#WITH YOUR FEET ON THE AIR AND YOUR HEAD ON THE GROUND

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part twenty —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 3k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn’t here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: I'm sorry lmaooo nine months... hopefully we can finish this thing!

You land hard, elbows hitting the ground with a jolt of pain, but it’s nothing compared to the realization that someone is screaming—Blue is screaming. The heat in your veins fizzles, your heart jolting. Ghost has already sped off toward camp, pulling a knife from his ankle, and you scramble to your feet to follow.

Your movements are clumsy, your mind replaying the last few seconds, searching for any signs of trouble you might have missed. The air is clear, the trees are quiet, the ground is still. Yet, as you weave through the tall grasses that swipe at your ankles, you finally hear it—muffled voices, unmistakably human. They grow sharper with each step you take. 

Ghost reaches camp first, stopping in a lethal stance. You roll in just behind him, eyes snapping to where Blue stands behind the fence, alive and aiming one of her dad’s rifles at four strangers. Still dressed in an oversized sleep shirt, she juts the rifle through a gap in the fortification. Two of the strangers are mounted on a brown horse, while the other two flank their sides, backs swollen with rucksacks and chests thick with gear. There is no doubt they have weapons.

"D-don't come any closer or I'll blow your heads off! I mean it!"

“We’re not here to hurt you,” one of them says calmly. A man.

“I don’t care why you’re here! You need to leave before my dad…” Her eyes flicker to you. “Dad!”

When their heads turn in your direction, you waste no time arching the knife over your head. You’re not much without your bow, but this is all you have.

In a split second, your eyes land on the burliest of the group, a man with a boonie hat and a dense, brown beard. He was the one speaking. The leader, maybe. You aim the knife for his head, but before you can throw it, Ghost grabs your wrist, wrenching you to his chest without warning, the knife falling to the ground.

"Wait," he says in your ear, his breath steady against your skin. There’s a detectable lilt of surprise in his voice. You try to squirm free, but he holds tight. "Stay here."

He lets go. Confusion reels through you. Everything in you screams to pick up the knife, but you hesitate as Ghost signals for Blue to lower the gun.

He calmly walks over to the intruders, heading to the man you were aiming for. The air feels thick as you watch with parted lips, stance still readied and breath racing. Ghost stops in front of him, and the two stare at each other strangely before the man smiles.

A strong hand reaches for Ghost’s shoulder.

“It’s good to see you, Simon.”

The clanking of metal against ceramic plates and the low murmurs of a fire fill the cabin.

Your spine presses into the wall.

There isn’t a free chair at the table, but you’re not sure you’d sit in one even if there was. Blue stands beside you, hands laced in front of her. She’s silent. You are, too. The cabin feels cramped with seven people in it. It makes your skin itch. 

You can inspect them more thoroughly now that you’re not thinking about who to kill first. 

There are two men—the older one you believe Ghost called Price, and a younger one you think he called Kyle. He’s fine-looking, you figure, underneath the overgrowth of facial hair and grime smudged on his dark skin. He had a tan cap on earlier but now a head of short, black hair is free for him to slick fingers through every now and then. Then there is a woman, some years older than you. She’s beautiful in a raw, Grecian sort of way, with long black hair and a violet undertone to her skin. Lastly, a boy, maybe twelve or thirteen. It doesn't take much to discern he is related to Kyle in some way.

They all look starving, though not as much as you once were. Nevertheless, Ghost is feeding them more than scraps. Canned beans, rice, and rabbit. They shovel it into their mouths. The men have muscles on them, so they can’t have been struggling much. Based on all the supplies they carry and the horse tied to a tree outside, you’ve figured they’ve been traveling for some time. A flurry of questions runs through your brain, but your lips remain in a tight line.

Ghost hasn’t said much yet. He hasn't even explained who they are. Your slitted eyes flicker to him. While the strangers fill up the table, he hovers beside it. His body speaks more than his expression. His shoulders are not tense and lethal as they'd been when you first sat at that table scarfing down food. But they're not relaxed, either; his arms crossed, still exposed from the black tee he'd put on for training, giving way to the slight flexes in his corded muscles that signal even he is thrown off by their presence. 

But he trusts them enough to let them in here. With the way they carry themselves, and the fact that Ghost hasn't killed them, they must've been in the military together. He doesn't seem like the type to have had normal friends. 

Kyle speaks first.

He thrums the pads of his fingertips against the wood and clears his throat, breaking your thoughts. "We were hoping you'd still be here, but it was a shot in the dark."

"I’ve never left," Ghost says, plainly.

Kyle sips from his mug and wipes his mouth, then his eyes shift toward you. You meet his gaze with a hardened look. 

"We're sorry for scaring you."

It takes a moment to realize his words aren't for you. Blue glances to her toes. "I wasn't scared." 

His lips lift. "Of course not. It's us who should've been scared of crossing paths with Simon Riley's kid. You did the right thing, you know. Protecting yourself."

"I didn't realize you knew my dad." She nibbles her lip and looks up. "My name is Blue, by the way. And this is..." Her eyes flick to you. "My friend, Twix."

Your tongue pokes your cheek as you look over the new faces. What are you supposed to say? 

"Hi," is all you settle on.

Ghost clears his throat. "Kid, why don't you clean some more water for them."

Blue nods dutifully, lingering only a second before pouring more river water into the pot over the fire.

"Thank you for your kindness. We haven't had a warm meal like this in days," the woman says kindly.

"It's a strong setup you've made for yourself," Price speaks, one hand stroking his beard while he pushes the cleared plate away with the other. He leans back, boonie hat still cradling his head and casting a shadow over his eyes, but you catch a glimpse of warm brown irises that might've comforted you in any other circumstance.

"It's lasted me this long." Ghost shifts his weight slightly. "Where are you coming from?"

"Near the base by the border, further north."

"Last I heard you were in Manchester."

"Once the radios went out, we picked up my wife," he touches the woman's shoulder, "Nereida, and Kyle's nephew here, Ari, from Newcastle. Made camp with a few others. Served us well for the past five years."

Ghost slowly nods and then drawls, "And Soap?”

Price leans his forearms on the table. "Not quite sure. The base was falling apart, but he stayed back, saying he'd meet up with us once he could. That was five years ago."

You're not sure who Soap is, someone else they worked with, maybe. There is a brief pause before Ghost asks, "Why did you leave?"

"More and more of 'em, Simon," Price replies with a slight shake of his head, emitting a low breath. "Made it difficult to even get food."

"Too many of them, not enough of us," Nereida murmurs distantly. Her hand slips under the table, out of view. You imagine it resting on Price's thigh as she leans into him with a weighted sigh. "They always seem to be moving. Not with a destination in mind, of course, but it was only a matter of time before they ruined our setup. We decided to leave before that could happen."

Kyles adds, "It wasn't an easy decision, but living in anticipation of the worst isn't really living at all."

Your brows lower. “Where exactly could you be headed that wouldn't mean living in anticipation of the worst?” you can't stop yourself from asking, the question burning in your mind. 

Price leans back, those warm brown eyes finding yours. A short heartbeat passes before he answers simply, "Switzerland."

The absurdity of that single word response forces a disbelieving, chuffed breath through your nose. Of all the things this stranger could have said, that would have to be the least expected. You anticipate an equally surprised reaction from Ghost, but he seems unnervingly unfazed. Blue, however, swivels her head from where she sits cross-legged in front of the fire.

"What the fuck is Switzerland?"

"It's another country," the boy—Ari—answers.

Blue glances between him and her dad. "Like... not in England?"

Ari snorts softly. "No, not in England. It's across the channel."

"The channel?" Blue frowns. "That's... far, isn't it?"

"Very far," Nereida confirms with a nod.

The subject is brusquely dropped when Ghost reaches for their cleared plates. "You must want to bathe while you're here. There's a river nearby."

Price clears his throat. "These two can go first." He gestures to the woman and child.

Soon enough, you become irritatingly aware of what's happening; you're being shooed away, along with the kids and Nereida, so the three of them can speak privately. There isn't much room to object as you shuffle out of the cabin, carrying a handful of rags for them to wash with along with the homemade soap that you once used to wash away the grime and earth that caked up from traveling. 

The sun beats hard, the river warmer now that spring has aged. Dried sweat clings to your spine from this morning, but bathing yourself is the last thing on your mind now, not when you're still reeling in the presence of people you don't know. You swing a glance at the cabin behind your shoulder, something in your gut twisting. Ghost doesn't want you there to hear whatever they're talking about. 

"This is a good spot," Blue says, stopping in front of a shallow part of the bank where the water is warmest. She hands Ari some soap and teeters on her toes. You realize why she keeps staring at him like that; he's probably the only other kid she's met in years. She is even more shy than when she first met you. "Twix and I will look away, don't worry."

You and Blue sit perched on a rock as they wash themselves. 

"This is weird," she admits quietly to you.

"Very," you mumble.

When they're done, you offer Nereida the only clean clothes you have at the moment: one of the oversized shirts Ghost gave you and some jeans. An annoyingly strange thought brandishes your brain... you don't like the way the black fabric sits on her bare chest, nipples poking through, and the hem hanging down to her knees as it does on you. You should've just given her the dirty blouse to wear.

She sits at the edge of the river, wringing her soaked hair with a rag. From the corner of your eye, you catch Blue helping Ari rinse his dirty clothes in the water. You want to keep an eye on him; your knife is still nestled around your ankle in case they try anything, though a woman and preteen don't heighten your paranoia as much. 

"How long have you two been together?"

Her soft voice makes you blink. "What?"

"You and Simon."

You're confused until you recall the revelation from earlier—the man you've known the past few months as Ghost, the one whose hard form laid beneath you just hours ago, is actually Simon. Simon Riley. You're tempted to say the name; try it out. But it is hard to reconcile with. It might taste strange on your tongue. The name fits a version of him that doesn't exist in this world now, you suppose. British. Simple. Like John or Kyle. The name of a lieutenant. The bits of his face you've witnessed crosses your mind; his nose, lips, and chin seem like Simon. The damn mask is Ghost, though.

"Jesus... I am not—" You shake your head, the sun even hotter on your neck. "I'm not with him like that. We're just allies." You glance back at the cabin in the distance and you fight a scowl. "If that."

She runs her fingers through ravenous tendrils. "Oh. I apologize for assuming."

You offer a small smile. "It's fine."

"How long have you been staying here then?"

"Um, a few months now. I used to stay with my sister and a friend, but they died."

Her eyes soften. "I'm sorry for your loss."

You shrug. "Everyone has lost important people."

"Doesn't make it easier," she says. "Ari's mom and younger sister used to be with us," she adds quietly with a solemn downward cast of her eyes, as if a memory has taken her for a moment. "They passed two years ago during a really rough winter along with this other couple we knew. Then it was just the four of us."

You inhale through your nose and release, frowning. "No child should have to experience that."

"No," she agrees, nodding. "They shouldn't. Which is why we're looking for a better life for him."

"And you think you'll find it in... Switzerland."

Nereida offers a half-smile, as if reading your thoughts. "We'd heard of a commune there, up in the mountains."

"A commune? Like what, a town?" 

"Sort of. Just... more people, living together. Protected. Greys make awful climbers, and the mountains there are much higher than anything in the UK."

This catches your attention, and the divot between your brows deepens. "How do you know it exists?"

"Well, we can't know for certain. John heard about it at the beginning of the spread, but it was too difficult to make arrangements at the time, especially when he had to help out at the medical site and then come find me. Things were a mess, I'm sure you remember."

"Yeah, I do." You reel in her words, thinking. "That was... years ago, though. Aren't you taking a huge risk going there now? What if nothing is there?"

"Staying in England would be a risk, too," she counters. "There is nothing here except death and hardship. You can't hide from it forever."

You look down at the water. Cicadas fill your ears, the buzzing drowning out your voice. "No, you can't."

You go on a hunt that afternoon, itching for some space to breathe. Deer tracks are harder to spot without the snow, but you find the unmistakeable marks of antlers against a tree and follow them. You glance around the forest. It feels endless and like a cage at the same time. Which way did they come from? If they made it to camp by morning, that means they spent the night here somewhere. You don't like the idea that others could be so close by, like that car.

The sun has turned orange by the time a healthy doe skirts in your peripherals. You stalk it behind an oak. An arrow flies from your bow, but you miss; the deer flees. You return in the dark empty-handed. No doubt, the visitors are fatigued, with Ghost already setting blankets across the cabin's floor for them to sleep on. You offer Ari the couch, figuring an exhausted kid needs it more than you do. He knocks out the moment he lays down.

"Here. For the night." Ghost offers you a heavy blanket and nods to the only bare spot of floor left after they've all settled down. 

You avoid his eyes and accept it. The moment he's disappeared to his room, you slip outside under the starlit night, finding the flattest patch of ground to lay the blanket down, which happens to be only a few paces away from a sleeping horse. It's not the couch, but it'll do for a night or two, and you refuse to sleep in the shed again. 

You're in the midst of standing back up after straightening out your makeshift bed when you bump into something solid. A hand grips your bicep and whirls you around, a pair of darkened eyes glowering down at you.

"What are you doing?" you breathe up at him. "I don't like when you grab me like that."

"What are you doing?" he retorts, voice low and hard.

"Trying to get some sleep."

"Out here?"

You look away and shimmy out of his hold. "Does it matter where I sleep?"

"It's not safe out here."

"You had no problem sending me out here before."

"You have since earned your keep," he mutters, as if annoyed you're even mentioning the past. 

"My spot is taken for the night by your lovely friends, so for however long you plan to let them stay, I will sleep out here."

"There is a spot on the floor for you inside."

"I'm not sleeping in there." With them. 

The whites of his eyes flash as he darts his gaze over your face. His tone softens perceptibly. A mere breath. "They won't hurt you, Twix."

You roll your eyes away from him. "I would just rather sleep out here by myself, okay? I prefer solitude at my most vulnerable. And it's not like my experiences with militant men have been pleasant so far." You keep your tone neutral, but a chill touches your spine at the memory.

Ghost emits a low huff. He suddenly rips the blanket from the ground and turns his back to you. "What are you doing?" you gape at him.

"You'll take my bed," he throws over his shoulder.

[kngrose]

situationship with sevika part two

WARNINGS: mentions of cheating, coercion if you squint, kinda steamy

authors note: see part one here. this was hiiiighly requested! ^^

“You gonna answer that?” she asked, her voice low and teasing.

The smell of whiskey and faint smoke lingered in the room, the soft glow of a lamp casting shadows on the walls. You hadn’t meant to come here—not again. Yet, your feet had carried you across the city, through dimly lit streets, and to this place that held so many secrets.

A single unread message glared in your mind, though you hadn’t dared to open it. It was from him. Your boyfriend. You shook your head, feeling the burn of guilt prickling at your chest. “I shouldn’t even be here,” you murmured, but your words lacked conviction.

Sevika stood by the window, her broad shoulders silhouetted against the pale moonlight. Her cigar burned lazily in her metal hand, the smoke curling upward in lazy spirals. She turned slightly at your rebuttal, her sharp gaze settling on you with that same unreadable intensity.

“But you are,” she replied simply, taking a drag from her cigar before stubbing it out in the ashtray. She stepped closer, her boots heavy on the floor, the sound reverberating in the quiet room. “And this isn’t the first time, is it?”

Your breath hitched. She was right. Despite every promise you had made to yourself—and to him—you were here. Again. The memory of the first encounter was still vivid—fleeting moments of passion, stolen in the shadows.

That night had been a mistake. At least, that’s what you told yourself. But the way she had touched you— the heat of her touch, the way she made you feel alive in a way you hadn’t in months. It was a mistake, you remind yourself. A one-time thing. But as the days stretched on, you couldn’t stop thinking about her, about the pull she had over you.

“Guess that boyfriend of yours isn’t enough for you.”

Her words hit a nerve, and you flinched, guilt and shame swirling inside you. “Don’t,” you whispered, but even to your own ears, it sounded weak. You swallowed hard, your resolve wavering as she closed the distance between you. She stopped just a breath away, her metal arm glinting in the dim light as she reached out to brush a strand of hair from your face. Her touch was deliberate, teasing, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

You glanced up at her from your spot on the couch, your head eye level with her hips. “It’s not right,” you whispered, more to yourself than to her. Her metal hand brushed your cheek, the touch cold but strangely grounding. “It’s not right…” she murmured, repeating your words. “Doesn’t stop you from wanting it, hm?”

The question hung in the air, daring you to respond. You looked at her—broad shoulders, sharp jawline, the dangerous glint in her eyes that drew you in like a moth to a flame. She leaned in, and your breath hitched as her fingers traced a slow path down your arm, sending shivers through your body. “You don’t have to stay,” Her voice was calm, almost mocking. “But if you do… you know how this ends.”

You hated how true her words were, hated the way your body betrayed you as she she pulled to to your feet, backing you into the wall. “I…” you started, but the words died on your lips as she leaned in, her scent—smoke, leather, and something distinctly her—filling your senses. Her lips brushed against yours, ��Tell me to stop.”

You should have. You knew you should have. But instead, your hands found their way to her chest, clutching at her shirt as if holding on to her could steady the chaos inside you. “I shouldn’t—”

“But you will,” she interrupted, her voice firm, her tone leaving no room for argument. Her hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer until you could feel the warmth of her breath on your lips. “You didn’t come here to say no.”

Her hands, one warm and human, the other cold and unyielding, gripped your waist as she pulled you impossibly closer. You shouldn’t be doing this—not again. But the way she touched you, the way she made you feel like the center of her world, was impossible to resist.

Your chest tightened with guilt, but it wasn’t enough to stop you. It wasn’t enough to keep you from leaning into her, from letting her lips claim yours in a kiss that was just as intoxicating as you remembered. All the guilt, the hesitation, the promises you’d made melted away under the heat of her kiss. Her hands were firm and possessive, pulling your hips flush against hers, as though daring you to regret this later.

You knew you wouldn’t be leaving when she hiked your leg over her hip, gripping your ass with an almost aggravated slap.

When you finally broke apart, breathless and trembling, Sevika chuckled, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “Second time’s the charm, huh, Baby?” You didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. The weight of what you’d done—again—settled heavily in your chest. But as her fingers trailed down your arm, lacing with yours, a part of you wondered if you’d ever be able.

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[alchemistc]

The call comes in just after 2 PM, and Tommy's in the air five minutes later. White male, early thirties, took a tumble off the incline at one of the intermediate hiking points near Griffith Park, the engine can't winch him up without exacerbating his injuries.

It's a quick flight. Nothing remarkable at all, until Hurst has been down on the ground for a few minutes too long and then Tommy's captain is on the radio asking him to hand over the controls to his copilot the moment he lands at Presbyterian.

He's pissed about it the entire length of time it takes for the winch to pull up Hurst and their new passenger - time and a half for a 48 hour stretch isn't anything to scoff at.

And then he hears Hurst rattling off information as the door shuts, and he's desperately trying to remind himself that no amount of outside noise has ever distracted him before.

