yours, nor mine,” he replies, his words edged with the faintest hint of bitterness, though not unkind.

Gwayne inclines his head in acknowledgment. “No, perhaps not. But we can make amends for what time has stolen from us. You’re my son, Vaeron, and I would know you, as any father should.” There is sincerity in Gwayne’s voice, and it resonates through the hall, causing some of the lords to glance curiously between father and son.

Vaeron’s blue eyes search Gwayne’s face, as if weighing his words. “You wish to know me now, after years of silence? I was raised by men who saw war as a way of life. What is there in me you would recognize?”

A silence follows, tense and fraught with unspoken pain, until Otto Hightower, who has been watching the exchange from his seat with calculating eyes, leans forward. “You are our blood, Vaeron,” Otto interjects, his tone softer than usual, though still tinged with his signature sharpness. “Regardless of your upbringing, that cannot be denied. We may not share the same values as those you were raised under, but family remains.”

Vaeron’s eyes flicker to Otto, an amused smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Do you see family when you look at me, Lord Hand? Or do you see Daemon’s legacy?” There’s a challenge in his words, a test to see whether Otto can acknowledge what has shaped him without rejecting him outright.

Otto’s expression tightens briefly, the distaste for Daemon still apparent, but he tempers it with a measure of diplomacy. “I see both, boy. You carry traits of that man, yes, but you also carry the blood of Hightower and Targaryen, a union that could yet stabilize what remains of this realm.”

Gwayne’s eyes flash at Otto’s words. “He is more than just a symbol of peace, Father. He’s my son, and I would have him know his worth beyond whatever schemes the realm wishes to thrust upon him.”

A tense silence falls as Vaeron considers their words. He leans back in his chair, tapping a finger lightly against the table. “And what is it you wish from me then, grandsire?” Vaeron’s voice drips with the same playful mockery Daemon often wielded like a blade. “To be a well-mannered lord? A proper heir to the Hightower? Or perhaps you simply wish to mold me into something more… agreeable?”

Otto’s eyes narrow, but Alicent, who has remained quiet beside him, places a calming hand on his arm. She speaks then, her voice gentle but firm. “No one seeks to shape you into what you are not, Vaeron. But we do hope you might find a place here, among kin, where you do not have to be at war with the world.”

Vaeron’s expression softens slightly, and he glances briefly at you, his mother, before his gaze returns to Gwayne. “And what of you, father? What place do you imagine for me here?”

Gwayne’s response is steady and unwavering. “You are a prince, a dragonrider, and a son. Your place is by our side, wherever we may stand, and to be free to carve your own path—no matter what others may wish.”

A brief flicker of approval crosses Vaeron’s face at Gwayne’s words, but before he can respond, Helaena suddenly speaks up from across the table, her voice dreamy and distant. “Dragons dance in shadows… They circle in the dark… but the light cannot find them…” She trails off, her gaze unfocused as if seeing something beyond the hall. The room falls quiet, her cryptic words sending a shiver down the spines of those who know her visions often carry more weight than they first seem.

The tension lingers for a moment, but it passes as Vaeron turns back to Gwayne with a faint smirk. “It seems, father, that you and I have much to learn about each other. Perhaps we’ll begin with a flight together one day—Merothrax would not object.”

Gwayne’s smile is warm, a rare flicker of hope blooming in his eyes. “I’d like that.”

Otto watches the exchange, a look of grudging respect dawning on his face, though his eyes remain cautious. Perhaps, in this moment, he sees that his grandson is not simply a reflection of Daemon’s influence, but a man in his own right—one who bears both fire and blood, and who may yet be a force of both destruction and renewal.

As the night wears on, conversations resume, laughter and music slowly returning to the hall. The war is not forgotten, and neither are the scars left by it, but for tonight, amidst the crackling fires and shared glances, a fragile sense of family takes root.

The heavy doors of the chamber creak shut with a finality that sends a shiver down your spine. The world outside fades, leaving only you and Gwayne bathed in the warm glow of candlelight. The silence is thick with anticipation as you stand together, breaths mingling as your eyes lock. There’s a hunger in his gaze that mirrors your own—a longing that’s been denied for far too long under approval of gods. The tension that’s built throughout the day, the battles fought with words and looks, melts away in the face of something far more primal, far more honest.

Gwayne steps forward, his hands cradling your face as his lips crash into yours with a fervor that takes your breath away. You cling to him, your fingers threading through his hair as he deepens the kiss, tasting you like a man starved. The intensity of it drives all thoughts from your mind until there is nothing but the sensation of him, the heat between you both threatening to consume you whole. His hands are strong, yet gentle as they slide down your back, pulling you flush against him.

He doesn’t waste time. In a swift, fluid motion, he lifts you from the ground, making you gasp into his mouth as he carries you to a nearby table. The wood is cool against your thighs as he sets you down, but the chill is quickly forgotten as his hands begin to work on the ties of your gown, fingers deftly undoing the laces and letting the fabric slide from your shoulders. His lips follow the trail, pressing heated kisses to every inch of newly bared skin.

“Too long…” he murmurs against your collarbone, his voice thick with need. “Far too long I’ve dreamed of this, of having you like this, as my wife.”

You arch into him, your own hands growing impatient as you tug at his tunic, desperate to feel him. “Then don’t wait,” you whisper, your words a breathless plea as you finally pull the fabric over his head, revealing the hard planes of his chest.

There’s a dark chuckle that rumbles in his throat as he presses you back against the table, his hands now roaming freely across your exposed skin. “Impatient, are we?” he teases, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck. “Good… because I don’t intend to be gentle tonight.”

Your response is cut off by another searing kiss, this one more demanding, more possessive. He tugs at your skirts, hiking them up over your hips until they’re bunched around your waist. One hand grips your thigh, pulling you closer to the edge of the table, while the other makes quick work of his own breeches. The friction of his rough hands against your skin, coupled with the heat of his body pressing into yours, sends a jolt of anticipation through you.

When he finally moves into you, you both moan into the kiss, the sound swallowed by the fervor of your mouths locked together. The stretch of him inside you is everything you’d craved, the ache of it sweet and demanding as he begins to move. His thrusts are deep and deliberate, every motion designed to draw another gasp, another moan from your lips. You cling to him, nails digging into his back as you match his rhythm, each of you lost in the pleasure that’s been denied for far too long.

He leans in, forehead pressed against yours, his breath ragged as he murmurs, “Gods, you feel better every time, better than any dream.”

Your response is a broken moan as he shifts his angle, hitting that spot deep inside that has you seeing stars. “Gwayne… please…” Your words are barely coherent, more a whimper than a demand, but he understands. His pace quickens, hips driving into yours with an urgency that sends you teetering on the edge.

The table creaks beneath the weight of your movements, but neither of you care. Your world has narrowed to the slick heat between you, the rough texture of his skin against yours, and the way your bodies move in perfect, desperate sync. But it’s not enough—there’s more to be had, more to give.

With a sudden motion, he sweeps you into his arms again, carrying you the short distance to the bed. You fall onto the soft sheets, a tangle of limbs and half-discarded clothing as he settles over you. The fire in his eyes is matched by the possessive grip of his hands as they slide down your sides, pulling you closer as he thrusts into you once more. This time, the bed gives him more leverage, allowing him to push deeper, harder, each motion drawing cries from your lips that mix with his own groans of pleasure.

“Say you’re mine,” he rasps out between thrusts, his voice rough with need. “Say it.”

You gasp, your back arching as the tension coils tight in your belly, every muscle tensing as you race toward that inevitable fall. “I’m yours, Gwayne,” you manage, voice breathless and trembling. “Now and always.”

His lips crash against yours in a kiss that’s more teeth and tongue than anything else, the urgency of it matched only by the way his hips snap into yours, driving you both toward release. The world narrows, the sensations overwhelming, until finally, with a shattered cry, you come undone beneath him. The pleasure rips through you, every nerve alight as you clench around him, dragging him over the edge with you. His groan is deep and guttural as he spills into you, hips jerking with the force of his release.

For a moment, all is still—the only sounds are your ragged breaths mingling in the quiet room. He doesn’t move, holding you close as you both come down from the high, the afterglow wrapping you in a warmth that has nothing to do with the fire burning in the hearth.

When he finally does pull back, it’s only to press a tender kiss to your brow, his thumb brushing your cheek as he whispers, “My wife… my love.”

You smile softly, your fingers tracing the lines of his face, committing every detail to memory. “And you, my husband… the one thing this war could not take from me.”

He chuckles softly, rolling onto his side and pulling you with him, keeping you close. “There will be more battles to fight, but we’ll face them,” he promises, his voice laced with a quiet determination. “No matter what comes.”

You nod, nestling into the warmth of his chest, content in the knowledge that, for now, in this moment, you are together—no schemes, no politics, just the two of you bound by love, trust, and the promise of a future that is finally yours to claim.

The Chronicles of the Dance’s Aftermath: The Union of House Hightower and the Younger Targaryen Daughter

Excerpt from "Fire and Blood, Volume II: The Aftermath of the Dance" by Archmaester Eldric

The marriage of Gwayne Hightower and the princess Y/N, younger sister of Rhaenyra Targaryen, stands as one of the most pivotal yet understated unions in the years following the Dance of the Dragons. In a time marked by bloodshed, treachery, and the near-ruin of the realm, this marriage represented a fleeting hope for stability, although the shadows of war still clung to the Red Keep like a persistent mist.

The Marriage and Its Immediate Consequences

By most accounts, the wedding was a muted affair, held in the shadow of ruin and loss. Witnesses describe—like Mushroom, the court fool and chronicler—the gathering as tense, with little joy to be found. Yet, within that tension lay the seeds of reconciliation. Gwayne Hightower’s insistence on wedding the princess, despite the open enmity between the Hightowers and Targaryens during the Dance, is said to have been an act of both love and defiance—defiance not just toward the whims of his father, Otto Hightower, (who once favored this union) but against the old order that had allowed the realm to descend into madness.

One cannot overlook the presence of the princess’ son, Vaeron Targaryen, upon his sleek indigo dragon Merothrax during the ceremony. His dramatic arrival and the desecration of the Sept sparked fury in the hearts of the pious, with Otto Hightower voicing his displeasure at such an audacious display of dragon power. However, it was in this very moment that the precarious threads of diplomacy between factions began to weave together once more.

Despite his bitter memories of Daemon Targaryen, Otto Hightower reportedly made cautious attempts to accept Vaeron as his grandson and integrate him into the political future of House Hightower and the realm. Though Vaeron’s upbringing under Daemon had forged a wild and defiant streak within him, his interactions with Gwayne were marked by a mutual, albeit tentative, respect. Some suggest that this connection laid the foundation for what followed—a reluctant but necessary peace.

The Birth of Alyssane Hightower and the Strengthening of House Alliances

In the year following the marriage, Y/N bore Gwayne a daughter, named Alyssane in honor of the late Queen Alyssane Targaryen, and in memory of princess's killed dragon, Silverwing. Two figures revered by both sides of the conflict. The birth of Alyssane was seen by many as a symbol of renewal—a delicate hope that the wounds of the past might one day heal. Chroniclers note that Dowager Queen Alicent herself, despite her initial reservations, took a deep interest in the child, seeing her as a potential link to unite the divided factions within the realm.

The girl’s birth also brought greater stability to the realm in the years that followed. The delicate truce between the remaining Targaryens and Hightowers, though always on the brink of collapse, was bolstered by this new generation. Rumors circulated in the halls of Oldtown that Otto Hightower, ever the schemer, entertained thoughts of betrothing young Alyssane to his great-grandson Aegon III, a third son of King Aegon II and Queen Helaena, a political move meant to fully merge the interests of Hightower and Targaryen. But in the end, the girl was given to wed Joffrey Velaryon in attempt to stop the flames of war to spread further.

Vaeron Targaryen: The Storm Within the Peace

The presence of Vaeron Targaryen, however, was a constant reminder of the untamed fire that still smoldered beneath the surface. Now grown into a man, Vaeron’s defiant nature and his bond with Merothrax made him a figure both feared and admired. Though raised by Daemon, Vaeron had a mind of his own and wielded his dragon not as a weapon of war, but as a reminder of his lineage’s enduring power.

Eyewitness accounts describe tense interactions between Vaeron and his grandsire, Otto Hightower. The elder statesman, while outwardly diplomatic, could not fully disguise his distrust of the boy. Some whispered that Vaeron’s very existence was a reminder of Otto’s failure to fully rid the realm of Daemon’s influence. Yet, others saw in Vaeron a bridge—albeit a perilous one—between the Hightowers and Targaryens, a prince who could carry forward a legacy tempered by both fire and reason.

The Realm in the Aftermath

The years following the Dance remained fraught with hardships, but the marriage of Gwayne and Y/N is often credited with preventing further civil war in the immediate aftermath. Otto Hightower, with his grip on power loosened by the marriage, began to retreat more often to Oldtown, while Alicent sought solace in prayer. It is said that, in her later years, she spent much time with young Alyssane, seeing in the child a chance to redeem the future for her bloodline.

Vaeron, meanwhile, grew into a prince whose legacy straddled both the Hightower and Targaryen lines. He became a key player in the ongoing political intrigue of the realm, always walking a fine line between his father’s calculated diplomacy and his mother’s fierce independence. In time, he would be known as “Vaeron the Bridger,” a prince who held together two rival houses with fire in his veins and a dragon at his command.

Yet, the peace that followed was not without its cracks. Despite the alliances forged, the realm was still deeply divided. The scars of the Dance would never fully heal, and as Vaeron and Merothrax grew more influential, many feared that the young dragon would one day ignite another conflict—one that would once again send the realm spiraling into chaos.

In the end, the marriage of Gwayne and Y/N is remembered as a moment when hope and ambition, love and duty, mingled in a fragile dance, one that briefly steadied a realm teetering on the edge of ruin. Whether it truly brought peace or merely delayed the inevitable remains a question for the histories, but for a time, at least, it kept the dragons’ fire from consuming the realm whole.

