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seresinhangmanjake · 3 months

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Come Back Together

Benny Cross x reader

Summary in bullet points:

Now that Benny is back in your life, he is trying to be a better husband

Benny is insecure about his relationship and a barfight ensues

Reader is pregnant (three months)

Benny does a bit of pining and is emotionally vulnerable

Fluffiness

Part 2 of Come Back Knockin’

Notes/Warnings: *Spoiler free*, angst and fluff, relationship struggles, physical altercations (fist fight), mention of blood and injury, mention of pregnancy, mention of alcohol, cursing, kissing, happy stuff, typos. I think that’s it. This took me forever to write for some reason and I was weirdly stressed about it. tf is wrong with me, right? Anyway…

Words: alright no one freak out…it’s 4300. Idk why it’s a lot longer than the first part but I always do that. If you’re willing to venture onward, I appreciate it :)

Benny Cross Masterlist

Part 3: Together and More

He stares at you incessantly. Which isn’t out of the ordinary—he used to stare at you all the time—but there’s something else to it now. He stares as if he thinks you’ll disappear the second he takes his eyes off of you. Like you'll slip through his fingers. Ironic, really, since disappearing in the blink of an eye is more his thing.

“Can I make you something?” he asks, staring at you from his chair while you pull a carton of eggs from the fridge. “You should be sitting instead of me.”

“You don’t know how to cook, Benny,” you state matter-of-factly, turning your back to him as you switch on the stove and set a pan on the lit burner.

Cooking has always been your responsibility. It was one of the things you brought to this relationship. And you liked being the one to keep Benny fed, never chiming in when the other Vandals’ wives and girlfriends mentioned how exhausting it was to satisfy their man’s grumbling stomach. You liked that Benny appreciated you for it.

Now you wonder if subconsciously you believed that as long as you fed him, he’d stay by your side, regardless of his wild nature. Kind of like a puppy. But Benny Cross is no puppy.

“I should probably learn,” he says. “You know, for the kid.”

You hum, cracking an egg on the edge of the pan. “Maybe you should stick to learning how not to ditch your family,” you retort, and immediately your features twist in a wince.

You can’t believe you let those words out of your mouth. You’d been doing so well at holding in the little jabs and remarks, no matter how hard they’ve pushed at your sealed lips. Not to say a few of them haven’t slipped through in the last month, they have, but each time they did, you received instant punishment in the form of Benny’s heart crumbling right before your eyes.

He’s never tried to make you feel guilty about your slip-ups, but he can’t seem to hide his expressions around you anymore. Ever since Benny returned, he’s been different. Your husband who was once so stoic has untethered his emotions from the piece inside of him that, for years, refused to let them show. His affection is more outward now, but unfortunately, so is his pain. So you made a rule to stop doing that to him; stop catching him off guard with words of hurt during a time of pending forgiveness. What he did was damaging, yes, but it’s unfair to pick at him when he’s been doing everything he can to show you he has value to this family; things he never would have done before.

He wakes earlier than you to clean the most-used areas of the house—a poorly done job; you still find dust in spaces dust should have easily been wiped up, but he tries. He found work at a mechanic’s shop not too far from the house, and surprisingly, he has yet to complain about it—a decent job was always something he physically and mentally shunned. He got rid of everything in the spare room and has begun painting the walls from the deep brown left over from the prior owners to a soft, light green that matches the baby blanket he brought you. It’s cute, and significantly better than you would have done without him. You would’ve been too stressed to put together a nice nursery.

Benny awkwardly clears his throat, breaking up your thoughts and bringing you back to the present. The lingering discomfort from your snide tone is palpable, heavy, just short of physically formed, and you can’t escape it.

“I didn’t mean that,” you tell him as you flip the egg.

The sizzle in the pan is louder as uncooked egg hits the heat, but you can still hear his deep breath, easily picturing the weak smile on his face when he softly says, “It’s ok. I deserve it.”

You’re about to protest, but he doesn’t give you the chance.

“I was thinkin’ about goin’ to a meeting tonight,” Benny says. “You wanna come with me?”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Oh…” he says, dejected. “It's been a while since you've been to one. I know you stopped goin’ when I was…away, so I thought…”

You set the spatula down and turn to face him, crossing your arms. “I wasn’t going to go without you. And considering everything, everyone just would have pitied me. I'm sure they still do.”

His blue eyes fall to the tiled floor. You know he hates that such a thought would enter your mind, but it’s not as if you’re capable of stopping it. He put you in a pitiful situation, and were the circumstances placed upon another woman, you would have felt those same feelings for her.

“No one pities you, baby. I promise,” he says. “They miss you.” His head lifts so he can meet your stare. “But if you don’t want to go then I'll stay here with you. We can watch a movie or somethin’.”

Your eyes widen. “No!” you yelp. Benny’s head jerks back at the sudden outburst and you swallow to buy yourself time to sort your thoughts into words, but the best you come up with is: “You’re right, actually. We should go.”

“But you just–” His brow raises in skepticism. “Are you sure?”

If your options are club meeting surrounded by a large group of people or movie-watching with you and Benny alone, then yes, you are absolutely sure. The movie channels have rallied against you lately. Out of the five times you and Benny have watched a film since he came back, all five have been romances. All of them!

You don’t know if he scours the TV Guide without you noticing or if the television channels have simply rallied against you, but sitting beside your husband who you are trying not to give in to is made all the more difficult when watching Audrey Hepburn fall in love with George Peppard or Cary Grant or Greggory Peck for God's sake. You see them and it makes you forget things. You forget that you’re as upset as you are, and with Benny so close, your heart starts to pound and you can’t focus on anything else. You want to crawl right into his arms, let him hold you and kiss you and take you on the couch after what has felt like an eternity apart. But you can’t do that. It’s too soon. So no movies.

“Positive,” you nod.

An easy smile slides onto his face. “Well that’s great, baby. It'll be fun.”

“Yea. Sure.”

“Alright,” he says, standing. “I gotta get to the shop.”

He pauses as he passes by you, and you hold his gaze as he squashes the instinct to press his lips to your forehead.

You weren’t married to Benny for long before he panicked and left—only a handful of months—but it was long enough for the two of you to develop your own set of rituals. And by the consistency and ease with which Benny performed those rituals, anyone would have assumed they’d been in place for decades.

A kiss on the forehead after breakfast was one ritual. As was the bedtime cuddling with your leg slotted between his. And the way he’d stare at you in the mirror, his arms crossed and body leaning against the doorframe as he watched you brush your teeth with a grin on his face.

But the one you miss the most is the hug from behind that you'd receive once he’d decided to come home for the night. He’d circle his arms around your waist and place a kiss on your neck, and then he’d chuckle because he was so determined to sneak up on you and give you a little scare but was never successful. You could feel him before he touched you, you could smell his cologne, but you didn’t want to ruin his fun, so you let him have hope that one day he would finally surprise you.

Benny blows out a long breath through his nose. “I’ll see you tonight,” he mutters with a brief hint of a smile.

As the front door closes behind him, a carbon smell grabs your attention and you look over your shoulder at your breakfast. It’s charred, inedible, and you don’t even care, you just knock the pan off to the side to keep the house from burning down.

—

“Well, thank the lord,” Betty’s voice travels across the bar as she and Kathy approach you and Benny. “We weren’t sure we’d ever see you again, honey.”

Kathy draws you into a tight hug that rips you from Benny’s side. “Things have not been the same with you gone,” she says as she leans back, rubbing her hands up and down your arms. She smiles so sweetly and you breathe a sigh of relief. These women were your friends and you feel guilty for abandoning them just because Benny abandoned you. “Come sit.”

“Benny Cross, we are stealin’ your wife,” Betty declares, “And you don't get to whine about it.” There’s a dash of vitriol in her tone that nibbles at your gut and you hope it’s simply an effect of the alcohol she must’ve had prior to your arrival.

“Oh,” Benny says. You glance at him, at the disappointed look on his face—subtle, but there. He wanted you by his side tonight, but he’s not going to force you to deny their offer. “Ok.”

Kathy and Betty each take one of your hands and lead you to a small rounded table. It’s the centerpiece of the room, and as one of three surrounding it, so are you, unfortunately. As Betty sticks a cigarette in her mouth and Kathy takes a sip of her beer, your eyes scan the low-lit space.

Stares from the men lining the walls burn your cheeks. You recognize only half of them—the Vets, as they’re known—and they give you their smiles and nods in a ‘welcome back’ gesture, Johnny, in particular, sporting a rare grin.

The others—the Newcomers; out-of-towners who came specifically to join the club—look at you with something else in their eyes. Amusement? Curiosity? They seem to know exactly who you are and enjoy a little too much putting a face to the name. You, however, don’t know a single one of them. They’d arrived shortly before Benny left, and while some faces, those with distinct features, you can recall from nuggets of your memory, you’ve never spoken to them. You never got their names.

“Why this table?” you ask your friends.

“Best view of the pool table, obviously,” Betty chuckles after snapping Johnny’s lighter shut. She nudges her head in that direction. “Nothin’ wrong with lookin’, I say.”

Flanking the table are Cal, Wahoo, and Benny; Wahoo watching and chattering from the sidelines as Cal and Benny alternate between shots.

Benny edges from one side of the table to the other, sizing up his options. Then, cue in hand, cigarette dangling from his lips, he bends at the waist and lines up the shot.

He’s so stupidly beautiful. The lamp hanging above the table illuminates him, defining his muscles by highlighting the hills and casting the valleys into shadow. A haze of smoke coats your view, but his pure essence and magnetism break through it like rays of sun through parted clouds.

Benny’s eyes flick up to yours and he winks as he shoots, driving two balls directly into their nets.

Your mouth goes dry. You swallow sandpaper, leaving your throat all raw and scratchy.

“So, how’ve you been, honey?” Betty asks, and you turn your head. “How've you been feelin’? How’s that nausea?”

“Yea,” Kathy adds, leaning in close as if seeking out a secret, “and how’s it been goin’ with him? Any trouble?”

“Um, I'm fine,” you say, tucking a few stray strands of hair behind your ear. “Nausea’s manageable.

As far as Benny goes, there's no trouble,” you tell them, “It’s just–” You pause.

What can you say? That you haven’t fully forgiven him even though he’s working so hard to be a good husband? That some of the things he’s doing around the house are swoon-worthy compared to what most men you know would do but you’re too stubborn to express the depth of your appreciation? Any woman would look at you like you’re insane.

When you think about it like that, maybe you are insane.

“I don't know,” you say with a shrug and a shake of your head. “It's hard to explain.”

“Well, according to Johnny, Benny’s worried each day in the house will be his last,” Betty says, blowing a stream of smoke off to the side. “That boy’s so afraid he’s gonna mess up and let you down again that I'm surprised he hasn't lost his marbles. I read in Life that bein’ that anxious wreaks havoc on the body and mind.”

Betty’s always reading something in Life, and a good portion of the time you are hesitant to take her seriously. Not necessarily because you don’t trust what the magazine reports, but that Betty tends to exaggerate for kicks.

You have a feeling she’s not exaggerating this time.

Your face falls.

“Don’t you feel bad about it for one second,” Kathy scolds, placing her hand on top of yours. “You’re well within your rights to make him earn his place.”

“I know, but I don’t want him to be scared that I'm going to–”

You’re cut off by a male voice slipping through a brief lull in the cacophony of noise.

“If she don’t want Benny no more, she can bring her sweet ass right on over to me,” a Newcomer says in a slurring mess. “I’d sure take better care of her than he did.”

Every soul in the room falls deadly silent—the only remaining sound being the melody of Elvis's Baby Let's Play House from the jukebox—and the world around you freezes.

Cigarettes are held over ashtrays, their ashes yet to be knocked off. Beer bottles are raised to lips without the satisfaction of a sip. The bartender’s rag has only wiped up half of a drunken man’s spill. No one is breathing and everyone’s eyes are glued to either the Newcomer or your husband. Yours are on Newcomer, watching his features shift and tick as he soaks in the weight of what he just said, and what it’s about to cost him.

Kathy sighs. “Oh, god.”

The whole bar hears her—impossible not to; you could hear a mouse skitter across the floor—and her words seem to carry with them the wave of a green flag, because a moment later, Benny rushes the guy and tackles him to the ground.

Chaos erupts. All at once, shouts, curses, and hateful name-calling explode like the impact of a bomb. Nearly every man in the club is taking sides in the war between Newcomers and Vets. Fists fly into faces. Faces are shoved against walls. Walls are cracked from bodies slamming into them. There’s the distinct sound of bone meeting bone. Blood splatters across your table.

“Jesus, fellas!” Kathy snaps as she and Betty hop up, dragging you out of the danger zone.

In a panic, your head whips in all directions. You can’t find Benny, but you need to find him and you need to find him now.

You’ve seen him throw punches at races and members’ houses but this is too public a space, and if the cops are called, he can’t be caught fighting again. Nor can he risk having fingers pointed his way for instigating. He already has a record, and though you didn’t know him during his few stints behind bars, you know he has exhausted the sheriff's leniency. If you leave now, Johnny will come up with something to excise Benny’s participation should questions arise.

You take a step forward but Kathy’s grip is tight. “Where do you think you’re goin’?” she shouts.

“To get my husband.”

Betty gapes. “Are you crazy? You're pregnant!” But you ignore her, shaking Kathy off and heading into the storm. “Johnny! Johnny, grab her!”

You weave through fight after fight, stopping short when a body lands at your feet, but he’s up and out of your way in an instant, and you continue dodging and ducking until you spot a blond head. From what you can see, there’s hardly a scratch on him. The same cannot be said for the drunk guy beneath him.

Before you can move another inch, an arm circles your waist and jerks you back.

“Hey!” you snap. “Let go!”

“Not a chance, sweetheart. You stay out of it,” Johnny says, lifting you off the ground and setting you down in a safer area. He puts his hands on your shoulders and dips his head to your eye level, locking on to your gaze. “I’ll get ‘im, ok? I’ll get ‘im. Stay right here.”

You nod in agreement, your brows knitted and teeth chewing on your bottom lip.

From this location, you have a better view of your husband and the friend who is trying and failing to break up the fight. Johnny yanking on Benny’s dominant arm is not enough to stop the attacks. Neither is the forearm locked around his neck.

When Cal notices Johnny’s struggle, he pushes his opponent into a table and races over to take hold of Benny’s other bicep. Together they pull him off the man whose face no longer resembles a human’s. It’s a bloody mess. His nose is dented in, eyes swollen shut, lips split and mouth hanging open to reveal an empty space where a tooth used to be.

Benny’s chest heaves. Murder is in his glare. He jerks against his restraints but struggles to break free with the force of two men weighing him to the ground.