Evan Buckley, 33, moderate concussion, sprained ankle, three broken fingers, possible broken ribs, pulse is steady but BP is trending high.

Happy fucking Thanksgiving.

---

Tommy's phone rings as they're making the handoff at, and he answers more out of habit than anything else. It's Cap again.

"You can either ride shotgun back and be man behind or I can shift your time and a half somewhere else because you've had a family emergency," Hobbes says, and Tommy would love to have a snappy retort but he's still thinking about the way Buck had come out of it enough to tell Hurst his boyfriend - "ex-boyfriend, sorry" - flies for 217 too. Hobbes clears his throat. "Considering your last family emergency was when I forced you to take a holiday off, I know which one I'd choose."

Tommy blinks. They're almost to the doors.

"I'll see you in a few days, Captain," Tommy murmurs and hauls ass towards the retreating medical team wheeling Buck into the hospital.

---

He'd listened while Hurst and her partner - a loan from 136 he still hasn't actually been introduced to - pumped some pain meds to keep Buck from hurting himself more, but it's still a surprise to see how zonked he looks, pupils wide and eyes glassy as he blinks slow blinks up at the ceiling, the doctors, and Tommy.

Buck tries to tip his head sideways when he catches sight of him, and pulls a face when the C collar impedes the movement. A hand snags out, catches on the seam of Tommy's flight suit, and Tommy can't quite help himself. He reaches out and holds the hand in place.

It's easy to keep pace with the orderly as they leave the elevator, and Tommy knows exactly how many doors he's allowed through before he's got to make his way to the waiting room and figure out where the fuck to go from there.

Buck's face is scraped up good on one side, and the hand not in Tommy's is splinted too much for him to catch the full damage. There's more blood than Tommy can consciously account for in the moment, although most of it looks to be drying. The hand in his squeezes. "S-someone should ca-." He winces. Seems to lose his train of thought. Rolls back around to it right before the final set of doors. "You'll call Tommy?" he asks, a desperation on his face that does something ruinous to Tommy's gut, but the orderly has already slowed down and now she's looking a little like she'll shove Tommy off if he doesn't let go of her patient.

Tommy nods. Squeezes. "I'll call Tommy."

Buck's smile is lopsided and loopy as Tommy lets go of his hand.

"Good," he murmurs, and the doors swing wide and then shut behind him, and Tommy spends a solid five minutes staring at the spot where the red striping in the tile at his feet doesn't quite match up to its neighboring tiles.

---

He's a coward, so he calls Eddie first and puts his foot in it immediately.

"Why was Buck alone on a hike on Thanksgiving?" he asks, before Eddie's even finished his greeting, and he's glad he's stepped outside to make this call. He's not moderating his volume at all.

Eddie pauses. Seems to reboot. "Wait, what?"

Tommy recounts what he knows, which isn't a whole hell of a lot, if he's being honest. "So. When can I expect the cavalry?"

Eddie's silent for a beat too long. "I'm in Texas, Tommy. Is he - is it serious? How bad -?"

"He was conscious. Slightly more than superficial injuries. He'll - recover."

He'll be fine doesn't have the right ring to it, when he's just watched the man wheeled away without even recognizing Tommy.

"He went on a hike? What kind of idiot -?" Eddie asks, and then he's silent for a beat too long. "Tommy, don't take this the wrong way, but if there's even a small part of you telling you to make a break for it, do it now before he has a chance to get his hopes up."

Tommy feels it like the knife it's meant to be. It'd be shutting the door, really - in the short term, he'll remember asking someone to let Tommy know, and he'll assume Tommy didn't show. In the long term he'll remember exactly who he'd spoken to and he'll be pissed enough to make it a clean break.

It hasn't even been a month, and Tommy's out of distractions. No work, no house to clean and reorganize, no engines to tinker with, a phone on half battery.

"I need to call Maddie," he says, and he can hear the echo as Eddie shifts to speaker.

"No need. She's on her way. With like, half the station, apparently." He rattles off what must be a text from the group chat.

Tommy shoves down that familiar ache while Eddie sounds off everyone who is currently in the process of abandoning their holiday dinners to come sit in uncomfortable waiting room chairs and twiddle their thumbs. He should leave. Cut the loose threads, take an Uber home, convince his captain he doesn't need Friday off.

He's silent long enough that Eddie feels the need to check and make sure he's still there. There's an ambulance swinging into the bay thirty feet from where Tommy stands.

"You screwed up," Eddie says, and Tommy grimaces, swallows, ignores the thrum of anxiety pooling in his gut. "Showing up for him now would go a long way towards making a reconciliation viable. If that's something you want."

Tommy doesn't know what the fuck he wants, anymore. He's never allowed himself to have it long enough for it to settle. But he knows how it'd felt to know the first person on Evan's mind in the midst of his pain medication haze was Tommy.

Tommy pulls up the first delivery service app he sees and wonders how big a tip he should give for ordering a dozen coffees an hour before closing time on a national holiday. "You know what everyone's usual coffee order is?"

Eddie adds him to a group chat that's going to drain the rest of his battery before Evan's out of surgery.

>>>Part Two

[sturnioz]

fratboy!chris getting stuck babysitting with shy!reader isn't how he imagined spending his wednesday.

requested. yes authors note. i changed the original request up a bit to match personalities and themes of the au.

cookie batter and flour splatter across your clothes and smudge your cheeks, a mess created by the small child standing beside you on a chair; his tiny hands swiping at the countertop, trying to tidy up the chaos as you both giggle, already anticipating how bee will react when she walks through the door to find the apartment in such a state.

luckily, bee is with nate, so you breathe a sigh of relief knowing she won't be home for a long while.

noah, your cousin, tilts his head, his wide, curious eyes sparkling with excitement as he watches the oven — the warm, sweet aroma of cookies filling the air, and you can see the anticipation building in his expression.

you smile softly, nudging him gently with your shoulder to get his attention. "they'll be done soon, i promise."

his bottom lip sticks out in a cute pout, his voice filled with hope as he asks, "how long?"

"not long," you reassure him, taking the dirty paper towels from his small hands and tossing them into the trash. you help him down from the chair, your hands steadying him as he hops to the ground, giving him a gentle squeeze. "go wash your hands, okay? they're all sticky and messy."

"'kay!" noah replies, his face lighting up with a toothy grin before he scampers off to the bathroom. you take a take deep, letting out out slowly as you rub your forehead, eyeing the mess around the kitchen.

with determination, you roll up you sleeves and quickly get to work, scrubbing away the remnants of flour and batter. you focus on each surface, wiping it down thoroughly until it gleams, almost as if it's been untouched.

stepping back, a satisfied grin spreads across your face as you admire your work, your head turning to the side when you hear noah's sock-covered feet pad back across the wooden floor as he returns.

"are they ready now?" he asks, his excitement bubbling over as he bounces on his toes, nearing towards the oven.

"almost," you reply, your voice calm and reassuring as you gently steer him away from the oven. you then glance own at your clothes, dusted with flour and streaked with sticky batter, and you grimace lightly, "i need to wash up. can you wait a little longer?"

noah nods eagerly and settles at the kitchen table, his wide eyes still sparkling with anticipation as he struggles to look away from the cookies baking. you quickly make your way to the bathroom, turning on the faucet and lathering soap between your palms, washing away the batter between your fingertips.

after rinsing, you splash some water across your face, wiping away the flour residue with a damp cloth, taking a moment to breathe deeply once feeling a little more cleaner.

you leave your bathroom to walk into your room, changing into a fresh shirt and throwing the dirty one into the laundry basket before you make your way back into the kitchen, the familiar chime of the over timer ringing out, a signal that your cookies are done.

you open the over door slowly, letting the warm, chocolatey scent fill the air, the golden-brown cookies making your mouth water a little. you reach for the tray carefully, settling it down on the counter before grabbing a spatula, transferring the cookies onto a clean plate.

"can i have one?" noah pleads as he slides off the kitchen chair, standing on his tiptoes beside you as he tries to get a better look at the warm treats.

"you've got to let them cool down a bit first... they're too hot." you explain calmly.

noah huffs, crossing his arms defiantly as he whines. "but i don't wanna wait!"

"i know.." you reply as you crouch down to meet his gaze. "but i really don't want you to burn yourself."

"i wont!" he insists.

"you will," you tease, a playful smile spreading across your lips as you reach out to gently pinch his cheeks, making him burst into a fit of giggles and swat your hands away. you then continue, "i promise the second they're done, you'll be the first to have a bite, okay?"

"okay..." noah murmurs reluctantly, and you smile, ruffling the hair on top of his head affectionately before standing back up, taking a quick glance at the cookies on the plate just as you hear your apartment door swing open.

you immediately assume it's bee, a little surprised to hear her back so early, but the voice that follows the sound of the door closing proves you wrong.

"kid, stop puttin' me on fuckin' do not disturb before i—" chris rounds the corner, his words trailing off as he halts in the kitchen doorway. his eyebrows knit together as he takes in the scene, staring. "what the fuck is that?"

"cookies," you reply cheerfully with a grin, but you quickly realise that's not what he's focussed on. his eyes are glued to the little bog clinging to your legs, wide-eyed and unsure. "oh! this is—"

"what is it doin' here?"

you're used to his blunt attitude and behaviour, but you frown disapprovingly at his tone around noah. "don't be mean."

"wh... why is there a kid in your kitchen?" chris presses, his gaze fixed on noah, who stares back with wide, innocent eyes. chris bristles at that, his posture tensing like a coiled spring. "he got a starin' problem or somethin'? why is he starin' at me like that?"

"chris!" you exclaim, instinctively reaching down to lay your hand across the top of noah's head, offering him reassurance. "this is noah, he's my cousin. i'm babysitting him for the day." then, you tilt your head to the side, genuinely curious. "how come you're here?"

"think its uh.. inappropriate to tell you why i'm here in front of a kid, dumbass. use your head," chris scoffs, his tone sharp, and you feel a flush of embarrassment creeping up your neck as you realise what he means. "how uh, how long is he stayin' for?"

"a few hours."

the look on his face is enough to tell you he's frustrated — his jaw muscles clench, a slight glare forming in his eyes, and his brows furrow deeply. it's clear he's not happy about being held back, but it's not like you can just drop everything for him... not right now, anyway.

"do you want a cookie?" a quiet voice speaks up beside you, and you look down in surprise at noah, who's still glued to your leg, his voice timid yet hopeful.

chris' gaze flicks down to the little boy, his tongue prodding against his cheek as mulls over his question before murmuring, "i don't like cookies."

"everyone likes cookies," noah interjects.

"yeah, well i'm picky, kid," chris snaps back, and you can't help but feel a tug at the corners of your mouth. it's almost amusing how chris seems to be having a serious debate with a child. "a'ight? the only cookies i like are my—"

"can we eat them now?" noah cuts off chris, and you can see the baffled expression fall over chris' face at the audacity, a scoff leaving his lips as he shakes his head in disbelief.

you genuinely smile this time and nod your head, grabbing one of the cookies from the plate and handing it over to noah who takes it eagerly, his eyes lighting up as he stares at the treat in his small hands.

you watch as noah guides the cookie to his mouth, but then he stops halfway, puffing out his cheek sin thought. you can see the wheels turning in his mind, and before you can question him, he suddenly breaks the cookie in half, the texture soft and gooey, chocolate chips oozing slightly from the centre.

your eyebrows raise in surprise when noah totters over to chris, his little hand outstretched, shyly holding out the other half of his cookie. "here.. you can have this."

chris blinks down at the offered piece incredulously, clearly taken aback and not knowing how to respond. the tension in the room shifts a little, and chris shakes his head.

"no."

"take it," noah insists with a whine, his brows furrowing in determination. "it's really good."

you watch as chris shifts his weight, an unusual flustered look crossing his face that leaves you feeling taken aback. you've hardly seen him like this before—awkward and at a loss for words.

in some sort of weird way... you like it.

chris lets out a quiet huff, his gaze fixed on the little boy who's staring up at him with wide, hopeful eyes. after a brief moment of hesitation, he reluctantly reaches out to take the offered half, his nose twitching as his fingers brush against the warm chocolate that melts slightly onto his skin.

he takes a cautious bite, and for a fleeting second, you catch a glimpse of something on his features, caught off guard.

"not... not that bad," he admits begrudgingly, chewing slowly while glaring down at noah, who is practically glowing. "this doesn't mean—"

"told you!" noah cuts him off excitedly, beaming from ear to ear as he shoves his part of the cookie into his mouth. you feel a rush of panic, worried he might choke, but he manages to chew without issue, his little face filled with joy and chocolate smeared across his cheeks.

chris clicks his tongue against his teeth, his irritation clear. "don't you have any manners, kid? gotta stop cuttin' me off 'cos i'm gonna—"

"come with me!" noah interrupts again, his small hand wrapping around chris' finger as he tugs him away from the kitchen. chris looks utterly baffled, annoyance flickering in his expression as he's led into the living-room.

you can't help but watch with interest, your curiosity piqued as you follow them with your gaze. chris plops down on the couch with a huff, his posture tense as he tries to settle into the unexpected situation.

he tongues at his cheek, glancing around as if searching for an escape while noah, who is still excited, climbs up beside him, dragging his baby blue backpack onto the couch.

chris doesn't look interested at all, in fact, he looks bored, annoyed, frustrated — his jaw grinding subtly as noah babbles on about the toys and gadgets he has brought over.

you plate up another cookie and grab a juice box before making your way towards the pair, setting it down in front of noah who reaches for it eagerly, his little hands grasping at the cookie while he continues to talk, his mouth full.

"don't—don't talk with your mouth full, kid. where's your manners, huh?" chris scolds him, and you think he's such a hypocrite; you're pretty sure chris has done the exact same thing at least once or twice. but your eyebrows raise in surprise as chris grumbles and reaches out, swiping his thumb across a chocolate stain on noah's chubby cheeks. "you're a mess. y'hear me? mess."

noah grins sheepishly, wiping his cheek with the back of his hand before continuing to show chris his toys, but chris doesn't seem to be fully present. his attention drifts to a keychain that hangs off the zipper of noah's backpack—a lacrosse stick.

"you play lacrosse, kid?" he asks quietly, his fingers reaching out to touch the keychain, twirling it between his fingers slowly.

"m'learning," noah replies, chewing on his cookie nonchalantly.

"do you uh... you... you like it?" chris asks again, but there's some hesitation in his voice.

you notice a strange look on his face, as if the topic stirs up something. it's clear he's struggling, grappling thoughts. you tilt your head to the side, watching his reaction closely.

noah nods in response to chris' question, and chris hums, "good... that's good." he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

"do you like it?" noah asks back politely, and you smile softly at his kindness.

"i—yea—w..." chris stammers, clearly choking on his words, struggling to speak. his takes his hat off, running a hand through his tousled hair before putting it back on, fixing the brim to shield his eyes. "s'fine."

"my dad teaches me how to play!" noah continues, oblivious to the tension.

"yeah?" chris murmurs, his voice voices lacks the enthusiasm it should carry. "mine uh.. mine too. was my coach in high school."

noah, still excited, doesn't pick up on chris' discomfort. but you do. you notice it immediately — the subtle shift in chris' posture, and the tightening of his jaw.

you want to ask him about it, to somehow coax him into a conversation that might reveal what's bothering him. but deep down, you know he'll shut you down before the question even finishes being asked, so you remain quiet, simply observing as chris' expression hardens slightly.

his gaze flits over to you during the middle of noah's enthusiastic babbling, his eyebrows furrowing at the way you're staring at him. you blink, quickly looking away, trying to fake interest in the tv.

but the tension in the room is obvious, you can feel it hanging in the air — thick and uncomfortable.

when you slowly look back at him, you find that he's still watching you, and your face grows a little hot at being caught.

"fix that starin' problem, kid," chris finally says to you, his voice carrying irritation. but the usual teasing tone he uses isn't fully there; you can sense the strain beneath his words.

he forces a smirk that doesn't quite reach his eyes, a façade you've never seen before. it's not real, it's so clearly fake that it makes you feel a pang of empathy for him. but you swallow it down, knowing that pushing him would probably make everything a lot worse.

instead, you direct your attention back to noah, who is still animatedly babbling, trying to forget that nagging voice in the back of your head.

divider credits. @issysh3ll

© STURNIOZ

[bandgie]

Stuffing to Give

warnings! MDNI18+, fem!reader, AGE GAP, reader has an asshole family, hickeys (brief mention), cumming inside, Yunho bites once, clothe tearing, no protection, size kink if you squint, Yunho says 'young pussy', stomach bulge mention

3.5k words

notes! sorry I've been gone, life or whatever. buuutttt happy holidays! this fic took me too long but for being in a drought, I'm proud of it. hope you enjoy :) (divider from @/anitalenia) tag! @desirehorizon

“You know, you should be looking for a husband. Not worrying about your classes or anything like that. No man likes a woman too smart for her own good.”

It was your mom who opened the can of worms during Thanksgiving. The air was already uncomfortable being that distant family who were more like strangers sat at the dinner table, but mentioning that you’ve been single for so long, at such an ‘old age’, made everything a thousand times worse. 

You’re not even old. Some would argue being in your mid-20s was still very young. 

But no matter how much you’ve tried to defend yourself. No matter how many times you said you just wanted to focus on furthering your education, your aunts and uncles pressed one and one thing only. 

Your uncle lifted his fork to his greasy lips, the white meat of the turkey forcing itself into his already stuffed mouth. “Y’know, your youth will only last you for so long. You’ll end up an old cat lady and regret not settling down.”

Regret. You hate that word, as if these people know anything about you, let alone have a right to say how you should live. The food you're trying to swallow feels too big for your throat. There’s a burning in your chest. A feeling you’ve tried desperately to suppress since the holidays started. 

Anger. Hate. Hurt. Disgust. Fear.

You don’t want to be here anymore. 

Dramatically, you throw your fork on the table. The silverware clatters harshly against your plate and bounces until it lands on the other side of the table. The chatter stops immediately, all eyes on you as you stand so quickly the chair topples to the ground.

A pin could drop and it would echo in the quiet room. 

“You know what? Fuck this. Fuck you. I don’t know why you’re so obsessed with me getting knocked up. It’s fucking weird. Get off my dick.”

Aunts gasp. Some Uncles laugh. But your mom, her eyes are so wide and shocked as if she wasn’t the one who started this whole issue and didn’t do anything to defend you. 

Her own daughter. 

“And you.” You look at her, but it’s hard when your vision blurs. “When I do find a husband, and when I do have kids, don’t expect to hear from me.”

Voices call your name as you turn away. Someone tries to hold you back by the forearm, but you tear from their grasp. Your only goal is to get the fuck out of there, heading for the front door and slamming it on your way out.

It’s cold. A gentle breeze blows your hair as you turn to the side of the house. The crunch of leaves sounds on the ground therapeutically. You can’t help but look at the pretty orange and brown beneath your feet. It’s the only thing keeping your frustrating tears from falling. 