[everyonewooeverywhere]

MDNI 18+ BLOG -> ageless blogs and minors WILL BE BLOCKED

pairing ✭ soft dom!bf!yunho x f!reader

synopsis ✭ nothing makes yunho feel better than knowing he can make his baby cum. nothing. of course, you can certainly cum more than once.

content/genre ✭ smut MDNI 18+, this just 2k words of pure smut 🙂

word count ✭ 2.1k

notes ✭ this was requested by 🪐🍄 anon and is the first time i’m publishing anything for one of my biases 💀. have fun!

warnings ✭ smut, unprotected sex, pet names (baby, angel), fingering, minor cockwarming, overstimulation (kinda), multiple orgasms (f recieving), oral (f recieving)

✭✭✭✭

Few things in this world could compare to the pleasure that Yunho got from knowing he was making you feel good. He’d get so lost in the moment. So hyperaware of how your body reacted to his touch. It was euphoric for him. He got off on the knowledge that it was him making you feel good. No one else could do to you what he did, and that was a fact he took deep pride in.

Some nights, making you cum three times was enough to satiate him. He’d end the night by putting you in a warm bath while he cleaned the sheets. Cuddling you for the rest of the night. Fully satisfied with you in his arms.

There were other nights when he became so engulfed in his need to pleasure you that he completely lost count of how many times you’d cum. Those nights were your favorite nights. And, lucky for you, Yunho was in a giving mood tonight. Moreso than he had ever been.

“So…” Drawing out the word. “How are you feeling tonight?” He ran a finger under your jaw as he hovered over you.

You sighed at his touch, “Good.”

“Yeah?” You nodded, eyes fluttering as he played with your hair. “You think you can handle a long night.” 

When you nodded again, he smirked and kissed you softly. “Ok baby, you’ll tell me it’s too much, yeah?”

“Of course,” you reassured him.

Getting your assurance gave him more than enough confidence. Most nights he skipped the foreplay and build-up entirely, but tonight he wanted to make it last. He wanted to see his baby come undone slowly. He wanted to watch you lose your ability think about anything but how good you felt. And he wanted to make sure he was thorough.

He kissed you again, but this time much deeper than before. His lips engulfed your own, sucking the breath out of your lungs. When his teeth nipped at your bottom lip, you whined. Yunho could feel himself harden at the sound. He fully sunk his teeth into your lip, hoping to draw the same sound out of you. And he did, but this time it was much needier. It was a melody he could listen to on repeat for hours.

His fingers played with the hem of your shirt as he kissed your jaw, periodically pulling back to see the little marks he had left behind with his teeth. The warmth of his palms on your stomach, as they pushed under your shirt, made you mentally sink further and further into him. Letting him give you the pleasure you so desperately desired.

When he pulled your shirt over your head, your heart fluttered and the way he looked at your body. Like he needed to explore every single inch of your skin. And he for sure did. Kissing from your neck to your collarbone. Massaging your breasts with his hands. Losing it every time you sighed and moaned when his fingers pulled at your nipples.

His hands eventually made it to the waistline of your panties, and you lifted your hips to help him pull them down your legs. His head was between your thighs in an instant, kissing and biting at the skin. He brought his fingers between your legs and spread your folds. Admiring how you glistened for him.

“Oh, my pretty baby,” he kissed your clit, barely brushing his lips over it, “You’re so beauitful. You know that, right?”

You moaned out his name when he pressed his tongue to your entrance.

“You like that?” he teased, chuckling when you tangled a hand in his hair and tried to push him back down. “Be patient, baby. I’ll give you what you need.”

When you rolled your hips, he tightened his grip on them, but he complied with your silent request. With a thumb playing with your clit, he ate you out like his life depended on it. He knew your body so well. He knew exactly how you liked his fingers on your clit. He knew how much you loved when he fucked you with his tongue. He could absolutely tell when you were about to come. 

Your thighs shook around his head, “Yu! Oh god–” He could feel your cunt tighten against his tongue. Your orgasm washed over you. Giving you pure pleasure from head to toe. 

He leaned back and let you catch your breath. Kissing and massaging your thighs. He knew the only way you could go as long as he wanted was if he gave you breaks. But he didn’t mind them, because that gave him time to admire how more and more messy you became every time he made you cum.

It was a sight he was sure he’d never get tired of. Your scattered hair. Your heaving chest. Your blown-out eyes. He bathed in every single detail. 

He was back to drowning himself in your pussy in no time. Starting with just two fingers inside you, he sucked on your clit, which was puffy and sensitive from the previous orgasm. The feeling of his lips around it made you jolt. He grinned, “Is that good, baby?”

“Yes!” you moaned, gripping his hair, letting him pull another orgasm out of you. Your whole body shook as he fucked you with his finger while his tongue played with your clit.

You could feel yourself losing all control of your body as you came for the second time. This time all over his fingers. He crawled over you and admired your sweaty face and droopy eyes. He brought his hand, the one soaked in you cum, to your lips, and you happily obliged. Sucking on his fingers, reveling in the taste of yourself on them.

While he hovered over you, he brought a thigh between your legs, pressing it up against your incredibly sensitive pussy. You pouted, and he laughed at you. He pulled his fingers out of your mouth, catching the trail of saliva that dripped down your chin with his thumb.

“Why are you pouting baby?” he smirked, knowing the answer.

“Because!” you wiggled your hips.

“Oh baby…” he fake pouted, mocking you, “I can’t give you everything for free. You’re gonna have to work for it.”

You rolled your eyes. He wanted you to get yourself on his thigh. He did this almost every time when you started to get tired. Right before he knew that you would hardly be able to move of your own accord. 

In desperation to reach another climax, though, you always obliged. Grinding yourself continuously to reach your high. Feeling how he’d periodically flex his thigh to mess with you. This was his favorite part of the night because he loved to watch you cum all on your own. You lost all sense of awareness concerning what he wanted and focused only on how to make yourself cum all over his thigh. 

He was obsessed with how selfish you became when you fucked yourself on his thigh. And he could tell when you were about to cum too by the way your jaw dropped open and your eyes fluttered. When he asked if you were close, you just nodded dumbly and moaned loudly as you climaxed once again. 

You whined and reached for him when he left the bed, watching as he pulled his shirt over his head and slipped his boxers off. He loved watching you as you drooled over him. Already high in post-orgasm bliss. 

When he climbed back over you, you immediately reached down and grabbed at his length. He hummed lowly at your touch, “Oh baby, you're so greedy.”

“Please Yu…” you breathed out.

“Of course, angel. I would never leave you hanging. You know that.”

He kept his focus on your face as he slid himself between your folds. Watching how you jaw went slack and your eyes rolled back in your head. Admiring the wonderful flush of your cheeks and the shine of the sweat on your forehead. He felt his pride bubble over knowing that he was the one who made you feel this way.

Seeing you made him lose himself a little, too. Yunho could tell he was in his last moments of full clarity. He knew that if he didn’t fuck you soon he might fully disappear. 

“Baby,” his voice was hoarse in your ear, “do you want a condom?” You shook your head, “No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you rolled your hips because he had stopped moving, hoping you could get some form of friction, “Please, Yu. I need you.”

“Ok, angel,” he intertwined one of his hands with yours, pinning it above your head. He grabbed your other wrist and placed your other hand in his hair, “Hold on.”

He started slow. Sinking into you feeling every inch of your walls tightening around him. You were so warm and welcoming for him. He groaned at the feeling of your nails scratching his scalp as you adjusted to him.

This was the part that Yunho loved the most. His stamina was astronomical. He could make you cum three times on his cock before he finished with you on the fourth. That meant he could watch you come completely undone under him.

“Oh my god,” you moaned softly as he bottomed out inside you.

He didn’t move, in fact, he knew he didn’t need to. Not yet anyway. Playing with your clit was enough, especially when you were stuffed full. It was euphoric the feeling of your walls contracting and closing around him as you got closer and closer. Your legs wrapped around his waist, holding him inside you as he circled your clit with his thumb over and over and over again. Until you dropped your legs as they shook violently and came around him. Hard. 

It was blissful. Everything was so hot. Your ears burned, and your stomach fluttered as your brain clouded over. 

He didn’t pull out of you though. At least not completely. He pulled back slightly and thrust his hips back against yours. It started steady. Calculated even. With even thrusts and steady pacing. But with every pathetic noise that came out of your mouth, Yunho lost control of himself. He thrust into you over and over. Feeling you tighten around him with every passing second.

You whimpered and whined, begging him to keep going. Holding on for dear life. He was so engrossed with everything that he lost track of where you were. You came two more times, and he didn’t even notice. You hung on to him so tight, muttering not a single coherent word. All that came out of your mouth was the pathetic sounds that drove Yunho absolutely insane. 

He felt himself getting closer and closer with every single movement the both of you made. “Shit, shit, shit, baby.” He groaned in your ear, “Fuck…hold on. I’m so close.” His eyes screwed shut when he felt himself cum. A full load. One that filled you nearly to the brim. 

He pulled out of you and ran a hand through your hair. Pushing it out of your face. Admiring your fucked out expression. He ran his fingers along your jaw. Over your lips. Down your neck. “You're so pretty. You know that right, baby? So fucking beautiful.”

You nodded weakly. Barely comprehending what he said. He massaged your thighs and stomach as he waited for you to fully come back to him. Admiring how you tried to catch your breath.

He knew you were starting to come down from your high when you found his eyes with your own. He smiled down at you, and you couldn’t help but grin back up at him.

“You’re so perfect,” he praised. Kissing your forehead.

You hummed, “So are you.”

Shifting around on the bed, he leaned his back against the headboard, sitting up next to you, and you were quick to rearrange yourself to snuggle up with him. Legs thrown over his lap, with your head rested on his shoulder.

“So…” he began, “How many times did you come?”

“Oh god, I don’t know,” you tried to think back, “Maybe six.”

“Hmm, I think I can do better than that.” You laughed. “Do you think that was your limit?”

You shrugged, “I don’t think I have a limit.”

“Baby, everyone, has a limit. I just have to get you there.”

“Maybe if you let yourself cum more than once we could go even longer.” He scoffed, “I don’t know, angel, you seemed pretty lost in there,” he poked your forehead, “any more and you might be lost to the orgasm gods forever.”

“You’re such a fucking dork.”

Laughing, he kissed the top of your head, “But you love it.”

You smiled. Yeah, yeah you did.

✭✭✭✭

note ✭ yay!! i wrote something 😐

lol anyway thank you for reading! if you like it, i absolutely LOVE to hear feedback. my inbox is always open and comments and reblogs are appreciated.

also, this was a request! if you would like to request something, read my guidelines then head over to my ask box. i'd love to hear from you 💗

[prythianpages]

Dandelions | Azriel

Azriel x Green Witch Reader | The moment in which you realize you're in love.

word count: 1,713

warnings: fluff, kissing

a/n: Surprise Surprise! This is my 1,000th post on this blog and I wanted to dedicate it to Green Witch reader <3 This can be read as a stand alone. I was on reddit when I saw a comment that reminded me of these two and I just had to write it out before I lost inspiration, even though it was midnight when I saw it.

Walking through the cobblestone streets of Velaris, your heart feels light and content, further lifted by the enchantment that seems to weave through every building and tree. The rain from the afternoon had left behind shimmering puddles and brought upon a misty evening. Warm and humid, the air was alive with the croak of contented toads and the delicate flutter of moths.

As a green witch, your connection to nature runs deep. You cherish all living things, from the majestic trees lining the streets to the smallest insects that flit about underfoot. Many might find them insignificant, even terrifying. But to you, they’re lovely.

Yet, among all the wonders of Velaris, it's the shadowsinger walking slightly ahead of you who captivates your heart the most. 

His dark hair, damp from the mist, clings to the back of his neck. It curls at the ends and you’re sure there’s a matching, distinctive curl of hair or two that falls down over his forehead that you would love to run your fingers through. His wings are tucked into him and though his back is turned toward you, you notice the slight tilt of his head downwards. 

You also can’t help but notice the way his shadows slither along the ground in front of you both. Almost as if they’re clearing a path for the both of you. You don’t think much of it, even though you’re usually the one walking slightly ahead. Azriel is always attentive to your surroundings.

Your lips curve into a tender smile as you continue to admire him from behind. The mating bond hums softly between you. You give a tug and it’s instant, the way your chest swells with warmth as he responds. He doesn’t turn around but you catch the subtle twitch of his right wing. Something you notice he does when flustered or blushing.

Though you both are now aware of the mating bond or at least now aware that you both are aware, you came to a mutual agreement to take things slow.  So Azriel courted you, determined to right the wrongs of his initial coldness. His efforts to show you his true self, the side he's always wanted you to see, have been nothing short of enchanting.

You always suspected there was more to Azriel than the stoic warrior facade he presented to you. And as the days turned into weeks, he revealed layers of his personality that left you breathless.

You discovered his love for reading, the way his eyes softened when he spoke about his favorite books. He took you to his favorite hidden spots in Velaris that he wanted to share only with you. 

One evening, he surprised you with a picnic by the Sidra River. Since you could not prepare him food due to the bond, he had taken it upon himself to prepare all your favorite foods. 

His gestures were not always grand, but they were always meaningful. Like the time he spent hours helping you gather rare herbs for your potions. Or the quiet evenings you spent in his arms, where words were unnecessary.  Yet, he never stayed the night, always leaving before it got too late.

“y/n?”

“Yes?” 

You hadn’t realized he’d been talking to you, too lost in your thoughts.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes,” you say again, seeing that you have reached your small townhome. Your apothecary is located right next door, the sign swaying slightly despite the lack of wind.

The fae lights hanging from your door’s overhang flicker on as the sun begins to set, casting a warm glow over the entrance. From the window, you spot a set of two glowing eyes watching you, bringing forth a smile. It’s your cat, Binx. He blinks at you in greeting.

Azriel draws your attention back to him as he carefully makes his way up the three steps that lead to your door. He offers you his hand, not wanting you to slip on the wet cobblestone. You take his hand, the warmth of his touch sending a pleasant shiver up your spine. His fingers intertwine with yours, strong yet gentle.

“Thank you,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Azriel’s gaze locks onto yours, his hazel eyes warm with emotion. “I’d do anything for you,” he replies softly, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. There’s a vulnerability in his voice, a raw honesty that makes your heart ache. 

He steps closer and the space between you seems to hum with the energy of the bond you share. You find yourself giving in to the irresistible pull of that bond, wrapping your arms around his neck, and bringing his head down toward yours. Your lips meet in a tender kiss, a soft and delicate exchange but as the hands at your waist travel upwards, it morphs into something more heated. A kiss that speaks volumes about the growing connection between you two. 

His hands cradle your face, one moving to the back of your head as he gently pushes you against your door. It’s when your tongue traces along his bottom lip that he pulls away. “You should go inside before the rain comes down again,” he breathes but you catch the way his pupils flare as he gazes down at your swollen lips. Droplets begin to fall from the sky yet neither of you move.