Then Johnny mutters something in Benny’s ear that immediately halts his thrashing. His breathing slows. The fire fades from his irises, returning them to their soft cerulean, and his eyes tear away from the beaten man to dart around the room in search of you.

As Benny spots you, Johnny's lips move, seemingly forming the words ‘Get outta here,’ before he pats Benny on the chest and lets him rise to his feet.

Benny comes to you and without stopping grasps your hand and leads you out of the bar.

—

“You think you fractured anything?” You ask as you slide the key into the lock and turn.

Benny stretches and flexes his fingers. “No,” he answers, trailing into the house behind you and shutting the front door. “Are you upset with me?”

He’s been wanting to ask that question since you left the bar. As he'd placed the helmet on your head and clipped the strap under your chin, you'd observed his lips, how they were parting as if to speak but unable to get anything out. And when he'd helped you off the bike in front of the house, his expression was far away, his jaw shifting, teeth clenching—the look of your husband in intense thought.

At least he finally spit it out. Normally, he would have run his fingers through his hair and sighed, opting not to bother you with the question; a behavior that used to drive you crazy. It took weeks after you met for you to accept that while Benny was willing to share a lot with you—things he didn’t intend to share with anyone; a life, for instance—there were things best not to pester him into revealing.

So you’re a patient partner. If it needs to be said or asked, it’ll be said or asked. And you're glad he decided this was one question that needed to be asked.

You sigh, hanging your jacket on the rack, and Benny follows, selecting the hook closest to yours.

“I mean, you nearly killed him,” you say as you make your way to the back of the living room and open the closet that houses the first aid kit.

On tippy toes, you can barely brush your fingers along the metal tin, and you grumble each time you unintentionally push it a little further back on the shelf.

A muscled arm reaches above your head to grab the kit. Benny places it in your hands before stepping back into the seating area and dropping down onto the footstool, his standard perch when you’re fixing him up.

Blue eyes are glued to your body as you take a seat on the couch.

You pull the lid off of the tin and riffle through it for the small bottle of alcohol—you’ll have to buy more soon, it’s getting low—and a clean rag. With the alcohol-soaked fabric at the ready, you slip your fingers under his warm palm, bring his hand close, and get to work dabbing the wounds and wiping off some of the dried blood. He doesn’t so much as hiss at the shot of pain that makes any other human groan and pinch their eyes tight.

“He was out of line,” he tells you.

“I’m not saying he wasn’t out of line, but I really don't need you getting in trouble and being taken away from me, Benny.” You’re focused on his injury, but out of the corner of your eye, he winces in shame. “Besides, he was just mouthing off.”

“Mouthin’ off about my wife.”

With a huff, you drop your joined hands onto your lap and shoot him a look. “I know, but do you honestly believe what he said could ever happen? Do you think I would leave you for some other man?”

You ask with the full expectation of a whip-quick reply—‘of course not, baby’—but Benny adam’s apple bobs, and his teeth clench as his eyes flit to the undoubtedly less interesting carpet.

“Benny…?”

He runs his uninjured hand down his face and looks up at you. “C'mon, baby, it's not that wild of a thought. Not after what I did to you,” he says, his thumb slowly running over your knuckles. “You are so much better than anything I should be allowed to have. But me? You could throw a rock in any direction and you'd hit a man better than me. One that wouldn’t have panicked and left you pregnant and alone for six weeks.”

You shake your head. “That’s not true.”

“It is true.”

“It is not, and even if it was, I don't want another man,” you confess. A beat passes as you exhale heavily to stave off the stinging of oncoming tears. “It hurts that you left, but I am working through it, we are working through it, ok? You’re not going to lose me, Benny Cross. Not unless you leave me.”

“I'm never leavin’ you,” he says.

You place your free hand on his cheek. “Then you’re never losing me.”

Benny swallows hard and scans your face—each and every feature—lingering on your lips before meeting your eyes. As your thumb strokes his cheekbone, he wraps his fingers around your wrist, turns his head, and presses a kiss to your palm.

“Baby, I miss you so much,” he mutters, his brows pinched in anguish. “I miss touchin’ you. I miss holdin’ you. I miss sleepin’ next to you.” He lightly shakes his head. “I know I don’t deserve you, and I sure as hell don’t deserve our baby, but I fuckin’ miss you.”

The unit that is your heart and body and soul feels as if it’s being cleaved in two. This isn’t what the past month of your lives was meant to be about. It was supposed to be about building trust, not dishing out punishment. And yes, you’ve messed up before, said things that weren’t fair, but keeping him at arm's length is more than that. It’s a deeper pain. Stronger. More potent. Not just for him, but for you as well, and now you can’t quite see the point anymore. Staying away from his touch does not help anything if what you want at the end of the day is to be together. And that is what you want.

When you touch your lips to his for the first time in almost three months, you whimper. You whimper and you melt and the tears want to come back because it’s so much easier to resist desire when you haven’t entertained it in a while. But now you’ve given in. You’re tasting him like you used to, tasting the remnants of gin and cigarettes and the blueberry pie you made for dessert, and it’s all Benny. Benny, who is so shocked that you’ve kissed him that it takes a handful of seconds before he kisses you back and becomes the Benny you know. And then he’s curling his arm around your waist and pulling you into his lap, and his hands are everywhere. Squeezing your thighs, sliding over your ass, tracing up your spine, holding the back of your neck to guide you closer so he can kiss you harder, and yea, you are never depriving yourself of your husband again.

Benny stands, taking you with him, supporting your weight as he keeps kissing you and you keep kissing him. He blindly turns and settles into the comfort of the couch with your legs on either side of his hips.

You lean back, breaking the connection of your lips. “Benny.”

He’s staring at you like you’re hypnotic, mesmerizing. Like he’s drunk on kisses. His fingers trace the curvature of your face. A thumb ghosts over the swollen pillows of your mouth.

“Yea, baby,” he says, voice gravelly, just above a whisper.

“Do you want to be back in our bed?”

Benny stiffens and he blinks away that glazed-over expression. “You mean it?” He asks. You nod.

“Are you gonna be in the bed too?” he says, sifting his fingers through your hair. “We're not just swappin’, are we?”

You smile. “No, we aren't swapping,” you promise him, your forehead falling against his. “I'm making room.”

---

A/N: I kind of want to do a time jump Part 3 with lots of Dad!Benny stuff. Let me know if you’d be interested in reading that. Thanks :)

Taglist (if you wanna join)

#benny cross x reader #benny cross #bikeriders #austin butler #the bikeriders #benny cross fic #austin butler x reader

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baby-yongbok · 9 months

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Call me, baby

Hwang Hyunjin x Fem!Reader

♡ Genre - Smut, slow(ish) and then boom porn - Strangers to lovers (non-idol)

♡ Word Count: 7.6k

♡ Summary: Welcome to Rockstar tattoo and piercing, where giving a beautiful stranger and eyebrow piercing can lead to the best fuck of your life.

♡ A/N: I started this as soon as photo's of Hyunjin with that damned eyebrow piercing came out. I am EXHAUSTED the horny took over, I'm ruined and now maybe you are too. 😭 I wanted to have this be a bit of a slow burn type of thing just so there could be some build up and longing ya know? I don't usually draw things out this long but I wanted to give it a shot. 💕Please enjoy it, I worked hard and I'd love to hear feedback. I also only lightly edited it for right now, I'll look over it again later! Gosh I'm exhausted. + reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡

♡ Warnings: Pain slut Hyunjin, Descriptive piercing process, Biting, Hair pulling, Appearances by Lee Know, unprotected sex (safe sex is good. be safe ya'll) Oral (f&m receiving), nipple play (kinda? & not for too long + reader has nipple piercings)

✧ Masterlist ✧

“Hey, man. Welcome to Rockstar tattoo and piercing whatcha lookin for tonight?” Minho, your ex and fellow co-owner of the shop asks as that familiar jingle rings through the empty shop. You’re too busy cleaning up your space to listen in on what the new customer wants. You’re sure that it’s something simple since it’s close to midnight and all that gets done this late are simple piercings and tattoos that people will regret in the morning.

“Baby, you got a customer up front.” Minho calls as he makes his way over to his station. The name prompts a fake gag and an award winning eye roll as you move across your station

“Do not call me that, ew.” The echo of Minho’s chuckle makes him sound closer than he is as he rounds the corner of the wall dividing your spaces. You’re a two person crew so you get to spend every second that you’re in this shop with your ex which wouldn’t be so bad if he and his new girlfriend weren’t all over each other every chance that they got. You love the girl and they’re a much better match than the two of you ever were but it’s been so long since you’ve been with someone that you feel like they’re just teasing you at this point.

“You used to love that.” With folded arms he leans against your side of the wall and you turn to him with a hand on your hip while the other one is full of supplies.

“And I used to love you.” He hisses, holding a hand over his heart with faux pain in his eyes.

“Ouch.” You throw an empty ink cap at him and you both laugh. “Well since you don’t love me I’ll be right back.” He walks over to the front desk, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair and heading out to the front of the shop.

“Where the hell are you going?” You whine, running up behind him. He turns to face you with that mischievous glint in his eyes. Does he really need to go get his dick wet right now?

“Seriously, Min!” He laughs at your incredulous scoff as he throws on his jacket. “If I’m not back in an hour, close up for me, yeah?” With a quick wink and a smirk he rushes out of the door before you even have a chance to protest. You know that he’ll be back, he always comes back but you still want to give him a piece of your mind. You flip him off as you watch him pass the large front window and he kisses back at you. You love that you two had a clean break but god does he get on your nerves.

“Asshole.” You mumble under your breath as you look down at the form on the counter. “Hyunjin?”

You hear shuffling in the very far corner of the waiting area as you flip through his paperwork.

“That’s me.” You smile down at the clipboard once you hear his voice, at least he’s not some rude wasted guy. “You can come with me.”

When you look up your jaw nearly hits the counter, is beautiful even the right word to describe this man? You don’t usually have a type but if you had to pick one it would be the man standing right in front of you. “ Uh, hey my name’s Y/n, I’ll be piercing you tonight and it uh-”

Gosh, his eye contact is intense, how does he do that? “It says here that you wanna get a horizontal eyebrow piercing?”

“Right.” He shakes his head as he rocks back and forth on his heels and you nod.

“Awesome, it should be pretty quick, let’s do this.” You unlock the swing door and allow him back into your station. You decide to close the privacy curtain that separates your space from the rest of the shop since the chances of anyone else coming in is close to zero, you’re not as accessible as the shops close to town so this is the quiet hour for you.

Hyunjin watches as you start collecting the supplies that you’ll need. You move carefully, making sure that everything is just how you like it. “Have you been doing this for a long time?” You hadn’t even noticed the way that he seems to be nearly looking over your shoulder this entire time.

“Long enough.” He smiles at your shy laugh as you pick a marker from your cup. “We’ve owned this place for about three years.”

“You and your boyfriend?” You scowl at his words, pulling a chuckle from his chest. “I guess he’s not your boyfriend.”

“He’s my ex, we already bought this place when we broke up so I couldn’t escape him.” A dramatic sigh follows your statement as you motion for him to sit down on the chair in front of you. “We're friends now, best friends, but I am a single girl.”

Hyunjin cocks his brow, causing you to accidently draw a line across his eyelid. “Sorry about that.” He chuckles and you smile at the soft sound.

“It’s alright.” You clean him up and the feeling of his gaze burning into you makes you smirk. You’re more than used to clients staring at you, there are some that will try to make an ungraceful pass at you while they’re at it but for some reason having Hyunjin stare at you so intensely is welcomed? Maybe because he’s cute. That definitely helps. “Ready?”

“Ready.” You mark him perfectly this time and point him towards the mirror to check if he likes the placement. “Perfect.”

“Awesome let’s stick ya then.” You motion him towards your reclined chair and he gracefully fills the spot with his tall frame. “You’re not scared of needles are you?”

“Not at all.” The smirk on his face as he stares up at the ceiling catches you off guard. You’ve never seen anyone smile at the thought of getting stabbed before. You wipe your hands and snap on your gloves before moving in front of your rolling tray where all of your supplies are set up. “Did it hurt when you got yours?”

“Nope, but that’s probably because I did it myself.” You grab your scissor clamp and move next to Hyunjin. “Okay, so, the steps are to clamp the site, pierce it, feed the jewelry through and then you’re out of here.”

“Sounds easy enough, go ahead.” You nod leaning over him gently. This is the first time in all of your years as a piercing artist that you’ve felt self conscious about the deep V cut of your shirt. You usually couldn’t care less but right now you’re almost hyper aware of the way that you’re presenting yourself to the man in front of you. You’re also hyper aware of the way that he’s staring right at the lacey red of your bra that’s peeking out, or is it the studs of your nipple piercing pressing against your tight cotton shirt that’s caught his attention? Either way, the way that he’s staring is causing something that you haven’t felt in awhile to stir deep in your stomach.

“Gonna clamp you now, it shouldn’t hurt but just take a deep breath anyway.” You whisper as you turn his head a bit to get a better look at the piercing site. Now he’s really got a good view. He’s perfectly still as you clamp him and you praise him for every little thing that he does right, he seems to take a liking to that since every time something sweet comes out of your mouth he hums with contentment.

“Ready for the stick?”

“Go ahead.” He licks his lips while his gaze is still trained on your chest and you can’t help but to push your thighs together. He seemed to have noticed since a ghost of a smile adorned his lips right after.

“Breath in.” He follows your instruction and you position the needle right at the mark only pushing a bit to prepare him. “And out.” He was an easy stick, it went in perfectly. It was smooth and quick and he definitely hissed a moan when you did it. You stay in place, leaning over him with the plastic needle still in.

“Everything good?” The sound of his moan rang through your ears as you avoided eye contact with him. He hums a confirmation, his eyes are shut now and his bottom lip is between his teeth. Good god. Did he not notice or does he just not care? Does he have a thing for pain? “I’m going to uh- feed the jewelry through.”

You move his head a bit, trying to find the best position for the light to hit him. Why is the lighting so shitty all of the sudden? “Everything alright?” There’s a slight chuckle in his voice and you sigh.

“Yeah I just can’t get a good light right now. It’s like my damn shadow moved in the way.” You move a bit back and forth but nothing is comfortable enough. “Can I like… could you just move your hip over a bit?” He does as you ask immediately and you swiftly prop your knee up on the chair.

“Thanks, that's so much better.” You grab the jewelry, and wedge it into the plastic needle for the feed through. “You’ll feel a bit of pressure, it might sting okay?”

“Mmhmm.” Just as you’re about to move the needle you feel the soft brush of his fingers on your inner thigh. That had to be an accident right? Do you want it to be an accident? Not really.

“One, two, go.” You slowly feed the jewelry through and this time a soft grunt leaves his lips but that’s not all. You freeze when you feel it, glancing down at Hyunjin while his eyes are still closed and his fingers grip the flesh of your inner thigh. “Good?”