But you don’t see that there’s already someone at the side of the house with your gaze on the ground. You forget how close the houses are in this neighborhood.

“Bad day I take it?”

You lift your head, surprised to see someone already at your spot. The sun is setting despite the early hours. The only thing illuminating his face are the porch lights. His cheekbones are high. His brown hair is decorated with a few gray strands, framing his handsomeness perfectly. His lips curve into a smile, but more friendly than humorous. 

Shit, you’re staring. “Oh you know, just family butting in when they shouldn’t.”

He grins at that. “Ah, good ol’ holiday joy. I can’t stand them either. Pretending they know me when they don't.”

Relief settles on your shoulders. At least you aren’t alone. “I know right? They change my diaper once and suddenly think they know what’s good for me.”

The man laughs. His smile lines deepen at his lips and his eyes close for a brief moment. You smile at him.

“I know the feeling all too well.” He studies you when he opens his eyes again, gaze dropping to your nylon-covered legs and the cut of your dress. He travels up to your face smoothly. “What was your name?”

It takes a second for the effect of his gaze to fade, but you manage to tell him. “I’m studying Chemistry right now. On my way to getting a Masters.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Oh wow! That’s really impressive! You look too young to have all that under your belt already.”

His compliments make you burn. “Oh, thank you. I just study hard.” You tuck a strand of hair that blows annoyingly in your face. “And you are...?”

“Yunho.”

You furrow your eyebrows together. “You know? No, I don’t think I do.”

He looks just as confused, but then realization settles on his face and he laughs again. This time, he clutches his stomach and bends over, getting close to your bubble. Not that you mind, you like the smell of his light, earthy cologne.

“No- not ‘you know.’ Yunho. Y-U-N-H-O.”

That smile is still on his face when it clicks in your mind. You feel your face burn from embarrassment, covering your mouth with cold fingers. “Oh my god. I’m such an idiot. Yunho. Okay, I get it.”

You’re still burning when he chuckles again, deep and velvety. “No worries. I think that’s the first time that’s happened to me.”

The two of you laugh once more before you settle into silence. The quiet doesn’t last long when he asks, “So why are you out here? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Maybe it’s the warm, pleasant feeling in your stomach from talking to Yunho, but you don’t have an ounce of hesitation in telling him. “My family has always bugged me about starting a family. The moment I graduated high school, it’s like the only thing I’m good for now is popping out babies.”

Yunho scoffs. His jaw clenches attractively and you hate how your legs press together upon the sight. 

“I know completely where you’re coming from. Trust me, that nagging never goes away. I’m already well above my prime and my brothers still bother me about finding a wife. With all this gray hair? I don’t think the ladies would want an old man like me.”

A demon must possess you because you speak before you can even think. “What? Yunho, I know we just met, but you’re like…very attractive. Finding a wife won’t be hard for you, even if you think you’re old.”

The lift of his eyebrow says it all. He’s shocked, at the very least. He stands straighter, towering over you. You hadn’t realized he was leaning against the wall to appear smaller, but his height stuns you.

He cocks his head to the side. “You think so?”

It takes a moment to gather your thoughts. His defined chest shows through his black turtleneck, nipples pebbling in the cold. His lithe arms wrap over his chest, adding to the clothed cleavage. If his upper body looks this good underneath clothes, you can’t even imagine anything less.

“I…” Fuck it. “Yeah. I do. You’re tall, handsome, fit, and some chicks dig older guys.” 

He scoffs a little, but it’s more from embarrassment than pride. His full cheeks blush further and you know it’s not from the cold. If you manage to play your cards right, you can ditch your family dinner for a different type of feast.

Yunho’s smile turns darker, more sinister as he looks down at you through his bangs. “Oh yeah? What type of chicks?”

“If you want to get specific, maybe the one standing in front of you.”

His grin deepens. Bingo.

-

His car is nice. Like, really nice. The seats are leather and he's got interior lights that shine when he opens the passenger car door for you. 

What a gentleman. 

But it’s his flat that impresses you the most. The ones you see are usually in the movies, either too small for any average person to live in or big enough for a whole town. Yunho has the latter.

You want to compliment him. Or more so, ask what type of job he has to afford all this space, but the large hands on your back push you to the bedroom and remind you why you’re here in the first place.

He doesn’t bother closing the door when you two make it to his room. Yunho cranes his neck down, lips ghosting over your own before he finds your neck instead. You lean to one side, hands going up his back trailing to his hair that you intertwine with your fingers. His mouth is so warm on your cold skin. It has you shaking for a brief moment before you get used to his heat.

Yunho starts with pecks. His lips feel plush and delicate, causing your flesh to rise with goosebumps. He moves to the center of your neck and kisses there too, but just when your eyes are starting to flutter shut and your mouth opens to sigh, he bites. 

You gasp instead. “Ah! Yunho!”

He doesn’t pull away from your throat, but you can feel his body jolt with giggles. He presses his kisses harder where his teeth marked you, a tiny apology you grow wet from. The two of you are still standing mere inches from the bed, but you don’t want to part from him. Yunho’s leg fits perfectly snug between your thighs and though you aren’t grinding, your cunt likes the warmth it provides. 

But you can feel it throbbing. The aching for any tiny movement, but you force yourself still save for how you keep pressing yourself against him.

Yunho makes you feel so small. His hands feel as if they could hold you easily, and they seem to do that with your lower back. Long fingers dig into your skin, and it doesn’t take long for his hands to travel further down until he finds the fat of your ass.

He takes a moment to stop giving you hickeys and groans into your shoulder. “So fucking soft. Your ass looks so good in this dress.” He swipes his tongue from your collarbone to the place below your ears. Your nipples harden almost immediately, the wetness makes you cold for a moment.

“You should see how it looks without it on.”

Challenge sparks in his eyes when he raises his head to look at you. All it takes is a reassuring nod from you before he pulls away almost completely, save for the hands squeezing your ass.

“On the bed then. Let me see.”

You smile and pry his hands off you, lifting your dress above your hips, but not off your body completely. You turn around for Yunho to face your back, hands finding the bed so you crawl on the bed for him to see. Your knees are on the edge, but finding balance is easy when you arch, wiggling your ass in the air.

The nylons are still on, but the see-through fabric adds a layer of sexiness. Yunho’s fingers graze your ass, stuck on squeezing and spreading your cheeks. It makes your pussy lips move with it, opening and closing against your clit softly. 

It’s such a tiny movement to your pussy, but with how you’ve been ignoring its leaking, it feels like so much more. You moan in the sheets, gently rocking yourself back and forth to try and get Yunho to spread your ass more.

“Jesus Christ.” He puts his thumb on your pussy, guiding it against your slit until he finds the bundle of nerves underneath your nylons and underwear. “I can feel how wet you are. You need it real bad, huh?”

His fingers are muted from the layers of clothes, but that doesn’t stop you from whining. You press back until his thumb is hard against you, swiveling your hips for friction. 

“Yesyesyes. So bad. I want your cock.”

His one thumb turns into multiple fingers. You sing with pleasure, showing no shame as you ride his hand until you feel the subtle, but familiar feeling coil in your stomach. Your styled hair is now a mess as it covers your eyes from how hard you’re rocking. Though you can’t see, you can feel the arousal leaking down your thighs and gather at your nylons.

Your orgasm comes quickly. It gets easy to grind on his fingers when your body is desperately chasing the high. “Cumming! Fuckfuckfuck, I'm cumming.”

You lift yourself on your forearms, halting all your movements to let the blinding pleasure wash over you, hot and delicious. Moans tumble past your lips. The tiniest bit of drool seeps from your mouth as you shake. You rock again, this time, to milk out your orgasm to completion. 

But Yunho pulls away.

A desperate cry leaves you. “W-wait. M-more. I want m-”

Familiar hands push you back into the sheets. Yunho holds you by the back of the neck, forcing you to keep your trembling ass in the air. 

Your heart races. More gasps and heavy breaths filter through your chest, but it’s an excitement that bubbles in your stomach. So much adrenaline runs through your body that half of the shaking is from your nerves. 

You just know he’s going to fuck you good.

“You came on my hand and you’re already asking for more?” Yunho tuts. “So impatient, but don’t worry, you’ll get it. Girls like you love cumming their brains out, huh?”

There’s no denying that. You nod in the sheets and whimper a pathetic yes, but Yunho approves nonetheless.

“Yeah, that’s why you’ll take any cock you can get, right? Even if it’s a stranger…” His free hand smoothes over your ass, but once he finds a good grasp on your nylons, he yanks. Your entire body pulls back from the force. You have to grab onto the mattress to not slip off the bed. 

“Even if it’s a man who’s almost twice your age…”

Another harsh yank and you hear fabric tear. Yunho pulls and pulls until your ass and cunt are free from the material. It’s only your underwear in the way, but you doubt that’ll be a problem.

Yunho leans down until he’s at your ear. Your body breaks into chills. He feels everywhere. He is everywhere from how big he is. You know you’re safe, but the thought of being at his mercy heightens your pleasure.

“Don’t worry, sweetie. I’ll buy you a new one.” He sweetly pecks your head and pulls away.

You’d laugh from the drastic switch-up, but you moan instead when you feel his fingers at your cunt. He plays with your folds through your panties, poking where your entrance is and smearing the arousal staining the underwear. 

You’ve never been this wet before. It usually takes some lube or way more foreplay, but Yunho turns you on in ways you didn’t believe were possible. His deft fingers and how his brown eyes can be warm but threatening. Everything about him is captivating and you can only hope he thinks the same about you.

With a finger hooking to the side of your panties, he tugs until your bare cunt is finally freed. You clit peeks from your hood, throbbing between your lips desperately. 

For the first time since you’ve met him, you feel nervous. Yunho stares at your pussy longer than you’re used to, making you try and press your thighs together to hide it. 

“Nuh-uh.” He jiggles your ass. “Don’t do that. I wanna see your pussy.”

You whine but obey. You put yourself face-first into the bed, ignoring how your cheeks turn red. 

Soon, the bed shifts weight and you hear the sound of a zipper. You pick up your head to look back, but Yunho forces you to face the bed. 

You pout. “I wanna seeeee.”

“You just want everything, don’t you?” Yunho sounds condescending, but he rewards you with the head of his cock. Your lower lips wrap around his tip when he grinds against your pussy, making sure to keep your underwear out of the way. “You want to cum, you want my dick, you wanna see it…And the worst part is, you’ve got such a pretty pussy that you’ll get everything you want.”

Yunho pulls back just enough to line himself up. You still haven’t gotten over how his tip felt brushing against you. He’s slicked himself up nice and wet to press, intruding on your entrance. 

You squeal. His shape opens you so easily that his size doesn’t sting at all, but makes your brain fuzzy. Though Yunho won’t let you see, you know he’s big. You turn dumb too quickly, chest burning from the oxygen he fucks out of you when he buries himself to the hilt. 

‘Oh my-...fffuucckkkk.”

Yunho groans at your moaning. He opts to hook his thumb in your panties and splay the rest of his fingers on your ass. Messily, he gathers your hair to create a makeshift ponytail with his other hand, forcing your chest up. 

Out... In... Out... In…

The pace is slow, but that doesn't mean it’s dull. Yunho pulls out until his tip is barely inside before pressing back in. When his pelvis is flush against your ass, it has you kicking your feet up and down on the bed from the overwhelming sensation. 

He feels like he’s in your ass. In your throat. You can’t escape how deep Yunho drills into you when he keeps you still by the hair, forcing you to take every unbearable inch.

You love every second of it. 

“Nghhh. Yunnhooo. Fuck meee. Fuck me pleeasseee.”

The sound of your cunt squelching echoes in the room. Yunho grunts at your command, pulling you up a few inches. 

“Yeah, you want it? You want it? Then fucking take it.”

It’s like a switch. That cautious pace turns animalistic, rough, and quick until your breasts manage to slip from the top of your dress and bounce freely. 

Your breath gets caught in your throat. There’s no sound until a harsh thrust forces the moan out. Once you start, you can stop. All you can manage are gasps and whines from Yunho’s drive. 

Every vein, every curve doesn’t go unnoticed between your walls. The repeated pistons force you to know his shape. You know he’s carving a place for him. So deep and good that you don’t think you could ever go back to hookups at your university again. 

But it’s Yunho’s tip that does it for you. There’s no you could ever unknow how it kisses your cervix or how the shape digs into you. You can't stop clenching down on it, sucking it back in over and over despite the pleasure overload you’re enduring. 

Your pussy’s in loooove.

The haziness of your mind clears a bit when Yunho pulls you up more. Your fingers barely graze the mattress, but the pain in your scalp feels dull when you look into his eyes.

They’re dark, hungry, and possessive. There’s nothing but carnal desire when you dreamily look up at them, eyes losing focus rather quickly. 

“You’re gonna cum. I fucking know you are. You cunt’s so fucking loud, it’s begging for it again.”

You swoon. Yunho knows he can make you feel good, he can feel it. Something like affection burns in your chest and you look at his pink lips. 

He grins. “You want a kiss?”

You nod, but it must look silly since your entire body is jolting. 

Yunho looks borderline psychotic when he breaks out into a smile. “Fuck. I love how young and stupid your pussy is. I’m gonna cum all over it. You’d like that, huh?”

“Loooveee iiiit.”

Yunho quickens his pace. You swear if you look down, you could see his cock poking through your stomach from the angle. Instead, you’re held to look into his eyes, vision blurring as your second orgasm approaches. It’s so much more intense than your first. Now you have something to clench on. Something to cream on when you inevitably burst. 

And with your crossed eyes looking into his, you do. You feel a burst of warmth from your stomach speedily reach your pussy. It makes you feel hot, the even hotter arousal pooling down your thighs and onto Yunho’s cock.

He moans above you. His hips grow sloppy, hitting different parts of your cunt that have you squealing. Yunho doesn’t break eye contact when he stills in you, dick throbbing as his cum shoots inside. 

The two of you stay moaning into each other's mouths, lips a mere inch away until he finally gives you what you want. The kiss is sloppy, full of breaths and moans as you messily shove tongues inside.

He swipes the inside of your cheek. He twists his tongue with yours until salvia trickles down your chin. You suck on his muscle and he does the same, pulling away with a wet smack that leaves you buzzing.

Yunho stares at you for a beat, eyes blinking as he comes to a sudden realization. “I think I'll keep you.” 

You don’t have the energy to respond, but you're thinking the same thing.

[lowkeyerror]

Reunited

Agatha Harkness x Reader

Word count: 1.4k

Notes: Angry mob, mega fluff, soft!Agatha (potentially ooc)

Summary: Though you have lost your powers, you still find yourself subject to the hardships of being a witch, as an angry mob chases you out of town. As you run, you remember that Agatha lives in the area, hopefully she's home.

An: Very soft, kind of short, self indulgent fluff. As always likes, reblogs, replies, and asks always are always welcomed 🫶 (not proofread)

Masterlist

You could feel your heart beating in sync with your feet touching the ground. Your breaths were being forced out of your mouth, as the cold night air glided across your skin. Your arms, pumping faster than they ever had before as you ran.

The sound of the mob behind you never dulled, no matter how fast you thought you were going.

You knew better than to turn around and check, it would only make you split your focus. The destination you had in mind was quickly approaching, but part of you was hesitant.

There was a chance the witch no longer resided in that area. It had been years since you had seen her, but she was your only hope. The ruins she had in place would keep the angry mob from getting to you.

You were a witch without power and the townsfolk knew that. You were no threat to them like this, they were just naturally violent creatures.

There had been an incident at the market, where they thought they saw you doing magic. You denied, but the bigger the crowd got, the worse your nerves got. You took off and they followed behind you; torches and pitchforks in hand.

You smack into something while running. At first you believe it to be a tree, but you see nothing ahead. It looks like more forest, but you are physically unable to go through the barrier.

She was still here.

“Agatha, Agatha, please it’s me, Y/n. I don’t have my magic, this mob is chasing me, please,” you whisper, against the field.

You hear their footsteps getting close and you go into full panic, abandoning your quiet tactic.

“AGATHA PLEASE!” You begin banging the invisible force, the sound echoes through the woods.

At your cry, you can hear them pick up speed and charge towards your direction.

“WITCH!”

You turn around your back leans against the field as your chest heaves in distress. You’re helpless as the crowd begins to pour into your space. Fear has never felt so strong in your body.

They begin to corner you, pitchforks and torches point at you from all angles. Before any physical harm can be done, you feel yourself being yanked backwards into the protected area.

The adrenaline wears off when you feel a strong arm wrapped around your torso. Your legs give out, but the person continues to hold you up.

“You ok, doll?”

Her voice feels like a sanctuary in the moment. The simple question overwhelms you quickly and you begin to break down. Tears stream down your face and you begin to sob.

Agatha turns you around to face her. She uses her free hand to smooth some of the hair on top of your head.

“You’re safe now.”

You lean against her clutching her shirt. She lets you for a little, before making the executive decision to carry you inside.

She goes to lay you on the couch, but you refuse to let go of her.

“Let me take care of the mob, and I’ll be right back, ok? It won’t take long.”

She looks at you for approval. Maybe if this was years ago, you would’ve told her no or tried to stop her, but you didn’t have it in you anymore. Your large eyes were bloodshot from the crying and your legs were sore from the running.

You comply as she sits you on the couch this time, “Ok.”

Agatha was surprised at your lack of argument. She didn't dwell on it long before heading out of the home.

It was true, whatever she did was quick, no longer than 5 minutes. You had curled far into yourself by the time she came back. Your feet dug into her couch as your knees were pulled to your chest, with your arms locked around you.

“Y/n,” your name was soft on her lips.

You look at her, tears still in your eyes, “I’m sorry, I didn't know where else to go. If you got rid of them, I can leave.”

Agatha sits next to you, “Go where hun? Back to the village, to the cold of the forest? You can stay with me for a long as you want.”

“I can’t, I don't have anything to offer you,” you try to curl further into yourself, which seems nearly impossible.

Agatha grabs your hand, “I'm not asking for anything in return.”

“B-But-"

“Doll, I want you to stay,” Agatha lets out a sigh.

You meet her blue eyes, “Why?”

“I missed your company,” she speaks truthfully.

You blush at her honesty, diverting your gaze, “I missed you too.”

You subconsciously scoot a little closer to the woman. She takes the initiative, pulling you fully into her. The movement startles you at first, but her warm embrace calms you.

Your legs are on either side of hers, while your head rests in the crook of her neck.

“What happened to your magic?”

You deflate at the question, wishing that you could hide from it. Agatha uses her free hand to gently cup your face, coaxing it out of her neck. Her thumb moves gingerly across your cheek a few times.

You focus on that feeling when you speak, “Sometime after our last encounter, I went looking for a coven. Thought I’d have a better chance of surviving in a group. I found one, thought they were kind enough, I thought so at least. One day we camped out somewhere, when I woke up, they were gone and so was my magic. I’m lucky I'm not dead.”