“I should,” you reply, your eyes sparkling with mischief as you pull him back in for another kiss.

**

You linger by the window, fingers pressed against your lips, drawn to the sight of Azriel walking away in the gentle drizzle. It wasn’t your first kiss and certainly not the last. Each kiss only further fueled the desire between you both but you two had agreed to wait to be intimate with one another until you’re ready to accept the bond. Something that was becoming a struggle with every passing day.

As you watched Azriel go, you saw something that made your heart skip a beat. He was pausing every few steps, his fingers gently lifting what appeared to be small worms off the wet pavement and guiding them to safety in the lush greenery that bordered the streets. His shadows danced around his feet, helping him.

And then it hit you—why Azriel’s attention had been on the ground as he walked you home earlier, why his shadows had been forming a pathway. He was saving the worms from being stepped on. Tears welled up in your eyes, and before you knew it, you were slipping out your door and running toward him.

“Azriel!”

Azriel turns, his brows furrowing in concern as soon as he sees you. He raises one hand—the one that hadn’t been picking up the worms—to caress your cheek, his thumb gently wiping away a rogue tear. “Why are you crying?” he asks, frowning.

“Because you’re so sweet and thoughtful and kind and I love you and—”

“You love me?” he interrupts softly, his right wing twitching as a blush creeps onto his cheeks.

“Yes, you. I love you and only you,” you repeat, voice trembling with the weight of your feelings.

And then he’s kissing you again, letting his lips convey those three words for him.

**

You glance over at Azriel, his focused expression making your heart swell with what you’re now certain is love. Every time he looks your way, his gaze softens and you feel like you’re about to burst.

His eyes had widened slightly when you had offered to help, not realizing he’d been caught. He had protested, claiming you’d only get sick if you stayed out in the rain with him. But you had ignored him, kneeling down on the damp ground.

So now you both were kneeling on the ground, the cool rain soaking through your clothes as you helped the small bugs to a safer path. Azriel’s shadows were eager to help as well, nudging worms and beetles your way. A bit too eager, as they sometimes sent the bugs skittering away toward the grass, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the playful chaos.

Just as you’re about to pick up another worm, a small movement catches your eye. A toad hops out from under a bush. Azriel startles but you grin, scooping it up into your hands. When he inches away from you, your eyes light up in mischief.

Before he knows it, you’re chasing him around, the toad held out in front of you. Azriel dodges and weaves, his laughter mingling with yours in the rain. His shadows seem to be on your side as one sneaky tendril crosses over his leg and he trips. You fall over him, the both of you collapsing in a heap on the wet grass. The toad hops out of your hold, much to Azriel’s relief. You’re both breathless and grinning.

"Do you still love me now?" You tease.

“More than anything,” he replies immediately, his wings stretching out under him to fold over you and shield you from the rain.

“Would you still love me if I were a toad?” You challenge.

Azriel laughs, his hazel eyes twinkling as he pulls you closer. Your head rests on his chest. “Even if you were a toad. I’d find a way to become one with you,” he says, the sincerity in his tone nearly bringing you to tears again, as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. 

The rain grows heavier, and the two of you finally decide to seek shelter, running back into your home. When you ask him to stay the night, he doesn’t hesitate to say yes. After washing up and changing into comfortable clothes—Feyre had magically sent Azriel fresh garments at his request—the two of you nestle into the comforting warmth of your bed.

It’s not big enough to accommodate his wings. Something you're already working on replacing. He doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, it only gives him more reason to hold you closer.

Your back is flush against his chest, one of his strong arms draped protectively over your waist as you both watch the rain patter against the bedroom window. His chin rests gently atop your head and you close your eyes, feeling utterly safe and cherished. 

The bond between you sings with contentment, but it’s the love dwelling within that bond that makes your heart overflow with joy.

a/n: This takes place after the first imagine but before you accept the bond with a witchy ritual as mentioned in these HCs, which I may or may not write. In my mind, Azriel fell first but you fell harder. Not only is this the first time you say I love you but also the first time he stays the night.

series tag list:@fxckmiup, @aria-chikage

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming

[series masterlist]

[bvidzsoo]

♡Boyfriend!Wooyoung♡

Pairing: Jung Wooyoung x female reader

TW: none

Word count: 678

Genre: fluff, comfort, established relationship, bullet points, non-idol!au

A/N: Hello, anonie, I see that you have sent the request to my other blog, which I use for rebloging my favorite works (something that I haven't been doing for a long time lol I have to pick up on it again) I'd like to clarify that I don't take requests, sorry guys, but I simply don't have the time rn and I usually struggle coming up with anything unless it's my own idea lol. And if you do send a request, it might take a long time for me to write it, my apologies. This story is in bulletpoints, just letting you know. Hope you enjoy it! ^^

it had been a long day

too long, actually

normally, tackling a long day of work and going to your Pilates class too wouldn't have made you so exhausted

but you were sick, very, apparently

you had spent the weekend up in the mountains last weekend, at your boyfriend's best friend's weekend cabin and it was rather cold

so naturally, you caught a cold

but life doesn't stop there, no matter how unwell you felt

you still had a job...a very demanding one, at that

and you had just picked up more shifts last week, unknowing of the predicament you'd find yourself in after your little trip

so now, by the time you had reached home at the end of the day, you had no power left in your body

your head was dizzy and you were grateful you managed to get home without crashing your car, but walking up the stairs to your apartment felt like an eternity, and it was horrible

as you fiddled for your keys, on the verge of tears as your whole body was burning up, you became aware of the music coming through the front door, and you boyfriend belting out high notes alongside it

and as you finally unlock the door and push it open, you're met with your boyfriend standing in the middle of the living room in nothing but an oversized t-shirt reaching past his naked thighs and knee-high socks he uses when playing football with his friends after a long working day

and oh, he's holding a wooden spoon, looking completely off-thrown by your arrival

he misjudged the time and thought you wouldn't be home for another hour

now you'd have to wait for dinner, and that's not how he had planned your date night to go

which was a surprise that Wooyoung came up with last minute

you stare at Wooyoung for a second, before dropping everything from your hands and kneeling, holding your head in your hands, tears finally springing from your eyes

Wooyoung is flabbergasted and immediately rushes to your side, dropping the wooden spoon on the small coffee table in the process

he's by your side in an instant, cradling your head to his chest as he presses a kiss to your forehead before he's wiping your tears away, making you finally feel at ease despite the headache, dizziness, and nausea you're feeling

Wooyoung is your pillar when you're feeling even the slightest bit off and he certainly understands that what you need right now are silence, a warm bath, and some painkillers, of course

and so just like that, he helps you up and walks you to your bedroom, leaves you on the bed to discard of your clothes and goes prepare the bath for you

and once you are done with the bath, feeling slightly better as your head isn't pulsating so much anymore, Wooyoung surprises you by bringing dinner to bed, of which you can't eat too much now, but it'll be good in the morning

and then Wooyoung gives you some water and you take the painkillers and before he could go and let you rest, you grab Wooyoung's wrist and offer him a small smile

and he understands without you saying anything

and so, he shuts off all lights in the apartment before joining you in bed, and because you don't want him to catch a cold, he becomes the small spoon as you burry your head into his back, holding onto him tightly

and suddenly all your worries melt away, and today doesn't seem so grim anymore

your head is still thumping, and your nose is still stuffy, and you think your fever is finally going down

but what matters most, is your boyfriend being by your side and humming quietly, tracing your skin gently with his fingers, your right arm resting around his torso, feeling safe

far away from the exhausting world and demanding assignments from your work

and you know you'll feel a lot better by the morning, all thanks to your lovable boyfriend, Jung Wooyoung

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↳Perm. taglist: @orshii @jjoongstar @tinyelfperson @thestarskiller @zuuhaaa

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❀ complete the forms if you're interested! ^^

[court-jobi]

Hi, lately I came across your blog and I really adore your writting style :3

I was very excited when I saw you have open requests (if I am not wrong, otherwise ignore me hah), so I have request for Bakugou × reader, when they are in established relationship, but lately it got rocky, because he was barely home, trying to climb ranks and just neglecting their relationship, so they barely even talk. Then reader gets kidnapped, due to being Bakugou's SO, but she feels so irrelevant at this point that she starts saying to the kidnapper that they are wasting their time, because Bakugou is not coming for her, whick Katsuki overhears, you know just good old angst with fluff at the end maybe

If this request is too complicated or specific please don't feel pressured to do this, anyway have a lovely day/night

I am very much receptive to asks, and thank you so much for providing one!! super flattered actually and spent my entire afternoon crafting up this bad boy bc I had an instant idea for it

Hopefully I touched all the right notes on this one, enjoy anon! Don't be a stranger~

Do It Scared

Words: 4.9K

Warnings: Pro Hero!Bakugou x reader TW: kidnapping, intimidation, light descriptions of violence, protective Bakugou is protective, language, angst with a happy ending (promise!!) and potential spoiler: Pro Hero!Deku

for my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on Ao3

Dynamight is on top of the world– or at least working his ass off to get there.

With Deku back on the leaderboard, he’s got twice the motivation and has never been in love with being a hero more.

“That’s what -heh- nine for you this week, Dynamight?” the newly suited Pro beams at Bakugou- not unlike the five year old version of him did back a lifetime ago.

Only instead of bashing the twerp upside the head with a gloating tease, Bakugou simple smirks and gives Midoriya a stiff push on the shoulder, 

“Ten, but who’s counting, nerd?”

The winded, black-and-blue villain currently under custody finds the heroes’ track records funny. Midoriya doesn’t necessarily take these villain types’ remarks to heart, but hates the attitude of this one today.

“Yer sidekick keepin’ count?! You wanna badge or a chest to pin it on, smartie pants? –AAGH!”

“HEY- THE ONLY GUY CALLIN’ THIS DEKU A NERD IS ME, DUMBASS!! YOU’RE THE SHITHEAD GOING TO JAIL FOR THAT STUNT– AND HE’S HEADING INTO THE TOP TEN!!”

“HO-OKAY, DYNAMIGHT, I think he’s had enough!!” 

Deku corrals the punk’s restraints a bit, but leaves the remaining process of reading rights and detainment for the police who just rolled up. Deku will proudly share that much prefers this ‘thick as thieves’ treatment to the ‘fight me or die’ dynamic they shared in school, and couldn’t be happier to be Pro Heroes once again.

And if Bakugou were completely honest, so was he. He’s in his element and closer to reaching his goal by the day.

Walking out of earshot from the police unit, the two are heading over to Ingenium and Creati who are deeply engrossed with the intelligence officers who just arrived on the scene. 

“Ten it is, then– you really need to start leaving some to me though; I can handle it, you know,” Midoriya slips his facemask down, exposing a pleading grin Bakugou still kinda wants to punch some days. “Might give you a little time to actually take a rest day now and then!”

“Tch, if you were fast enough, you’d do it, ‘Zuku.” Bakugou straightens out his gauntlet, but misses his best friend’s tilt of a frown. “N’ who said I need a rest day, anyway? I’ve never been better!”

“I can think of one person..” Midoriya hinted strongly at something that truly escaped Bakugou’s focus. Every now and then, he couldn’t quite mindread the nerd like normal, if he was deep in work mode.

“Heh?”

Midoriya raised a friendly, tired brow, “How’s your girl been lately, hm?”

Bakugou tenses a touch, but quips back, “Whaddya mean. She’s fine, been working a lot too.”

“Not as much as you. What’s she up to? You haven’t said much about her.”

Which was an oddity, indeed. Your successes, your insights, and even your random memes were common topics of conversation from Bakugou’s lips. But Midoriya did raise a finer point between the lines– you’d been put on something of a backburner, and he knew better that something must be off for the blond porcupine to rarely speak of you. Bakugou sensed it himself, but the more repeated check-in texts he received, the cycle of his non-answers worsened. This must be what the nerd is getting at.

“She’s fine-” Bakugou pressed, assuring himself and no one else, “Look, we’ve got our flow, and it works. I keep her in the loop when I’m busy and she gets it.”

Midoriya heaves a disbelieving breath, and just fixes Bakugou a look.

“What’s that shitty look for, huh? Whaddyou know?!”

“I know when she texted me yesterday that she doesn’t sound thrilled about your overtime…” the freckled sweetheart touched a personal chord within Bakugou. “Or that she hasn’t even heard from you to talk about it? I mean, I-I know it’s not my business, but Ka-”

“Deku, Dynamight!” Iida waved the two over from their aside, and back into work mode- to Bakugou’s drop in spirit, “We have a bit of a time-sensitive mission to take care of~”

Deku turned to the officer, raring to go and and straightening up his shoulders to address their more formal counterparts, “Of course, officer- how can we help?”

“Well sirs, we’ve got an ongoing heist over on the other side of the riverbank, and need a bit of coordination to respond.”

Yauyorozu had just finished off a protein pack of some sort and had demurely crumpled its trash in her hand while navigating an ipad passed to her. She’d welcomed Midoriya over when he took interest in whatever footage she’d been presented.

“Well shit, we supposed to be standin’ around like this when time’s wasting, or what?” Bakugou asked brusquely.

Ingenium -in his formal, helmeted fashion couldn’t hide his practiced patience well with the hothead in his response;

“The need for firepower is necessary, Dynamight– but caution is as well,” Iida reminded dryly. “We are in a heavily populated area, and must exercise control.”

Bakugou merely purred a low growl and turned diplomatic.

“Fine. We got live wires? Hostages?”

“To our knowledge, only a select few- a dozen at most,” the officer answered, “We can see most of the victims through the bank’s glass lobby. It’s a small, petty theft group- or so we thought, but there are some decent quirk users among them. Seems they are after more than funds, but records as well.”

Bakugou refrained from rolling his eyes, but only barely. Surely there were bigger and better missions to be pursuing than this– something a bit flashier, more suited for his skills with higher civilian rescue numbers to add to his count.

“One guest was able to contact via the emergency text line, and reported that someone did pull an emergency trigger and was taken further back into the vaults as a prisoner.”

Iida empathized, “Hardly fair- I’m sure none of these customers were armed, and they were simply acting as any hero would trying to notify the authorities.”

The officer firmed up a smile in agreement and proceeded to share some more info about how far back into the bank the team would need to infiltrate based on proximity to servers. 

“Sure you don’t just wanna call ‘Tape’, bust in there, strap ‘em up, and call it a day? Y’don’t really need a whole evac team, do you.”