“Great.” It’s a miracle that you didn’t moan at the feeling of him grabbing you but you decide to thank whatever higher power saved you instead of thinking about what if’s. One thing’s clear though; he definitely has a thing for pain.

“Let me just -” You reach over to your rolling tray and his grip on your thigh loosens but he doesn’t let go. “- Just gotta put the ball on the end.” You secure his jewelry, screwing on the end and wiping it down with bactine.

“Done.” He sighs but he doesn’t move. You look down at him, expecting him to say something, but he stays silent. You take a deep breath, trying to ignore the electricity that having his hand inches away from your heat is causing. “Wanna look at it?”

He nods, finally moving his hand, now maybe you can breathe normally. You both move at the same time but he sits up much slower than expected. “Feeling good?” Hyunjin hums as he adjusts his pants and makes his way over to the mirror, leaning in to get a good look at the new accessory.

“So good.” Yup, he has a pain kink. It’s confirmed.

Once you’ve cleaned up all the immediate things and rid yourself of your gloves you move over towards him slowly. Usually you’d make small talk but you don’t feel too capable of doing that with the way that your core is pulsing with need at the moment.

You watch as he studies the piercing. You should be looking at it too but you can’t focus on anything but the sharp beauty of his features and the way that his wine red hair falls against his temples and compliments the blush running up his neck. As much as you try to stop yourself you can’t help but indulge in taking him in further. You can’t help but to let your gaze run down the length of his strong arm and admire the way that his black sweats are hanging from his hips. Your eyes linger on the hem of his pants for a second too long and that’s when you notice it. Right below the perfect bow of his drawstrings is a delicious bulge that you desperately want to show attention to. Your tongue darts out, licking at the corner of your mouth a bit as you eye him. Snap out of it, come on.

“Think I should get a tattoo there?” Your eyes snap to his reflection but he’s already looking at you. Fuck, did he catch you staring? Of course he did, it was so obvious. “I’ve been thinking about it.”

His smile makes you feel like you could explode at any second but you decide to try a bit harder to contain yourself. “I think that could be hot.” Fuck, no no no, why did you say that.

“Hot? You think so?” He cocks his eyebrow just like he did earlier but this time the gold stud adorning his thick brow makes a shiver run up your spine and sends a spark to your clit. He was already hot without the piercing but now it’s just unfair.

“Uh yeah, I do.” Before you can try to turn around and make your escape from further embarrassing yourself he turns to you.

“Would you do it?” His eyes are focused on yours and for some reason you can’t find it in you to look away.

“Do…your hip tattoo?” He nods and you shift your weight as you imagine the process. Could you even stand to be that close to his dick? You’re standing in front of him right now and you feel like you could combust from the eye contact. Surely you’ll melt if you end up having to stare at his hard dick for hours while he gets off on the pain of your needle for a second time.

“I would.” Your answer leaves your lips in a half whisper before you can even think about it but the smile that pulls at his lips makes you forget your prior argument. “Just let me know when.”

“Do you have a card?”

“Up front, I’ll give it to you with your care instructions.” You find yourself glancing down one more time before attempting to blink away all of your horny thoughts. As much as you want to fall to your knees and relieve him of his pain induced hard on you have to keep it professional, even if you were just caught staring at his dick print. “You paid when you came in, right?”

Quickly, you make your way around him to open your curtain and lead him to the counter. “Yeah I did.” You can feel him close behind you as you unlock the swing door to let him out.

“But you did such a great job.” The slam of the small door behind him makes you jump a bit but his following question is what really did it. “Do you take tips? Or could I give you more than that?”

You choke a bit on your inhale but at the same time there couldn’t possibly be a hint of oxygen left in your body with the way that he’s looking at you with his arms crossed and leaning on the counter. Your brain isn’t working anymore, it’s completely smooth as you stare back at Hyunjin’s cool smile. Hell, if he’s offering you’re going to take it.

Just as you’re about to calculate your own suggestive reply that familiar jingle echoes off the walls and your gaze lands on none-other than your godforsaken ex. He eyes you as you stand behind the counter with red cheeks and your palms spread and pressing into the desk.

“All good?” He looks between you and Hyunjin with raised brows. You force a smile as you frantically scan the desk for the care instruction packet.

“Yup, all good.” The sigh that follows your sentence is less than convincing but Minho lets it slide in the name of trusting you. You turn your attention back to Hyunjin who’s eyes were already on you. “So here are the care instructions. Don’t change it for about two months and uh, just make sure to keep it clean and um yeah everything that you need to know is in here.”

He takes the packet, brushing his fingers against yours in the process. Hopefully the way that you shivered wasn’t too obvious. Are you really that down bad? Usually you’re witty and flirty, you tend to have a pretty smart mouth with customers but as soon as you saw Hyunjin all of that went right out the window.

“Your card.” He nods towards the display on the desk and you quickly grab one for him.

“It has the shop number and my instagram on there. If you want to contact me directly, Instagram is the best way to do it but I’m here almost everyday. If I’m not coming in, I'll post it on my story.” He flips the card between his fingers allowing you to get a good look at what you wish were still grabbing at the tender flesh of your thighs. Your focus breaks when he rubs the card between his fingers and a second one falls to the counter. “Oh, must’ve given you two by accident.”

“So I’ll message you.” Standing straight he slips the card into his pocket. “If I have any questions.” He takes a step back, taking you in one more time.

“Yeah, I’ll answer as fast as I can.”

“Baby, did you use the last of the caps?” Minho calls from the storage room and the scoff that follows makes Hyunjin laugh.

“Stop calling me that for goodness sake.” With the flash of a quick smile and mumbled goodnight you leave Hyunjin at the front and head over to your annoying cock blocking ex. Once you get to him you see him leaning against the storage room door with his eyes on his phone screen. “I thought you were looking for caps.”

“Nah, figured that you needed me to save you. That guy should’ve been gone already.” Did he seriously just ruin any chance that you had at getting laid tonight? And by a man as hot as Hyunjin at that.

“We were talking.”

“You don’t do small talk.” Minho’s pinched brows earns him an eye roll as you head over to your station. “So he wasn’t bothering you?”

“Far from it.” The way that you’re aggressively cleaning your tray gives Minho all the hints he needs but it would be out of character for him to just drop the topic.

"Then what was he doing?" Minho asks in his teasing tone that you’ve grown to be more than familiar with. You pause and sigh as your mind lingers on the feel of Hyunjin’s fingers gripping you and the sounds he made with each hint of pain.

"He was trying to make me interested."

“Was it working?” The silence that followed his question spoke louder than any words could. “His number is on the form ya know.”

“Just lock up, Minho. I’m not breaking any privacy laws just so I can get fucked.” He throws his hands up in surrender, backing away and heading to the front. You close your eyes, taking a deep breath to try and contain the many emotions running through you. You should’ve been on your game tonight but Hyunjin just threw you off. You haven’t been that attracted to anyone in so long that all of your skills went right out the window as soon as he looked at you. Maybe he’ll message you? Ask you a question or two and then ask you out. What if he doesn’t? What if Minho scared him off and you never hear from him again?

“Baby.”

“Lee Minho, stop calling me -” You pause when you turn to him, looking down at the card he’s offering you between his fingers. “What?” He extends his arm to you further, earning his third eye roll of the day as you snatch the cardstock away from him.

“It’s my card.” You shrug at him.

“Turn it over.” Your pulse picks up a bit once you notice the red ink on the back of the card. Hyunjin’s name and number is written in pretty symbols right across the middle with a small note. ‘Call me, baby.’

“I’ll stop calling you that now.”

Sleep didn't come easy last night but you sure did at the thought of Hyunjin. It doesn't help that you texted him immediately and he didn't waste a second before replying to you. Your night was spent getting to know him a bit as your mind danced on the idea of him fucking you into your mattress. The amount of time that you pretended that your fingers were his slender ones while you answered one of his questions is actually award winning. The taping of your cum covered fingers against your screen went on until you tired yourself out and fell asleep while waiting for his next text.

“Going out.” Minho looked up from the sketch book in front of him just in time to watch as you grabbed your jacket from the chair next to his.

“Did ‘baby’ call?” For the first time in a while you find yourself smiling and unbothered by his teasing. “She's smiling, did you finally catch a dick.”

“I'll let you know in a couple of hours.” The look on Minho’s face isn't one that you see often but it's your absolute favorite. “I'll be back, baby.”

You barely got to knock twice before the door to Hyunjin’s apartment swung open. He looks just as good if not better than he did last night and the fact that you’ve gotten to know him a bit better over text for the past couple of hours makes you feel like a college student sneaking into someone's dorm after curfew. It’s safe to say that you have a big fat crush now.

“Hey, nice piercing.” He pulls you into a quick hug before ushering you further into his place. Your eyes wander across his walls, taking in every detail. He really is the artsy type.

“Thanks, some girl did it for me last night.” He watches you take in his space with hungry eyes, no matter how much he tells himself that he just met you and that he wants to take it slow he can’t seem to pace himself. The amount of times that he came into his fist last night just thinking of how pretty your nipple piercings must be and how your thighs would wrap perfectly around him is insane. Unfortunately, the orgasms didn’t put out the fire that burned for you deep in his stomach, it only made the flame bigger.

“Oh yeah?” You face him as you peel your jacket off slowly, letting it slide off of your shoulders and down your arms so gracefully that he couldn’t possibly ignore it. “Was she hot?”

His eyes fix on the fabric stretching tight against your chest, how dare you call that a shirt. It’s keeping little to nothing to the imagination but he can’t say that he’s mad at it. “So fucking hot, I couldn’t stop staring at her.”

Your jacket finds a home on the arm of his couch while you check out the paintings on his living room wall. The stretched canvas and sheets of beautifully stained paper are littered all over the ivory wall, serving as the only real means of decoration in this area of the room. “Do you think that she noticed?”

The energy around you turns electric as he steps up behind you, just close enough not to touch you. “I hope that she did.”

“Why?” Your breathing is slow and shallow as your eyes run across the colors of the paintings on the wall. You’re not really taking in the beauty of the art anymore, you’re more concerned with the masterpiece standing behind you and what he’ll say next.

“So that she doesn’t feel surprised when I say -” He leans into you, fiddling with one of the paintings and pressing himself lightly into your back. A blistering heat washes over you at the feel of him against you. It’s so much more than you imagined it to be. “- That I think that she’s beautiful.”

He reaches for another painting, stepping forward just a bit to be closer to you. “And that as much as I want to take it slow and get to know her -” He slowly retracts his hand, stepping back and breaking all contact. You sigh, swallowing hard as you hang on each of his words. “I just can’t go another second without knowing what she feels like.”

You turn your head to the side, catching a glimpse of his burning gaze as he stares down at you. His dark eyes are undressing you before he even gets the chance to touch you. Something like you did to him yesterday. “I think that she’d feel the same way.” It’s a bit of a challenge but you manage to hold eye contact with him as you turn your body to face him.

“You think she’d let me touch her?” Eyes, lips, chest and repeat. That’s the pattern that his gaze follows while he waits for your answer.

“I think she wants you to, so so badly.” His eyes meet yours and his hands are on you in an instant, grabbing at the plush of your waist and pushing you against the wall of art work behind you.

“Thank god.” He whispers against your lips before attaching them in desperate hunger. The sound of paper and canvas falling to the floor is merely background noise in the heat of the moment.

He’s soft and sweet like honey, his touch is like satin against your skin and your head is fuzzy. Holy fuck. He swallows the moan that escapes you as you welcome his tongue into your mouth, offering his own sinful sounds as a counter. His hands are grabbing at the exposed skin of your stomach while he pushes your shirt up to expose more of you. Your hands fist the fabric of his shirt, you want him closer. You need him closer. He pulls away abruptly, staring down at you panting and flushed. He takes a step back and you take a step forward.

“Think she’ll let me fuck her?” He continues to step back from you and you match each move that he makes. Your hands find the bottom hem of your shirt and you pull the fabric over your head, revealing your flimsy lace bra to him. A hiss falls from his lips as he falls back into his couch. Sitting with his legs spread and ready for you, the perfect seat.

“You better fuck her.” Once you climb onto his lap his lips are back on yours in an instant. The kiss is hungry, desirous, passionate. It’s everything that you knew it would be and more. His palms rest on your breasts, kneading the flesh and flicking at the heart studs of your nipple piercings. A shiver runs over you at the feeling and Hyunjin smiles against you at the reaction.

“Sensitive?” He mumbles, following with a kiss and you nod with a deep moan. “Fuck.” He pushes your breast together, jiggling them in his palms while he watches with his bottom lip between his teeth.

“I wanted to see these so badly last night.” You knew he was staring. “Wanted to run my tongue over these pretty little studs.”

“What’s stopping you now?” You grind your hips into him, milking a choked moan from his throat. He’s so hard underneath you, his sweat pants are doing little to restrain his pulsing cock from pressing into your needy core but even that bit of pressure is not enough to satiate your hunger. His fingers peel down the lace of your bra and you watch as his tongue dips out of his mouth and swirls the silver jewelry. “Hyunjin.”

He hums, content with the way that his name sounds falling from your pretty lips, it’s then that you remember last night. Praise and pain, those are his things right? Let’s test it out.

The feeling of his tongue laving over your sensitive peak breaks you out of your thoughts and fogs your mind all over again. He shows both of your breasts equal attention, wetting your nipples with long drags of his tongue followed by a skillful swirl of the muscle around your shiny silver bars. “ So good, oh my god.” He hums, sucking a bit harder at the sound of your sweet words.

Your fingers lace through the wine red strands of his hair, scratching and rubbing at his scalp for a bit until he grazes his teeth over the sensitive peak of your nipple. You’re pulling at his roots before you can even process it but the pornographic moan that escapes him as he falls into your touch makes you happy that you did it.

“A pain slut?” Matching smirks paint your faces but his is quickly swept away when you bring your other hand up through his roots and pull again. “I knew it.” You grind into him, the moans escaping him are making you hungry for friction all over again.

His hands grasp your hips, gripping you so tightly that you’re sure there will be beautiful bruises there in the morning. “What gave me away?” His eyes stay on yours as you hold his head back by his hair. Yesterday his gaze was blinding but tonight you find it easier to handle the heat that it causes to rise on the surface of your skin. You’re okay with going blind if he’s the last thing that you see.

“Hm.” His eyes flutter shut at the feeling of your lips ghosting over his pulse “Maybe it was the way you moaned when I stuck you.” Sloppy kisses and small nibbles of his milky flesh draws a moan similar to the one that’s been playing in your head all night to leave his blushed lips.

“Or the way that you grabbed my thigh.” Your teeth sink into the flesh of his neck and the sound that he makes in response is nearly enough to make you cum on the spot. “Or how hard you were when I was finished.”