“I’ll find them, take care of them for you doll.” Agatha’s words were calm, but you could see the fire behind her eyes.

You place your hand over hers, “It doesn’t matter anymore Ags.”

“We should've never parted ways,” Agatha’s eyes pierce through yours.

You cast your gaze down, “I was only ever slowing you down.”

She shakes her head, “Sometimes I needed it. I was reckless, but I would never admit it until you’d say it.”

You could feel her eyes drop down to your lips. Her loose grip on you, tightening slightly.

“Agatha,” your voice a quiet breathless warning.

Her eyes go back to yours, “Hmmm.”

“Are you sure?” Your voice portrays your insecurities.

She pulls back some, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You try to look away, but her finger hooks under your chin, “I’m not useful anymore, I’m just some powerless girl.”

She searches for something across your face, “You’re so much more than your magic. You’ve always been more than your magic.”

“And you still-”

“I’ve always wanted you Y/n, nothing is going to change that,” her voice is unwavering as she speaks.

You blush at the conviction in her tone. You nod subtly and cautiously lean forward. Your eyes drop to her lips. Agatha is certain when she eagerly leans in to meet you.

Her lips are softer than you remember or maybe she's just being delicate with you. Her touch, her movements, everything feels like she is breathing life into you.

It's partially because she is. Her fingertips were slightly pressed against yours and she was passing small doses of her magic into yours.

She was the one to pull away first, longing to look into your eyes. When you open them, your amber irsises greet her. The twinkle in your eyes pull a smile at the end of her lips.

“Did you just? Agatha I can’t, take it back. This is …”

“My way of apologizing. We should've stayed together. It’s my fault you lost your magic, so it only makes sense I put it back.”

“You’re always so different with me,” this time it’s her that blushes under your stare.

“What can I say doll, you bring it out of me.”

You toy with the collar of her shirt. A nervous habit you have always indulged in.

“What is it, Y/n?”

Though you feel shy, your eyes flicker to her's, “I have never loved anyone the way I love you.”

Her eyes soften more than they ever had before, “I love you too.”

This time you take the initiative to peck her lips. She chases your lips as you pull away. You continue giving her small pecks until you are in a fit of laughter.

Agatha smiles as she listens to your laughter, but she continues to kiss other parts of your face, eventually trailing down to your neck. The vibration of your laughter in your throat tickles against her lips.

Now it’s her head that rests in your neck. Your hands tangle into her hair, playing with the ends.

“The terrifyingly sinister witch killer is just a big ol' softy.”

She shakes her and places one more kiss on your shoulder.

“Only for you.”

[mochiwonz]

― THANK YOU STRANGER s.jaeyun

PAIRING. fem!reader x nonidol bf!jake(sim jaeyun) CONTENT. angst with happy ending , post-breakup , reader is in her self love + healing era WORD COUNT. 1,063 NOTE. this is part 2 of you're just a stranger :3 pls remember that this is all just fiction !! i hope you enjoy ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ )

Of course. Of course you missed him, Jake. You didn't want to admit it, but you missed him presence. You missed the man who you once loved with all of your heart and soul. The day after he left you in shambles, you just didn't know what to do with yourself.

You still felt completely numb.

It had been 5 days since your guy's breakup, and anyone could tell that you were a fucking mess. You hadn't showered or even gotten out of your room for the past 5 days. Your close friend, sunoo, was the person checking up on you and bringing you food to eat.

And to put it simply, you felt and probably looked like dog shit.

Jake, he was the first guy you ever had any feelings for- of course the breakup affected you. But you were very sure that it wasn't affecting him!

Your brain was about to put more useless thoughts of Jake in your head, but you didn't let it.

Truly, you wanted absolutely nothing to do with him anymore.

The y/n 5 days ago would've texted and asked him "oh how are you?" or "i miss you" but the y/n right now has his number blocked. Growth is real, people.

At first, you felt like it was kind-of your fault. Maybe if you cared less he would've still loved you. Maybe if you didn't make him dinner every night and "treat him like a baby" he would still be your boyfriend. But wait-

It wasn't your fault.

It wasn't your fault that your efforts weren't acknowledged. It wasn't your fault that he suddenly stopped loving you. It wasn't your fault that he wasn't communicating his true feelings and thoughts to you.

Fuck, you had to stop this cycle.

Slowly, you sit up from your comfortable laying position and place your feet on the ground. You shiver at the cold feeling of the wooden floor. You feel a little more awake now.

After getting up, you make your way to the bathroom and holy shit, you look like you just got beat up. Well, technically, Jake just beat the shit out of your emotions so...

You brush your teeth and hop in the shower, making sure the water is warm. You wanted to feel warmth, some sort of comfort. You hadn't felt any sort of warmth or comfort in five whole days.

As soon as you feel the first drop of warm water on your skin, your whole body relaxes. Wow, thank god for showers. Like, actually. After 5 minutes of just standing and drowning yourself in the warm water, you freshen up and get out.

You already feel so much better. I mean, you just washed off all the icky germs, right?

You quickly dry your hair and do your skincare and then head to your closet to pick out an outfit. While in the shower, you decided that you wanted to go to the local cafe to get a drink and of course, some fresh air.

After what felt like almost an hour of searching for the best outfit, you ended up choosing a pair of flared jeans, a brown leather jacket, and an off-white cropped top. To accessorize, you put on some chunky earrings and a few rings.

You can't help but smile, you feel so much more alive. Maybe you really didn't need Jake in your life anymore.

Quickly, you grab your purse and keys and walk out of your apartment.

Once you stepped outside, you immediately felt the warm sunlight on your skin. The sun wasn't too bright, and the weather was cool with a slight breeze. You forgot how much you loved being outside, especially during autumn.

While on the way to the cafe, you spot two birds on a traffic light. Past y/n would've definitely went back home and sobbed for two hours straight. But for some reason, you didn't feel like crying. You didn't feel sad. You found the birds cute and just moved on.

After a 15 minute walk to the cafe, you order your vanilla latte and quickly find a seat. You can't lie, that walk was kind-of tiring.

While waiting for your order number to be called, you pull out your phone and headphones that you brought with you in your purse. You unlock your phone and immediately go to spotify and connect your headphones. You quickly put your headphones on and click "play" on your favorite playlist.

Music. Music was so healing for you. Music always made you feel better. Music was the bestfriend you never had.

"Order for number 88!" the worker exclaims.

You get up from your seat and walk over to the counter to get your latte. You turn to head back to your seat and oh.

Jake's here...?

You noticed he dyed his hair back to a dark brown, a color you used to love on him. But, you didn't feel any love for him anymore. All of that love was slowly becoming self love, and you really didn't mind.

Unfortunately, you lock eyes with him for a split second. And he looks...sad? You're confused, but you shrug it off. You just hope he feels better.

You walk to your seat and stay at the cafe for about 10 minutes before heading back home. It felt good to treat yourself. Actually no, not just good- it felt great.

You deserved to show yourself love. What you didn't deserve was being a complete mess over a guy treating you like shit.

*ping!*

Huh?

You quickly grab your phone from your jacket pocket and unlock it.

Wait, what?

Unknown : y/n i'm sorry. please unblock me. i'm sorry y/n please.

Oh, it's Jake.

You don't know what to do, but you end up responding.

not gonna unblock u jake

You smile at your response. You didn't feel the need for Jake in your life anymore. It's like a breath of fresh air.

You turn off your phone and shove it back into your pocket. Instead of thinking more about Jake, you think about what you want to do when you get back to your apartment. Maybe online shop and do a self-care night, or invite your friend sunoo over for a sleepover. It had been forever since your last sleepover with sunoo!

Honestly, you're thankful.

Thankful to Jake for showing you that you didn't need him in your life. Thankful to Jake for showing you that you needed to be showing yourself some more love.

You take out your phone and text him for the very last time.

thank you stranger :)

i hope you enjoyed this pt 2 !! pls reblog if u did :D

[sparkle-b00mb0y]

The Accident/ Katsuki bakugo accidentally hits you and you come home to him crying 😢

The argument had spiraled out of control. You and Bakugo had been yelling for what felt like hours, the tension in the room thick and suffocating. He was pacing back and forth, his frustration written all over his face, his hands gesturing wildly as he spoke.

“Why can’t you just let this go?!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the room.

“Because you’re not even trying to understand where I’m coming from!” you shot back, standing your ground.

“I am trying, damn it! But all you ever do is—” His hand flew out in an exasperated motion, and before either of you realized what was happening, his palm brushed against your cheek—not hard, but enough to make your head turn slightly.

The room went silent.

Your eyes widened as the shock of what had just happened sank in. It wasn’t intentional, but it didn’t matter. The sting on your skin wasn’t what hurt the most—it was the look of anger still etched on his face, quickly replaced by horror when he realized what he’d done.

“Shit,” he breathed, his hands dropping to his sides. “I didn’t mean—”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you stepped back instinctively, your heart aching in a way you hadn’t expected. “You… you hit me,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“I didn’t—It wasn’t on purpose!” Bakugo stammered, his voice panicked now. “I was just—”

But you didn’t wait to hear the rest. The pain in your chest was too much, and the tears spilling down your face made it hard to see clearly. You turned and grabbed your coat, rushing out of the apartment without another word.

Hours passed as you wandered aimlessly, trying to make sense of everything. You knew Bakugo hadn’t meant to hit you, but it didn’t erase the hurt or the shock of it. The memory replayed in your mind over and over, making the ache in your chest worse.

Finally, when the cold night air began to bite at your skin, you made your way back to his apartment. Part of you wasn’t sure what you’d find when you opened the door, but nothing could have prepared you for the sight that greeted you.

Bakugo was sitting on the floor, his head in his hands. His broad shoulders were shaking, and muffled, broken sobs filled the quiet room.

“Katsuki…” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

His head snapped up, his red, tear-streaked eyes locking onto yours. For a moment, neither of you moved, and then he scrambled to his feet, stumbling toward you.

“You’re back,” he choked out, his voice hoarse. “I—I thought you weren’t going to come back.”

The sight of him—so raw and vulnerable—made your chest tighten. “I just needed some time,” you admitted, your voice wavering. “I didn’t know how to feel about what happened.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice breaking again. “I swear I didn’t mean to. I’d never hurt you on purpose. I—I was so mad, and I wasn’t thinking, and—” He stopped, his hands clenching into fists at his sides as his tears continued to fall. “I’m so sorry.”

You stepped closer, your own tears spilling over as you reached out to him. His breath hitched as you placed a hand on his arm, grounding him.

“I know you didn’t mean to,” you said softly. “But it still hurt, Katsuki. It scared me.”

His expression crumpled at your words, and he fell to his knees, gripping your hands tightly. “I’m the one who’s supposed to protect you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “And I messed that up. I don’t know how to make it right.”

You knelt down with him, squeezing his hands. “We’ll figure it out,” you said gently. “But we need to talk about this. We can’t just let it go.”

He nodded, his grip on your hands tightening as though he was afraid you’d disappear again. “I’ll do whatever it takes,” he promised, his voice steady despite the tears. “I just… I can’t lose you.”

“You’re not going to lose me,” you said, pulling him into a hug. He clung to you like his life depended on it, burying his face in your shoulder as the weight of the moment settled between you.

In that embrace, you both silently vowed to work through the pain together, to rebuild the trust shaken by that one fleeting moment.

[lou-struck]

Sundaes and Sorrows

Yoshi Isagi x reader

W.C: 2k

~ After a rough game, Isagi is feeling down in the dumps. But while he is sulking away on the team's bus, you have been hard at work preparing a special surprise for him when he gets home. 

Beads of sweat drip from Yoichi Isagi's brow as he sprints across the scorching pitch. The hot afternoon sun has bullied him since kickoff, and now, 86 minutes in. Both teams are scoreless.

The sticky rain from the first half has made the field extremely slippery, and he dreads to think of the thick layer of grass that clings to the bottom of his cleats. His body is sore from taking one too many hard hits, But he continues to play on.

His eyes are wide as he analyzes his opponents, looking for any crack in their back line where he can slip through and not end the match in an unsatisfying tie game.

After ricocheting the ball off of the knee of a too-slow defender, his friend, Meguru Bachira, steps out of bounce to take a throw-in. The momentary break allows the striker to catch a glimpse of the camera; he had been so engrossed in the game that he hadn't spared it a second glance before, but he briefly stairs through the lens, knowing that you, his loving partner, is at home watching this game.

Knowing that you are cheering him on gives him just enough energy to keep going.

He has to win this game for you. Because you deserve to see a goal.

~

You want to see a goal.

Back in the comfort of your home, you nervously grip the hem of the light blanket you have draped across your lap.

Yoichi looks exhausted. He had taken far too many hits this game, and only half of those resulted in a whistle being blown.

Through the screen of your TV, the other team sends a through ball that cuts across the field and breaks the back line.

The opposing striker, having made an exceptional run, lines up with the ball at his feet, his eyes on the net as he winds up to take his shot. The game-winner.

Striking through with his laces, he sends a bullet headed straight toward the upper v. You hold your breath…

A gloved hand sticks out just enough, and the contact alters the path as the goalkeeper pushes up towards the crossbar and releases the air from your lungs.

It's a save!

With most of the opposition out of position, your boyfriend's team counterattacks in this pivotal transition moment. Reo clears the ball, sending it all the way from the top of the 18, just in front of the on-side Isagi. 

He's all alone with no one but the opposing team's goalkeeper and his path. He dribbles taking careful touches toward the goal guardian. Although you can't see on the camera, you know his face is on the path ahead of him to the goal.

Just when he is within shooting distance, the goalkeeper makes a gamble and steps off his line in a 1v1 situation in the box. Logo-covered hands just inches away from the ground as he creeps forward, waiting for the shot.

With bated breath, you watch as your boyfriend lunches to the left and takes the ball with his right, juking the goalkeeper out. But his touch was too big on the slick grass, and the ball rolls out of the bounce. 

In a mixture of shock and distress, he places his hands in his hair, the realization that he just blew the game-winning goal hitting him hard as the referee blows his whistle, signaling the end of the game.

As he walks off the field, you can tell from his body language that he is crushed. Unable to look at the site any longer, you turn off the TV. 

But he does not have the luxury of just changing the channel on this. No, your dear, sweet boyfriend now has to sit on a crowded, smelly bus for the next six hours, just stewing in the stink of his mistake.

~

30 minutes later, your phone starts to ring. As you pick up the cold device, you spot his smiling contact image that definitely will not match his current mood.

"Hey baby," you say into the speaker, trying your best to sound comforting from so far away. "How are you doing?"

"Not great," he says, doing little to hide the disappointment in his tone. You can practically see his sad blue eyes and crushed pout he is wearing. "Did you watch the game?"

"I did," you respond, "I'm sorry about the tie; it was a really close game."

"Too close to be scoreless," he sighs, "I really wanted to score for you today, but I screwed that up."

"No one else scored either, Yoichi," you say firmly, doing your best to pull him out of his post-game funk. "I watched the game because I love you, not because I expect to see goals."

"You're right," he relents. "Do you think I could stay at your place tonight? I really want to see you, and things have been crazy lately."

"You wanna have a little sleepover? You tease, and you swear you can feel his lips curving up into a smile.

"Yeah, I really do," he says, a slight echo in his voice as you walk into what you presume is the locker room. A bit of disappointment begins to brew in your gut when you realize that your conversation will be getting cut short. 

"I'm sorry, y/n, but it looks like we are gonna be clearing out here soon. If I don't shower before I get on the bus, I'm gonna regret it."

You can only imagine how bad the whole bus of professional soccer stars would smell. "No worries, you do what you need to do. What time do you think you will get to mine?"

"It's hard to tell, but I think it will be about six and a half hours from now," he says after a pause. 

"Sounds good, I love you," you smile into the receiver, your mind already trying to decide what you can do in that free time to make a day just a bit better.

"I love you too," he says. The last thing you hear on his end is the deep, authoritarian voice of Barou yelling in the background as he hangs up.

Sliding your phone into your pocket, you get off the couch and grab your car keys. Six hours is more than enough time for you to prepare a surprise for him.

~

After your phone call all those hours ago, the day you realized that you may have gotten a tad carried away preparing for your cozy night in with Yoichi. Looking over all your hard work, your heart swells with pride as you eagerly wait for your dejected boyfriend's mood to be sweetened by the fruits of your labor. 

And the over-the-top ice cream sundae bar you pulled together after being inspired by a photo on Pinterest. Ice cream is one of the best tools you have when pulling your boyfriend out of his post-game, probably low-blood sugar-enhanced funk. So you know he is going to love the extra effort you put into pulling it all together. 

Although the actual pints of ice cream are still in the freezer, you have set up some bowls with chopped nuts, sprinkles, hot fudge, whipped cream, and even some of those little cherry things. Sure… you also got dinner and some other snacks, but you two are adults, which means that you can eat dessert first.

With everything set up and ready to go, you scan your home one more time just to make sure you haven't missed anything.

The sweet smell of not-too-strong candles dance through the living room as a mountain of fluffy blankets adorn your couch. The coffee table is littered with some of his favorite video games that you guys can play together, and if he isn't feeling like playing anything, you have a few of his favorite movies on standby. 

However, spotting the FIFA disc at the top of the pile of games, you decide to tuck it away in a cabinet. The purpose of the sleepover is to cheer him up a bit and forget about soccer for the night.

The cabinet door shoots just as the knob to your front door twists, and an exhausted-looking Yoichi stumbles into your warm, welcoming space. His blue eyes seem to brighten when he sees you.

"Hi." he smiles as you hurry into his embrace. His lips are quick to find yours, and the sweet touch is like a remedy to him, alleviating the pain of a long game and longer bus ride. 

"Hi," you murmur, feeling more at home in his arms than in your apartment. "M' glad you made it."

"Me too; I hate those long bus rides." he sighs, running a hand through his dark hair. "Everyone was still so upset about the game, so no one said a word the entire ride. It felt like we were stuck in that box for a year." 

"That's no fun," you say, looking up at his tired features. After everything he has been through today, it is very possible he will just want to goto bed early and pretend this day never happened. 

The realization unsettles you as your sweet boyfriend looks around your apartment, taking notice of your hard work with that incredible special observation that made him a professional athlete. "Y/n, things look different here. Did you set up something?" 

"I have no idea what you are talking about," you say innocently as he takes your hand and wanders through your apartment. His face goes from confusion to bliss as he eyes your couch setup, the games, the movies, and the snacks you have strategically placed in your living room. 

"Did you do all of this for me?" he asks. 

"Maybe." you murmur, "I just wanted to do something to cheer you up since you were so upset from the game earlier.

"You're the best,"  he says, his eyes shining with love as he pulls you into his embrace. "I mean it, really. You blow me away." he starts to lead you to the couch.

"Wait," you say, abruptly stopping him from burying the two of you in a mountain of blankets. "We can't yet. You haven't seen everything."