A simple rescue in-and-out should be easy enough, or so he assumed- until Yaoyorozu took a bit of a sharp intake of breath in her nose, alerting Deku to fixate on the screen again,

“Bak- erm. Dynamight,” Yaoyorozu interjected gently, “-you need to see this-”

Bored and still half paying attention to the officer, Bakugou only barely looked Momo’s way, and didn’t really feel like a crowd around a tiny screen -in full sun- was warranted.

“What? It’s frickin’ bright out-”

“Kacchan,” Midoriya shot back icily, “get over here.”

Something alarming had struck him in the face, and he was purposefully putting on a front to those not personally connected to the heroes. Sidestepping ‘Legs’, Bakugou was passed the ipad and played back the security footage of the interior of the bank.

Time stamped at just fifteen minutes ago, a civilian in question had tried dipping around the counter to where some clerks had been bullied up to the opposite wall- but one of the employees jerked her head towards one of the registers- a lightning quick gesture. This cued the civvie -a woman, if the hiked up skirt was a correct indication- in the foreground to feel around the bottom lip of the keyboard for something- likely an alarm switch. Once done so, she’d merely knelt back down, hoping to stay low and sneak back to avoid the thug to lash out at the person who’d tipped her off.

But then -comically enough- the thug sneezed and unfortunately whipped to the side to let it fly. Looking up, there she was in his sightline. With something akin to a spider’s web knocking her flat onto her back, she’d been dragged up and back with the others- trying to ground herself with a squatted stance first, tried to force her elbows back, then bashing her head back in an attempt to hit her captor– until she was ultimately slapped and taken back to the far hallway, hunched over.

Bakugou saw red. His heart stopped then set itself on fire, hotter than Hades. He’d known that self defense response from having taught it, himself.

You pulled the alarm. 

For the first time in his career- he knows the target he’s saving. He’s in love with her, after all.

Damn your neck hurts. If your elbows hadn't been glued up to your sides, you woulda used those instead; but now having jerked your head back, you’d given yourself a healthy dose of whiplash.

And got a punch to the gut. And a slap to the face. Joy.

There’s fight, flight, freeze, and fawn. You’d seemingly gone for the fight route, with your body moving before your self-preservation could catch up, but it seems your fawning tactic of remaining calm and quiet wasn’t working out for you now. At least you took the attention off those poor girls in the lobby who were in near hysterics. 

Only now it seemed you’d taken on the role yourself, back here. You try to breathe deep, drop your shoulders, drop your jaw. You’d think this would double to avoid showing any fear that your captors can use against you, but it’s honestly just to help keep you grounded and not panic and curb the intense need to vomit or cry.

Please. As if you’d even call yourself heroic for pulling the theft alarm– but you suppose it’s instincts. Carry-over bravery: osmosis you assume, from hanging around these heroes. Your hero. Katsuki.

You’re stunned– you’re shocked– and you’re scared. 

Katsuki. You want Katsuki. More than the police, more than your mom. 

You want your hero to come for you, over any other in this entire country. The name pounds behind your eyes when you shut them against a wave of pain, the person you want more than anything else in the world.

–And at the same time, that man’s name hurts at the cry for it: given he hasn’t spared you more than a one or two word response in days. Because he’s overworked by his own volition. By his own drive. And you should be angry. You have been, for this is the longest you haven’t seen each other outside of a trip; considering you’ve all but committed your lives together and he’s typically at your place every other night, the drop in communication is a cold bath.

And you’re scared now- it’s a blurry feeling. Time is wonky when you’re stuck in a room with no windows, no visible clock and just waiting. All those tips they tell you about how to react in an emergency to keep calm? The ones you’ve heard over and over again in security briefings and teacher preparedness days before the school year starts? Man, is it easy for those to go out the window when you’re in actual trouble.

You just want Katsuki. And that’s a silly thought, considering how wide the city is. He could be clear across the district right now.

But just saying the name -thinking of any other pleasant time when he had his arms around you play-fighting that could make these bindings feel more bearable- that’s what you want to cling to.

The villains here are pretty pathetic as interrogators go, but that spares you no calm as they taunt you as if you were a captured magistrate or politician. They’re split into two parties; their head honcho trying to tap into the databanks of the servers two doors down while your immediate captors with the creepy quirks are choosing to go through your recovered phone seeking out blackmail like the assholes they are. Your primary apps for insurance and paying your bills are thumbprint protected, so really what could they get to that's confidential? Nothing, to your knowledge. But it seems your camera roll strikes their interest. 

Oh yeah, they hit low. They see your lock screen first- a sweet photo of your harmless, dopey dog who they snark that you won’t be home to feed on time. Then even more, as your home screen displays a picture-perfect selfie of you and your darling man. You picked it because it’s rare proof of him smiling at some wisecrack you made before snapping the shutter.

Your handsome and infuriatingly busy man. 

“Aww, well just look at little miss hero’s cute lil boyfriend! Bet he’ll be awful proud of you playing the savior~”

“Tehehe, too little too late though, yeah? Gotta be quicker than that for us.”

“Geez, how sappy can you get. This guy’s all over her…and can’t blame him, honestly. Makes me feel a little bad for roughing such a pretty thing up.~”

Gross. Just gross. You act like you don’t listen, your simpering pain turns to nausea the more they talk. Until a renewed sense of fear hits:

“Wait- go back. Oh. Ohhh shit, no.”

“Whuh.”

“Fuck, man, that’s DYNAMIGHT!!” the jerk with the copious amounts of tattoos and chains draping off his arms like whips gets nervous real fast, “We have Dynamight’s girlfriend!!”

Your other guard seems to swallow for a split second, but immediately tips to a feigned dominance,

“Well, ain’t that just icing on the cake~”

“THE HELL DO YOU MEAN? He’s gonna come after her!! You know how scary that guy is?! I’m telling the boss-”

“Don’t wimp out already,” he fires back. “Why do that and waste time- when knowing this, we could get paid double? Heroes ransoms can cost him a pretty penny, and you know he’ll do it for her. Those heroes make bank.”

You flatten your brows angrily. 

“Whaddya think, princess? Big man gonna come and save you, huh?  

You really want Katsuki. But you truly have no idea if he’d know or care to come at this point. The spiral downwards in the mind is dizzying along with your headache, and just makes your heart sick for him. 

When you see him next, you’re not sure if you’d hug him or throttle him. Though now, you just wanna see him. 

“Unless.. He doesn’t!” his mood shifts- patronizing, “Too busy makin’ a paycheck and name for himself and all his hero buddies than to settle down and think about the pretty thing at home? Well, I would fix that real quick–”

A muffled boom sounds on your right. Rooms away.

Another, louder. Two beats after, the guards look at each other.

You hear a yell, a harsh one, then another blast that sounds cracklier than the rest. Someone’s close. But you’re honestly not sure if it’s friend or foe.

You’re excited, but get nervous again when the lackeys move into action. Chains loops a rough swing of his appendages around you and starts dragging you back into the adjoining office, while the muscle goes back to type at one of their private laptops that’s downloading something.

You give off a flare of panic in your voice- a sound you hate but can’t control. 

“It’s-s not him–” you force your pitch lower, but it shakes despite your best effort. “Cmon, there’s too many heroes, s’not gonna be him–  n’there gonna come an’- bust yall anyway!! Whaddya want me for?!”

As you’re dragged, you catch a glimpse of shine from above you. In the vent, you see mustard yellow and teal saturated with shadow- all metal. Then, his voice, through a comm on his wrist that flashes in the reflected light:

“Got her. Light it up, on your left.” 

Both lackeys drop what they’re doing and look up to see the vent kicked into the floor– and the wall totally blown in from your right. 

Dynamight -the Symbol of Victory- and Deku -the Symbol of Peace- are dropping in at breakneck speed, though the former is out for blood.

“ALRIGHT, WHICH ONE OF YOU FUCKERS AM I KILLING FIRST??”

Deku’s landing creates a decent wind with his jump, revealing Bakugou behind where the door usually is, and clocking your position almost immediately. 

It’s a powerful thing, to see him in action- you’ve certainly never seen it in person, and you’ve never heard him this mad. To his credit, he never raises his voice enough for you to fear it.

He spots you and the guy who rushes him, but just snarls, evades his whip of weighted chains entirely, grabs him by the calf, and chucks him into the opposing wall with a spinning throw. Then, he sets straight to you.

“DEKU!!” he shouts to Midoriya, “Trash, at your ten!!”

“On it!” Your angel from the ceiling ducts is currently laying into the other guy, but keeps the reeling villain in his sights before he can get up and strike again. You imagine the sucker has more than a few broken bones (or truly is dead, as promised)… he doesn’t move from his figure on the floor.

While you’re still coughing up a storm from the drywall throwing dust everywhere, Bakugou comes to your side and immediately picks your bound body up in a rush from the chair you were perched on.

“C’mere you-” 

He sounds rushed and spent, huffs it out of the room and into a separate office down the hall. 

You spot Ingenium and Creati moving on to the other end of the hall where you know the final villain remains, but you can already hear the squeals of said wimp once Iida bursts in. This will be quick work for the rest of them, so you weren’t worried Dynamight would be needed anymore.

Inside an executive’s office, Bakugou kicks the door behind him shut with his heel and sets you on the dearest flat surface- a decently sized desk.

“Hey you- you still with me?”

You don’t realize you’re breathing so fast until he’s looking you square in the face with split concern. It’s night and day from when he burst in after one of his more gusty explosions, his voice all cracked and high in pitch.

“Cmon, baby look at me- here, let’s get this crap off of you..”

Your gasps for air turn wet and you can’t keep yourself from crying anymore. It would be notably sweet that he still tries his hardest not to curse wildly around you, but right now you don’t care what font his expletives are in. Every bit of stress leaving your body all at once is a rush for your senses and your emotions.

“Kats~”

After his pocketed knife’s quick, careful work separating your arms from your waistline covered in a still-sticky webbing, he sheaths the blade again and collects you up when you launch yourself at him. 

Bakugou holds you hard and fast and you can’t even be bothered to worry about how his shoulder pauldrons are nearly choking you. He’s got you back in his arms, and he’s just saved your life.

“I’m here,” he grunts to you, relieved beyond measure, “I’m here, sweet’eart. You’re safe.”

You’re so thankful. You’re so happy-

“N’d I am so sorry.

-You’re so confused.

In a flippy tone that betrays what heightened nerves you’d just gone through, you ask, 

“Huh?”

Bakugou’s fingers thread into your hair when you try and pull back-

“Don’t. S’the first.” His iron-sure voice wavers, “I- I haven't hugged you all week.”

Then, you’re both crying into each other, and it’s a healing thing. 

Dragging careful nails across the back of his hero suit, you try to offer a tiny bit of comfort to this mass of man cradling you on this desk. You know you’re still in dire need to talk about his recent absence, but what a reunion this was. Feeling him after a seven or eight day stretch of near radio silence changes the degree of flame you hold against him. Honestly now, you’re in the mind to think he deserves a pass entirely. 

Bakugou finally lifts enough to press a kiss to your head, but makes no move to let go of you. “I’ve missed you, baby.”

Has he? He’s barely texted you past the ‘I’m heading out’ and ‘I’ve gotta sleep’ with no room to offer or reciprocate any form of love between you; so much so, it threatened to make you doubt. 

“Have you? I haven’t heard.”

“No, you haven’t. And that’s all on me.”

You turn your head very slowly- your entire neck is still tender, but you'd rather listen to him with an ear to his chest, where you belong. 

“I’ve missed you too,” you settle on the truth. You might have more to say when you’re not so exhausted, but the truth is you’ll still love him no matter what, and you do always miss him.

You miss every moment, big and small. His wins and losses. Nights where he’s high off a victory or the ones where he’s bone-tired and in his head about how weak he must seem. Nights where he takes out his hearing aids and just wants to fall into your silence to sleep safely, and the mornings where he’s up and ready to go take on the day after he has your kiss and hug to charge him up. Whether he has your chapstick smeared up on his cheek, or the promise of your arms to hold him in whatever state he greets you when he comes home, you just miss him. You notice when he’s not there. The house seeks him out, with lights on for him to find his way inside, and low music to soothe what anger might have followed him home.

You take a few moments to just soak each other in. You hope and pray he’ll come home with you after this.

And thank the Maker, your prayers might just be answered.

“This was a wake-up call, sweetheart.” Bakugou sounds a bit bolder, but still talks softly to you and the dust mites around you, “I’m takin’ a leave. A long one.”

The way he promises time off is something he’s toyed with before, but never followed through on.

“You can’t do that, Kats,” there’s no coldness to the words, but you mean it.

“Yes I can. It’s my race; I can step away.”

You sigh against his pec, “I’m.. I’m not asking you to. I can’t, that wouldn’t be fair.”

To you, sure. But not for his dream. Not the dream he’s worked and fought and lived for since before you met, and long before he fell in love with you. You’d supported him in this chase to save everyone and be the best at what he does from day 1, and you’ve never wavered on that– you still wouldn’t, even if someone asked you now feeling as dejected as you do by his absences–

“Tch. Y’know what's not fair?”

Bakugou finally loosens his grip on you to lift your chin up to him with thick, strong fingers, 

“Leavin’ you for days on end; waiting up, worried sick. Leaving, and just assuming you’ll still be there when I get back. And now you’re getting fuckin’ snatched the minute I turn my back on what we have. That isn’t right.”

The correlation is irrational- this incident today was a freak accident. You couldn’t have planned it- or certainly hope that your identity as his significant other is not going to be weaponized. Shuffle in the hallway beyond tells you that the possibility of that information leaking is sufficiently locked up along with them. 

Surely Izuku would have grabbed your phone– and maybe set you up a new lock screen with a mean mug to poke some fun at ‘Kacchan’.

You slump against him, at the sound that he’s being too hard on himself, and that’s not what you want for him either.

“I just miss you, Katsuki. And I want to see you succeed.” you study the bold ‘X’ across his chest with fondness and heartache mixed, “I want both those things. I just can’t help but wonder if you have to go at it so fast? And so hard, where I never see you? Like you’re racing against the clock to be #1? I just want you there in one piece; I don’t care how long it takes.”

You have no doubt he’s going to land the spot before he’s thirty. You just hope for a balanced ascension to the height of his power and ability. And selfishly… you hope you’re in the picture of his life when he does.

Bakugou hears and you do believe he listens, as he smooths a calming hand up and down your arm all the while.