“Do that again.” So biting is his favorite, huh?

“Say please.”

“Please, do that again. Bite me, harder. Please let me feel that again.” He’s begging? You’ve never been with a man who was willing to do that. A mumbled praise makes his cock twitch against you as one of his hands slips down to your ass, gripping the cheek firmly but not squeezing. Your teeth sink into his neck again, a deep guttural groan escapes him while his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your ass through your jeans. “Oh, baby.”

You pull away at the feeling of a warm spot beneath you. When you look down at your clothed cores the sticky wet spot presents itself to you. He came just from you biting him and he's still hard. No fucking way.

“You made a mess.” A familiar darkness falls upon his gaze and now it's your turn to moan from the grip he has on your hair. “Clean it up for me, angel.”

You crawl backwards off of his lap, lowering down onto your knees as his grip in your hair ensures that your eyes stay on his. He shimmies his pants down with his free hand, your eye contact falters for just a second so that you can steal a glance at his cock. He’s bigger than you thought he’d be, long and curved ever so slightly. The angry red tip is glistening with cum in the low light, you run your tongue along your lips at the thought of sucking him clean.

“One day you’ll give me a pretty tattoo right here, won’t you?” He pulls your hair towards him, controlling your head so that you lean into his hip. You plant a sloppy kiss against his skin, nipping and licking like a desperate puppy. His cock twitches at the feel of your lips on the newly discovered patch of skin. “I’ll be hard as a rock with your pretty face so close to my cock.” He moves your head over just enough for you to lick up some of the cum from his flawless thigh.

“You think you could do it? Think you could be that close to my cock and not put me in your mouth?” Little does he know that you’ve already thought about it and the answer is no. Hell no, absolutely not. “Maybe it would be me who loses control.”

He yanks back on your hair, lifting your head back up to meet his gaze. He brings his bent pointer finger to your chin and runs his thumb down your swollen lips. “I have a feeling that I’ll be addicted to this mouth.” His eyebrow piercing catches the light as he stares down at you and you can’t help but to feel turned on by the fact that you did that to him. You’re responsible for that pretty stud on this pretty man.

“Let’s see if I’m right.” You open your mouth eagerly once he sits back and guides you over to his waiting cock. A hiss escapes him once you take him to the hilt, swallowing around him with watery eyes. He marvels at the way your pretty lips stretch around him, taking every single inch of him until his tip makes your throat bulge and your mouth water. You bob your head, licking and sucking him clean. The taste of his cum is so sweet, so perfect, maybe you’re just insanely horny or maybe he’s your new favorite candy. The only thing you’ll have a craving for from this point on.

“That throat is taking me so well.” The vibration of your hum makes Hyunjin bite his lip as he watches you. You bring your hands up to his naked thighs and claw your nails lightly down the exposed skin. His cock twitches in your mouth and your pussy throbs at the feeling of it. You’re a big fan of foreplay, it’s super important and fun and everything but you would do anything to skip all of this and simply feel Hyunjin’s cock sink into your dripping pussy. “This is what you wanted yesterday isn’t it? This is what you wanted when you were staring at my dick?”

The deep rasp of his voice as he asks such filthy questions makes you press your thighs together, Hyunjin moves his foot in between your knees. Kicking your legs apart and taking away the relief you were chasing.

“Need me now?” Your desperate gaze up at him is all the answer that he needs. He lets go of your hair and you slowly come up off of his cock, swirling your tongue around the tip a bit and releasing him with a string of spit still connecting you. He offers you his hand to help you up off of your knees before dropping to his own right in front of you.

With a burning gaze on your naked stomach he unbuttons your jeans and slowly drags them over the curve of your hips. His eyes scan every inch of newly exposed skin, leaving sweet soft kisses against the silky skin of your thighs. He takes a deep breath before pulling your panties down, his hands lingering against your bare skin as he admires your body. He leans in and places a soft kiss against your exposed center once you step out of your panties. What was supposed to be a simple kiss turned into a few kitten licks against your clit which then quickly evolved into long drags of his tongue through your folds while he palms your ass.

“Hyun- Hyunjin holy fuck.” Your fingers thread into his dark strands again, lightly pulling at his roots and milking moans from him. “Please fuck me. Please just fuck me I want to feel you.”

“Gotta get you ready.” He spits onto your clit, watching it drip down your lips a bit before catching with his tongue and spreading it over your folds. “I need my girl dripping around my cock.”

His lips wrap around your clit and you throw your head back in a silent scream before looking down at him. His eyes are closed as he laps at your pussy, sucking and licking like his life depends on it. You admire the shimmer of his fresh piercing as you watch him, pathetic whimpers falling from you as he dangles your orgasm in front of your face. You’ve been thinking about him for hours and now you’ve finally got him. You get to cum on his tongue and watch him slurp up every drip of your essence.

“I’m gonna cum, oh my god.” Your grip on his hair tightens and he hisses against you. He swirls his skilled tongue around your swollen clit a couple of times and you can feel the blistering heat setting all over your body. You’re so close, it’s so good and then he pulls away.

“Hyun-” Your whine is cut off by the soft yet aggressive feeling of his lips on yours.

“I want you to cum on my cock.” The taste of your pussy on his tongue distracts you from the feeling of him guiding you to the couch. He pushes you down, watching you with a smirk as he pushes his damp hair out of his face. You watch as he pulls his shirt over his head, balling it up and using it to dap at the sweat on his forehead before throwing it to the side with the rest of your clothes. “Do me a favor.”

His fingers dig into your plush waist as he positions you. He props his knee on the soft cushion, lining himself up with your entrance and teasing your sopping folds with his leaky tip. “Anything.” You fist the pillow right above you, placing it under your head to get a bit more comfortable.

“Call me baby.” He slips into you before you can even reply to him, stretching you out so deliciously and filling up your gushing pussy until his tip kisses your cervix. The moan that echoes through his apartment is high pitched and airy, your lungs burn from the electricity charged air as you cry out for him, gripping at the couch cushions as you try to ground yourself.

“Baby.” The first time that his hips snap into you his jaw clenches and his eyes roll to the back of his head. His imagination barely did you justice last night, his fist is nothing compared to the way that your pussy is clenching around him. The ungodly squelches of his cock plunging into you sends shivers down his spine.

“Fuck, you’re heaven.” He coos, the rasp in his voice makes your pussy clench around him as he presses your thighs back towards your chest. Hyunjin picks up the pace, snapping into you with unholy force.

It’s been so long since you’ve felt anything but your own fingers and it’s been even longer since you’ve been fucked this good. Not even Minho can top this and he was the best fuck you ever had. The mascara stained tears running down your cheeks translates all of that to Hyunjin without you having to say a word, it’s not like you could say anything but his name even if you wanted to. Your orgasm creeps up on you again, dangling in front of you like bait for a fish.

“Hyun - Hyunjin please don’t stop. Gonna cum gonna -” You cry out as he slams into you, filling you to the hilt and staying as still as possible. “Please please, ‘s so close please.”

“Not yet, baby.” he beckons you with two fingers, motioning for you to sit up. He helps you up, shifting your position so that you’re on top of him. You clench around him at the movement and he hisses at the tight feel of you. He’s close too but he wants you to fall apart on top of him. He wants to see you fall apart up close so that he can fuck his fist to the memory of it for days after.

“Ride me, come on.” A firm slap to your ass makes your hips buck into him as you start to move along his length.

You’re fucked out, chasing your pleasure desperately on top of a pretty man with a pretty cock. He wraps his arms around you, hugging you against his chest when he suddenly starts fucking up into you. He’s impossibly deep and you find yourself gasping for air against his shoulder. Moans and grunts fill the hot air as you fuck each other. For each thrust into you, you grind down on his cock, keeping him deliciously deep in your cunt. Your teeth mindlessly graze over the slope of his shoulder before you bite down into him. Bite, lick, suck. That’s the pattern you follow, over and over again. Making him sing for you as his fingers caress your spine.

“Come on, you can do it harder than that.” He gasps when you accept his challenge, biting into him with a bruising force. His thrusts become more erratic as he nears his climax but he’s determined to let you soak his cock before he pulls out. “Look at me, baby.”

He leans back into the sofa and his hand moves between your bodies once your eyes meet his. His middle and pointer finger rubs circles into your clit while he ruts up into you “Yes yes, yes ‘s so good.”

“You like my cock, pretty girl?” The fog in your brain is so thick that you can’t help but to babble as your orgasm climbs up your spine for the third time tonight.

“Love it. Love cock, you -you’re cock. Hyunjin, ‘m gonna cum o-on your cock.” He thought that you were breathtaking before but watching you cock drunk and fucked out while you’re bouncing on his dick might be his favorite way to see you.

“Go ahead, cum on my cock.” With a few more sloppy thrusts your body trembles against him as you come undone on top of him. He fucks you through it, keeping his fingers pressed against your clit as you squirm on top of him. Your vision goes white and there’s a ringing in your ears that blocks out every word of praise that falls from Hyunjin’s lips. The only thing that you can register is the pressure of his cock as he simultaneously abuses your cervix and clit.

“Hyun- fuck fuckfuck. So much. Too much.” Once you find the strength to open your eyes you're met with Hyunjin smiling up at you with pinched brows. “You can take it.”

“Pull my hair, baby.” Your trembling hands find their way along the familiar path of his scalp seconds after his request. Pulling at his roots with a delicious force that makes Hyunjin’s eyes roll back as he licks his lips.

“Oh fuck, you’re gonna make me cum.” Moans and whines fall from you nonstop as he fucks into your swollen and sensitive cunt, the wet sound of your arosual where Hyunjin’s cock disappears into you echoes off the walls until he stops, breath hitching in his throat. “Come here.”

His hand is in your hair before you can protest, lifting you off of him and onto your knees. Your cunt feels so empty without him inside of you. “Gonna let me cum on those pretty tits?”

“Yeah, yeah please. Wan' your cum, baby.” He throws his head back, pumping his slick cock in front of your face while you mindlessly slur praises for him. “You’re so fucking pretty, please let me have it. Please, I wan' Jinnie’s cum.”

“Baby, baby, cumming. I’m fucking cumming.” You both watch as thick ropes of his cum paints your breasts. Dripping over your nipples and the shiny studs just how Hyunjin pictured it last night. “Shit.”

Your panting fills the room as you both take a second to come down from your high. Hyunjin offers you his hand, helping you up from your knees and catching you when you stumble a bit with a chuckle. “Let me clean you up so you can lie down.” He sits you on the couch, grabbing his sweats and pulling them on before making his way to the bathroom for a wet cloth.

You blink a couple of times, trying your best to adjust to the light around you. It’s dim but everything seemed darker in your fucked out haze. You settle against the armrest of the sofa, smiling like an idiot while the pulsing of your clit reminds you of everything that just happened. Who would’ve thought that an eyebrow piercing could lead you to having the best fuck of your life. Just as you allow your eyes to flutter shut you feel a heavy vibration under you. With a groan you lift yourself up and search for the source. It’s your jacket, it must be your phone. Oh my gosh, Minho! You sit up with all the strength that you can muster, unlocking your phone and checking your messages.

“Everything alright?” Hyunjin questions as he kneels in front of you with a warm cloth in hand.

“Yup, just fine.” You grin down at your screen before pushing your phone to the side and allowing Hyunjin to wipe you clean.

From Minho: Knew you weren’t coming back.

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ahsokaismyqueen · 1 month

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Idiotic Decisions Pairing - Steve Harrington x HendersonSister!Reader Summary - Working on a project with douchebag Steve Harrington was not something you were looking forward to doing. However, you're surprised to find that maybe he's just a little less of a jerk than you thought. Word Count - 2.2k Warnings - Language and season 1 Steve, but that's it! Steve Harrington x HendersonSister!Reader Masterlist

Of all the things that you thought you might have to do in high school, partnering with Steve Harrington on a project was the one you probably wanted to do the least. Even less so did you want him to know where you lived and be in your house, but one, you had to be there when your brother got home, and two, you wanted the home field advantage.

“I still don’t see why you don’t just blow him off. You can come over and help me work on my new campaign. I had this great idea -”

You rolled your eyes. “Eddie, I’m not blowing off this project. It’s like twenty-five percent of my grade, and if I leave it all to Harrington I’m sure to fail.”

Eddie snorted over the phone. “Don’t you have like a 98 in that class?”

A sigh left your lips. “Yes, and I’d prefer to keep it that way. I need all the help I can get for scholarships. We’re gonna run like hell outta here remember? I can’t do that without some help.” After a moment, a thought struck you though. “Wait, don’t you have your own project to do? For Ms. O’Donnell?”

“What’s that? Oh, sorry, my Uncle’s calling me to do some stuff around the trailer. I’m going to have to let you go.” He rattled off.

But you knew he was lying. “I know damn well Wayne’s at work, Eddie.”

“Bye!” Then there was nothing on the other end but a dial tone.

Glancing at the clock in the kitchen, you let out a groan, knowing that Steve would be here any minute, and started cleaning off the table so you two would have some space to work. By 5, the time Steve had agreed to be there, everything was clean and your notes were laying out on the table for the two of you to use since you were sure he didn’t have any.

Then it was 5:30, and he still wasn’t there.

6:00

7:00

7:30 and there was still no sign of Steve Harrington.

By that point, you had grabbed a beer from where you had hidden them in the back of the fridge, and had taken up a spot on the couch with your new book, The Gunslinger. You almost didn’t answer when the knock sounded at your door, but you were curious as to what his excuse might be.

Steve Harrington stood on your doorstep with what you were sure was supposed to be a charming grin. “Hey, Henderson.” When you stared at him without saying a word, the grin started to fade, and he fidgeted around. “You gonna let me in or?”

You brought your beer to your lips and took a sip, continuing to stare him down for a moment, and then you took a step back, shutting the door in his face. Turns out you didn’t care what his excuse was. You sat back down on the couch and opened your book once again.

Steve started trying to talk to you through the door. “Come on, Henderson, basketball practice ran late, and then I had to call Nancy-”

You let out a snort and flipped the page.

“Just let me in. I promise I’ll do whatever you say, all the grunt work, hell, I’ll even write, ‘I will not be late.’ Like a hundred times if that’ll make you feel better.” He pleaded.

Hmmm . . . That would be amusing.

“Henderson, seriously, what’s it going to take? I can’t fail this class-”

“What are you doing here?”

You leapt out of your seat and ran to the door, opening it with a big grin. “How did it go?” You asked Dustin.

Your little brother mirrored your grin. “It was awesome! We didn’t get finished though.”

You nodded, expecting that. “Campaigns take forever sometimes, but it’s worth it in the end.”

“Will was trying to attack the demogorgon, and when he rolled the dice, it flew off the table, then it took forever to find it.”

“Was it a thirteen?” You asked.