"There's more?" his eyes nearly bug out of his head as you run off to the kitchen to pull the ice cream pints you bought out of the freezer before he sees. 

The mint chocolate chip pint you bought especially for him hits the counter with a thud, and he walks into the room; curiosity becomes a joy as he sees the masterpiece you have set up for him. "Surprise…" you smile, quickly fixing an out-of-place cup of toppings. "I figured we could start off our night by drowning our sorrows in ice cream. And then we can get to the rest of it."

His lips pout. "But Ice cream is for winners~ wait, Is that Mint Chip?" he asks, zeroing in on his favorite flavor. You can barely contain your excitement as he reaches for the scooper and hands you a bowl. "Wow, look at all of these toppings. You really went all out."

"I figured you could use a bit of a pick me up, so feel free to dish up on as much ice cream as you want." 

"This is amazing, I don't even know what to say." he chuckles dryly. "Just a few minutes ago I felt so terrible, and now I just feel so loved. Thank you, y/n, I really don't know what I did to deserve you."

He pulls you close to him and lets off a shaky, emotional sigh; although you are starving, you let him hold you as long as he needs to, even if it means the ice cream gets a bit softer in the meantime.

Tagging: @pixelcafe-network

[m-jelly]

His shirts

Mafia dad Levi x fem reader

It'd been a long few days for Levi and being away from his family was something he hated, but sometimes he had to go away with Erwin and a few others to do business in another country. Normally, Levi would take you and his daughter along with him to enjoy a foreign country, but it was too dangerous this time. So, you, his goddess of a wife and precious little baby girl were left at home with his mum helping out.

With arms full of presents and a smile on his face, Levi strolled from his car to his home on the hill with glorious views of the city and sea with mountains behind. It made him smile that as a couple you'd gone from a tiny apartment to this large house. The two of you had worked so hard together.

He pushed open the front door and slipped his shoes and coat off. He slowly made his way into the large living room to see the sunken sofa and sitting area in front of the TV was occupied by you and his three-year-old daughter.

Levi's heart skipped a beat when he heard you giggle at your daughter. He blushed at seeing you and his daughter in shirts of his. He moved closer until he was close to the steps down to the sofa area. Levi's feelings and emotions kept changing. He was aroused by you being in just his shirt and thigh-high socks with your thick thighs he loved biting on show. He felt like he could just melt into a gooey mess at seeing his daughter in his shirt that was too big for her.

Daisy stomped her little feet up to her bear and picked it up into the air. "Sleep with the fishy!" She then threw the bear down to the ground. "Bye-bye." She huffed before looking up and noticing Levi. Daisy's face lit up in pure delight. "DADDY!"

You flinched and turned your head to see Levi. "Hey, grumpy kitty. Welcome home."

Daisy ran over to him with her arms open. "Daddy!"

Levi placed the gifts down before scooping his daughter up into his arms. "Hello, my cute little flower. Have you been good for your mummy?"

She nodded. "Yes! We played, we cuddled and mummy told me so many stories."

"Sounds like a lot of fun." He walked down the steps and sat on the sofa next to you, you were clearly buzzing with excitement at seeing him but you were happily waiting. "I'm glad."

"I slept in Daddy's bed."

"You did? Were you keeping mummy company?"

She nodded. "Yes."

He pocked her cheek. "Thank you." He kissed her puffy cheek. "So, what was this sleeping with the fishy?"

She grinned. "You say it!"

He released a long sigh. "You're right..." He placed her down on her feet. "I have a few presents for you." He leaned over and grabbed the ones for her. "Go sit with your teddy and take your time with them, okay? I have a very beautiful mummy to kiss."

Daisy hugged her gifts as she giggled. "Thank you, daddy. Give mummy lots and lots and lots of kisses!"

He watched her run off before slowly turning to you. He shifted closer as excitement throbbed inside him. "Bunny." He growled your pet name with a deep voice laced with desire. "I missed you." He caressed your cheek. "Come here."

You dove into his arms. "Mm, Levi."

He dragged you onto his lap and inhaled deeply allowing him to enjoy your scent. "Fuck, I missed you so much." He tilted his head and kissed you. The two of you moaned and purred in delight. "Oh, bunny you are a delight and pleasure."

You massaged your fingers in his hair. "So are you." You shifted on his lap. "Promise you're staying a while?"

"Promise. No more going away for days."

"Good, 'cause I might have to lock you up."

He chuckled. "I think I'll like that." He massaged your thighs. "So, my shirt huh?"

You nodded and looked over at Daisy playing with her new toys. "We both missed you. Daisy got very teary-eyed about it so I told her what I do when I miss you, I get one of your shirts. She said we should wear them and we have been for two days now." You looked back at Levi. "That okay?"

"More than okay." He nuzzled his nose against yours. "Wear it later?"

You saw the sparkle in his eyes and knew what he was talking about. "Oh, I will." You nipped his neck. "I'm all yours." You slipped off his lap making him whine. "Now! I think you should help your daughter make her toys sleep with the fishy."

Levi slipped off the sofa and sat on the floor. "Alright, little flower. Who we making sleep today?"

Tag list under the cut

@ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @nyxiieluna @li-anne @galactict3a @youre-ackermine @thebobaprincess @2moth-anon2 @cypidity @nbinairyn @bts-spnlvr12 @darkstarlight82 @emilyyyy-08 @levistealeaf @pelicanpizza @hideandgopeep @notgoodforlife @demonic-bird @searriously @anti-cupid @abiatackerman

[uchispeach]

Sycamore Tree (Ch.5)

Dark! Rafe Cameron x Fem! Reader

Warnings: violence, mention of injuries, obsessive and possessive behavior, manhandling, manipulation, choking, coercion, dubious consent, SMUT (sexual content)….

This fic will contain dark content: such as dub-con/ non-con and violence. You have been warned.

“What were they wearing?…No, no, forget about the clothes; how tall they were?” JJ frantically tapped his head, hoping a face would pop out in his brain; someone he could focus his rage on. “My head was buried in the sand the whole time.” Pope’s voice showed his deep exasperation.

There was a suffocating tension isolated in the four walls of The Château’s guest room. JJ’s anxiousness, Pope’s pain and Sarah’s uncalled presence made a dreadful combination. “Then…what did the fuckers smell like, huh?” The rebellious blond gripped the mattress’ edges as he breathed onto Pope’s bandaged face. “Couldn’t sniff them with my broken nose.” He coughed while grabbing his abdomen in a hurt gesture.

“Jayj” Kiara was the first to step up, abandoning her seat next to you. “Let him rest” Your sister pulled the blond by his shoulder in an attempt to give the injured boy some space. “This is bullshit…masked bastards beating the shit out of the calmest person in the whole island.” JJ backed away from where Pope’s bruised body rested. “That’s a Kook move” His pale finger pointed at his other friend.

John B crossed his arms in a disapproving look. “It’s not time for plotting.” You sighed while watching the erratic boy being escorted out of the room. “C’mon John” The complaints were muffled by the door closing, leaving you, Kie and Sarah squished on the old sofa.

“I’ll go make some ginger tea…it helps with the inflammation.” The Kook girl smiled empathetically while quickly laying her fingertips on Pope’s leg. The last mentioned nodded with disinterest.

The brunette next to you sighed, “and I’ll go grab the missing medication.” The car keys jingled as the last person exited the room. Almost automatically, your legs moved to position themselves by the bed. Your hands shifted as well, transferring heat to your friend’s cold ones as you delicately wrapped your small fingers around his.

Your gaze lifted up with shyness, and your eyes immediately regretted it as the centimeters of bruised skin and bloodied gauzes reminded you of the doctor’s veredict: two broken ribs, a broken nose, a black eye and a bloated knee. A chilling sensation toured your whole body, causing you to grimace in uncomfortableness.

An overwhelming sadness invaded you. And you couldn’t hold it together when you saw Pope’s tired gaze. Salty tear after salty tear entered your mouth as your sobs echoed across the four walls. “Angel, don’t cry.” His weak hand squeezed yours and you couldn’t help but weep even more at the shown worry.

(…)

You should be asleep by now, but you couldn’t bring yourself to lay on the beat up mattress.

Perhaps, John B should have allowed you to stay up with them, accompanying Pope on his dreadful night. But you were quickly sent to what used to be Big John’s room, all in hopes of getting well deserved rest -still, all you had managed to do was walk around in circles-.

The chilling breeze penetrated your exposed skin and the oversized shirt you wore as pajamas did little to prevent it. Your naked steps made the floor creak when you tried to reach the cause of your discomfort. The window was stubborn, refusing to nudge.

You were still struggling when the rustling of the wind was disturbed by a louder sound. The grass was crushed under what seemed to sound like heavy feet on the ground and the occasional bumping against the yard’s multiple garbage occasioned you to stay alert.

The strenuous metal pieces that laid on John B’s property seemed to suffer the clumsy presence of an intruder, clattering in no particular order. “Hello” You were brave enough to stick your head out, immediately regretting your choice as the cold air hit your warm cheeks.

The moon’s light was the only thing shining, allowing you to discern a big shadow moving right in front of you. You were about to back down when a pair of strong hands reached out the darkness to grab you.

Long fingers locked around your jaw, gripping it hard while burying their tips on your sensitive skin. The pain was immediate, making you squirm on the stranger’s hold. “No!” You squealed; and as soon as the short word was out of your throat, a warm breath invaded your senses, followed by another palm.

This time your nose and mouth were squished under the ruthless hand. Still, the metallic smell of silver rings was able to leak into your nostrils. Your eyes closed, submerging deeper into the sensation of warmth coming from the burly trespasser.

“Don’t make a noise.” Suddenly, you saw it clear, a pair of dark blue eyes decorating a sharp face; strands of blond hair sticking to his forehead’s sweat and flexed muscles stretching his polo shirt to the maximum capacity. “Rafe” Your sweet voice was choked down by the heavy weight of his fingers. “Let me in.” It didn’t sound like an ask, and it was confirmed by the way he pushed you back by the chin, forcing you to take a few steps back.

Your gasp was overshadowed by the wood croaking under the blond’s movement. Sloppy limbs climbing over the window and finally falling onto the cool floor. Your knees ended up by his side, frail arms extending to meet his hard back.

“What happened?” Your brows furrowed at the worrying sight: The Cameron boy struggling to stay steady, losing control of his own body as his gaze lost itself on the dirtiness of the tiles. “You’re hurt.” You commented on his bruised knuckles. Still, no reply.

Your neck moved to the side, looking for an explanation in Rafe's eyes. A deep groan was all you got from him as he stood up aggressively.

You flinched when he supported himself on you to stand straight, stumbling upon his own feet as you threw his arm over your smaller shoulders. “You don’t fucking understand.” He pronounced with a tense jaw, just as coarse as his need to crush himself against your side.

You felt deeply suffocated by the pressure he applied on your nape and ribs with his body. “Slow” Your tone was soft, helping him make his way onto the bed.

With an actual surface to rest, he applied less force to his grip, allowing you to sit right next to him.

Comforting fingertips caressed his cheek as you guided his attention to the concerned look on your features. He pierced into your being, troubled stare making you shriek slightly, “you shouldn’t have drove all the way here in this state.” Alcohol and tobacco in the air, contaminating his signature cologne. “You force my hand.” It was more like a grunt than an actual sentence.

You found his bloodied skin once again, making you reach out for the small cuts. He noticed the anxiety exuding through your pores. “Got into a fight with- with a prick.” His tongue doubted at the last part. “Everyone thinks I’m a fucking joke.” His free hand wrapped around your slender wrist, applying an unnecessary strength to it.

Air got stuck in your throat at the threat of a snapped joint. “Nor your dad or anyone else deserves to make you feel this way.” You paused to get closer, your naked thighs stroking his, “…stop being so hard on yourself.” Honeyed whispers traveling all the way to his buzzing ears.

His breathing pace became a mess, signs of the turmoil growing in his mind. Your mouth opened in hopes of initiating a conversation, and hopefully ending it with a successful intervention; but before a single syllable was pronounced, the Cameron boy was already punching on you.

Fingers securing your head by tugging on your silky hair, mouth moving hungrily on yours as your waist was gripped harshly by ringed fingers. You couldn’t keep up with his consuming lust, gasping for air as soon as he allowed you a break.

A streak of saliva connected your lips even when your faces slightly distanced. Your skin promptly looked for his contact, rubbing your nose with his in an affectionate dance.

Your delicate touch exuded a sweet nature, hugging his shoulders with light limbs. In contrast, Rafe gave your roots a last pull, drawing a pained pant from you; the blond took the opportunity by forcing his tongue into you.

His wet muscle twisted expertly while exploring every corner of your sensitive cave. He didn’t hold back when it came to intruding in foreign places, such as your narrow throat; causing you to choke up on his taste.

You squirmed away at the best of your capacities, only achieving a brief break from his selfish desire.

He didn’t take it well, letting go of your waist in favor of squeezing your throat.

“Rafe” Your muffled voice was accompanied by small hands trying to pacify the uncomfortable grip.“No one else can have this…but me.” You nodded softly in response, a mindless gesture sent by your dizzy impulses.

You didn’t dare to protest when the blond guided you by the neck onto the bed. As soon as your nape hit the pillow, his burly thighs made themselves present on each side of yours, caging you in his embrace. His arms didn’t wait much before using their brute force and breaking your shirt in half.

The fabric snapping in half made an ugly noise, causing you to flinch. “Stay still,” He grunted on your face, fed up by your need to hide from him. You gave in for a moment, allowing him to fondle your exposed skin with as much harshness as his aching desire dictated him.

He rubbed his open palms up and down your torso, warming your body with delicious friction. Your breath got stuck in your throat as soon as his hand reached your breasts, squeezing the mounts and pinching your nipples between his long fingers.

A particular harsh pinch had you instinctively pushing him away, or at least trying to. But your efforts were quickly dissipated by a secure lock that kept your wrists squished together. “Stop fucking pushing me away!” He shouted while cutting the distance between your faces. “I’m sorry,” your eyes squeezed together in self defense.

“You’re mine.” His voice was muffled between licks, he tickled your neck and clavicles with his tongue. Not one single part of your exposed body was left unloved.

He enjoyed rolling your most sensitive parts with his wet muscle, provoking honeyed mewls and breathless moans from you. “You drive me insane…wanna see that sweet pussy of yours,” he said while pawing at your cotton panties.

His desperation leaked through his fingertips while the pink underwear slid down your legs. Between fogged eyes you could discern the blond’s hand sneaking the private piece of clothing into his pocket, that only made you feel more flustered.

You were taken by surprise when your knee’s back touched your ribs. Rafe accommodated himself in between, a big predatory smirk on his pretty face.

Some drops of a warm liquid fell on your folds, sliding down and reaching your entrance. “Gotta make it wetter.” He grinned playfully, big digits reaching for the soaked thing.

Your legs wiggled at the sensation of Rafe’s fingers combining his spit and your wetness with circling movements. He was merciless, rubbing your clit until it turned red.

Your whimpers fueled the blond’s ego; making you grip the sheets with overstimulation as you felt a foreign object teasing your walls. His digit was welcomed by your cozy hole, immediately tightening around it.

One finger soon became two and when you finally felt three of his callused knuckles diving harshly into you, the knot that had been painfully forming inside of you was ready to snap.

Wet noises were overshadowed by a series of high pitched screams. Your orgasm leaked everywhere, soaking the boy up. As you were about to apologize for the mess you’ve just created, the blond took his drenched fingers and teased your plump lips with it.

You complied, opening your mouth and allowing the nectar to invade your taste. His eyes held an intensity to them, dilated pupils completely mesmerized by your teary eyes.

The tears grew thicker as his digits hit the back of your throat. The Cameron boy enjoyed playing with your vulnerability, forcing you to take more than you could handle.

“Shhh” His voice sent chills down your spine. Shushing the coughing that followed your mouth’s release. The next thing you felt was his heavy breathing on your sensitive sex. He didn’t resist long before sucking on it, wide licks covering the whole of it.

“Wait-” Your elbows sank on the mattress as your head lifted up. “It hurts.” You were referring to the new orgasm waiting to be freed at the expense of your own sanity, Rafe only chuckled mockingly -immersing his wet muscle deep inside-.

(…)

The night had been long, the blond made you come multiple times on his tongue and palms, ignoring your pleas for a break until his own pants were stained.

An unapologetic friction made you regain some consciousness. Your eyes itched under the leaking sun rays as a groggy groan caused you to become fully aware.

A nose sank on the top of your head while a meaty thigh pressed itself against your naked sex. “Good morning, Angel.” The nickname sounded pure, contrasting the way he pawed at your breasts.

You squealed at the fastening pace that took place between your legs. Rafe was amused by your body’s reaction, rubbing his hardened cock against your lower back. “Oh…I think you were too loud.” You could sense a snarky grin overpowering the blond’s features.

The steps on the hall grew louder, only stopping when reaching the closed door.

There was a gentle knock and then a familiar voice, “Y/N…everything alright?”

You were formulating a decent response when the boy’s leg started bouncing up and down at an unbearable speed. Your moan was hardly muffled by your ashamed palm. “I- I’ll be out…” The blond strands of hair easily tangled between your fingers as you indirectly begged for some sort of modesty.

“…out in a minute.” You hardly finished the sentence. “Alright” John B didn’t sound as convinced when he walked away, still, you let out the biggest exhale when Rafe’s torture stopped. “Thought you were going to moan my whole name at that Pogue.” His tone was playful, pinching your ribs while laying a small kiss on your hairline.

“Please…don’t do that again.” You were now facing him, elbows supporting your weight. Even though your ask was polite, the blond’s response wasn’t.

He sat down, causing the blanket to slip from his body and reveal his toned chest. “Do what, huh?” He instigated, mocking eyes burning on yours. “Rub your soaked pussy.” His smirk was closer to your shy mouth, teasing you with a peck on them.

“But you fucking love it,” his teeth buried slowly on your lower lip, sending a pleasurable shiver down your back. He smiled truthfully when you leaned closer, searching for his contact. “How are you feeling?” You hesitantly asked while hiding your face under his.

“That old man’s stubbornness is starting to tire me the fuck out.” He sighed from the back of his lungs, clearly distressed by his father’s attitude. “What is it this time?” You felt bold by dropping the question when caressing his ear lobe with your own cheek.

“Had some trouble buying the generators…they haven’t arrived yet.” Your brows furrowed together, “but that isn’t your fault.” You validated him, undoubtedly believing every single word he told you. “Either way, gonna fix it this week.” He sounded secure, always backing things up with that particular confidence of his.

“Okay, let me know if I can help.” The soft smooch caressed his neck’s skin, creating a comforting sensation for him. “I know about a few ways you could be useful.” The mischievousness in his voice was almost tangible.

“Oh-” You were interrupted by a notification, followed by a vibration coming from the night table. Your bodies were forced to distance as you focused on the screen; ‘bro, get out the bed. It’s late,’ Kiara’s message read.