“And today..” you clam up a bit with an uncontrollable shake, “Today was- scary. But you couldn’t help that. Any more that you can help it from happening t’ anyone. I know that,”

And you look up at him despite the burn it causes you. And -a funny contrast to your still teary eyes- you smile.

“-but you did save me. And that was- honestly one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen in my life.”

The comment strikes him as funny, too, since he gives a little chuckle.

“Me blastin’ in and causing you to choke on my smoke?”

You nodded briefly.

“Kinda hot, all things considered.”

Unbelievable, his headshake and eyeroll at how easily you can -and will- make jokes. Perhaps it is the shock still, deflecting with humor. 

You do realize how fragile it is because when you laugh at the absurdity, you catch his eye again and you look just a little too long before you’re sniffling. 

The reality is that you could lose him at any time: whether by his end or yours. He’s got the more dangerous job by far, but if today was any indication on your part, you shouldn’t just think yourself as a shoe-in for safety.

Bakugou cups your face in his hands to make himself perfectly clear.

“You’re the hero today, angel. Watched you in 16-bit as you snuck back there, taking that bastard into next week. You saved every- single- one of them.” he placed a kiss on each word as he praised you. “I am so damn proud of you.”

Your hands still skipped, limbs jumpy. 

“I don’t feel like a hero.”

His lashes lured you in as he gazed at you through them, “Doesn’t mean you aren’t one. You did it scared. That’s pretty hot, too.”

You huffed your amusement as he thanked you in his own way. Best to let him carry on before he’s whisked away again. 

Just as you thought he might release you in ushering you out of the office, Bakugou takes you by the hands so that you can stand, then keeps you in place by his immovable stance.

“Things are gonna change,” he vows, “because none of this shit matters if I don’t have you. Yeah I want you now, but I’m gonna want you after my fire’s burnt out. Which means, I gotta pay attention. I have to set ‘who matters’ just as high as ‘what matters’ and remember why.”

Touched by every word, your trembling lessens. You take in his warmth and his care and his explosive loyalty with confidence and nod in agreement.

Taking one last selfish hug, you sink into your hero again, standing more as equals than you usually feel being held by him. He’s lifted you up in more ways than one. Enough to let safety back into your heart, enough to tease,

“That can’t be your line. When did ‘Zuzu’ give you that one?”

“Hey,” Bakugou flicked you in the temple lightly, “I can be nice too, dammit.”

“Sure you can,” you kiss the dip of his neck in apology.

“You’re just always nice, you can’t appreciate the difference.” he pouts, taking your hand and leading you out of the office.

“...Sure I can.”

You have to give him a solid shot– he’s nothing if not insistent with what he wants.

Outside the room, there are a host of officers, photographers, medics and heroes aiding in the recovery efforts, so you relax your hand in his to let go,

–only he doesn’t let you.

Bakugou glances to you, “You’re in shock, extra. You need to get checked out.”

“I’m fine, Mr. Dynamight,” you chortle with a little head bobble like you would have normally done, only now the movement makes you wince.

“That’s what I thought. OI, Deku- where’s her sh-phone?”

The iron hero stands with the receptionists, looks to you both and smiles gratefully, before nodding off to his company and joins you-

“This, I believe, belongs to you, maam~” he perks up as he comes around to your other side. It’s not so much that you have to pretend to be strangers, but in this high-traffic place, it seems easier to fall into roles of ‘heroes’ and ‘thankful public’.

“How kind, Mr. Symbol of Peace~ I’d be missing this!”

Double checking your lock screen, he did -in fact- change your cover screen to a playful selfie: pointing at the crumbled remains of the wall they’d broken into, with the caption:

>>Whatever Kacchan wants, Kacchan gets <3<<

Muting your laugh, you simply tilt your phone Bakugou’s way and catch Midoriya’s quick wink back to you, before he sets off running with a screaming boyfriend sprinting after him.

At least Katsuki showed up back at your place at 6:30PM on the dot, fixed you both a salmon dinner, and started getting your baseline of support back on track. With his next two weeks off and barely keeping his hands off of you so far, you believed he was making good on remembering his why.

[kpop---scenarios]

Girlfriend

Pairing: Yang Jeongin x Reader

Genre: Non! Idol, friends to lovers

Warning: Smut, Semi Public smut (Fingering f. Receiving, bathroom smut, cream pie (wrap it before you tap it), dirty talk. [18+ ONLY. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]

Summary: You try to make Jeongin jealous, and it works.

Word Count: 1.3k

Everything Taglist: @piscesrising01 @baby-stay92 @kisses-too-the-moon @dwaekkiiracha @rylea08 @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @satosugu4l @iovecb97 @lordmaahes-nsc @sailorkoss @minh0scat @pixie0627 @50-husbands @jinnies-muse @yaorzu-blog @joyofbebbanburg @number1jeonginstan @skzooluvr @jisunglyricist @ambersnowxxx @stay-tiny-things @thegingerthatwaited

@wife2straykidss @silly250 @tsunderelino @1810cl @ayyonoona

@31maze13

A/N: it sucks, I'm sorry lolol

You fucking hated the in-between stages of a relationship. The stage where you're sleeping with someone, enjoying their company, going on dates but there's no label on what the two of you were, leaving you jealous when another woman manages to catch his attention, even if it's just for a moment.

That's how you ended up sitting at the bar instead of being on the dance floor with your friends and Jeongin, wallowing in some self pity type shit. You glance over at Jeongin, who's talking to some woman, and roll your eyes at the sight. Even though the two of you weren't together, you didn't want his attention to be on anyone else. You wanted the full blown relationship thing with him, but you were too much of a chicken shit to say anything about taking things to the next step. So instead, you took another shot, and another one, until someone sits beside you, noticing your sour mood and face.

“You okay?” The man asks. You don't respond, only shrugging your shoulders, taking a sip of your drink while you wait for another shot to be poured.

“Man troubles?” He asks.

Was he fucking psychic?

“I guess you could say that.” You sigh. You point towards Jeongin. “That's my boyfriend but he's not my boyfriend but I want him to be my boyfriend.” You murmur.

“And you're jealous he's talking to the mediocre woman?” The man laughs.

You protrude your lip, nodding your head. You look over, seeing the handsome man, you smile. “I'm Y/N.” You smile.

“Nice to meet you. I'm Chan.” He says, smiling back.

“You wanna dance?” He asks. “Might make your boyfriend, not boyfriend, wanted boyfriend jealous.” He suggests.

Instant excitement flows through your body. Jeongin? Jealous? Maybe it would work, maybe it wouldn't, but you were willing to find out. You hop out of your chair, grabbing Chan's hand and dragging him to the dance floor. Chan places his hands on your stomach as you grind your ass into his crotch, but you move them down your curves, placing them right above your ass, leaving your hands on top of his. Your eyes wander, looking for Jeongin and you find him immediately. You smirk as you see his jaw clench, now ignoring anything the woman was saying. You can see the veins in his arms pop as he squeezes his fists, his entire body tense. He steps away from the woman, his eyes locked in on yours. Your stomach flips as you continue to dance with Chan, looking away from Jeongin, trying to act like you don't care.

“Y/N.” He yells. You look up at him, smiling.

“Oh hi.” You yell back.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He asks.

“Dancing.” You say, continuing to do a sexy dance on Chan.

“Can you back the fuck away?” Jeongin snaps, glaring at Chan. He lets go of you, putting his hands up and backing away. You turn around and mouth a ‘thank you’ to Chan who nods and smiles in response. You turn back to Jeongin, who looks like he's ready to snap you half, and you fucking wanted it.

“The fuck are you doing?” He asks. “Why are you letting another man touch you like that?”

“I'm sorry, I didn't realize that was off the table. I would have asked but you were a little busy.” You snap back.

He laughs, moving closer to you. You look away from him but he grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him. “You trying to make me jealous, baby?” He asks, cocking his head to the side.

“Are you jealous?” You ask as he moves his face closer to yours.

“Yeah, I fucking am. You're mine. And only mine.” He spits, crashing his lips to yours. He releases your chin, his hands moving down your body, gripping your ass. You push your body into his as he deepens the kiss, sliding his tongue into your mouth. It doesn't last long, he suddenly pulls away from you, turning your body around to face away from him. He presses his semi-erect cock against your ass, his finger gliding up and down your bare thigh.

“Dance.” He demands. You sway your hips ever so slightly as he moves his fingers underneath your dress, gently rubbing your lips. You were so fucking happy you'd opted for a thong tonight. He effortlessly moves your panties to the slide, his fingers between your lips, touching your clit. You're frozen in your spot, biting your lip to try and mask the moan that wants to escape from your lips. Jeongin slowly circles the tips of his fingers on your clit as you try to pretend like you're dancing. Adrenaline rushing through your body, the fact that he was doing this in public was so fucking hot and you were already on your way to cumming. You were just about to tell him, when he leans in, his lips grazing against your ear. “Don't even think about cumming.” He whispers, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

“J-jeongin… please.” You gasp, leaning your head against his chest. He swiftly pulls his hand from under your dress, grabbing your hand, pulling you away from the dance floor. You didn't ask any questions, your brain was foggy as your clit throbbed from being denied to cum.

Jeongin pulls you into a bathroom, pushing you against the door before he latches his lips to your neck, down onto your collar bone. You stifle a moan as he runs his tongue up your neck, and back down. His hands hike up your dress, turning you around, pinning you against the door. He kneels down, ripping your panties down, letting them pool around your ankles. He lifts up your leg, moving your panties away before kicking your foot to spread your legs more.

“Fuck Jeongin.” You gasp, clenching your cunt around nothing. You were so fucking desperate for him to plow you. You listen as Jeongin unzips his pants, shuffling behind you before he pushes his cock into you. He grabs your hair, pulling your head back, pounding his cock deep into your cunt. You gasp, loudly, with each thrust, the sound of Jeongin grunting plays in your ear.

“You take my cock so fucking well, princess.” He moans.

You reach between your legs, rubbing your clit, your body jolting at the feeling. Your knees begin to buckle as Jeongin starts pounding into you harder.

“Don't…stop.” You breathe, your face pressed against the door. “Please.”

“Mhmm baby, I won't stop until you cum all over my cock.” He groans, digging his fingers into your hips.

Your eyes roll back as your orgasm hits. You cry out, Jeongin increasing the pace of his thrusts. He groans as he cums just seconds after you, spilling his cum into you. He thrusts a few more times before pulling out, chuckling as he pulls his pants back up.

You walk towards the stall, but Jeongin grabs your arm, pulling you back towards him. He grabs your panties, shoving them in his pocket.

“Where are you going?” He asks.

“To clean myself up.” You laugh.

“No you're not.” He says, pulling you into him. “I want you to keep my cum inside you for the rest of the night.” He smiles. “At least until I take you home later, and we take a shower.”

He grabs your hand, pulling you out of the bathroom. He drapes his arm over your shoulders as the two of you walk back out towards the dance floor. The woman Jeongin was talking to before walking up to the both of you.

“Can we continue our conversation?” She asks him.

“Like I said earlier.” He sighs. “I'm not interested. get it through your head. I have a girlfriend.” He finishes. You look at him, shocked.

“Y/N is all I've ever wanted. Save your fucking breath.” He finishes, walking away, with his arm still wrapped around you.

“So I'm your girlfriend?” You ask.

“I mean…” He pauses. “If you want to be.”

“I'd love that.” You smile. “Finally.”

[dreadfuldrip]

Torn between worlds

~~A ghost of a memory

or

Your Logan is dead, so how come he's standing in the doorway of Wade's apartment?

The worst!Wolverine/GN!Reader

a/n: No one asked for it, but take some angst. I hurt my own feelings with this one ngl. This blog has moved to @hiddenavenues

CW: MDNI 18+, GN!Reader, past partner death (major), grief, alcohol consumption (minor), physical violence, ANGST, hurt with eventual comfort, mild language

————————————— ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆ —————————————

You fumble with the paper sitting on your bedside table. The invite to Wade's party only had a date and address, which is a little strange, seeing that he is your next-door neighbour. According to the invite the party started an hour ago, but better now than never, right?

Shimmying into simple jeans and a t-shirt, you thought about what Wade could throw a party for this time. It's not uncommon for him to have impromptu get-togethers, but it had never previously involved an invite. Usually, Wade would just knock on your door and drag you down to his apartment, half forcing you to join in on the fun. So what was different this time?

Although the invite doesn't ask for it, you stand in your kitchen throwing together an ensemble of snacks ranging from fruit to chocolate to bring to Wade's. As you reach to put away the extra fruit, your eyes snag on an old photo of you and Logan on vacation. The two of you had taken a trip to Ireland; in the picture, Logan is smiling at you, eyes alive with something you can't quite tell, and your head is tipped back in laughter at something he said. The years since Logan died seemed to fly by in a blur; days of rotting in bed turned to months and would have turned to years if Wade hadn't dragged your sorry ass out. You never told him about your relationship with the famous Wolverine; you disliked talking about it. You already had to share his death with the rest of the world; you can keep your grief for yourself. Shaking your head, you take a few calming breaths before grabbing your plates and heading for the door. 

Stepping into the hallway, you could hear the hum of voices and laughter coming from Wade's apartment down the hall. It's a miracle the guy hasn't gotten a noise complaint yet, or at least none you've heard about. As you near the apartment door, you spot a man taking the stairs toward ground level before disappearing out of sight, and for an instant, you could have sworn it was Logan. The broad shoulders and tousled hair transporting you back to a time long since passed. Even as every fibre in your body screamed to check and make sure it wasn't him, you forced yourself to push open the door to the apartment.

People were littered around the room, talking and laughing with one another as music played quietly from somewhere. Placing your plates on the counter, you poured yourself a glass of something good from the fridge before looking for Wade.

Unsurprisingly, you find him seated on the couch with Vanessa beside him, talking to a young girl with long brown hair. You briefly lock eyes with the girl, and a strange sensation washes over you. Not quite recognition, but something tugs on the edges of your memory, just out of reach. 

You don't have time to dwell on it before Wade is bounding toward you, dragging you into a tight embrace before grabbing your face and kissing your forehead. "Look who decided to show up! My absolute favourite neighbour—right up there with that guy who blasts show tunes at 3 a.m.!" You can't help the smile growing on your cheeks while you swat him off of you. 

"Jesus, Wade, did no one teach you personal space?" You ask between laughter, swatting him away before letting him lead you over to the couch, babbling about some adventure he went on.