Dustin shook his head. “It was a seven, but Mike didn’t see it, so it didn’t count.”

Letting out a laugh, you lifted Dustin’s hat to ruffle his hair. “Sneaky. I like it.”

“Are you two speaking English?”

You had forgotten Steve was there until he spoke. You shot him a scowl, but didn’t respond to him. “Come on, as awesome as that sounds, you’ve got to get to bed.” You told your little brother, wrapping your arm around his shoulder and bringing him inside. You tried to shut the door behind you, but Steve snuck in before you could.

“What is he doing here anyway?” Dustin asked again, glancing back at Steve as you tugged him to his room.

“Being inconsiderate and disrespectful of my time. Which is what I should have expected.” You replied without looking at Steve who was following behind the two of you. “Brush your teeth, lights out in ten.” You told him.

Dustin groaned. “Fine.”

“Are you having to babysit your brother tonight or something?” Steve asked.

You didn’t want to respond, but you got the feeling that he was going to keep pestering you until you did. “No. My mom’s just asleep already.”

Steve glanced down at his wrist, and then at you. “At 8:00?”

Something about his tone made you snap. “Not that it’s any of your damn business, but her medication makes it hard for her to stay awake.”

Steve seemed to recognize the defensiveness in your tone, holding up his hands in front of himself. “Sorry, I’m not used to a quiet house by 8:00. My dad’s usually three beers in, yelling at my mom about how shitty and stupid I am at that point.”

You paused for a moment, then narrowed your eyes at him. “I’m not going to feel sorry for you when you show up three hours late to work on a project that’s like a fourth of our grade.” You shoved past him, bumping into his shoulder as you did.

He still followed you. “I’m not trying to make you feel sorry for me - shit, Henderson- ” you froze as Steve’s stupidly large hand wrapped around your wrist. “I’m really sorry, okay? You’re right, I wasn’t respecting you like I should’ve been. It was shitty of me to show up so late.”

It surprised you. His apology sounded sincere. You turned around to face him, and Steve let go of you. “Well . . . I’m glad you’re self aware enough to know that was shitty.” You said, crossing your arms over your chest. “Other girls may let you treat them like that, but I’m not Harrington. I’m not going to do all the work because you . . . Flutter your eyelashes at me or something.”

Steve grinned, raising an eyebrow at you. “Flutter my eyelashes?”

You felt heat rush to your face, but tried to brush it off. “I’m serious.”

“Right. Right. Sorry.” He said. “No fluttering of eyelashes, got it.”

Taking a deep breath, you decided to lay down the rules. “I know we don’t get along, but for the sake of this project we need to work together. Which means I won’t call out all the ways you’re a douchebag, and you’ve got to give me at least a little respect.”

Steve stared at you, and you couldn’t help but move restlessly underneath his gaze. There was something about his eyes that was just . . . Intense. “That sounds fair.” He said, leaning against the doorframe. “Do you still want to work tonight, or do you want me to leave?”

Honestly, you were kind of surprised he was asking. It was almost . . . Considerate. “I - uh, I guess we can go ahead and work tonight. It’s not like I’d be going to bed any time soon anyway.”

His smile was back now as he spoke. “All right boss, lead the way.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was a small smile on your face as you led him to the kitchen.

————————

“Can I be honest with you Harrington?”

Papers were scattered around the table in every direction, no longer a neat stack like how you guys had started, but you found yourself not minding. Steve was bent over a sheet of construction paper, drawing lines with a ruler, biting his bottom lip in concentration as he tried to get the line perfect. At your words though, he looked up at you, raising his eyebrows. “You mean that’s not what you’ve been doing the entire time?”

You rolled your eyes. “I didn’t expect you to actually try. I’ve seen how you are in class.” For years you had watched Steve show up late, eat snacks, and flirt with girls instead of paying attention. You hadn’t expected it to be any different this time.

He bent back over the paper again, starting a new line. “Yeah, well, maybe I just wanted to prove to you I’m not the idiot you think I am.”

It wasn’t often that you regretted words that you said, but that might have been one of the times. You thought back to what he said earlier about his dad. How many people did Steve Harrington have in his life that thought he was stupid? It made you uncomfortable that you were now on that list. “Maybe, ‘makes idiotic choices’ is what I should have said instead. You know, like, being friends with Tommy and Carol.”

Steve didn’t say anything for a moment, and you thought you might’ve hit a nerve. “Aren’t you the one who’s friends with the drug dealer? How long before you think Munson’s locked up?”

Yep. You had hit a nerve, and now he had to. “Yeah, well at least Eddie’s not fucking miserable like those two.” You said, crossing your arms over your chest. “He cares about people. He took me in when I had no one because everyone thought I was weird for reading fantasy books and not talking to anyone. That sound like something Tommy and Carol would do?”

Steve slammed down the pencil and ruler. “People don’t think you’re weird because you read. People think you’re a bitch who goes around sleeping with people all the time because someone caught you coming out of a room at a party right before Jason Carver.”

“Jason Carver cornered me in that room while I was waiting on Eddie, tried to get me to make out with him, got pissed when I wouldn’t, then went outside and spread the rumor that I was a whore.” You hissed. You didn’t know why the words left your lips. The only person who knew about that night was Eddie, and now for some reason Steve Harrington. Oh well. It wasn’t as if you could take them back. “And everyone believed him without a second thought, didn’t they?” You said, leaning back in your chair. “Including you.”

Steve sat in stunned silence, his eyes never leaving your face. You thought you might have broken him when he finally spoke. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

You shrugged. “He didn’t actually do anything. He scared me for a second by grabbing my arm then I kicked him in the balls so hard he passed out. I guess wounding his ego and dick at the same time must have been too much.”

“You should’ve kicked him harder.”

“Probably.”

Silence filled the room again, neither one of you quite knowing what to say after your confession. You didn’t regret saying it. It was almost a relief to know that someone else knew you weren’t what everyone thought, even if it was Steve Harrington. He was still looking at you, his eyes tracing over your face as if seeing you in a new light. Then he glanced down at the paper in front of you and smirked. “That’s the shittiest flower I’ve ever seen.”

“What?” You glanced down at your own paper, a frown appearing on your face. Okay, so maybe your circles were a little lopsided, and your stems kinda thick, but it wasn’t that bad. “No it isn’t!”

“Oh, it is. I’m just glad to find something you can’t do.”

You let out a laugh that turned into a snort. Your eyes widened, and you covered your mouth as heat rushed to your face.

Steve’s smile grew in delight. “What the hell was that? Do you have pigs in here somewhere?”

“You’re never to repeat that you heard that, do you hear me Harrington?” You threatened.

“Will it make up for me making the idiotic decision to believe those rumors about you?” He asked.

Your heart did a funny thing then. Almost gave a jump, and for some stupid reason you felt your eyes get a little watery. “It’s a start.”

————————

The next morning at school, you met Eddie by your locker. “So how was it?” He asked as soon as you saw him.

How could you possibly answer him? “It was . . . Not as bad as it could have been I guess?” You said, starting to unlock your locker. “How about you? I hope Wayne didn’t keep you up so late you didn’t get finished with O’Donnell’s project.” You said, calling him out on his bullshit.

Eddie grinned sheepishly at you. “Yeah well - What the hell is all that?”

As soon as you opened your locker, at least ten sheets of folded up paper had fallen out. You bent to pick one up and read what it said. It turned out they all said the same thing.

I will not be late.

You looked up and spotted him a little ways down the hallway, waiting by Nancy Wheeler’s locker. When he saw you watching him, he gave you a salute.

You smiled.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #stranger things imagine

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tadpolesonalgae · 1 month

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Bound And Discarded To Be Treasured And Known[*]

Azriel x reader

Day 3 of @acotar-omegaverse-week — All Tied Up: Oh, you’re tied up so you don’t do anything you’ll regret during your heat? Would be a shame if someone… came along and messed up that plan for you :)

a/n: my eyelids are so heavy—most of this is proofread but there are sections I’ll be checking over come morning

Warnings: smut; pussy-eating; technically dubcon since reader’s in heat; overstim?; bdsm themes; cockwarming; knots; soft Dom Az?; fluff; they’re kinda adorable; very light breeding kink; implied incorrect use of a dagger’s hilt

word count: 6,507

——————————————————————————————————————————————

“I could show you, if you’d like…?”

Pause.

Steady…

Deep inhale.

Okay, resume.

Your throat rolls, wetting parched lips with a flick of your tongue as your eyes momentarily drop away from the alpha’s hazel set. There’s nothing inappropriate about what he’s offering, and yet…

And yet.

And yet your toes are curling in your boots and there’s molten syrup stirring in the pit of your belly. Any kind of heat is far from normal, living up here in the desolate Illyrian Steppes, and the kind that’s gently simmering within your abdomen is as normal as spotting two suns in the sky.

“You mean…now?” That’s definitely a hint of breathlessness in your tone. A puff of mist uncurling from your lips and carried away on an icy wind slicing between you.

Azriel rolls his shoulders carelessly, though you doubt he so much as glances about without intention. Pointed; decisive; certain. Centuries worth of lived experience and warrior training under his belt. Is there space for you to slip in, too?

“We could meet tomorrow, if that would work better for you?” Hazel eyes rest over your features, his irises set and still. Taking you in like an expert sommelier, savouring his time distinguishing the floral notes from the bitter or sweet undertones. Swishing you around in his glass before tilting the flute upright and letting you flow across his tongue. He clears his throat. “After training, I mean. One requires a flight back up, so I’ll be here anyway.”

“I’m not sure,” you hedge, teeth clasping at the interior of your lower lip, glancing away from what feels like an all-knowing gaze. “Starting next week I’m going to be pretty busy…”

“Busy?” Something in Azriel’s eyes changes.

“Right.” You nod. “Baeril is flying North for a week so I’ll be cleaning things up while I have the chance.” But there’s no way he didn’t already know that. It was the General who gave him that task. Also the reason his mood has been so poor lately, given your heat is supposed to…

You swallow, pushing the thought away.

“I see.” The alpha before you dips his head once. “Another time, then.” He takes it smoothly, without complaint; you wish Baeril was more like him. If only he could have half the composure Azriel has, things would be significantly better. As it is though Azriel’s head dips slightly, lowering his chin to look properly at you, a smile softening the edges of his mouth. “May I walk you back?”

You allow yourself to return his smile but it lasts for less than a second, realising where you’re going back to. “Thank you. That would be lovely.”

“My pleasure.”

————

There are no lingering touches on the doorstep of your home. No wash of heat where he’d usually wrap you to his chest, nor a last surge of warmth before the cool creeps in and you’re returned to the dim dampness of your house. Instead you give less than a tight smile, and it seems even Azriel’s lips contain ounces of strain as he yields you once again.

Returning you to your husband’s uncaring grip.

————

Busy, she had told him. Busy cleaning the house.

Azriel knows her husband has been sent off to check in on his relatives throughout the inner camps, so by all means she should be going with him. Not that he’s complaining that her husband might be loosening his grip on the treasure that is his wife. Azriel’ll happily swoop in the moment he senses an opening. It’s not like he’s made it this far through hesitating.

Though it is out of character for her husband to leave her. While there’s little romance between them, there is still possession. So why leave her?

————

It’s been two days since her husband had initially set off, and three days since he’s last seen her. Ordinarily Azriel would have no cause for concern—there are days when one of them is busier than usual—but this is preciously unregulated time with her husband entirely out of the picture.

Not that he’d had plans. The closest he’s gotten is a late night a month and a half ago, the sky having fallen to a dusky blue and the air containing the evening scent of woodsmoke. There’d been a celebration amongst the male Illyrians, cause for bonfires and ale and mead, salted meats with rosemary and indulging in crisped potatoes the size of one’s fist. Her husband had been out and both of them had known he wouldn’t be back for while.

His fingers had found their way to her cheek, pushing at a stray hair, and then her eyes had fluttered shut. Her hands had been clasped before her chest and her chin had lifted ever so slightly. Then his head had dipped but their mouths barely even touched before a stray breeze had her eyes snapping open, a look of peril on her features. She’d taken a step back, and then another, and then she’d been muttering an apology under her breath and turning for her house.

They haven’t spoken of it since.

Azriel had thought he might have a chance to bring it up when he saw her next… Is she avoiding him? The thought doesn’t sit well in his gut. Surely she would have no reason to. And yet, as far as he can tell, she would’ve had no reason to pull away the night he almost kissed her.

Wings shifting once at his back, Azriel steers his course to pass by her house. Evening is swiftly setting in, and if he isn’t quick he’ll miss his chance for the day—even he can’t deny it would be inappropriate to call in after dark, knowing she was on her own, and Azriel doesn’t want to bring any more trouble her way. Light is fading, the temperature steadily dropping with the dwindling of the sun, and the war camp is quiet as it hasn’t yet reached time for the males to sojourn down to an inn for post-dinner chatter.

Her house is the one at the end of the street, plenty of space kept between builds to allow room for gardens where veg will spring in the summer. There are no lights on that he can see, windows dark and seemingly empty. His brow furrows. Did her husband have a change of heart and bring her along as a last minute decision? Surely he would have known.

Keeping his pace steady, Azriel sends his shadows far on ahead, letting them curl around the back of the house, peering in dark glass to a darker interior. Empty. Strange. Surely, Azriel would have known if she’d ended up going with him… That’s her dressing robe hanging from the door; all her shoes by the front entrance, tucked between her husbands boots; the fleeced cloak she would take if she really was to travel deeper into the brutal terrain further north. Hair prickles at the nape of his neck.

Azriel allows his shadows to sweep the area, senses on high alert as he scans for any watchful eyes. When he finds none, he walks to her front door.

Locked. That’s fine.

Keeping his shadows aware, he calmly walks to the side, finding the large windows that let light into their living room—large enough for him to climb through, once the latch is…perfect. Shadows slip between the wood holding the glass and flip the latch open, pushing the windows ajar.

No sooner than he’s inside, a thick scent nearly chokes him, so concentrated and sweet he has to cover the lower portion of his face at first. The window clicks shut, and hazel eyes scan the vacant interior of their sitting room. Nothing is out of place, no shattered vases or broken plates, no blood stains on the floor, but that scent. Cautiously, Azriel sniffs once, bringing it into his lungs, filling them up and spreading into his bloodstream. Whatever is producing that smell, he can feel as it courses through his body, pulse kicking up. It’s unusually hot for a house built in Illyria. It should be much more draughty, not toeing the line of sweltering. Where’s all this heat coming from?

Not hearing any approaching footsteps, Azriel enters further into the enclosure, keeping his shadows ahead of him, patrolling corridors and doorways to keep himself hidden.

The scent builds, so dense he wonders if he’s even breathing air anymore or whether it’s pure… His tongue shifts in his mouth, throat rolling. His mouth is watering.