“You didn’t tell me you broke your phone.” You were slightly confused by his remark. “What?…Oh, yeah I did. I guess I can be really clumsy sometimes.” You giggled nervously at the reminder, still, Rafe wore a serious face. “I’ll get you a new one.” He sounded decisive, not giving you space for doubt. “No…Don’t bother.” You expressed your honest opinion either way. “Don’t bother?…You’re my girl, of course I’m going to fucking bother.”

“I-” Obnoxious knocking took you both out of the subject. “Wake your ass up, it’s about to be noon.” Your sister’s voice held no sympathy, as it mostly never did when it was directed your way. “Y/N!” She became louder, fist growing more strength against the poor piece of wood. “Sorry!…just give me a second.” You peeled your eyes at the Cameron boy, encouraging him to get up.

He lazily stood up, his position revealing his hard abdomen and burly muscles. Your anxiety contrasted his nonchalance, evident in the way he calmly dressed up. “Rafe!” You squealed on the low, careful to not alert the angry girl outside. “Yeah…Yeah” He paid no mind to your desperation, taking his time to grab the side of your face.

“C’mon!” The brunette shouted while the blond planted a long kiss on your forehead. “Behave.” His demand sounded almost like a growl for its dominating nature. “Don’t do anything you’ll regret later, alright?” You had to uncomfortably bend your neck to look him straight in the eyes.

Without a real idea of what he meant with his aggressive words, you could only nod in submission.

(…)

“This is disgusting.” Your sister said while looking at the boutique’s mirror. The pale silk dress combined with the flower crown made your sister’s stomach twist with fervering annoyance. “What do you mean? It’s perfect for Midsummers.” The older woman caressed the brunette’s hair in hopes of smoothing her bad mood. “I look like a bourgeoisie pig” The later answered by frowning at the reflection.

“Look Kiara, I know you wanted to spend the day at Jen’s but…just try to be civil.” Your mom was oblivious to the actual reason you were both so adamant on assisting today’s dressing appointment. “Come on, let’s try on the purple one!” Anna chirped with excitement, contrasting the sour sigh your sister let out when she was thrown again in the changing room.

You exhaled with a newfound tranquility, finally free from your family’s disagreements. Taking advantage of the rare peaceful moment, you checked your phone -looking for any important news regarding Pope’s health-.

These couple days had been challenging, dealing with your friend’s recovery, JJ’s wildness, Sarah and Kiara’s rivalry and Hayward's questions about his son's location; it had all taken a toll on you.

Your hands swam between the infinite choices that were presented in front of you. You tried to occupy your mind by comparing the different colors and textures the dresses had, but the distraction was short lasting when familiar voices echoed through the store.

“Of course Mrs. Thornton. We will contact our seamstress as soon as possible.” The receptionist’s throat sounded as it was being restricted, the nervousness clear in her tone. “Topper, take the suitcases.” Topper’s mother commanded, her voice didn’t show a single hint of doubt or hesitation.

Your limbs went lightly stiff when you heard heavy footsteps getting closer to where you stood. You saw his tall figure tuning the corner, blond hair brushed to the side, tight polo shirt and brown loafers completing the Kook look. “Hi…” You awkwardly greeted him, noticing him slightly grimacing at your presence. “Hi,” he dryly responded, scanning you from head to toe before completely turning around.

You felt a wave of insecurity rushing through your being, making you fidget a little. The blond avoided your gaze as he looked for a place to install the clothes filled bags. “Let me help with that.” You shyly suggested while getting by his side. “Don’t” He roughly reacted at your hands reaching out for the heavy load.

“Oh, ok” You backed up immediately, not wanting to disturb the Kook’s patience. Seconds passed like hours as you followed his movements closely, almost perplexed at his dislike for you. “Look Topper, I know you probably hate me…” He scoffed at your comment. His humorless face made you feel a tad more uncomfortable. “…and I know it wasn’t easy for you…but I’m thankful for your…choice.” It felt like you were walking on fire as each word left your mouth. Regret started bubbling in your stomach; you weren’t sure as to why you chose to remember the awful incident that almost made your friend end up in jail.

And you were let utterly weirded out as the Thornton boy shook his head in short laughter, wearing a half-hearted smirk while making his way out the dress filled room. “You shouldn’t be thanking me.”

A/N: Thank you to all the lovely people who reblog and comment. It motivates me to continue writing 💕

[darlingshane]

once in a blue moon

Wolf!Frank Castle x Human/F!Reader

Summary: Your vivid, ominous dreams seem to carry a message you can't quite grasp until Frank spells it out for you.

CW: +18, explicit, werewolf au, supernatural elements, gore, violence, dreams, killing animals, eating animals' hearts, blood, food, cravings, eating, smut, vaginal sex, squirting, love, unplanned pregnancy, considering abortion.

Word Count: 4,2k

— Links: AO3 // Frank Masterlist

Following the ravenous calling of your stomach to satiate your hunger, you come across a banquet table sitting on a clearing in the middle of the woods. It's pitch black, but you can see so clearly under the soft glow of the full moon that hangs directly overhead. The ground is warm and green below the bare soles of your feet. The long white dress you're wearing almost touches your toes as you walk around the table to find an empty seat. There's only one chair and a big porcelain empty plate at the head of the table that's meant for you. It's not clear how you know, but you're sure that is reserved for you.

Your stomach protests harder the closer you get to your seat. The table is replete with a feast made out of the most delicious foods you can imagine. The scents mixing in the air from all the various plates is intoxicating. Your mouth waters at the sight of a tall, tiered chocolate cake. When you sit down, you extend your hand to take a piece, but before you can do it, a ferocious howl echoes through the trees surrounding the clearing, making the earth shake beneath. Your pulse quickens all of a sudden. Your head swivels in both directions until you see something emerging between trees at the opposite side of the banquet. It's Frank, slowly creeping in into the clearing, wearing his stunning wolf suit. His presence is both majestic and subtly intimidating. His thick fur coat is dark, nearly black, and shows a few greys around his muzzle. Between his sharp teeth, a white lamb hangs and squirms, trying to free itself from Frank's bite. You wanna reach out and help the creature, but the amber glare in Frank's gaze stops you from it. Before your eyes, he tears apart the little animal that dies in mere seconds. Perplexed at the scene, tears roll down your cheeks as Frank carefully removes the lamb's heart from its remains.

With the organ dripping red in his mouth, he then swiftly jumps on the table, his paws keenly avoiding touching any plate in the way. When he arrives at the head of the table, he lowers his mouth to drop the heart in your empty plate for you to consume. Your body trembles when he gently nuzzles your face with his snout as a silent order you can perfectly understand. You follow his command and pick up the tiny heart between your fingers as he watches you sink your teeth into it for the first time. He sits back on his haunches and stares at you, taking your time ripping a small piece out of it. Tears start pouring out again of your eyes as you swallow it. Frank remains unmoved from his position, expecting you to finish the whole meal he's brought you. After the initial bite, you keep going. Slow at first, and before you realize it, you've devoured the entire thing. Your fingers are covered in red, so is the bottom half of your face, and you've never felt more full and satisfied with any other food you've had before. The chocolate cake seems terribly unappealing to you now.

Frank looks so proud when he gets closer to you to lick the blood staining the corner of your mouth. It's strange how normal it feels to have him do that when he's in his wolf form. When he's done, he pulls his head back, and you see a different glare in his eyes. Something resembling sadness and remorse glares across his beautiful gaze. Like a sixth sense you've seemed to develop, you feel it in the now-full pit of your stomach that he doesn't want to do this. You extend with a hand to caress his head and put him at ease, but he promptly reacts, jumping on you, using his paws to push you off the chair. Laying on the ground, his sharp teeth flash across your eyes before tearing a chuck of skin off your neck.

You should scream, but you don't.

It should hurt, but it doesn't.

This should kill you, but it doesn't.

You remain awake the whole time while you bleed out. You stare at the moon above that seems to be watching over you like a guardian. It's striking white glow starts changing into a nice shade of blue while he rips apart bits of you.

It only lasts so long. Eventually, your eyes start feeling heavy as you capture the last beautiful moonbeams shining behind your lids.

There's a strange sense of dread that blooms in your chest when you stir up awake. You're back in your bed and realize that was one of the most vivid dreams you've ever had.

It's not even the crack of dawn yet when you look at the window. Full moon, just like in your dream, is still high up in its cusp, nestled between heavy clouds that threaten to break into a storm.

That sense of dread turns into something else. It's a little unsettling, but you can't explain why. It's an unfamiliar feeling, a mix of longing and fear, that's been rousing out of nowhere for a few weeks now. Every time it returns, it's grown bigger. You wish it away over and over, but it's pointless. It's burrowed somewhere out of your reach, and there's nothing you can do to stop it.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, attempting to calm yourself and settle you back to sleep. Maybe that's what you need. You try shutting all thoughts and voices in your head to clear your mind, but there's an invisible force that doesn't let you.

Frank is not back yet when you shift on the bed to see his side empty. Which isn’t unusual. Sometimes he comes earlier, and you find him sleeping at your feet in his massive wolf form. Other days, he just exhausts every minute of the night out in the woods and by the time he gets home he’s already turned to human. Today it feels oddly cold, and you wish your furry beast would be warming up your legs at this hour. You inch closer to the other side of the bed and bury your face in his pillow to capture the scent printed on the fabric. Smelling him eases that edge a little. You breathe it all in, letting it intoxicate you until you've completely calmed down.

It allows you to rest your eyes for a little longer and at the first signs of daylight, you slip out of bed and pad across the cabin to the kitchen to make some coffee before he gets back. You accidentally hit your pinky toe with the leg of a chair and curse your way through the space, but the pain quickly fades away. While the coffee starts dripping, you dive into the fridge to fix the rumbling of your stomach that is dangerously aching for food. Your hand automatically chooses a tupperware holding roasted chicken leftovers from the night before. Without thinking, you pull off the lid and start picking up cold chunks of meat directly from the container to quickly stuff your mouth and satiate that hunger that goes much deeper than you anticipated. At some point when you bite into the meat, you also nick part of your index finger with your teeth, but you can’t stop. Like in a bizarre trance, you continue shoving chicken into your mouth. When you look down at the container— first, you’re shocked you’ve practically emptied the whole thing to bare bones in record time, and second, those bones are now covered in the blood dripping from your finger. You find yourself licking it, tasting your blood like it was the most normal thing you’ve ever done. It leaves a metallic, sweated aftertaste that disappears as you nibble the last shreds of chicken.

A soft thud hits the sliding door to the porch. You put down the container on the counter, and partially tug the curtain to the side to find Frank behind the glass, still wearing his wolf suit.

“Sorry,” you say as you slide it open, “it was cold, and I forgot to leave it open.”

His massive head nods at you as he takes a full spin around you, sniffing your ankles before licking the finger of one of your hands, the one that’s bleeding.

It used to be odd, and scary, to see him like this in his true nature, but you’ve grown comfortable seeing this other side of him that you love just as much. He's kind of adorable to be honest. He looks like the most menacing creature that's ever lived, and yet you know he has the softest of hearts. You don't have to lean over much to place a kiss in the middle of his head. He smells like pine trees and dirt and something metallic you can't identify.

Like undoing a spell, once you pull back your head from the kiss, he shape-shifts into his human form in all his naked glory.

When you look at his face, his brow is pulled tight, lips furrowing between the coarse hair of his beard, as he takes a good look at you with nothing but concern.

“What happened here, sweetheart?” He lifts the hand he was licking, showing the blood trickling down your palm.

When you take a good look at it, the cut you ignored goes deeper than you thought or felt, half of the pad of your finger is hanging, and weirdly, it doesn’t hurt as much as it should.

“I don’t know.” You look back at the container on the counter. “I was hungry, and I think I bit myself.”

“That’s some hunger,” he scoffs, extending a hand to your face to wipe that same blood that’s staining your lips.

“C’mere, let’s clean it up.”

“I’ll take care of it. Go put some pants on.” You kiss his cheek and pat his shoulder before stepping into the bathroom.

You collect the first aid kit from the cabinet and then open the faucet to clean the wound. As water runs down your finger, wiping away all the red, you see the gash starts closing on its own when you carefully hold close the hanging chunk of your fingertip. It feels like you’re imagining it, but you’re not. The piece of flesh fully attaches itself where it should be, leaving a faint line where it ripped. You’re not sure why, but you tape a piece of gauze around your finger to cover it.

Then, you quickly glance at your reflection in the mirror to see yourself in a field with a semi-eaten heart held in your hands and your mouth and chin covered in blood. This must be another dream, right?

Fear creeps up your spine. You force your eyes shut, and back down on your feet, letting your back close the door.

Something is definitely wrong here. Are you turning into a wolf? That's the only explanation for the speedy healing, or the fact you barely felt any pain. But it can’t possibly be. You've taken a lot of precautions to avoid that. It's been a while since you last talked with Frank about turning. It's not something you wanted to do, at least not yet, and it never bothered Frank. You've managed to build a life on your own terms together, even if his former pack disagreed with his decision of choosing a human over one of their own.

“Baby, are you okay?” He knocks softly on the door.

“Yeah… Yeah, just give me a minute.” You try to keep your voice even, but it doesn't matter, cause Frank can pick up on anything.

When you glance in the mirror again, the picture you saw is completely gone and all you can see is yourself in your pajamas, with your own blood painting your lips.

You clean your mouth and pull yourself together before stepping out of the bathroom.

Frank is pouring himself a cup of coffee in the kitchen, his bare back is in full display. He's put on a pair of grey sweatpants that are barely hanging around his waist. Quietly, you lock your arms tightly around his waist, capturing the heat of his body, pillowing your face between his broad shoulders.

“Is something going on, sweetheart?” he asks before tasting his coffee.

“Nothing's going on. I just got spooked, that's all.”

“You chew half of your finger,” he points out, turning around as you let go of his torso. “There's blood all over the chicken leftovers.”

“It's not that bad. Once I cleaned it up, it looked like a paper cut.” You don't understand why you feel like lying to him. If someone can help to figure this out, it's Frank, but you don't wanna know yet.

By the look on his face, you know he's not buying your bullshit.

“Okay, let me see.” He settles his mug on the counter.

“It's fine. I promise,” you scoff, showing your bandaged finger. “See? I didn't even need stitches.”

He holds your hand, seemingly taking your word for it, and gently places a kiss over the gauze. You then cup his face, and lean in to seize his mouth tenderly. His bushy beard scratches your face, as you melt together in a warm kiss. His arms curl around you, pulling you flush against his chest as your eager lips take a strong hold of his mouth. It's absurd how much you love him. You spell it with all you have— lips, teeth, and tongue that goes wildly untamed in the depth of your most deep desires. His mouth tastes so good, you forget how to breathe or talk or do anything other than isn’t this. There’s that feeling again, that unbearable longing that makes your whole body ache for Frank.

His hands quickly rise up to the occasion and wander all over your body. They slip under the hem of your shirt to claim every inch of your skin. He then gets a hold of your ass and with a strong grip he picks you up in his arms effortlessly. You curl your arms around his neck, and your legs around his waist as he transports you to the bedroom without even watching his steps. His keen senses allow him to do that, which you envy sometimes.

Frank gingerly lays you on your back, yanks your pajama bottoms off you swiftly before nestling between your legs. He pushes his hardness against your sex and watches your expression change as his hips wave firmly to stir your arousal. Propped in one arm, he uses his opposite hand to push your shirt up and bare your chest. You grab the bunched fabric around your neck and remove it completely.

“Take these off, baby.” You then tug at the waistband of his sweats.

“But I thought you wanted them on,” he huffs.

“Changed my mind. Now, I need them off.”

He chuckles as he pushes them down just enough to free his erection. It feels amazing when he shoves his full hardness against your panties. Your center quickly heats up and wets at the friction. His lips are drawn to your neck, letting his beard drag all over your chest. Your skin promptly reacts, flourishing into goosebumps all the way, up from the crown of your head down to every last one of your toes. He groans and licks your body as he travels down your chest to suck your sensitive nipples. It makes you shiver in delight when he attaches his mount around one of them. Growing breathless, you slant your hips harder, needing him to fill your pussy the same way you filled your stomach. It's an unbearable craving that weakens you.

Frank quickly picks up the cue, and with a sudden move he turns your body around to have you laying on your stomach. He pulls your panties down, and adjusts your legs to make room for his cock. You place your head on the pillow, and hold tightly to it as he slots his full erection without trouble in one motion. You’re so tender and soaked, it feels like heaven itself is the one stretching your walls.

Frank’s body moves firmly, pushing repeatedly inside you, as one of his hands curls under your leg to caress your clit. His steady touch keeps you gripped to that mind-blowing shockwave of pleasure that starts forming at your center. It feels like a bubble of fire slowly rising up from the inside, setting your body ablaze.

“This is what you want, sweetheart?” he growls ferociously in your ear, biting your earlobe, while the erratic motion of his fingers, glued to your folds, drives you out of your mind.

You’re too out of it to respond with nothing but a strangled moan. All your senses but touch seem to disappear on you. Your sight blurs, your hearing can only pick up a faint buzz of his breathing, the only thing you can taste now in your mouth is lust, that smells just the same as Frank’s pillow that’s held under your head.

He attaches his mouth again to your neck. You notice his teeth dig harder on your skin to leave his mark, and you find yourself wishing he would rip it apart like you saw in your dream. The next second, you're suddenly trapped in a realm of unbridled desires, where you feel every cell of his body and yours fusing together as if they were one. For a moment, your pleasure becomes his pleasure, and vice versa. In your head, you swear you can read his every thought as if they were yours. His presence slips into your mind, stealing your darkest secrets. During that intense connection, you became aware of Frank's steady focus, driven by the only need to fill you with his seed. There’s something on that spot on your neck that he keeps latching on that’s sparking something in him that he hasn’t felt before. He wants to claim you, like he would do if you were a wolf, but he has the most utter restraint not to do so. As he pulls his head back, the link breaks. And you glance over your shoulder to see the glaring of his eyes turning bright amber, a shade that you’ve only seen a couple of times in his wolf form.

“Do it,” you beg desperately between moans as he rudely slaps your ass with his hips. “Please, Frank, do it! I need you to.”

There’s something feral that takes over him when you say that. His lip forms a snarl before bowing his head to bite that same spot as you asked. It reattaches that deep connection. This time, as he tips you over the edge, you can feel your arousal doubling down along with his. Your body is taken by the purest form of bliss you've ever experienced— It's yours and his melding together to create a powerful force that claims your body when your orgasm hits the highest point. You feel him feeling you with his seed at the same time your orgasm hits. Your shaking legs suddenly feel all wet after a gush of juices burst out of you. The sheets beneath you are soaked, and you can't tell if you've just peed or squirted, but it feels amazing. The weight of Frank's limp body on your back shifts slowly as he drags himself to the side. You curl against him, placing your ear to his chest, listening to the fast pace of his heart as his breath struggles to catch up, something you’ve never seen him do. He’s fucked you so many times without breaking a sweat, but now he’s utterly spent.