"You wouldn't believe who the cat dragged back from the multiverse," Your brows shoot up at that. Seeing the look on your face, Wade goes into a long-winded story of how the TVA wanted to destroy your universe for a reason you couldn't catch. By the end, you have more questions than answers.

"Sorry, what the fuck reason did they need to destroy our universe for?" You question, feeling ridiculous just speaking the words.

"Well, basically, each universe has an anchor person. Unfortunately for us, ours was sweet Wolverine who took impalement to heart." You can't hide your flinch at Wade's words, but no one seems to notice. "But now we have this cutie-pie over here. Meet Laura, better known as X-23," Wade wraps an arm around the girl who looks like she wants to be anywhere but here. "and Peanut is just making his hourly trip to the liquor store!" 

Your head feels like it might explode. Multiverses? Who the fuck is Peanut? "I need another drink for your bullshit." You huff, earning an offended scoff from Wade before going back to talking to Laura.

Standing in the kitchen, weighing your drink options, you think about that girl. The name X-23 definitely rings a bell, but it's like any memory of the name has a thick layer of fog surrounding it, like your mind is telling you it was better to forget. With a sigh, you pour yourself a tall glass of wine.

You hear Wade's excited shouting just before turning to see the door open, revealing the stranger you had seen taking the stairs earlier, only he isn't a stranger. It was Logan. All the air seemed to be sucked out of the room as you stared at the talking ghost. He was dead; you cried over his already cold body all those years ago, fell apart in front of his headstone daily, and went to years of therapy just to be able to hear his name without breaking down. Heads swivelled in your direction as the bottle of wine you'd been pouring shattered to the floor, splashing crimson on your clothes and shoes. A strangled noise bubbled up from your chest as Logan's eyes locked onto yours. Distantly, you heard people fussing around you, but right now, it felt like the room was empty besides the two of you. 

You didn't realize your knees were shaking until they buckled beneath you, your knees hitting the cold floor, red wine soaking the fabric of your jeans. The noise around you faded to a dull hum as your mind raced. Logan was standing there, alive, breathing- but you buried him. How many nights had you spent curled in the bed you used to share, grieving your last days with him, begging anyone who would listen for one more moment, one last chance to say goodbye? 

And now, he was standing in the doorway not 15 feet away from you as if no time had passed. You couldn't stop staring at him, terrified if you blinked he'd disappear again, like a cruel trick of the mind. He still had that haunted look on his face, the same one you used to kiss away and the same little tufts on either side of his hair you used to endlessly tease him for. Your chest tightened painfully; it felt like an old wound in your heart was tearing open, stitch by stitch.

"You're-" His voice, hoarse with emotion, cracked painfully as he stepped towards you, his face pale as snow. "You aren't my y/n," 

You could barely focus on his words, your mind reeling at the sound of his voice. For years, you've cursed yourself for forgetting the deep timber in his words, how it used to be so at odds with the sweet words he'd whisper to you each morning. You open your mouth to speak, but your throat threatens to close, a noise akin to that of a dying animal choking its way out instead. You can't speak, can't breathe. How do you talk to someone you've mourned for years when they are standing right in front of you? 

Logan's words sliced through the haze like a blade. Not my y/n. They echoed through your head, reverberating off the walls in your mind. What kind of cruel joke was this? You dragged in a ragged breath, your chest tight, eyes burning with unshed tears. Every cell in your body was begging you to run to him, to feel his skin's warmth and let the smell of him envelop you, but you couldn't move. The floor felt like it was swallowing you whole, and part of you wished it would just to rid yourself of this terrible ache in your chest. 

Logan's eyes, the same ones you would stare into and see your future in, looked at you as though he, too, was seeing a ghost. His gaze was filled with sorrow, mirroring the look on your face. "I lost you in my world." His voice was barely over a whisper, agony dripping off each syllable. "I lost you, I buried you, I am the reason why you-" He choked on the word, unable to finish his sentence as his gaze dropped to the floor. 

You felt a pit form in the bottom of your stomach. The weight of his confession nearly had you un-having dinner. Not only were you seeing the ghost of a man you loved, but he had mourned you. In his world, you had been the one who died. The cruel irony of it all left you shaking. 

Wade's voice cut through the heavy silence like a jarring chord. "See, isn't this multiverse crap fun? It's like a cosmic soap opera!" You felt something inside you snap at Wade's ignorance. 

Time seemed to speed up as you launched yourself at him, tackling him to the floor as a vicious growl tore through your throat. You could feel a distant sting in your knuckles as you landed blow after blow to Wade's face; it vaguely occurred to you that he had gone still and was taking it. When the pain in your firsts became unbearable, and Wade's face was black and blue, you stopped, panting over him. He turned his face to the side and spat blood. 

You felt weak, like your body wasn't your own. Someone hoisted you off of Wade, backing off as soon as you shook them off. The pit in your stomach grew, threatening to envelop you whole as you pushed past a Logan that wasn't yours. Your chest felt like it was about to explode, your vision blurring with tears. You needed air- needed space because the walls in Wade's apartment were closing in, and you were drowning in the memory of a past that's now come back beyond the grave. 

The cool night air hit you like a slap when your feet hit the pavement outside the apartment. You gobbled it down, relishing the cool embrace on your tear-stained cheeks. The city buzzed around you, indifferent to the waking nightmare you're currently living in. 

You didn't register Logan behind you until you heard the door slam. "Wait-"

"No." You snapped, spinning around to face him. The look of anguish etched into the lines on his face threatened to make your knees buckle, but anger still flowed through your veins. "Don't. Don't follow me." Your voice cracked, and you hated yourself for it. You couldn't do this again; your world was crumbling around you, but this time, it was someone else's Logan breaking your heart. You could feel the years of work and grief trying to move on falling in shambles around you. "You're not… You're not him." You watched your words land like a physical blow.

Logan flinched, his expression twisting in pain. "No, and you're not them." He bit out each word, like the mention of the other you put a sour taste in his mouth. "You think this doesn't hurt me? I've mourned you for years, and here you are, alive. I held you as you bled out in my arms, helpless."

You couldn't help the bitter laugh that escaped you. "Hurt you? You come into my universe, to my home, and you expect me to try to empathize with you?" You take a few strides forward and stare at Logan, an ugly snarl on your lips. "I fell apart every single day for years after I lost you, and now you-" Your voice falters, a tear slipping down your cheek. 

Logan's face softens. "I didn't know you were alive here, and I definitely wouldn't have guessed you'd be buds with Wade. But," He takes a breath before continuing, something new mingling with the sadness in his eyes. "I'm here now."

Something deep inside you broke. "No, this is a mistake. You need to go home. You're not him. You're not the man I-" Your words caught in your throat. Before you could finish, Logan touched a hand to your elbow. 

"I'm not him, the same way you aren't them. I know that." He whispered, his breath mingled with yours. "But can't you see? It's killing me to stand here, knowing I can't hold you like I used to."

His confession tore down the last of your restraint. The weight of all of your emotions - grief, anger, love you had tried to bury- came crashing down. Before you could think, you grabbed his face, pulling him into a bruising kiss. Logan hesitated for a moment, hands hovering over your waist, but he gave in, crushing you against him like a man starved. The kiss was messy and frantic, both of you clinging to each other as if this could mend years of pain and suffering. 

The world faded as your lips moved together, your bodies recalling each other like a forgotten melody from long ago. You barely notice stumbling into the narrow alley beside the apartment building; you gasp into his mouth as your back hits the cold brick wall. You were fueled with desperation and longing, revelling in the way his breath hitched as you kissed him harder. Right now, nothing mattered. Not the multiverse or the difference between this Logan and the one you lost. All that mattered was the way his body ground into you, his lips threatening to devour you whole. 

You broke away for air, foreheads resting together, your breaths ragged and uneven as you shared the same air. "Logan… I don't know how this…" You trailed off, unable to find the words to make this make sense. 

"I know." He murmured, voice low and raw with emotion. "We'll figure it out, one day at a time." 

You kissed him again, softer this time, letting yourself dream of a world with Logan again. For however long this would last, you hoped that at least this time, you'd have the chance to say goodbye.

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Notes and reblogs are appreciated! Hope you enjoyed :)

[reinawritesstuff]

First Kisses Are Hard

featuring: rindou haitani x fem!reader notes: if I have to start a blog as a means to fangirl over men I like, might as well start with this beautiful human being

Summary: sometimes taking that first step is harder than it seems

Discover who your crush is: ✅ Ask her out: ✅ Kiss her after the first date: ❌

It should've been simple, easy, a no-brainer- yet how in the world did he mess this up? Rindou had the perfect plan in mind on how he wanted to kiss you. He figured all girls had their idea of a perfect date, which resulted in the night ending with a kiss at the front step of the house. Seemed simple in hindsight. No way he could mess up with this game plan yielding high success. How does he know this you might ask? Read it from a Cosmopolitan magazine he secretly bought prior to the date with the hopes of impressing you.

"fuuuuck..." Rindou let out a groan as he slumped to his feet as soon as he got back home.

"Ah Rindou, you're back!" Rin walked out of his room with a towel in hand, as he attempted to dry his hair. "How did the date go?"

"Awful, just awful" he sighed as he had his face in his hands, trying to hide himself away from the world. "I fucked up so badly"

Ran raised his eyebrow as he looked at his brother still lying on the floor. "right...well, why don't you pick yourself up from the floor, sit on the couch, and tell me what happened."

Rindou sighed, moving to the couch as he slouched against it, further highlighting his will to live. Ran rolled his eyes at the dramaticism displayed by his brother. Kid these days, he thought to himself. "So?"

"I ruined the perfect date plan I had for us," Rindou said, adding nothing further to his statement. Ran's face dropped out of annoyance. "Need a little more context there Rin. Try again from the start."

"Right, so I had this great plan set for us. Food, talking, walking her home once it got late...and just right when I was about to kiss her before she went in, I chickened out. I chickened out. Me! She was waiting for me to kiss her...and you know what I did? Patted her on the shoulder, told her to have a nice night, and left. I left her there!"

Ran bit back a laugh, not realizing that the story would be more amusing than it already was. "Oh...I see. That is...unfortunate."

"She is going to break up with me. My god. I'm going to be the guy whose girlfriend broke up with him because he couldn't kiss her. What if she finds someone who can kiss her? Holy shit- Why didn't I just kiss her?" Rindou rambled in panic at his newfound realization.

"Rindou. Rindou...calm down. She's not going to break up with you. I think you're just jumping the gun at this point" Ran tried to calm him down, albeit trying not to laugh at him. "You're making it sound like you guys never kissed before." Rindou stayed silent at his words, making Ran raise his eyebrow at him. "You have...right?"

Rindou sighed and shook his head "I was waiting for the right moment. I read that girls want their first kisses to be memorable so I planned things so that it would be good enough." Ran cocked his head to the side, taking him his brother's words. "I didn't take you for quite the romanticist there. Sounds like something you'd see in movies."

"Whatever- the point is I didn't do it and I know she must be judging me for it." Rindou continued with a groan. "How am I supposed to face her tomorrow?" Ran shook his head as he threw his towel at him. "Just shut up and cool down for a moment, why don't 'cha? It's not that big of a deal. You'll get more chances; and if it bothers you that much, just talk to her about it. If she is the girl you say she is, she'll get it no question. If she doesn't, she ain't the one for you. It's that simple." Ran spoke with a shrug, getting up from his seat "Now if you excuse me, I'm drying my hair and then going to bed."

Rindou stayed silent taking in his brother's words. He won't admit it but surprisingly the wet towel did cool him down, even though he almost instantly wasn't happy with the fact his clothes and hair were now wet. "I'm gonna go see her..." he said with a mumble, getting up himself and leaving the apartment to go see her.

Arriving at your place, Rindou rang your doorbell and waited for you to open it. Even though he was nervous, the excitement of still getting to see you was there.

After what seemed like a moment, the door opened and there you stood staring at him in surprise "Rindou? What are you doing here?" You asked him, not expecting to see you here. "Missed me already? you know, it's just been an hour right?" You continued with a tease.

"I know...I just wanted to see you" He said with his ears starting to turn red. He wasn't expecting to see you in pajamas and how cute they looked on you.

"Did something happen? Do you want to come in?" You frowned taking in how nervous he looked.

"Ah no! I just wanted to apologize to you about today-" He said awkwardly, his hand rubbing against his neck as he looked at you. "Apologize? for what?" You asked him. "Today was a lot of fun so not sure what you mean. Were we meant to go somewhere else?"

"Oh no, no. That was all part of the plan, but when I was supposed to take you home...I was supposed to well you know, kiss you and stuff." Rindou admitted, his cheeks betraying how cool he wanted to portray himself to be.

Before you knew it, you burst out into laughter. "Is that what that was? I knew you were acting strange but I didn't realize that's what you were trying to do. That's very cute of you Rin"

"So...you're not mad?" He asked quietly

You responded by tugging on his shirt, pulling him closer to you as you kissed him on his lips yourself. "Never. I love every part of today, including this moment right here."

Rindou was caught off guard by your sudden boldness and yet all he could think was about how soft your lips were. He placed his fingers under your chin, tilting your face up towards him. "Good, because there's more of that coming soon." He said softly before kissing you himself.

[earthtooz]

x : I KNOW I LOVE YOU ! :*+ﾟ all or nothing, i want all of you!:

aka moments that the bllk boys knew they loved you ! ╰┈➤ with nagi, itoshi rin, and reo mikage !

warnings: gn!reader, no pronouns, mentions of food in all three, swearing in rin's + he's kind of mean but like that's just who he is and i don't want to fix him for it <3, fluff for all 3, sickness in nagi's, i think that's all the warnings, lmk otherwise!

a/n: last fic of 2022, i gasped when i saw that photo of beomgyu BYEEEE I LOVE HIM SO MUCH tumblr deserves to see him!!! reblogs appreciated :( the ratio of reblogs to likes is so sad sometimes so pls, if you enjoyed this fic, pls take the time to reblog - no matter how small or big ur blog is!!! rblgs is the best way to motivate ur favourite writers + help their works circulate around this site so always pls consider reblogging!