Azriel stiffens.

An increase in temperature. Prickling skin. Excessive working of salivary glands. Blood rushing with increased fervour. …This strangely sweet scent. Azriel inhales sharply, a faint tremble in his knuckles as he wraps his hand around the bedroom’s door handle. The door opens.

Azriel’s spine turns rigid…the scent is so much stronger. So strong his head is hurting.

But then his eyes find the bed, and his thoughts eddy away.

Her wings are bound at her back, rendered immobile and useless; coarse, thick rope has been tied around her wrists, wrapping around her forearms so they’re pulled together at the base of her spine, so tightly snared her shoulders are taut where they’re being wrenched back from her chest; darkened fabric has been tied at the back of her head, biting into her cheeks where it’s been slipped through her mouth, wet with saliva; rope has been wound around her ankles, knees, and thighs, making it impossible for her to move save for light circles of her hips.

The scent is coming from her.

She’s gone into heat.

————

How much longer? How much longer until it’s over?

You can’t even rub your thighs together from how closely they’re bound, not even an ounce of friction to soothe the aches riddling your body. Your arms have long since turned numb, though the edges of your mouth are rubbed raw and sore. Heat swelters beneath your skin, temples dewy and a thick gleam coats your body where sweat has permeated through the pores of your flesh.

It’s pure hell.

Exactly what Baeril had intended when he’d tied you up before departing for the innermost camps set up in the frozen mountains of Illyria. After all, he wouldn’t be able to be with you after the task he’d been assigned with would take up almost all of his time, and if he was going to have to suffer through the absence of sex, then he was going to make it ten-times as torturous for you. No romance, no love; just pure possession. Your pleasure is something of his—something he wouldn’t allow you to have unless it was from him.

A floorboard creaks behind you, and you whimper into the rag. Is he finally back?

Your hips wind in a circle, weakly shifting in the bed as you try to do whatever you can to lure him closer, to relieve you of the ties, or at least remove the ones from your legs so he can slide between them. With the angle of your head on the pillow you can’t see him, but you try to lift onto your knees only to find yourself too weak to manage anything more than raising an inch from the mattress.

The slicing of steel through coarse strands of rope snickers through the room and you find your ankles free, circling your feet as they tingle with feeling. You whine into the rag, squirming desperately beneath your bonds. Your knees part next, and the waves of heat increase the more freedom you’re allowed, the closer you come to being able to move and receive. A rough hand wraps around the top of your thigh, holding you in place as the blade slips beneath the rope, severing the final tie.

With a pained whimper, your legs press together, managing to half-roll onto your side, thighs rubbing against one another to invite more of that delicious heat to gather. A calloused palm wraps around your upper arm, probably to sever the ropes binding your upper body but you shift before he can continue.

You don’t need any more freedom—you just need him to fuck you.

————

Azriel’s back teeth might split beneath the tension that’s clenching in his jaw.

Now her legs are free, she’s managed to work herself into what she deems an ample position: knees pushing into the cushioning of the mattress a little further than shoulder width apart, her spine curving to invite him closer, face pressing deeper into the pillows. He can’t imagine the rope around her wings or arms being anything less than painful, but it seems her heat is taking priority.

He could instruct her to lie down, to let him cut the ropes on her body, but he doesn’t want to alarm her. She’ll be expecting her husband, not him. What if she doesn’t want him now she’s in heat? Fuck, they haven’t even had their first kiss, and yet he’s on his knees behind her and trying not to think about how perfectly they’re aligned. All he’d need to do is push her dress up, loosen the ties of his leathers, and that would be it.

The only problem is that it would be unforgivably wrong.

Her legs are open, her hips circling faintly, needy sounds pouring into that gag, but none of it is for him. He needs to cut her free.

Gritting his teeth tighter, he leans over her enough to slide the cold steel of the blade between the first three coils of rope, severing them like fabric scissors through silk. No sooner than her arms are freed, her legs have wrapped themselves around his hips, her left shin and foot wrapping around his back so she can haul her right to lock at his back. Muscles flex in her wings as her arms push beneath her, lifting herself up as she squeezes with her legs, aligning his hips with her centre, thighs working to keep them flush tight together.

Azriel exhales harshly, his palms working to disentangle her legs from his waist but it’s like she’s locked in, having grown impossibly strong in order to gain what she wants. She squeezes him once more, and her grip is tight enough he’s pulled forward, hands slamming down either side of her in the mattress, narrowly avoiding knocking her wings.

He can hear the whimpers stuck in her throat, the way her body is shifting beneath her own, and he forces himself to get a grip. He has to keep steady. He’s working to help you, not take advantage of you. Shadows curl, and he retains enough control over himself to have the steel blade slicing through the ropes around your wings before pushing himself away, ripping from your grip.

A pained noise moans from behind the rag, and Azriel watches as she tries to weakly shift upright, her upper arms shaking as pheromones filter through the already thickly sweet air. His mouth opens in preparation to explain, but she’s already turned around on her knees, fingers splayed delicately between the sheets, her pupils dilated and lips parted as they try to work around the gag.

Both of them freeze when their eyes lock, neither having been prepared for the current situation.

————

Azriel.

His name alone provides more comfort and relief than you’ve received in the past week, a cool sweep of lightheadedness coursing through your body.

It’s Azriel, and everything’s okay.

You manage to sit back on your knees, hands trying to release the gag from your mouth and you could cry from frustration when your fingers fumble, being unfamiliar with whatever way he’d tied the pieces together.

Azriel’s throat rolls once. “Here.” He says. “Let me.”

Your hands fall away, shuffling closer so he can work on the tie. Your chest rises up and down, eyes flitting from his dilated hazel set to the inviting heat of his soft mouth, how good his lips will feel.

The gag loosens, and Azriel meets your gaze, a deep apology already held on the tip of his tongue. “I’m sorry,” he says, voice thick and heavy, scratching at your ears, “I’ll find you some medicine, just—”

Your arms lock over his shoulders, flinging your weight into his chest, mouth colliding with his own. Gods, if your eyes were open they would have rolled to the back of your skull, indulging in the heaven of his hair between your fingers, soft and smooth and silky. Clean and taken care of. Need pounds between your legs, pressing your hips tight to his front as your nails scrape up the nape of his neck, scratching just beneath his jaw as your teeth tug on his lower lip, dragging on it sultrily.

Hazel eyes widen by an almost imperceptible margin, fingers enclosing around your wrists but not yet making any moves. Caught between pulling you away and pushing you into the bed.

“Azriel,” you pant, retracting enough for words to narrowly fit between your mouths. A shudder of pleasure zips up your spine from the taste of his name, a flutter of arousal spasming in your lower belly. “Azriel…” It comes out more high-pitched the second time, more desperate and hoarse. What a state you must be in. How long have you even been lying there?

You don’t think about it. You just want to taste his name once more.

But, “Wait,” he instructs, forcing himself to retreat. A noise of pure pain breaks from your chest, nails finding purchase in his well-muscled shoulders, trying to keep him from leaving as you shake your head. “Azriel, please. Please don’t…” You stare up at him, palms gripping onto him in supplication. “Please…” Hot water drips down your cheek, overwhelmed by wild hormones gushing through your bloodstream, making everything too much and so, so, confusing.

“I just need to find you medicine,” he tries to reason but you can hear the unsteady inhale of breath, the heightened staccato of his pulse. “Then you’ll be thinking clearly again. A little.”

“Fuck me,” you breathe, ignoring what he’s trying to tell you. “Please.” You push your bodies closer, certain he’ll be able to feel the full press of your breasts to his chest, the inviting softness of your body and… Your mouth opens in a moan when you feel the hard outline of him digging into your lower stomach. That needs to be inside of you. Right now.

“I can’t,” he whispers, his eyes shining at the hurt you’re clearly experiencing. “I— That would be wrong. Let me find you—”

“There’s none in the house. No one will have any up here. It’ll take hours. Help me.” You don’t know where the reasoning comes from, but maybe the desperation is making your mind work more efficiently to provide a succinct, compelling argument. “You know me. I want you. I wanted you before this. I’ll want you after. Please.”

“Are you—”

“Yes. Please.”

His wings have lifted at his back—perhaps he’s not even aware of it himself—looming over the broad set of his shoulders, and you just know you need them to be flared while he’s on top of you. Holding you down in the bed. His weight keeping you pinned.

Then you’re being forcefully pushed down into the mattress, his mouth atop your own, and heat bursts throughout your body. Your thighs part, legs eager to wrap around his hips, and you—ohh. That’s good.

A moan spills from your lips when you managed to rub against him, the thick length of him pushing at the delicate part between your legs. “Azriel,” you pant, chest heaving up and down, “Azriel I need you. Now.”

“Right now?”

You swirl your hips, knowing it will feel torturous to him but he clearly needs the incentive of arousal to have him acting. “Don’t hold back,” you whisper, grinding up against him, already fantasising about how good he’ll feel inside of you. How full you’ll be. His wingspan alone is promising you pleasure, but he’s also an alpha, so… Your throat rolls, wondering if you might have bitten off more than you can chew. Alphas are notoriously…well off.

Azriel pulls back as far as you’ll. Let him, looking down at you with colour high on his cheekbones. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he pants.

“You won’t,” you assure, cupping his jaw, squeezing his hips. His throat rolls, and you want to bite him. Lick and nip and bite.

“Give me a safe word,” Azriel demands, his voice rough and coarse. “You need to have… So I can be sure.” He’s just as breathless as you are. “Choose one.”

You say the first word that comes into your head. “Knot.”

Azriel’s head falls to the crook of your shoulder and neck, groaning audibly beside your ear, his hips lazily grinding against your clothed sex. Hot breath fans your bare skin, and you incline your chin for him to access your throat but his hands are fisted in the sheets, tension lining his powerful body. “Pick a different one,” he grits out. “You’re not having knot as your—”

Your hand has slipped between your bodies, cupping him before palming carefully at the large outline in his leathers. His tension rises, his whole body going rigid before he pulls far enough back to snarl, glaring down at you. Arousal floods between your thighs, squirming beneath the heated look. “Pick a godsdamned safe word or I’m tying you back up and getting that medicine.”

The ropes had hurt. A lot.

So why is your skin only growing hotter at the suggestion?

“Rope,” you manage to get out. It doesn’t make much sense but as far as safe words go, it’ll do. Azriel seems to find it satisfactory, dipping his head once. “Say ‘rope’ if it gets too much then. I’ll stop.”

“Mhmm.” You nod instantly, whimpering when he pulls back to untie his leathers. The whimpers turn into a moan when shadow crawl up your calves, looping around your knees to keep them spread, carefully pulling away the fabric of your skirts until you’re almost bare.

Your head tips back into the cushions when the darkness swipes up the centre of your sex, flicking over your clit. They make to curl around the band at your hips but Azriel curses foully under his breath, hazel eyes so dark they’re nearly black as he gazes between your parted thighs. You’d gone into heat the day Baeril had left, cunt practically drooling slick every minute of every hour since then. The sheets are more than soaked, and your underwear is practically suctioned to your sex, strands of arousal webbing between your thighs.

Azriel groans softly before both his palms are wrapping beneath your knees, allowing their underside to slot between his thumbs and second fingers. Your spine arches, thighs trembling as he buries his face between your legs creating a wild fluttering sensation in your lower belly, hips circling as you rub against whatever friction he’ll provide even if it means soaking his face in the process. If he likes it then you’re fine to adhere. Who are you to refuse pleasure?

The orgasm breaks across your skin with violent force, your breathing stuttering as your spine arcs off the bed, cunt fluttering around nothing as he licks up the wet mess between your thighs. His lips wrap around your clit, sucking tenderly on the sensitive part and you could cry from satisfaction. How relieved you are he innately knows where to touch. Even after the orgasm has finished washing through your body, it feels like only a few litres of pleasure have been released from behind a one-hundred foot tall dam.

“Azriel,” you pant, tugging at his hair. “More. I need more. Please.”

“So quickly?” He drawls, though it comes out breathless. You squirm, trying to free your legs from his grip, your knees still practically shoved to your chest to make room for him. “You’re being cruel,” you cry, winding your hips, needing him inside. He seems to take pity on you there, releasing your legs to prowl up your torso, taking your dress with him, nearly tearing it clean from your body—you wouldn’t have minded. But now you’re naked and completely exposed save for the underwear at your hips, and Azriel’s looking like he might try and make you cum from licking and playing with your breasts alone. Then again with the aid of your heat, anything’s possible.

Almost reverently, Azriel thumbs across one of your nipples, watching your reactions with a keenness that has a fire simmering in the pit of your stomach. But, “Azriel…” you whimper. “Not now…”

Hazel eyes soften, then he’s nodding his head. Swallowing. “I’ll take care of you.”

Breaths pant between you and your tongue wets your lips when you see his hand wrapped around his cock, the tip holding a bead of precum and your cunt aches as it swells with liquid before drizzling down his tip. You need to taste him. Gods he’s going to feel so good inside of you, and you hold your legs apart to make room for him.

“You’re going to tell me if you need time, okay?” Azriel instructs, drawing your attention to his eyes. “We can go slower if it’s too much. Take as much time as you need.”

“Put it inside,” you beg, hips shifting eagerly, ready to take him. “It’ll fit.” Azriel pauses, glancing at you doubtfully, “I’ve barely touched you. If it’s too much you’re taking my fingers instead. I’m not going to hurt you.” But you shake your head, need coursing through your veins, and he’s right there.

“You wouldn’t have been made that big if you wouldn’t fit me.”

Azriel groans, but it’s clear he’s struggling. Why is he struggling, he just needs to slide in. It’ll be fine. Why’s he waiting? What’s taking him so long? Why’s he not going in?

His tip presses to your entrance and you freeze with anticipation. Almost there.

Scar-roughened fingers lace with your own, gently pinning your hands to the bed as he leans his weight over you.

He goes slowly as he’d told you he would. Inch by inch. Sliding deeper, and deeper. Air is pushed from your lungs, and even while he’s still you can feel his cock pushing upward against that spot. A few strokes of his thumb over your clit and you’ll be gone. Hazel eyes lock with yours, blinking before his brows raise, glancing lower as his hand slides between you. One. Two…

“Oh.”

————

Azriel’s breath is trapped in his lungs as she flutters around him.

He hasn’t even moved yet and she’s coming on his cock.

Her lips are parted and she looks like she’s in heaven right now.

And she did say to not hold back.

————

You don’t get a chance to hold onto anything when he draws his hips back and suddenly pushes back in before the aftershocks have even properly faded.

You don’t have room to moan when he repeats the action but harder.

You don’t have space for thought when he makes it a regular pace, fingers digging into your hips to angle them up from the bed so his cock can rub against that spot that had you coming so fast before.