Closing your eyes, you doze off for a few minutes, and you're pulled back to your earlier dream… You’re laying on the grass, staring at a full moon that gleams behind a thick blue veil. Frank’s true wolf form is by your side. This time, he’s gently licking the wound he caused on your neck to heal it, as a smaller form of a wolf pup snuggles against your other side. You cradle it with your arm to keep it safe, and you love it. You love it with your whole heart as much as you love Frank.

“What happened?” you mumble when you come back to reality. You're laying on your side of the bed and Frank has wrapped you with a blanket. It feels like you've been out for ten minutes, but the day has turned to night when you look out the window. “How long was I out?

“You've been sleeping all day.” He's sitting beside you, holding one of your hands as he removes the bandage around your finger to see it has completely healed. “Why didn't you tell me?”

Your eyes well up. “I got scared. Am I turning?”

“No, you're not turning, sweetheart,” he reassures, placing a kiss on your forehead. “My blood is in your system, but you're not turning.”

“How's that even possible, Frank?”

“Can't you feel it?”

You shake your head, as he cups your jaw in his palm.

“You're pregnant.”

It feels so odd to hear him say those words that you can't process the thought of him being right.

“But I thought that couldn't be. I thought that you and I could never… you said it was impossible for wolves and humans to reproduce.”

“That's what I always believed. That’s what I was taught.”

You can see he's just as confused as you are at the prospect of you carrying a half wolf baby.

“Then, how? Are you sure that I am?”

His palm slides down to your abdomen. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure. I could feel it for a couple of days, but I couldn’t really tell until now.”

“Were you in my head?”

He nods. “Sorry, I didn't know that was possible with you.”

“Don't be. I loved feeling you like that. Is this how this always is with other wolves?”

“Yeah, it can be pretty intense.”

Frank tries to force a smile but his unreadable, restrained expression concerns you.

“What are you not telling me?”

He looks away, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Frank?” You sit down and cup his face, moving it so you can lock eyes with him. “I might not have your skills, but I can tell when you’re hiding something.”

His gaze veers down to see his hand gently curling around your arm as he draws patterns with his thumb on your skin.

“I called a friend from my old pack when you were asleep,” he confesses with a crushing heaviness that pours out of his despondent tone. “She's a doctor. She said you can't have this baby, that it's a curse placed on wolves like me that detract from their packs. They can never conceive with humans except during blue moons, it's a small window that happens every two or three years.”

“How is it a curse?”

“Cause it'll kill both of you. It won’t happen right away, but eventually, no matter how much you give him, it’ll never be enough. He’ll starve you before it’s born, and he’ll die with you. It’s happened a handful of times that she knows of.”

“Oh,” you utter, still struggling to catch up with all the information that's hard to assimilate.

“I'm sorry. This is my fault. I did this to you. But I promise I’ll fix it.”

“How?”

“She has a clinic a few hours away. She’ll see us tomorrow. Said it was better to do it before it’s too late.”

“Get rid of it? What if we don't?”

“What do you mean? Haven't you heard me? You can't carry this pregnancy.”

“I heard you. But what if there's another way. What if you turned me? Would that work?”

“Sweetheart, I don’t know if that would work. If you wanna have a baby, we'll figure out a way to do it safely, but I'm not taking that chance here cause I don't wanna lose you,” he pauses with a long sigh. “I always thought you didn’t wanna be like me.”

“I never said that. I wouldn’t mind being like you if I had to. It just always seemed too scary.”

“It is scary. How about we just take a breath. We have the whole night to think about it, we’ll meet her first thing in the morning and see what she tells us, alright?”

“But I saw it in my dream. He curled up on my side.”

“I saw, baby. It was beautiful.” He leans forward, touching his forehead to your own, sliding his palm at the back of your neck.

“I know it’s crazy, I feel insane for even thinking about it, but I’d like to try.”

Against all your fears upon death, an irrational thought produced by that strange feeling that’s most likely a cocktail of hormones mixed with whatever it’s growing inside you crawls to your mind. You should listen to Frank; but the more you think about it, the less you want to let go of that picture you saw of you and Frank and that small wolf pup that was just a bundle of love.

— credits: divider by @cafekitsune

[hello-gloomy]

Giant Woman

Rodimus Prime x Female!Human!Reader

(Slight Lost Light crew x reader)

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Description: An exploration mission gone wrong causes you to test out a new weapon to help your captains out of a tight spot. Chaos ensues.

Warnings: Slightly OOC, Crack taken seriously, Mild violence, slight horniness at the end (my bad).

A/N: I haven't read all of Lost Light or MTMTE. I did read Echo Garden and their Wiki pages, so that'll have to be good enough.

Words: 1,046

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Megatron navigated the dimly lit passages, his silver frame holding the weight of the injured Rodimus slung across his shoulder. Suddenly, a crash rumbled through the underground tunnels, shaking the ground beneath their feet. Dust and debris fell from the ceiling above, and they stopped moving to look up at the giant hole above them. A massive hand reached down and grabbed one of the hostiles as it started screaming in fear while the others began shooting at the hand. There was more thumping and noises above them.

"That's not good," Rodimus joked nervously. He hissed in pain when they started walking again. The screaming behind them suddenly stopped, and a flash of air blew past them. While they continued walking, Rodimus glanced behind them and saw the hand reaching toward them.

"Oh shit." Megatron turned while still walking to look at what made his co-captain panic. "Can't we go any faster?!" He tried to limp faster to keep up better with Megatron, who increased his pace. The hand behind them was about to snatch them when Rodimus started screaming. It finally grabbed them and shot back out the way it came and through the hole. They were back at the surface; they heard screaming and shots being fired. The hand holding kept them shrouded and dark; they were shifted and pressed against something slightly soft, covered in armor and fabric, which let off a slight blue glow. Megatron leaned against the wall and heard a beating noise; the wall rose and fell slightly while it moved. Suddenly, they picked up in speed, and they were squeezed a bit tighter. A light showered over them, and they were set near the landed Lost Light; Rodimus dropped to the ground, relieved and tired, while Megatron looked back to see who had saved them. His optics widened in disbelief at the sight in front of him; it was you, mass-displaced and huge compared to them; you practically on par with the Lost Light. Your mask went back into place, and you ran back to the hostiles approaching the ship and kicked them as far as you could, scooping others up and throwing them while blocking laser blasts.

Megatron shook himself from the surprise and limped Rodimus back onto the ship. A confused Swerve and Velocity rounded the corner to ask what was happening. The hangar door closed, and they all turned around to look. You walked in, and your mask snapped off with a hiss and a shake of your hair. You stopped right next to the group, everyone speechless at the sight of you the exact size of them.

"I'll take him to the med bay, Megs." Megatron lets go, and you scoop Rodimus into a princess carry and strut off with him in your arms.

"Holy Primus," Swerve said while watching you fade down the halls.

" I gotta tell Anode!" She sped off down the hallway giddly. Megatron sighed and walked off as well, much too tired to care.

Your wall down to Med Bay is quiet. Rodimus hasn't said a word, staring in awe at you while holding on to your neck, his head resting against your soft chest, listening to your heartbeat. You look down at him and slow your walk a bit. "You so quiet, Roddy." You tease him gently, but he only gives you a nod and a quiet 'Mhmm.' You enter the med bay and plop him down on a berth. Ratchet doesn't turn around to look at the two of you; he finally stops and starts to lecture.

"Can't you bots try to be caref-Oh, my Primus!?" He looked at you and dropped the instrument he was using, shocked to be face-to-face with you. "Hey, Ratchet, did you look at- Holy Shit!" First Aid walked and stopped in surprise at you as well. You're trying not to laugh at this point, finding the whole ordeal hilarious. You snap them out of their trance and ask them to fix their captain's leg. While working, all three of them steal glances at you, checking the stats on your armor. Brainstorm suddenly bursts in the room.

"IT WORKED!" His smile was huge and practically glowing with pride. You started laughing at his excitement and let him poke at the armor for a little bit, taking notes for him while he prattled on in eagerness. It should wear off in a few hours. Let me know if anything feels off at all, " he said after checking everything out. You gave him a nod, and he walked out, muttering about the suit's statistics. You smile and wave your hand, and the medics finish up on Rodimus's leg. They check the rest of him before giving him a clean bill of health; you help him stand up, and he virtually smooshes himself against your body, almost rubbing you like a cat. You laugh a bit before Megatron and Ultra Magnus walk in. Megatron waves his hand in your direction with a pointed look at Magnus.

"Huh," Magnus says quietly, "Hi Megs, Hi Mags!" Megatron walks right back out, and Magnus stands momentarily before speaking. "Just ensure the two of you finish your battle reports on time." He turns and leaves; following Ultra Magnus's and Megatron's steps, you walk back to your and Rodimus's shared Berthroom. The door to the room shuts behind you, and you set your Sparkmate on the berth, taking a seat beside him. He quietly watches you, taking in all your features. He can see much closer now that you are the same size as him. You gently rub his spoiler while he takes you in. He looks up, and his optics meet your eyes, currently blue to match the chemicals running in your suit that helped you change your size. He grabs one of your hands, and his other servo caresses your face affectionately; you lean in and kiss him, closing your eyes and wrapping your arms. You let go, get up to lock the door, and dim the lights, sauntering over to him in the most seductive way possible.

"We got a few hours before this wears off. Want to try something fun?" You whisper to him while pushing him down on the berth, hovering over him.

"Primus, yes."

[levisolace]

cigarette after dark — suguru geto x reader

pairing: suguru geto x f!reader

summary: smoking outside the club, an old friend who drifted away, suguru, finds you and strikes up a conversation.

genre: heavy angst. light comfort. modern au.

word count: 3.1k

warnings: heavily depressive thoughts. mentions a lot of smoking and quitting. mature themes.

note: completely a self-indulgent fic. it’s 2am and i can’t really think of another way to feel better unless to write it out. uploading this raw on my phone before i sleep so i’ll probably edit (maybe even delete) the post and re-format it tomorrow after work. idk if anyone will read this lol but here u go.

—————————

There was nothing to sugarcoat. This was it. You’re just another failure.

The puddle on the ground, a remnant of the rain that poured a few hours ago, reflects an image of a person that is foreign. Disgusted, you stare back at her with disdain.

You put the stick in your mouth, inhaling, and taking a long drag. The smoke curls around you like a cloak, shielding you from the chaos of the night. The bass from the club thumps faintly through the alley, vibrating the air but not quite reaching you. You exhale, watching the smoke dissipate into the cold, damp air, and for a fleeting moment, you feel like it could carry away everything you’ve been holding onto. But it doesn’t.

The reflection in the puddle shifts as you move, and you hate the way it looks back at you. Eyes heavy, makeup smudged, shoulders hunched like you’re trying to fold in on yourself. A version of you that you despise.

You take another drag, the heat from the cigarette warming your fingers as the nicotine buzz settles over your nerves. A voice in your head whispers that you should go back inside, but your legs don’t move. You can’t face the stares, the shallow laughs, or the weight of their questions.

“Got a spare?”

The voice is low, almost drowned out by the city noise. You glance up to see a figure standing a few feet away, their face obscured by shadow. For a moment, you’re too tired to answer. Wordlessly, you reach into your pocket and hold out your pack. He takes one, sliding it out with ease.

The man steps closer, just enough for the dim glow of the streetlight to catch their face—a mix of sharp edges softened by something you can’t quite name. They take the lighter you’re holding out from your hand with a quiet “Thanks,” lighting his cigarette with practiced ease.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. Just two people standing in the dark, sharing silence and smoke.

“How long has it been?” It’s him who speaks first, staring out into the bright moon.

You don’t answer for a while, contemplating if you’ll answer him or just stay silent and hope that he’ll leave you alone. After almost a minute, you decide on the former.

“Dunno. Like 3 years?”

“Wrong, it’s been four.”

“Four, huh?” you murmur, the words tasting unfamiliar on your tongue, like the cigarette in your hand. You flick the ash off the end, watching it dissolve into the puddle at your feet. “Feels like longer.”

He hums, leaning against the wall beside you. The air between you is thick with unspoken history, but he doesn’t push it—at least, not yet. You risk a glance at him, expecting the same boy you once knew, but what you see makes you pause.

Suguru Geto looks good. Too good. His black hair, once always falling in messy waves across his face, is now neatly tied back. His clothes are clean, tailored even, and the sharp edges of his face, once softened by youthful recklessness, now hold a quiet confidence. He looks like someone who has his life together—like someone who doesn’t spend nights outside clubs, smoking to forget.

The contrast is almost unbearable.

His posture is relaxed, but there’s a tension in his voice when he speaks again. “Didn’t think I’d find you here. Like this.”

You glance at him from the corner of your eye. He looks the same but not quite. Time has softened some of his edges and hardened others. The lines of his face are sharper, his frame broader, but there’s something familiar in the way he stands, hands in his pockets, like he’s trying not to take up too much space.

“And what’s this?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as you take a drag, trying to ignore how unnatural it still feels.

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he watches as you exhale a slow stream of smoke, watching it curl into the damp air. “You. Out here. Smoking.”

The words sting more than you care to admit. You glance at the glowing tip of your cigarette, suddenly hating the way it feels between your fingers. “People change,” you say, but your voice lacks conviction.

“Yeah, they do.” He pauses, turning to look at you fully. “But this isn’t you.”

You snort, a humorless sound that feels foreign even to you. “You don’t know me anymore.”

“Maybe not,” he concedes, his tone quiet but steady. “But I used to. And the girl I knew wouldn’t have touched a cigarette, let alone ended up outside some club at this hour.”

You roll your eyes, the defensiveness bubbling up despite yourself. “Well, the girl you knew is gone. Life happened. People grow up.”

“Ha…”

His reaction hangs in the air, heavy and unavoidable. You don’t answer right away, staring down at the puddle again. The reflection staring back at you is a stranger, a reminder of all the ways you’ve tried to erase the person you used to be.

“You don’t get to judge me,” you say finally, your voice sharper than you intended.

“I’m not judging you,” he replies softly. “I just… I thought you’d have more faith in yourself than this.”

You laugh bitterly, shaking your head. “Faith doesn’t get you very far these days.”

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The sounds of the city fill the silence: the faint bassline from the club, the hum of passing cars, the drip of water from the gutter overhead.

“I thought about calling you,” he says suddenly, his voice breaking the stillness. “A lot, actually. But I don’t know why I didn’t. I thought—.”

“Thought what?” you reply, crushing the cigarette under your heel.

He chuckles, though it’s void of humor. “That you’d be better off without me.”

The words hit harder than you expect. You glance at him again, searching his face for pity, disappointment, anything—but all you see is regret.

“Why now?” you ask the question quieter than you meant it to be.

Why approach me now? is what you wanted to ask. You couldn’t get yourself to ask him directly but as if he knows you like the back of his hand, he answers the question.

“Because I saw you,” he says simply. “And I didn’t want to walk away this time.”

The honesty in his voice disarms you, cutting through the walls you’ve spent so long building. You look away, crossing your arms as if to shield yourself from the weight of his gaze.

“Maybe you should have,” you murmur, but your voice wavers, betraying the truth. And from the way he stays, you think he knows it, too.

He stayed silent as if he’s debating what to say. He looks like he wants to comfort you—or terribly ask what happened to you. Either way, you know that he can’t do it. He can’t get himself to open your wounds up so suddenly when it looks like it’s eating you alive.

For a while, neither of you says anything. The muffled bassline from the club fills the silence, blending with the distant hum of traffic. You sneak another glance at him, and that’s when you notice it—the cigarette in his hand, he hasn’t smoked it once.

The cigarette dangles between his fingers, the faint glow of the ember a stark contrast to the cold night air. He doesn’t bring it to his lips, doesn’t inhale. He just… holds it.

“You’re not smoking,” you say, your voice cutting through the quiet.

He glances at you, the corner of his mouth twitching like he’s amused. “Nope.”

“Then why the hell did you ask for one?”

He shrugs, twirling the cigarette between his fingers. “Felt like the easiest way to approach you.”

You glare at him, annoyed at his nonchalance. “You’re wasting it.”

“Not really.” He flicks the ash with a practiced motion, his gaze never leaving yours. “I quit years ago.”

The revelation catches you off guard. “Then why light it at all?”

He exhales—not smoke, just a slow breath—and leans back against the wall, looking up at the faint glow of the moon. “I guess…” He pauses, turning the lit cigarette in his hand, his voice softening. “I wanted to remember what it felt like. Holding this. Being here. With you.”

You flinch, the memory hitting like a slap. Back then, Suguru was the wild one—the one who always seemed to have a cigarette tucked in his fingers or a flask hidden in his jacket. You were the good one, the one who didn’t drink, didn’t smoke, didn’t step a toe out of line. You used to lecture him about taking care of himself, about how much potential he was wasting. And now? Now you’re the one standing in an alley with a cigarette in hand, trying to feel something other than regret.

“Guess the roles are reversed, huh?” you say with a forced chuckle, gesturing at him with the glowing tip of your cigarette. “Look at you. Clean, polished.”

You glance down at your cigarette, suddenly hating the way it tastes, the way it feels in your hand.

“Why’d you quit?” you ask, the question slipping out before you can stop it.

He smiles faintly, looking down at the cigarette in his hand. “Mm… I didn’t want it controlling me anymore. Felt like every bad decision I made started with one of these.” He twirls the cigarette between his fingers, a ghost of the habit he once had.

“Good for you,” you mutter, rolling your eyes a little. You can’t help it. You were jealous.

“What about you?” he asks this time, turning to look at you. “When did you start?”

The question makes your stomach twist, but you shrug it off, exhaling a stream of smoke. “A while ago. Doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” he says, his tone calm but insistent. “You used to give me so much crap for this.” He gestures vaguely with the cigarette, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “What changed?”

You hesitate, the words caught in your throat. What changed? Life? Disappointment? Somewhere along the line, the lines you swore you’d never cross blurred until you didn’t recognize them—or yourself. If Suguru’s bad decision started with the stick in your hand, yours ended with it. Every bad decision you made piled up and up until all you could do was punish yourself in many ways possible. That included this… stupid addiction.

Failure—that’s what you are. And failures… they’re just that.

“Life. Me. You know how it is. One wrong decision after another and next thing you know, you’re exactly the disappointment you fear you’d be.”

“Hm,” he agrees, tilting his head slightly like he doesn’t agree with you.

You roll your eyes, the defensiveness bubbling up. You know what he’s thinking. “You don’t know me anymore, Suguru.”

“No,” he admits, his voice soft but steady. “But I don’t think you’re as far gone as you think.”

His words hang in the air, heavy and unwelcome. You glare at the ground, crushing the cigarette under your heel with more force than necessary.

“Cut the bullshit,” you snap. “I don’t need your words of wisdom.”