NAGI SEISHIRO: knew he loved you when you took care of him when he was sick.

nagi stirs awake with a groan, immediately engulfed by an insufferable warmth that caused him to kick the covers off his body.

as he shuffles to get comfortable again, he registers sounds coming from his kitchen, something he doesn't bother to investigate because he's hit by the dryness of his throat. glancing to his bedside table, there sat a glass of water that was practically calling his name, an offer he couldn't resist as he downed the drink in four seconds.

he then cringes at the stinging of his head.

so the headache still hasn't passed. what a pain.

he wants to go back to bed, to give in to the comfiness of his pillow and return to dreamland where his head wouldn't kill him. but, with the clanging and sizzling coming from the kitchen, it wouldn't hurt to check out what was happening, right?

dawdling out of bed, he slowly but surely makes his way to his door, opening it quietly before heading out into the kitchen, where you stood by the stove.

you were dancing to your playlist that was faintly playing in the background whilst tending to the pans on the stove top. one had eggs and spam, the other was boiling some instant noodles.

what were you doing here?

he's shortly flooded by recollections of what happened hours prior. nagi had invited you over to spend the day with him at his apartment but minutes before you arrived, he felt light-headed and dizzy. when he opened the door for you, he practically collapsed in your arms, and that was where the memory ended.

the fact that you stayed rather than simply going home to let him take care of himself warmed nagi, filling him with a feeling that he forgot long ago.

something like comfort.

"oh my god!" you exclaim, placing a hand to your chest at the sudden sight of a 6'3 man looming at the entrance of the kitchen. "sei, don't do that!"

turning off the fire, you quickly make your way to him, placing the back of your hand against his forehead.

it's still a little warm. he thought he just had a headache, did he have a fever? is that why he collapsed?

he should be grateful that he's not him taking care of himself.

"how do you feel?" you ask, brushing his hair back from his skin. he pouts slightly, leaning into your touch.

"my head is killing me," he murmurs, about to slouch on to you when you abruptly step away to fish for something in a plastic bag on the counter.

at the lack of your touch, he groans to protest, but you show him a small box you bought. painkillers.

did you go out and buy him stuff whilst he was asleep? just how good are you? what did he do to deserve you?

"take two pills and i'll prepare your food for you," you tell him before grabbing a bowl, a plate and chopsticks. nagi simply watches as you plate the goods, his stomach aching for your food whilst you sprinkle some nori over his ramen. the fried spam and eggs smelled divine.

soon enough, you sit him down at his two-person dining table before ambling away to clean up.

he misses you even more when he takes a bite of his food. nagi hasn’t had anyone take care of him in so long, not in the way that mattered at least. sure, he wouldn’t trade the world for reo and all he gives him, and he's thankful to his parents for the funds they've given him, but you take care of him because you want to. there’s no ‘dream’ you’re gaining using him as an asset, everything you've done, you've done for him to feel better.

and when nagi combines all the ingredients together in one bite, he’s filled with the love that homemade food provides, even if its just instant ramen with a little more nutrients. 

it’s more delicious than his ‘win’ yoghurts could ever be and nagi can’t go back now.

when you return, the white-haired beams at you as you take a seat beside him, your chin leaning into your palm as you brush a hand through his tangled locks. 

“how are you feeling, sei?” you question softly.

“amazing.” he says before digging back in. 

his eagerness causes a small laugh to slip and nagi perks up at the delightful sound, watching the way your nose crinkles and your lips part. then, he grabs some noodles and offers them to you, a gift you gladly take, humming at the taste. he does the same for the egg and spam and as he watches you with adoration in his eyes, he can't help but be overfilled with love.

“thank you,” mutters nagi.

“you’re welcome. now eat up and feel better, genius.” 

his words of gratitude have far deeper meaning than you realise, but nagi has a while to show you just how thankful he was for you.

ITOSHI RIN: knew he loved you when your company was something he didn't get tired of.

at 10 am, there’s a knock on the door to rin’s apartment.

he’s knows who it is before even greeting said person, and when your smiling face appears on the other side of the door, rin can’t help the excitement bubbling in his chest, signified through the small smile he tries to fight down.

“hi rin,” you greet, stepping forward to press a kiss against his cheek. that smile of his widens. 

“hello.” 

the dark-haired opens his arms expectantly and you drop three hoodies on them, all of them were his and freshly washed. he rolls his eyes.

“i wanted a hug,” scoffed rin.

“oh,” you laughed before throwing your arms around his torso, staying there like that for a few moments before separating. “anyhow, i should probably get going. i’ll see you-”

“why aren’t you staying?” he asks, coming off as more of a demand.

“because we didn’t plan for it?” 

“you should stay and watch a movie.” 

“aww does rinnie not have anything else to do?” you say with a mocking tone, but it’s all lighthearted and fun, especially when he pulls you in his apartment and locks the door behind you.

“shut up. go pick a movie.”

approximately ten minutes later, you’re curled up on the couch with rin lying over your body, peacefully splayed with his chest resting on your sternum whilst you absentmindedly play with his hair, too engaged in the movie. 

rin, on the other hand, didn’t find any enjoyment in your choice at all. “why the fuck are we watching ‘it’?” he asked, shuffling a little, causing you to stifle a giggle due to his movements. 

you shrug. “it just popped up. thought you liked horror movies.”

“horror movies that aren’t shit.” 

“touché. now shut up, i want to watch.” 

he grumbles something before relaxing into you again, more focused on the sound of your heartbeat than the events of the movie. eventually, the even beats lulls him into a light slumber, fast asleep despite the way it sometimes speeds in anticipation.

you, on the other hand, realise that he’s fallen asleep due to the slight wheezes he lets out, not loud enough to border a snore, but not peaceful enough to simply be breathing.

when the movie finishes, you shake him lightly to stir him from his sleep and when you meet his slightly hazy gaze, you feel a little bad for waking him. 

“the movie’s done, i should get going now,” you mutter, setting your hands on his shoulders as to push him off, but as soon as you announce your plans of leaving, rin holds on even tighter to your body. “hey! get off!” you try your best to push him away despite your laughter that ripples through the air.

“you should stay for lunch,” suggests your boyfriend, who rests his chin on your sternum. his eyes were practically pleading for you to agree, shining with hope.

he’s lucky you have nothing to do today, and that you were hungry.

when you roll your eyes and put your hands up in mock surrender, rin can’t help but smile a little, giddy at the idea of being able to spend more time with you.

hold on- since when was he happy at the idea of spending more time with anyone?

“shall we eat here or out?” you asked, your hands resuming threading through rin’s hair again. it was so smooth, what did he use in it? smelt nice too. 

“here. too lazy.”

after a few minutes of deciding what to eat, the delivery showed up rather quickly at his apartment. when you both settled down to eat, rin couldn’t help but let his thoughts wander, unable to help but think about how nice it was to be in your company and simply exist. he wants to do this for the rest of his life. 

you seem to have other plans. 

“so,” you begin, plate now empty. “i’m probably going to head home now-”

“wait, what? no.”

“no?” 

“i paid for lunch, you should repay me by keeping me company.”

with a huff, you cross your arms. “okay mr athlete’s salary, i’ll transfer you-”

“-can’t you just stay a little longer?”

“ask nicely.”

“can’t you please just stay a little longer?”

“if you insist,” you sigh dramatically, batting your eyelashes at him jokingly. rin scoffs. “what do you want to do?”

you actually ended up doing nothing for the next few hours, simply scrolling on your phone whilst laid on rin’s lap. he’s resorted to watching some past recorded matches, sometimes of himself, sometimes of other notable soccer athletes. 

the sun was now beginning to set and having been here since 10 am, you were beginning to feel bored out of your mind. 

you were also beginning to feel as if you were burdening rin with your company so, with a yawn, you begin to sit up. the athlete pauses his video and looks at you curiously. 

“i should get going now,” you say, rubbing your eyes.

“what?”

“i said i should get going now,” you repeat.

“no, no, i heard you the first time,” he mutters, a little bite in his tone. “why?”

“cause we’re not doing anything? plus i’m bored out of my mind and need some fresh air.” 

“then we can get fresh air together, you don’t have to leave yet.”

“you’re real insistent on keeping me here, guess you just like me too much, huh?”

rin leans in closer to your shit-eating grin, placing a hand on your cheek to press a fleeting kiss to your lips, one that leaves you wanting more. 

then you find yourself on the rooftop of his apartment complex, one that overlooks the beautiful horizon of tokyo and leaves you breathless as you gaze over the beautiful sight of the sunset colours bleeding together. with itoshi rin by your side, it feels even better.

leaning on his shoulder, you were not aware that your boyfriend’s eyes were admiring you instead of the sunset before you. he takes his time breathing the sight of you in, how beautiful you look with the hues of orange painting your skin. 

it’s funny. rin feels so purposeful with you, like he was made to be by your side and nowhere else.

maybe he should ask you to move in.

MIKAGE REO: knew he loved you when you cared about him, not his image.

he's not used to this, the feeling of being adored for who he was rather than what he was. you don't like him because he's rich, that he was a spawn of a billionaire, you don't like him because he's a talented soccer player either. you like him because he's funny, unique, generous, and despite his self-centred upbringing, ironically selfless in his own way.

the trained smile and behaviour that reo plasters on every morning crumbles whenever he's around you.

he greets you at the park you agreed to meet up at and you return his wave with a smile, pulling your scarf down from your mouth where you were attempting to warm yourself from the cold.

"hi," you mumble, dancing a little from side to side to shake the jitters of the cold away.

"hi, i didn't keep you waiting too long, did i?" he asks.

you shake your head. "no, i just forgot some extra layers. i thought my gloves were in this coat too but i must have been mistaken."

reo frowns at your ice-bitten demeanour, feeling a sudden urge to wrap you up, give you all his warmth and shield you from the winter weather.

"anyways," your voice breaks his thoughts. "have you eaten yet?"

he widens his eyes a little in shock, taken aback by your question, one clearly asked out of care and affection. you were the one freezing your ass off due to your own negligence yet you had the nerve to ask if he had taken care of himself.

instead of asking about the latest product mikage corporations released- a news segment that was taking the business world by storm, you ask reo if he had eaten.

strange. he feels strange. it's nice.

"no, not since breakfast," he coughs after his mouth had caught up to his mind.

you tug at his arm gently, "then c'mon, there's a nearby 7/11. i hope they have sweet potato, we can get two for the both of us!"

the purple-haired can't fight the smile that tugs on the corners of his mouth, obliging happily with your requests as he allows you to pull him in the direction of the store. before you could leave the park, however, reo skids to a stop, dragging you back to him.

ignoring your curious gaze, he nimbly goes to take the wool gloves off of his hands. when one is off, he swiftly grabs your wrist to thread your fingers through the fabric, all whilst you actively ignore how warm reo's hands are and how soft they are when they encompass your wrist. his fingertips leave trials of fire burning on your skin but you don't jump back from the sensation. instead, you let it happen.

his gloves are a tad bit too big for your hands, but you feel warm immediately. whether that's a direct result of the gloves or not, you don't really want to know.

"this okay?" asks reo, gaze meeting yours. you try to trick yourself into believing that the softness of his expression was because of the wind, and that the snow was playing tricks on your eyes.

swallowing thickly, you nod. "won't you be cold?"

he wriggles his fingers slightly before shrugging.

with a small chuckle, you grab his bare ones and bundle them together with yours, a weak attempt at sharing warmth.

but, reo appreciates it nevertheless, smiling at how focused you seemed to be when caring for him.

[flightlessangelwings]

A Perfect Day

Din Djarin x gn!reader

Word count-1.5k

Warnings- none really just a little fluff piece, some pining, feelings, found family, Gorgu being the cutest, reader is from a desert planet, no pronouns or physical description of reader, no use of y/n

Notes- Written for @pedgito Summer Lovin challenge! Thanks so much for adding the extra slots the one I got is so adorable!! Moodboard is the prompt and I love it so much! Enjoy!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so please follow that too and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on when I post new things!

~

Dew from the air clung to your skin in a way you weren’t used to. Leaves crunched under every step you took as the rainforest engulfed all your senses on the hot mid summer day. It was strange for you- an environment you had never seen before. But a presence to your side helped keep you calm even as every muscle in your body tensed.

Din noticed the way you held yourself stiffly from the moment you all stepped off the ship onto this new planet. You were a recent addition to his little group of two, but he quickly learned your mannerisms.

“You alright?” Din asked in a hushed tone as Grogu cooed happily in his arms. At least one of you were comfortable on this planet. 

“Fine,” your reply was short as you kept your guard up. Drops of water all around you were strange and every sound from the distance made your skin tingle. Feeling Din’s gaze fixed on you, you turned to meet his vizor, “Fine,” you repeated in a softer tone this time, “It’s just…” you sighed, “This is all new to me. It’s… odd,” you settled on that word after struggling to come up with a way to voice how you felt.

Grugu let out a questioning sound as he tilted his head to the side a bit. 

“You’re ok,” Din said as he looked down at the little green child in his arms, “The kid’s happy so that should ease you,” he tried to comfort you with his words as he fought the urge to reach out to you.

At that, you smiled, “You’re right.”

The way the drop of lingering rain clung to your skin made Din’s heart pound in his chest. You looked so beautiful like that, and once you visibly relaxed, you looked even more so. Much like when he found the child, Din felt an instant connection to you from the moment you met. And there was something about you that made him want to protect you and keep you safe, just like with Grogu. Though he knew you were capable of handling yourself, and had proven so by helping him keep Grogu safe when you met on the desert planet you called home. 

You and Din continued to walk through the forest in a now comfortable silence as Grogu babbled in Din’s arms. The three of you were led here on a bounty chase, but as you made your way through the forest, it seemed like it was all going to be for nothing.

Until the ruins of an old building came into view.

Gorgu cooed with excitement and leapt out of Din’s arms to run right for the building.

“Hey!” you both exclaimed at the same time as you and Din ran after him.

“Come back here,” Din shouted. 

“We don’t know if it’s safe, kid,” you added.

The child made it to the abandoned building before you and Din did. But, once you both caught up, you relaxed again as you noticed it was empty. And it had been for some time.

“What is this place?” you asked, breathless. 

Din scanned around, noting the open ceiling and the marble that lined the walls, “I’m not sure,” he replied as he looked around.

Inspecting his surroundings further, Din noticed that pedestals lined the walls. Some had statues that were overgrown with moss while others were bare. Obviously, no one had been here in some time, but this was important at one point.

“This looks like it was a museum,” Din commented.

“A museum?”

He nodded, “To the history of this planet, and the people in it,” he inspected one of the statues. 

You hummed as you looked around and allowed the awe to fill you. Suddenly, the lingering drops of rain were a comfort as you inhaled deeply. You saw statues of little creatures that once had lived on this planet, and you smiled brightly when you saw one that you found particularly cute. Pushing a button to activate an old holo, you squinted to piece together the scattered bits of information that tried to display in front of you. But, it was all too old to get a full picture, so you had to make do with the small parts that did come through.