You don’t get a chance to fully acclimatise to the onslaught of pleasure.

He’s perfect.

Your hips lift in time to meet his thrusts, winding and bucking to take everything he can give, eager to have him filling you up until he’s making the sheets as wet as you are. Your spine arches as he holds your legs apart, roughly slamming into you over and over, hitting that spot again and again until you’re screaming with pleasure, head tipped back and mouth completely open, being fucked further up the mattress with every snap of his hips.

“Is that better?” He asks and you’re astounded by the mild tone. He’s currently obliterating your world and yet he sounds completely in control. You manage a nod and he lowers his mouth to the hollow of your throat, halting the sharp thrusts but keeping you tightly pulled to his hips as he licks up the side of your throat. You feel more down-to-earth than you have over the past two days, and you’re approaching the peak of your heat right now. He’s keeping up with you.

“Sit in my lap for a bit?”

You hear the question but can manage little more than a series of dazed blinks. Then a vacant nod.

His lips curve and hazel eyes twinkle, then his powerful arms are sliding beneath your back and hauling you upright, shifting the both of you so his back is against the headboard and you’re straddling his lap. Your knees sink down into the bed and his cock presses against your inner walls.

“I can see you…you’re inside of me.” Your palm tentatively settles over the bump in your lower belly, shifting your hips faintly over his lap to feel him rub against you. “Az…you…oh.”

His shadows wrap around your middle, stroking your sides soothingly as they squeeze your abdomen, the pressure having your eyes flutter with pleasure. “You feel so good,” you breathe, lips staying parted on the exhale, a blissed out heaviness to your half-open eyes. “So right, inside.”

“You’re adorable,” he chuckles breathily into the crook of your neck, hot breath fanning ticklishly across the intimate expanse, fangs dragging teasingly along. His lips curve against your throat, and a small, needful hum simmers in your chest. “So perfect.”

Teeth prod into your lower lip, fingers tangling in the silky strands of his hair. He smells delicious. Clean but distinctly male. Distinctly himself. “You’re perfect,” you argue back, hardly louder than a murmur. You pull back to look at one another, your skin heating with the strange intimacy.

“Why’d you stop?” You ask, playing with the ends of his hair. Azriel doesn’t avert his gaze, palms spanning the sweep of your hips, thumbs stroking faintly. “Lift up,” he tells you, softer than a whisper; a gently uttered command. You flush at his low cadence, but obey.

Try to obey.

You’re stuck.

Azriel groans softly when you squeeze him, fingers digging into your hips when you try to start riding him, instincts urging you to have him releasing.

“Az, why-”

“Slow down. It’s okay.” His palm settles atop the crown of your head, stroking gently. “I should have pulled out before it formed. Just wait until it goes away then I promise we can start again.”

“But I want to take it,” you insist, leaning into his chest. “I want your knot.” His throat rolls but he doesn’t relent. “I don’t regularly take a tonic, pretty thing.”

“That’s fine. I still want it.”

“You want it now,” he stresses that last part, still remaining steady. You don’t feel like he’s chastising you. “What about when you’re not in heat?”

“I’ll still want it. Please.”

Azriel shakes his head, eyes still soft despite their hunger. “When your heat passes we can talk more about…what will happen between us. For now…”

“Us?” You ask, pulse spiking.

“Is that… Do you not want an us?”

“I want an us. What about-”

“Please don’t say his name right now.” You flush, tightening around him, shifting in his lap. “Well, what about that? I’m married…”

“It’s illegal to confine someone in the way he did to you. Especially since I’m assuming he knew you were going into heat?” You nod your head, choosing not to think about what could have happened had Azriel not shown up. A muscle feathers in his jaw before he continues. “Then that’s a kind of torture. More than enough ground for departure.” His throat rolls. “If you…?”

“Are you sure?”

He stares at you.

You glance away. “You aren’t-…I mean, this isn’t lust speaking, is it? You’ll mean what you’re saying once you’re done with me?”

“Done with you?”

“Once my heat is passed…”

He’s still staring.

“Have I said something wrong?” You ask, once again shifting in his lap.

Scar-roughened palms cup your cheeks, hazel eyes shining as he pulls you closer. “I’ve been hoping to take you from him for the past three years.” Your heart flutters in your chest, leaning into the solid heat of his chest. “Once your heat is passed, it’s your choice what to do, but know I’d like to be part of it still. In whatever way you might let me.”

“Are you…”

“I’m serious.” His thumb swipes across the crest of your cheek. “I can tell you this all again once your heat is passed, if that will help. I want to… I want to be with you.”

You’re too stunned to speak, heart about ready to grow its own set of wings and fly far away. Flutter to the skies and float away on a warm breeze.

You shift in his lap once more, still able to feel his knot inside of you—not as big as before but definitely still there. Your tongue swipes across your lips. “Emerie…will have something. To prevent pregnancy, I mean.” His throat rolls, and your teeth tug at the interior of your lower lip. “So, as long as I can take that within the next day…” You roll your hips gently over his own, tightening around him as your hands slowly glide up his chest.

“When I leave to get…a tonic.” He seems to be having a hard time getting through this one. “Will you be okay?” You blink, averting your eyes as you consider. You’d rather he didn’t leave…you don’t want to endure any more of that heat without reprieve, but you so badly want to take his knot. To feel him spill inside of you. You’re not sure you’ll be able to survive without that.

Your eyes catch on a sheath strapped to his thigh. The smooth metal handle of the dagger he’d used to cut you free. Curved and cylindrical.

You clear your throat, feeling the heat begin to return. “Is that clean?”

Beneath you Azriel freezes. “…Yes.”

“And…so…would you mind if I…”

“No.” He tries to clear his throat. Swallows. “No, it’s fine. You can use it.” His voice strains over that last part. “I’ll clean it again, before leaving you. But yes. You’re more than- I mean, I don’t mind. If it will help you, then please-”

Your lips press to his, and the rigidity begins to thaw. Gently circling your hips, you want to entice him to make you move, to angle and direct you as he pleases. The thought alone of having him guide you has wild butterflies coming alive between your legs.

“Give it to me,” you whisper, nails scratching lightly beneath his jaw. “Let me take it.” Azriel nods, looking up at you as though dazed. His eyes are glazed, lips parted, fingers skimming over your skin. “I want…I want you to use me to get there,” you utter softly, unsure whether to be embarrassed over the admission. When he twitches inside of you, you decide you’re proud of your decision.

“You want me…? To…?”

Teeth prod at your lip, and you nod your head. “I want you… To…”

Azriel swallows thickly but nods nonetheless. “Okay.”

Hands readjust their grip on your hips, fingers spanning up to your waist before he lifts you from his lap—as far as you can go—then sliding you back down. His breathing stutters and you try to vaguely follow his directions, lifting up, then down, using the muscles in your legs to ride him as much as you can.

He’s growing bigger inside of you. Swelling at the base of his cock. Locking you tighter together until it’s impossible to slide much up or down. Instead he inclines your body into him, breasts pressing flush to his chest, your fingers scrambling at the hem of his clothes, encouraging them away so he’s bare.

Powerful arms wrap around your back, minding your wings while keeping you plastered to his front. It feels good, to be held like this during sex. The tenderness is something you hadn’t known was an option, but now he’s so freely offering it to you you’re taking it with both hands, arms wrapping over his shoulders.

A moan is pushed from your chest when he bucks his hips, his arms keeping you strapped to his torso, shadows delicately snaring your forearms to bind them as they’d been when he found you.

“Is this okay?” He whispers, lips tickling the shell of your ear. “It’s good,” you reassure, too caught up in pleasure to really think.

Azriel bites his lip as he holds you upright, letting his shadows roam across your front, his palms playing with your breasts, thumbing across your nipples before trailing back down to your hips. Bucking up into you. Guiding you to rock back and forth, your clit rubbing over his abdomen.

“Azriel…I’m…”

He nods. “Good.”

“But what about you…?”

“I’m nearly there…just keep…” He cuts himself off with a deep groan, one you can feel vibrating through your own body, sending tremors up your thighs.

He twitches twice, then he’s filling you up, knot swollen to its full size so it’s impossible to lift off him, locked together while he empties himself inside. Your lips part with pleasure, another orgasm rolling through your limbs, spreading to your tip toes and fingertips. It’s the most powerful one yet, ecstasy heightened by his own orgasm, feeling as he fills you up so perfectly.

Azriel holds you all the way through it, shadows stroking tenderly up and down over your body, putting soothing touches into your skin before eventually unraveling from your arms, allowing you to reach out for him. Fingers interleaf with your own, squeezing faintly.

It’s different knowing this isn’t temporary. That it’s not just sex. That there is romance, and it’s not just possession.

Maybe it’s more than just romance. He had almost kissed you before you’d run away…

You’ll just have to trust that he’ll keep caring after this immediate heat is passed. That he really does want to take you away, and be with you. And looking at him now…feeling the gentle touch, the light patterns he’s drawing on your skin, waiting patiently for you to signal whether you want more or a break…

You smile, inclining your head until your noses are brushing. Close enough to feel the stutter of air his lashes send your way. “I want you to stay with me. After this is passed.”

Hazel eyes blink, his lips softening at their corners. “I’d wish for nothing more.”

Your toes curl, a fluttery feeling in your heart, and you press a small kiss to his mouth.

His knuckles graze your cheek before cupping you jaw, indulging in the sweet press of you lips.

Perfection.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

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dixonsbrat · 10 months

Text

𖥔 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𖥔

summary ; after being struck by a peacekeeper, coryo puts aside his differences to clean you up.

pairing ; coriolanus snow x fem!reader

notes ; pls coryo may be a little ooc in this but i tried. ok? i tried! physical violence, mentions of blood and death, as well as the events that take place in the hunger games universe, spoilers for tbosas !

do not transfer, translate or share my work to any other sites.

the blow sent a stinging sensation through your cheek, the level of force behind it knocking you to the ground on impact. you had always wondered what it would feel like to be hit in the face – if you would be able to take it – and well, now you knew.

you sat there on the ground, a spectacle among the crowd, and all because you were helping an elderly lady and unknowingly stepped into the peacekeeper’s way. you didn’t mean to, and before you knew it his leather glove was colliding with the side of your face.

you loathed the peacekeepers, everyone did, but specifically the way they thought they could belittle you and your people just because of their job title. and yet, it terrified you to know how harsh they were over something so small, you couldn’t even begin to think how torturous they could be behind closed doors.

once the peacekeepers move on, laughing among themselves at what they had done to you, a man and his wife help you to your feet, and you dust yourself off. your palms burned from the rubble you had landed on, small rocks sticking into your skin, and your head was ringing, but nothing compared to the side of your face.

you were tough, there was no doubt about it, but having the peacekeeper’s hand collide with your face with such force had you a little shaken up.

“i’m okay, everyone,” you let the group of onlookers, and those that had helped you, know. with a faux smile and a reassuring nod, you quickly return to helping the woman pick up her belongings that had been knocked over in the midst of it all.

“oh, don’t worry about me, dear. go take care of yourself,” she gestures to your face and your hand instinctively reaches to feel the wet cut that had formed on your lip. a small speckle of blood now on your fingers as a metallic taste fills your senses. it ached to touch, and if it looked bad now, you could only imagine how bad it was going to be later.

you take your leave from the woman and make your way home along the seam. the sun was beginning to disappear behind the clouds as the sound of the town drowns out behind you and into the distance. people watched as you passed them by, noticing the blood on your face and probably wondering what had happened.

you didn’t mind the stares, not much happened in the district, and it wasn't as if you had anything to be ashamed of. well, not that anyone knew of anyway.

you eventually make it to the last stretch of the dirt path before your house when your name gets called out, stopping you in your tracks, and in the direction it had come from were a couple more peacekeepers. though, these ones didn’t instil fear in you the same way the others had.

they were familiar faces – faces that you were somewhat glad to see – however, you weren’t sure how they were going to react seeing the new feature that had been ever so kindly bestowed upon your face.

sejanus waves you over, tapping his partner on the shoulder once he notices, and gestures towards you. coriolanus stands beside him, turning your way after seeing the panicked look on his friend's face, and his smile drops the second he sees the cut on your lip and the bruise that had already begun to form.

“y/n…” he speaks your name delicately, a forbidden whisper, before rapidly scanning your surroundings to make sure the area was safe. it was. “what happened?”

he wants to reach for you, to pull you into his arms and kiss you better, anything he can to make sure you were okay, but he can’t. he knows that. it would be too much of a risk in such an open space and he wasn’t going to be the reason you end up with another bruise, or worse. so he quickly fixes his posture and positions his gun against his shoulder where it was meant to be.

“oh, this? it’s nothing,” you wave them off, even adding a wink to further convince them that you were fine.

sejanus smiles, even stifles a laugh at your nonchalant attitude, but not coriolanus. no. he could see right through the smile you were presenting them with. how could he not? he had spent far too much time staring at you, his lover, whether it be from across the town square, or beside you in your bed. he knew every which way your face contorted and exactly what it meant.

he could see you were in pain.

his jaw tightens at this, fighting the urge to pick you up and throw you over his shoulder so that he could take you home. it was one thing to have to watch the horrors and physical brutality that went on in the district every day, most of which he had become numb to, but seeing you be the victim of it filled him with not only rage, but fear.

he wanted – no, needed – you to be safe.

“is there anything we can do?” sejanus offers. “anything we can get you?”

“don’t worry about me. i’ll be fine,” you smile once again, though this time, coriolanus refuses to sit by and watch you lie.

“can you cover for me?” he asks, though you know it’s meant for sejanus, who instantly nods at the request, further proving his loyalty to his friend. “go home and wait for me. i won’t be long, just don’t touch it.”

while you wanted nothing more than for coriolanus to follow you home, you knew he couldn’t. it wasn’t safe, not while the sun was still out, “no, i’m fine. i promise.”

“just do what i say, okay?” his eyes bore into you now, an urgency in them as his protective side comes into play, and you knew there was no point trying to argue with him when he got like this.

you nod, begrudgingly, and lazily salute the pair before continuing on down the path to your house. it was only a little ways away from where the boys had spotted you, but the second you see the chipping wood and beaten down stairs that you called ‘home’, you’re overcome with relief.

upon entering you immediately splay yourself down on the sofa — one of the few pieces of furniture you still owned after your parents — and wait, just like coriolanus had asked you. your head had stopped ringing a little, but the throbbing pain in your cheek was still there. nonetheless, you knew it wasn’t going to be a pretty sight come morning.

minutes pass, twenty-seven to be exact, before you hear shuffling at your back window, followed by heavy footsteps. you knew it was coriolanus. he regularly came through the back of the house so as not to be seen by your neighbours, but like you always tell him, barely anyone bothered to come down your way.

the second his face comes into view, you let off a weak smile, more so as he begins to remove his uniform, placing it down on the table in the corner of the room, alongside his gun, “i don’t have long. sejanus is covering for me, but even he knows it won’t be long before they start wondering where i am.”