Suguru sighs, flicking his own cigarette into the puddle. It hisses softly, the ember extinguished, and he turns to face you fully. “I’m not trying to do anything,” he says quietly. “But I know you don’t need this.”

The honesty in his voice makes something in your chest tighten, and for a moment, you want to tell him to leave. To stop looking at you like you’re someone worth saving.

But he doesn’t push. He just stands there, hands in his pockets, like he’s waiting for you to let him in.

A new cigarette burns low between your fingers, the smoke curling up into the night air like a ghost of something you can’t name. Suguru stands beside you, quiet now, the silence between you stretching long and thin. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, but he doesn’t say anything. Maybe he senses you don’t want him to.

The stillness lets your thoughts slip in, unwelcome and relentless.

You think about her—the girl you used to be. The one who would have hated to see you like this. That girl had big dreams and bigger expectations from herself and everyone around her. She thought she could take on the world, carve out a future she’d be proud of. Back then, it felt possible.

But somewhere along the line, it all unraveled.

One bad decision led to another. You chose the wrong major, convinced yourself it would work out. It didn’t. Classes you thought you could handle became impossible to pass. Graduation came late, dragging with it the weight of disappointment. Every failure piled up until it felt like they were suffocating you. It suffocated you until even doing the smallest tasks took too much of your positive energy.

There was so much anger and hatred for yourself that it was either you pull away from everyone… or you’ll have to see them disappointed in you. You chose the former everytime. And that’s why you failed at every aspect of life. Career, friends, family… love. All you feel now is an emptiness that is both heavy and light. Heavy in emotions. Light in meaningful weight.

Everything that was good about you was taken away from you. It’s like someone’s out to get you. It’s like someone’s punishing you to forever be painfully mediocre. Never good. Never bad. God, you feel like a non-playable character in your own life, watching yourself try and try over and over again but it’s like you’re destined to not be somebody. Not somebody’s best coworker. Not somebody’s best daughter. Not somebody’s best friend. Not somebody’s girlfriend. It’s like you’re cursed to not be able to hold on to something that makes you feel good.

You drag on the cigarette, the bitterness of it filling your lungs, but it doesn’t quiet the ache.

If you could go back, maybe you’d say sorry to her—the little girl who dreamed of being someone better, someone whole. She didn’t deserve this. You’d tell her you tried. You really did. But the truth is, deep down, even back then, there was a voice whispering you’d never make it.

That voice had always been there. Back then, you fought it. You told yourself it was wrong. But it had patience. It waited.

And now it’s winning.

The cigarette trembles in your fingers, the smoke curling upward in erratic spirals. You bite your lip, trying to steady your breathing, but it’s no use. The weight pressing on your chest grows heavier, like it’s trying to crush you entirely.

You exhale slowly, staring at the faint glow of the streetlight reflected in the puddle at your feet. For a moment, it feels like you’re staring at her, that little girl that Suguru knew, looking back at you with all her bright-eyed hope and wonder. You wonder what she’d say if she could see you now.

“You’re quiet,” Suguru says, his voice breaking through your thoughts.

You glance at him, startled, and realize how long the silence has stretched. “Yeah,” you mutter, flicking ash off the cigarette. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“Nothing important.”

He doesn’t believe you—you can see it in the way his brows knit together, the way he studies you like he’s trying to piece together a puzzle. But he doesn’t press.

“You know,” he says softly, “quitting wasn’t easy for me.”

You raise a brow, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, taking what was left of the cigarette in your hand. “There were a lot of nights I thought about lighting one up. Not because I wanted to, but because it felt like I needed to. Like it was the only thing that made the rest of the world shut up for a bit.”

His words hit closer to home than you’d like. You look away, staring down at your own cigarette, now burned to the filter in his hand. “And what changed?”

Suguru shrugs, his gaze steady. “I realized it wasn’t fixing anything. It was just… giving me an excuse not to.”

You don’t say anything, but his words settle uncomfortably in your chest. He crushes the cigarette under his heel.

“You can still fight it,” he says after a moment, his tone soft but unwavering. “Whatever it is. You don’t have to let it win.”

You scoff, but it lacks conviction. “It’s not that easy.”

“I never said it was.” He shrugs, tucking his hands inside his pockets.

You don’t respond, the weight of his words mingling with the lingering taste of smoke in your mouth. Somewhere in the back of your mind, that voice still whispers, still taunts. But for the first time in a long while, it doesn’t feel quite so loud. Maybe it’s his presence, steady and familiar, or maybe it’s just the faintest flicker of hope. Either way, you don’t feel entirely alone. Not tonight.

You feel it before you even realize it’s happening—a tear slipping down your cheek, warm and unwelcome. You quickly turn your face away from Suguru, staring hard at the ground.

He doesn’t say anything, but you feel his gaze, calm and steady, like he’s waiting for you to say something first.

Another tear falls, then another, and before you know it, your shoulders are trembling as the quiet sobs escape you. You clench your jaw, swallowing hard, trying to hold it in, but it’s like a dam has broken.

Suguru shifts slightly, the faint sound of his shoes scuffing against the wet pavement. “Hey…” he says softly, his voice low and tentative.

You don’t respond. You can’t. If you open your mouth, you’re afraid you’ll break completely.

“I’m sorry,” he says after a moment. The sincerity in his voice makes your chest ache even more. “If I said something to—”

“No,” you manage to choke out, cutting him off. Your voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper. “Just… no.”

He doesn’t press further. He just stays there, silent and steady, his presence grounding in a way you didn’t expect.

Your tears fall freely now, mixing with the remnants of rain on the ground. You haven’t cried in front of anybody in so long. And yet, here you are, crying to some guy who was practically a stranger to you for four years.

“I ruined everything,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

Suguru shifts again, and this time, you feel his hand hover near your shoulder before settling there gently. His touch is warm, reassuring. Without a word, you lean in, wrapping your arms around him. He hugs you back with one arm, his hand on your head as he pulls you into his chest. You haven’t been held in so long. You’ve slept so many sleepless nights alone, wondering if the warmth of another person would make you feel better. It never did, not like Suguru’s.

The weight of his words settles in your chest, heavy but not unbearable. You don’t know exactly how this night came to be, but for the first time in a long while, the thought of waking up another day doesn’t feel entirely impossible.

Suguru stays quiet after that, his hand still caressing your hair, offering silent reassurance. He doesn’t try to push you further or tell you everything will be okay. He just stays, letting you cry, letting you feel.

And for now, that’s enough.

[koyagifs]

𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓾𝓻𝓮

pairing: pirate!yeosang x pirate!reader au: pirate au genre: fluff | word count: 801 synopsis: yeosang always knew you were his treasure the moment you joined their crew. warning(s):

Yeosang's gaze softened as he watched you twirl between Wooyoung and Yunho, the three of you laughing as the carefree energy of the moment filled the air. Your laughter seemed to echo, drawing his focus entirely.

“You look like you’re having fun,” Yeosang murmured, more to himself than anyone else, his lips quirking up in a small, fond smile. There was something about the way your hair caught the light, the way your smile reached your eyes, that left him in quiet awe.

Wooyoung caught the look Yeosang was giving you and smirked, stepping closer. “You’ve got an audience,” he teased, tilting his head toward Yeosang.

You paused mid-twirl, looking over your shoulder at Yeosang with a grin. “What? Is he just going to stand there or join us?” you called playfully.

Yeosang’s ears flushed pink, but he stepped forward with a determined little nod. “Alright, move over, Wooyoung,” he said, earning a chorus of laughter from the group as he joined in.

The ship swayed gently beneath your feet, the rhythmic creaking of the wood blending with the sound of Wooyoung and Yunho clapping a steady beat. Yeosang took your hand with surprising confidence, his pink-tinted ears betraying his initial hesitation as he spun you effortlessly.

Your laughter spilled out like sunshine, filling the air and drawing the attention of the others nearby. The way Yeosang's lips curved into a shy yet genuine smile as he twirled you around made your heart skip. His usually reserved demeanor melted in the warmth of the moment, and you couldn’t help but be swept up in it.

“Look at you, Yeosang!” Yunho teased, his grin widening as he clapped along. “You’ve been holding out on us with those moves!”

Wooyoung crossed his arms, pretending to pout. “What’s this? Yeosang’s trying to steal my partner?” he said dramatically, though the twinkle in his eye gave him away.

Yeosang spun you one last time before pulling you closer, his expression soft and full of quiet pride. “Not stealing,” he said, his voice low but steady. " when she's been mine."

The blush on your cheeks deepened, and you couldn’t suppress the giggle that escaped as Wooyoung’s whining was abruptly cut off by Yunho’s hand clamping over his mouth. “Alright, drama king, let’s give them a moment,” Yunho teased, steering the pouting sailor away. Wooyoung flailed his arms in protest but didn’t resist too much, his muffled grumbling fading as Yunho dragged him toward the other side of the deck.

Yeosang chuckled, the sound soft and warm, as he kept you close. His touch was gentle, one hand on your waist and the other holding your hand. His golden eyes searched yours, a flicker of something unspoken passing between you.

" saying im yours after wooyoung rejection from his merfriend seemed a little harsh dont you think?" you asked, walking towards the railings.

Yeosang's expression faltered slightly at your words, and he stepped closer, his footsteps quiet on the wooden deck as he watched you walk toward the railing. The soft lapping of the waves against the ship’s sides filled the silence between you, and his gaze softened, a flicker of concern crossing his features.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, his voice almost a whisper, as if trying to bridge the distance between you. 

You hummed softly in agreement, your eyes lingering on the horizon before they shifted to Yeosang, who had moved closer, his presence warm and steady beside you. Before you could say anything more, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you gently against his chest. The closeness was comforting, his touch grounding you in a way that made everything else feel distant and less important.

For a moment, you simply stood there, leaning into him, the sound of the waves and the creaking of the ship lulling you into a peaceful silence. Yeosang’s embrace was firm but tender, as if offering you a quiet reassurance that you didn’t need to say anything else—everything between you was understood.

“You know,” Yeosang murmured into your hair, his voice low and soft, “sometimes I forget that we don’t have to have all the answers. We just have to be here, for each other.”

You tilted your head back slightly, meeting his gaze as he looked down at you. His eyes held that same steady warmth, and a small, fond smile tugged at your lips. “I like that,” you whispered.

His grip tightened ever so slightly, pulling you just a little closer, as if trying to wrap you up in a moment where everything was just right, where no words were necessary. The ship swayed again, but it felt like the world had paused for just the two of you, safe in the quiet of the night and the comfort of each other’s presence.

[rowiewritesstuff]

I have a request for yandere tfp breakdown x gn human reader breakdown finds reader in the mines energon finding them adorable so he immediately grabs them taking them to the decepticon war ship convincing megatron to keep them as their spark mate or pet megatron agrees with it

Yandere Breakdown X GN Reader

Special thanks to @paci-transformers for the collab but not for letting me use bullet points.

The sun had definitely set hours ago.

Having been trapped in this cave for several hours, after making the mistake of being curious about the unusual rock composition and deciding to investigate, you were starting to lose hope you'd ever find a way out. Your phone had no signal so deep underground, and, as if that wasn't bad enough, you hadn't brought more than just a small bag of supplies and tools, believing this would be a short in and out adventure.

Which, unfortunately for you, it wasn't.

Maybe it wouldn't be as frustrating if your flashlight wasn't starting to run out of battery.

For what feels like the ten millionth time, loose rocks skitter under your feet. Unlike the last few times, your hand flies out to steady yourself, and grasps thin air. You think your own involuntary shout rings back through your ears, but you can barely hear it.

You're falling a lot further than you thought, and a lot harder.

Dazed, and barely able to make anything out past the blur and dust of the likely concussion, you think you hear footsteps.

But… are footsteps supposed to be that loud? It sounds like a giant.

It certainly feels like one, when something grabs you.

You can't do much more than dangle there, trying to focus on what's in front of you, but… maybe you hit your head harder than you thought. You could almost swear there's a giant robot in front of you. And holding you.

You blink a few times, trying to grasp the situation at hand. It's a little harder than usual, and you can't quite make eye contact with the giant robot. If it is a giant robot. There's too much space between the yellowish-orange lights you assume are how it sees.

"It's almost cute how tiny you are."

It takes a long moment for you to realize that was directed at you, and when you do, you can't help the quiet huff of indignation.

"'m not tiny," you manage, rather intelligently. "You're big."

The giant robot has the audacity to laugh at your weak defense, pulling you close to its-- his?-- chest.

And, being real with yourself, this isn't really your idea of a good time. Especially not when you're getting carried off somewhere against your will, and are rather sure you trying to squirm out of the grip is the reason the robot is laughing again.

“You sure about that?” He huffed in amusement. “You organics really do think you’re the center of the universe. Got some bearings on you, I'll give you that.”

You blinked, your vision clearing more. As your brain finally decides to come back to you, mild apprehension shifts into outright terror.

You are, in fact, being held by a giant robot. 

“Why're you shaking so much?" He grinned down at you, but it wasn't reassuring in the slightest. "I’m not gonna hurt you, you know.”

Somehow, you highly doubt that.

Your vocal cords finally decide to unstick themselves, unfortunately in time for you to ask:

"What… are you?" 

The robot lets out a low laugh.

“I’m Breakdown." He squeezed you a little tighter, but not enough to hurt you-- and yet, you aren't reassured by it. He could crush you like a grape if he wanted to. "You’re adorable, you know that?” 

“L-let me go!" You snap, fear winning out. "Now!” 

You claw desperately at his hands, and are only rewarded with your bag plummeting to the ground.

Breakdown looks at where your bag fell, eyes suddenly narrowing at it. The purple crystal had fallen out of the cloth you wrapped it in earlier.

“Where did you find that?”

You were confused by his sudden change in demeanor. Your words wouldn't come to you in the face of it, and suddenly, you're getting shaken around.

“I-in a cave lower down, I think?" you manage to force out. "There were a ton of them in the wall.”

“Really, now?” Breakdown raises you to his eye level, eyes narrowing again. "How did you find it…?"

Trying your best not to shrink back, you manage to pull the survey meter from your belt. The dial on it is still turned too high for a seemingly normal area, but you aren't quite sure why.

“M-my device detected unusual energy… I thought it w-was broken, but I went to see.”

The look on his face unnerved you. He tapped the side of his head and began speaking. “Lord Megatron, you’re gonna want to see this.”

---

Not too long after, you were being guarded by some of what ‘Breakdown’ called Vehicons. You could do nothing as they began drilling into the ground and wall, going downwards. It was about half an hour until a huge, terrifying being walked in. Its every step made the floor tremble beneath him, and it had to be at least thirty feet tall. Your eyes could only widen, not being able to stop your body from trembling. It glanced around, surveying the room, and its gaze fell on you for a moment. The cold red eyes send shivers down your spine, even after his gaze drifts away.

“Breakdown, you know better than to waste my time,” Its cold and gravelly voice was showered with irritation. "Surely, you haven’t brought me down here to show me a mere pest…?"

“No, Lord Megatron.”

Breakdown handed the crystal you had found to him, and Megatron’s eyes widened ever so slightly. He laughed lowly, making you more uncomfortable. You notice all eyes on him-- maybe you could slip away safely?

You quietly got up, backing away into the entrance of the cave. Right when you thought it was safe, you turned around--

A foot slams down right in front of you. The loud noise turns all eyes to you and the large feminine being before you.

“Ah, a pest." Spindly fingers lifting you by the scruff of your shirt, and you freeze. "Shall I exterminate it for you, Lord Megatron?”

You're shaken around wildly, a fearful cry breaking loose against your best efforts.

“Enough!” Megatron’s voice echoes, the room going silent in an instant. “That human is currently more valuable than you are, Starscream.” 

Starscream glared at you in disgust, before dropping you roughly into Breakdown’s waiting hands.

“As you wish, my lord.” 

Megatron turns to you, and you try to tamp down the trembling.

“Now, organic--" he spat the term like an insult, "--what device led you here?”

You were trembling again. You couldn't help it, when he was the most intimidating thing you’ve ever seen.

“I-I… um--”

“Well?!" Starscream screeched at you aggressively, crossing his arms. "Spit it out already!”

“It d-detects unusual radioactive energy signatures!" You yelp out, swallowing hard. "I modified this so I could track certain frequencies, but… um… these crystals give it off too…?”

Megatron eyes you appraisingly. It's no less terrifying, and just makes you all the more aware of the ease with which a slight misstep could kill you.

“Even so far underground, you managed to get a signal?” Megatron looked deep in thought for a moment. “On dark energon, no less…”

Megatron was clearly incapable of smiling. That could be the only explanation for his increasingly terrifying smirks.

“What is your name, little one?”

You hesitated. Why did he want to know? Couldn't it be dangerous to--

You shrink back, red eyes boring a hole straight through you.

“I asked you for your name.”

“It's (Y/N),” you squeak. "(Y/N) (L/N)."

“Well, (Y/N), you’re going to make me more of these--" Megatron gestures loosely to the device still in your grasp, "--and ones to get a read on other things. I sense you’re going to be very useful.”

Megatron turned to leave, but his words still rang in your ears.

“…what?”

Your face paled, but it was as if you had said nothing at all.

“Breakdown? After the human has exhausted all use…" Megatron sends a cold sneer your way, too-sharp teeth glinting dangerously, "…you may do as you please with it.”

Words have never filled you with as much dread as those did.

“Aw, I've always wanted a pet," Breakdown laughs. "Bulk always makes it look so fun."

You can't even bring yourself to struggle, even as you're being carried from the cave. Your thoughts are swarmed with panic and fear, only eight terrifying words breaking through the noise.

"Don’t worry. I’ll take great care of ‘ya.”

---

Breakdown got a large terrarium, filling it with everything he thought humans needed. He got you a bed, a television, books, food, clothes (not that any of them fit, but you weren't about to say anything), and even installed a bathroom somehow. You never understood how they made the plumbing work, but were too afraid to ask or investigate it. Being investigative was what got you in this mess in the first place.

The only time you’d be able to leave was to work on your "project", which you swore was the one of the only things keeping you sane here. Megatron had very strict requirements for your modifications, but would never let you see more information than he wanted you to. It wasn't as though you knew how to read the glyphs on the giant screens they used, and there wasn't exactly a translation guide for "giant alien robot" language.

Because, apparently, they're aliens. Not just gigantic robots with an unfortunate penchant for kidnapping humans.

But they weren't the only ones of their species on Earth, it seemed.

Every once in a while, you’d hear about the Autobots from someone passing by. Stories about them stopping Decepticon plans, or guarding humanity from the threat of destruction. Your dreams were filled with ideas of the Autobots-- whoever they were-- coming to save you. Each time you woke up from one, finding yourself right back in that damned terrarium, you almost wanted to abandon all hope. The only thing that kept the hope of freedom alive was hearing of the daring escapades of a group you'd never met, always there to thwart whatever plots the Decepticons attempted. All you knew is that the Autobots protected humanity…

…and maybe someday, they would come to protect you, too.