“This place is incredible,” you breathed as your shoulders dropped and you finally let yourself completely be at ease.

“It is,” Din murmured as his eyes never left your figure.

Feeling his gaze on you once more, you turned and met his vizor. Even as the warmth of the environment surrounded you, a chill ran up your spine as your heart fluttered in your chest. You knew what it meant when he looked at you like that, with his head tilted slightly and his body relaxed. Just as Din quickly learned how to read you, you learned what his body language meant, and it made your hands tremble slightly.

But, before either of you could say anything, a happy coo broke the tension between the two of you.

“Grogu,” you snickered as you and Din moved down the corridor to find the child with a little frog statue.

Din let out a single amused laugh as he shifted his weight to one leg, “He really likes frogs, doesn’t he?”

“He does,” you agreed in amusement. 

A newfound warmth enveloped you; it wasn’t a warmth from the outside, but from within you. Being here with Din and Grogu felt comforting to you, like you were a little family together out for a trip to the museum to learn about times past. Taking a deep breath, you imagined what this building would have been like in its prime. Pristine stone walls surrounded you in your mind, and the displays were proudly on their pedestals. The sun shone in from the glass ceiling to illuminate the space.

And you were here. With Din and Grogu. And everything just felt right.

Your name in Din’s hushed tone broke you out of your imagination and you turned to face him with a short gasp. “Everything alright?” he asked, noticing you seemed to drift away for several moments.

A bright smile lit up your face as you closed the space between your bodies, “Just perfect,” you whispered. Tentatively, you reached out for him, your hand hovering over his helmet.

You waited for Din to push you away, or to ask what you were doing. When he did neither, you slowly lowered your hand to cup the side of his helmet where his cheek would be. Both you and Din let out a sharp breath, as if you both could feel the contact directly instead of on beskar. Your eyes scanned the darkness of his vizor, and you swore you could feel his own gaze back on you, studying you just as hard as you studied him.

“Thanks for bringing us here,” you broke the silence with a soft and sincere voice.

Din let out a breath as he mirrored your action. He didn’t say anything as he cupped the side of your face, cradling your head tenderly. Through the gloves, he felt the warmth of your skin, and he couldn’t help but stroke your skin with his thumb in the tiniest gesture of affection. Gently, Din guided your head forward so that it was closer to his as he leaned in towards you. Touching your forehead to his helmeted one, he loosened his grip on you while keeping his hand on your face. You rested your free hand on his chest as you closed your eyes and let out a deep breath, savoring his embrace as the cool beskar of his helmet pressed against your skin. 

Now the moment was perfect.

“Din…” you breathed his name with a smile on your face as you broke away to meet his gaze. You wanted to say more, yet the words failed you. Yet, you both know they weren’t needed.

“I know,” he replied in the same tone that made your heart flutter.

Just then, an inquisitive coo and a tug at his boots broke the moment. You and Din broke contact with a start as Grogu whined to be picked up. 

With a short laugh, Din reached down, “I got you, bud,” he said as he lifted the child into his arms and faced him to you.

“Hey buddy,” you giggled as you playfully nudged his little cheek, “You enjoying this place too?”

Grogu replied with a happy coo, which made both you and Din chuckle softly.

“Shall we head back?” Din offered.

“Yeah,” you replied, “I think he’s ready for something to eat.”

“Let’s go then,” Din opened his arm to invite you closer to him. As you shuffled closer so he could feel the warmth of your body against his, Din couldn’t help but feel that this truly was the perfect day. He felt his own heart pound in his chest as the two most important people in the entire galaxy were tucked safely away in his embrace and he made a note to himself to find more serene spaces just like this on every planet you visited. 

[frvnkcastles]

hello 👋🏻 how are you? first thank you for everything you write, your blog it's my safe place. 💓

aaand i have a request if you like i was thinking in a frank x reader.

where they have been dating for two years and live together. one night she goes to a nightclub with her friends and a man keeps trying to talk to her, but she quickly manages to dismiss him, until she starts to feel like she's going to pass out and doesn't really understand what's happening so she gets up to go to the bathroom and the same man starts going after her, and she realizes that the guy put drugs in her drink, she starts running and locks herself in the bathroom and calls Frank in a panic and he keeps calming her on the phone until he arrives there and when he arrives he takes her home and takes care of her?

thank you💓

HEAVEN IS WHEREVER YOU ARE ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: When you’re harassed at a club, Frank comes to the rescue.

Warnings: Reader is drugged, harassment, feminine nicknames

Word count: 2.2k

Author’s note: I’m doing okay anon, I hope you are too <3 Thank you so much for this idea! I actually had something like this written from years ago, so I just had to revamp it a little and here we go :) I hope you enjoy!

”Anythin’ comes up, you call me, aight?” Frank’s voice was demanding but full of care and love as he looked at you with intent eyes and his hands on your shoulders. As soon as you had told him your friends had invited you out to the local club, he had been all over you, not only appreciating the sight of you in that dress you only brought out for special occasions, but also making sure you would be okay. He had armed you with pepper spray and now, for the third time, insisted that even if he was going out himself, all you had to do was call and he’d drop everything to come and get you.

”I will. I’ll be okay, baby”, you reassured him, cupping his cheek and pressing a quick but sweet kiss in the middle of his mouth, causing him to lick his lips to revel in the taste of your lip gloss.

Reluctantly, he let go of you and you were well on your way. It wasn’t like he didn’t trust you — he was well-aware you could take care of yourself, it was just that he preferred to be the one doing it. You were everything to him and sometimes that manifested in overly protective behavior, but you appreciated him looking after you and knew it was just the way he was built after suffering enough loss. You didn’t fault him for it, if anything, knowing he was always in your corner was exactly why you felt safe going out into the dark night.

The club and your friends were a welcome distraction from the long week at work, and you felt so free and happy just dancing away with a fruity drink in your hand and the beat of the music guiding your hips. You weren’t exactly the best dancer, but you let the song carry you away, not a care in the world as you swayed and swung.

Time passed quickly in the company of your dearest friends, but eventually, your feet began to ache from the constant dancing and you retreated to the bar for another drink by yourself. Parting ways with your friends turned out to be a grave mistake — as soon as you had ordered another cocktail, a man appeared by your side and boldly invaded your personal space.

”Hey gorgeous, buy you a drink?” he asked with a crooked grin, and trying your best not to cringe at his attempt to charm you, you shook your head. Only Frank had the right to call you gorgeous, and you kept that fact locked and loaded if he wasn’t going to take your first hint.

”No, thanks. Already ordered”, you gave him a polite smile while gesturing at the drink delivered by the bartender. You were about to grab the glass and head back to the dance floor to find your friends, but the tall stranger cornered you, and in an instant, your alarm bells went off.

”C’mon, what’s the rush? What’s your name, princess?” he continued, and with a surge of disgust in the pit of your stomach, you shot him a glare.

”None of your business. Besides, I have a boyfriend”, you retorted, gripping the glass as you stood between the people behind you and the man towering over you. He didn’t look like the kind of guy who got rejected a lot, which was enough to let you know it was going to be an ordeal to get rid of him. If only you could catch sight of your friends.

”Well, I don’t see him here. What he don’t know won’t hurt him”, he countered, and with great discomfort pushing on your chest, you tried to sneak away from him. He stopped you, though, a tight hold wrapping around your wrist, and panic started to make way within your veins.

You refused to let him toy with you any longer, and so, you snatched your hand away from him and forcefully pushed through the crowd. Relief flooded you when you got away from him, but it was a short-lived victory, as a bout of dizziness smacked you in the head, and you staggered. Trying your best not to lose your balance, you held your head in one hand and your drink in the other, but it was no easy task, especially when your vision began to blur.

Changing direction, you headed for the bathroom, but as you glanced over your shoulder, you spotted the stranger following you. You hoped it was just your impaired sight playing games with you, but when you stumbled and your drink flew from your hands, you realized he must have slipped something in it. Fear rose in your throat and you picked up the pace, clumsily making your way to the bathroom and slamming the door shut behind you, making sure to lock it.

As soon as you felt like you were safe, he started banging on the door and cursing at you. ”Open up, you bitch!” he shouted through the wood, and with your eyes brimming with tears, you shakily dug your phone from your purse. You were scared the door was going to give in, even more scared that you’d pass out from whatever he had drugged you with, but with all the strength you could muster, you did the one thing you knew was a good idea — call Frank.

Your hands trembled as you held your phone up to your ear and waited to hear Frank’s voice, your eyes squeezed shut while you drew in shallow breaths. You leaned against the door, your heart running a million miles as you waited and waited until, finally, he picked up.

”Sweetheart? You there?” Frank’s voice crackled through, and stifling a terrified sob, you ran your fingers through your hair.

”I’m sorry—I know you’re out doing your thing but I’m so scared, I—I lost my friends and some guy started bothering me and I think he put something in my drink—”, you began explaining with your wavering voice, only for a bang on the bathroom door to cut you off, your sharp inhale filling the space where your words hung. Momentarily, you tried to pull yourself together but there was no denying the crack in your voice when you continued. ”I hid in the bathroom. Please hurry”, you whimpered, the fear in your voice evident.

”I’m on my way, baby. Stay on the line, yeah? Can you do that f’me?” he spoke, hoping his steady voice would give you something to hang onto, something to ground you. When you responded, he made an approving noise. ”That’s my girl. I’m leavin’ right now, okay? I’ll be there soon”, he promised, and finding immense hope in his words, you swallowed and wiped your tears away. Your head was spinning and you could feel yourself slipping in and out of awareness, time passing even without you fully acknowledging it.

”You whore!” the stranger yelled through the door, loud enough for Frank to hear through the call, only making him more furious. He was keeping his rage at bay for your sake, knowing that his uncontrolled temper wouldn’t do much to comfort you, but he was seething. The asshole who had done this to you was surely going to pay the price, and Frank was going to enjoy every second of it.

”It’s gonna be alright, sweet girl. Don’t worry, ’m almost there”, Frank swore, growing more concerned when you didn’t respond. You were starting to find it impossible to stand, and so, you wound up sitting on the closed toilet lid, your face buried in one of your hands while the other one tried to balance the phone against your ear.

Soon enough, Frank spotted the neon sign of the club and he swerved to the side of the street, hastily parking before jumping out of the truck. With his blood boiling at the mental image of what he’d find inside, he hung up the phone and stomped into the club with his heavy boots, the sleeves of his shirt already rolled up as he looked for the bathroom.

The banging and shouting alerted him in the right direction, and with his fists aching to punch and hurt and break, he strode straight to the man bothering you from the other side of the door. Clenching his jaw, he yanked the guy away from the door by his shoulder, a cold stare in his dark eyes.

”Get the fuck out”, he spoke calmly, the kind of calm that was far more threatening than any shout ever could have been. His voice was dripping with sheer anger, and yet, the man faced him with an unimpressed look.

”Or what?” he chuckled, and without hesitating to show him exactly what he had signed himself up for, Frank grabbed him by the neck and threw him into the wall hard enough for his nose to crack. The man collapsed on the ground with a cry, gaining some attention from the people around but not enough for anyone to actually care.

”Get out”, Frank repeated with just an inch more effort, and this time, it worked. The man scrambled up to both feet and rushed through the crowd, running away to make sure he wouldn’t end up on the Punisher’s kill list — of course, he had already made it there. As if anyone would get away with hurting Frank’s girl.

When he was left alone, Frank took in a deep breath and leaned against the door. ”Hey. Ya in there, sweetheart?” he questioned quietly, all scariness gone from his soft voice as he glanced at his boots and waited for your answer.

You couldn’t describe the relief you felt when you heard him. For a moment, you couldn’t tell if it was real, your head making it hard to focus on anything, but Frank kept talking, confirming for you that he was right there.

”It’s safe out here. Wanna come out or can I come in?” he continued, patiently waiting for you.

Carefully, you got up from the toilet seat and wobbled to the door, unlocking it and letting Frank in. He peeked in only to find you hugging yourself with puffy eyes and red cheeks, and with a sigh, he stepped inside fully. He was delicate as he reached over to you, brushing a thumb across your face.

”All right? He touch you?” he queried gruffly, fearing your answer, but when you shook your head, he welcomed relief. His deep eyes met yours as he lowered his head to be on your level, and he radiated safety and comfort and warmth, and it was enough for you to break.

You stepped closer and clung onto him in a desperate hug, shaking in his arms. ”Thank you for coming”, you whispered, and with his arms folding around your body tightly, he nodded.

”Of course. You call, I’m there. Always”, he stated simply before kissing the top of your head. You stayed like that for a moment, but finally, he pulled away and took your hand. ”C’mere, let’s go home”, he suggested, undeniably worried by your state. It was obvious you had ingested something you shouldn’t have, and even though you were safe with him now, he couldn’t help but consider the worst case scenario. He cared for you so much, it was like the thought of anything happening to you caused him physical pain. He didn’t always have the words to tell you how much he loved you, but he was sure as hell going to show you.

He took you home where he made you drink water and helped you undress before tucking you into bed. He knew you needed the rest, and it didn’t take you long to drift off to sleep, giving him time to plot how he was going to find the man who had hurt you and, in return, hurt him. He didn’t play around when it came to your safety and well-being, and that was a lesson he was going to teach the asshole who had drugged you.

For tonight, his plans were just that — plans. He wasn’t going to leave your side, and he wanted you to know as much, and so, he climbed into bed with you. He couldn’t

sleep, though, far too preoccupied worrying about you and watching over you.

As he tenderly stroked your cheek, you stirred awake, and he opened his mouth to apologize but the words got stuck in his throat while he gazed down at your flawless face. You were so beautiful and he felt so lucky to have you, even if that meant fighting off everyone else.

”Feelin’ better?” he asked quietly, his rough voice so gentle with you, and breaking into a smile, you nodded.

”Thank you, Frankie. I love you so much”, you whispered softly, causing the smallest of smiles to bloom on his face. He leaned down to kiss you, his large hand holding your chin as his lips met yours, and it took your breath away. He always knew how to send your heart flying, and it made your smile widen as you wrapped an arm around his neck. ”My hero”, you added quietly when the kiss broke, earning a snort from Frank.

”I’m no hero. But I’ll always come for you, pretty girl. I love you, yeah? There ain’t a thing in the world I wouldn’t do for you”, he vowed, and as he kissed you again, you knew he meant every word.