“you really didn’t have to come. i told you, i’m fine,” you sit up now as coriolanus meets your side with a small package in his hand.

the look in his eyes shifts as he gets a closer inspection of the damage that had been done to your face, a heavy breath falling from his lips. coriolanus believed people deserved to be punished for the things they did, but not you – never you. you were his girl, his flower, his love – and he had been doing everything in his power to make sure you were safe.

he knew it wasn’t his fault what had happened earlier, but he still couldn’t help but feel somewhat to blame. he should’ve been there to stop the situation, de-escalate it in any way that he could. he had been doing everything in his power to keep you off the other peacekeeper’s radars, away from any potential danger, and selfishly, away from him ever losing you.

you watch as the stiffness in his jaw goes slack and his shoulders slump a little, eyes downturing as his lips push out into a pout ever so slightly. you reach for his hand, “coryo, what’s wrong?”

“i just… i don’t like to see you hurt,” he pulls his gaze away from you now, wanting to avoid thinking about it, and begins to unwrap the small package in his hand to reveal a mini first-aid kit. “i grabbed what i could without anyone seeing me, though i doubt you’ll need most of it.”

you watch as he gathers a small cloth, coated with a disinfectant solution and gently dabs at the cut on your lower lip. it stings a little but you didn’t mind, you’d do just about anything to get a moment alone with coriolanus. perhaps getting hit in the face wasn’t all bad, at least the outcome of it anyway.

once the cut was cleaned, he pulls out a small bandage and presses it across your lip. you weren’t sure you really needed it but it felt nice to be looked after. as for the bruise, there wasn’t a whole lot he could do.

“how does it look?” you sigh, and he reaches up to gently brush the tender skin.

“it looks… like it needs something,”

“and what’s that?” coryo’s lips quirk up into a roguish grin before he slowly leans forward and presses his lips to your cheek. it’s soft and sweet, and gentle. all of the things coryo was when it was just the two of you alone. “you know what? i think you might be onto something.”

coryo’s laughter reverberates through his entire body, looking at you with glistening eyes, but he gives in, pressing another kiss to your lips, and what starts as a light brush of your lips on his becomes much more when you find yourself pushing him backwards on the sofa. he doesn’t protest and lets himself fall into the cushion behind him as you situate yourself on his lap. there’s no hesitation when his hands cup your thighs, running small comforting circles into your skin.

you stay like that for a few moments, small trickles of laughter escaping you both as you continue to kiss before you evidently decide to curl yourself up into him. you nuzzle your head into his chest, one leg still draped across his as the other burrows in next to him and instinctively his hand searches for yours - fingers idly grazing one another before he threads his through to hold you.

“so, what’s the verdict doc? will i make it?” you smile.

“as long as i have anything to do with it,” he presses a kiss to the top of your head, but you can’t help but feel like there was another meaning to his words.

#— 𝐯𝐞𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬 .ᐟ ᡣ𐭩 #— 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐬𝐧𝐨𝐰 ᡣ𐭩 #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow fanfic #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow fic #coriolanus snow one shot #coriolanus snow oneshot #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow fluff #coriolanus snow angst #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow x y/n

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certifiedlovergirlsstuff · 4 months

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a new life is born | s.r. x fem!reader

“congratulations mom and dad, it’s a healthy baby girl.” the doctor confirmed for both of you while the nurses worked to clean your new born. your skin was sweaty, baby hairs stuck to your forehead, legs were shaky from being bent for the past hour. you’ve been in the hospital since last night once your contractions started.

but you were a mom now. you birthed a babygirl and you couldn’t be happier with your life. turning your head to the left with a dazed smile, stood spencer with the widest smile you’ve seen on his face to date. “a girl. we have a little girl,” chuckling from glee.

“we have a girl,” he repeated as he leaned forward to kiss your forehead and tuck some of your hair away. “i want her to be just like you,” very confident in the chances of that happening.

spencer shook his head, “for your sake i hope not and for my heart i hope she looks like you.” a gentle finger tracing over your nose, the shape of your lips. “well i only hope she doesn’t get your puppy eyes, it’ll be her one power over both of us.” staring directly into said eyes right now.

“alright, she’s ready for you.” a nurse walked to your right side with your baby, now wearing a pink bow. “would you like to do skin to skin? helps her recognize you through touch. also good for the dad as well.” waiting for either to reply first.

“i’ll go first.” shimming your hospital gown away from your shoulder and chest so there was enough surface area, “i have a feeling i’m gonna fall asleep soon, but i’m gonna hold her until i can keep my eyes open.” holding your hands out to take her then second guessing and getting them in the cradle position but still not sure, “uh, which is better?” asking the nurse who hovered.

“i’d say hands so you can lay her to your chest. cradling is better for later.” nodded and slowly took your baby from the nurse and maneuvered her tiny self so her head was resting on your shoulder. “oh wow,” whispering to yourself. it completely sunk in now, she’s yours.

“i’m a freaking mom,” whispering over her back towards spencer. a slow palm rubbed along her back and quickly her breathing synced with yours, her tiny fists were too cute.

there was a little space on your bed and you called for spencer to join you. he sank down slowly and threw a long arms over your shoulder, his free hand caressing your forearm. “what should we name her? we can’t call her fruits anymore.” whispering beside your ear.

your mouth twisted, “i kinda want to name her after something from literature. like juliet or charlotte. do you have any ideas?” turning his way.

his eyes were focused on the sleeping babe, a little smile quirking a corner of his lips. “maybe annabeth. the combination of anna and elizabeth forms the meaning of god has favored me. and i think that works for us as well, we’ve been favored by having her. also anna can mean beautiful and it’s all because of you.” kissing your temple, his kisses have been never ending the past nine months.

“annabeth… annabeth diana reid. our beautiful gift.” pressing her first kiss of many to her head. “i think it’s your turn now. my eyes are getting heavy.”

spencer nervously started to unbutton his shirt and then slowly you traded off. you watched as spencer stood back up and kept a gently motion to his body wanting her to continue napping. he kept his voice low as he recited facts about anything, knowing she’s gonna love the sound of his voice growing up.

“can you tell us a story?” something you’ll ask spencer from time to time when you needed just a little push into dreamland. “of course, sweetheart. i’ll do my favorite book from childhood, alice in wonderland. once upon a time there was a girl named alice…”

#erin writes spencer #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x pregnant!reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic

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charliemwrites · 9 months

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Part 2 of Woof Woof Konig

Content: Animal Injury (Non-Descriptive)

The walk back to your home is slow. Johnny stays glued to the new pup’s side - as much as he can given how the other towers over him. Ghost pulls ahead to patrol the path, always circling back to press his nose to your hand.

The new dog is so big that his head nearly reaches yours. He keeps his chin down, though, almost ducked, eyes flicking shyly to you. His eyes are big, one sky blue and the other deep brown.

When you reach the house, you nearly have to push his big butt in the door as he hesitates on the porch. Ghost stands watch behind you while Johnny tip-taps on the other side, and you pat at flanks breathing like bellows.

Finally, he inches far enough inside that Ghost can squeeze in and you can close (and lock) the door. You take a deep breath once you do, feeling the last hour crashing over you.

“Jeez, bud,” you sigh, offering your hand to your newest charge. “What a day, huh?”

A quiet, almost shy “snarf”. You grin and scritch gently at his chin, then flick your eyes to the bloody cut over his eyebrow. You click your tongue sadly.

“Alright, baby. We gotta take care of that. Then you can be done for the day, okay?”

You should probably take him to the vet - big fuckoff sized dog with an injury. But you can’t imagine trying to bundle him into your reasonably sized car. Even getting Ghost in there is a struggle the two times you’ve had to do it.

So you leave the pup awkwardly standing, trembling, by the door and collect the dog first aid. You also grab the jar of dog-safe peanut butter. Even Ghost loves that shit.

When you come back, the dog seems to droop when he sees the kit in your hands.

“I know baby, it’ll be okay. I got something that’ll make it better.”

You approach slowly, carefully, watching for any signs of fear aggression. Issue is, there’s every chance he could snap without warning, but you’re praying he’s not one of those. Your boys would go ballistic.

Thankfully, he lets himself be bribed with globs of peanut butter while you clean up the cuts around his head. There’s a chip taken out of his ear that nearly brings you to tears. And the poor boy only whines every once in a while, pressing his face into your chest while you work as quickly and gently as you can. No aggression, no lashing out.

In the end, you press your face to his neck and scratch gently at his shoulders.

“No one is ever going to hurt you again, honey. Not here, not with me.” You press a gentle kiss to his muzzle. “I take care of everyone.”

You get him settled with some blankets and a fresh bowl of food while you check on your boys. Ghost leans into your side while you cry a bit, whispering that you love him and he’s been so good.

Johnny whines and licks the tears away (smelling a bit like peanut butter of course) when you turn to him, pressing his face up under your chin.

“Such good boys,” you sniffle. “Dunno what I’d do without you.”

They practically baby you for the rest of the evening. One with you, one with the new pup, who’s resting and warming up by the heater, bowl empty. They don’t even bark too much when you decide to order food and the delivery comes - perhaps sensing that you’re too drained for their overprotective antics.

When it’s time for bed, you cross over to your new boy and scratch at his hind leg.

“You wanna come to bed, sweetie? You don’t have to, but I don’t want you to be alone out here.”

He stares at you, mismatched eyes way too big. You make one last kissy noise at him and then head to your room, Ghost and Johnny following as usual. Just as you’re about to turn off the light, a big form lumbers into your doorway.

“Hi bud!” you call softly, patting the mattress. “You wanna try coming up?”

He seems to consider it, eyeing the bed and the space available between you and the other two dogs, before politely walking to the dog bed. It’s technically Ghost’s bed, though he only uses it when you’re getting ready to go out.

“You can sleep there, sweetie. I’m sure Ghostie boy doesn’t mind.”

You glance at him as if to confirm, but Ghost is predictably pretending that you’re not talking. Grumpy boy hardly ever responds once he’s tucked into bed.

You smile as the new dog carefully climbs onto the cushion.

“Alright, good night boys. I love you.” You pause, make eye contact with your new pup. “Even you, bud.”

Late in the night, you could swear you hear voices. The low rumble of men talking. Even dream of someone kissing your forehead.

Main Story | Konig pt. 1 | Happy Birthday!

Masterlist

#thoughts™️#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #woof woof au

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cringe--is--dead · 1 month

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𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝔻𝕠 𝕎𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕐𝕠𝕦’𝕣𝕖 𝕊𝕚𝕔𝕜

Incl. Umemiya, Hiragi, Tsubakino, Choji, Togame

Umemiya

Having grown up in a group home, Umemiya knows how to be the best care giver ever

That being said: he’s also insanely clingy and affectionate on his worst days

He’s attentive to a T

With Kotoha’s help he’s bringing you homemade soup, full of fresh veggies from his garden

He’s making you tea and keeping water bottles near by whenever you even mention wanting a drink

Sends his four kings out to watch over while he’s with you because he refuses to leave your side until your healthy— doesn’t matter if it’s a cold or the flu

Still cuddles with you, despite you telling him he’ll get sick— he tells you his love and affection will make you feel better

Whenever your fever spikes he’s quickly getting a wet cloth, laying it on your forehead and humming a wordless tune or telling you stories softly

He’s there to wake you up whenever you have fever induced nightmares, and holds your hair back if you rush to the bathroom to be sick

If you even feel the tiniest bit insecure because you feel gross and greasy he shuts that down: by telling you:

“In sickness and in health!” “That’s— those are wedding vows?” “Ha, yeah! But think of them as…pre-engagement, pre-wedding vows now! Hey— your face is all red, did your fever spike again?”

If you’re far enough into your relationship he’ll help you bathe: his hands are gentle as he washes your hair, no wandering touches as he helps you clean your body

He’s so soft you nearly fall asleep in the water, lulled into a serene peace by his soft voice and gentle touches

He combs your hair once it’s dry enough, braiding it to keep it out of your face and wrapping you your freshly washed sheets you have no idea when he had time to clean

Overall; 11/10 to take care of you when you’re sick

Even if he does end up getting sick himself after

Hiragi

You probably got sick after he warned you to bring your coat with you or not to stay up too late let’s be real

Dad sighs and twitching eyes

But he’s buying all the best meds and electrolyte drinks

I personally believe this man knows how to cook so he’s making you homemade soup, congee and other things his mom used to make him when he was sick

Brings a type of lemon “candy” that helps with your throat, knows they work because he keeps them on him in case Kaji needs them

He stays with you, but he gives you space

1. Because he needs to make sure he doesn’t get sick— he has to take care of you firstly, and secondly he cannot let Umemeiya free of him for too long

2. Because he knows you’ll want space occasionally; to sleep, to rest, to regenerate your social battery

While you nap he’s cleaning around; washing and folding clothes, doing dishes, organizing your mail— he’s completely husband material

When you want him near he’ll have you lay your head on his lap, and he’ll run his fingers through your hair and read to you— literally any book you choose he’ll read without hesitation

He’ll be so attentive and supportive when you’re sick, and he makes sure to continue to give you vitamins even after to help you avoid being sick again

But even when you are he’ll be there again

15/10 he’s just so HUSBAND MATERIAL

Tsubakino

LOOK

if there’s one thing anyone knows about me it’s I am a Tsubaki stan first and a human second

that being said

I imagine him taking care of you being sick is, while sweet, also a bit panicky

I imagine he has this weirdly insane immune system so he’s hardly ever gotten sick, and he’s also an only child so this isn’t super familiar territory

but he tries

does so much research he might go a bit overboard

“My darling! I got cough medicine, fever reducers, cooling masks, some cough drops Hiragi suggested! I got some water bottles and Suo-chan suggested different teas— I wasn’t sure which one would be best so I got all six! Nirei-chan said to get electrolytes so I got different flavors of those! And Kotoha-chan made soup! And congee! And I can order more, in fact I have a few different soups on the way!”

he just hates seeing you feel so bad

he’s a ball of nerves around you, always checking in on you and asking what you want, what you need, what you’d like

you can’t even be annoyed he’s so sweet

he helps you bathe, much like Umemiya, he’s sweet and attentive

he brings over his own stuff too; bathbombs, shower steamers, hair masks, face masks

he can’t make the illness disappear but you’ll at least feel clean and good on the outside

he takes his time with your hair and face, and he’s basically your personal masseuse in the bath

you’re never felt so relaxed despite being as sick as a dog

even though you’re sick he’s still quick to press kisses to your cheeks and forehead, face red from fever, embarrassment, and lipstick stains now

paints your nails while you rest with a cold press on your head, tells you about the latest debacle between Umemeiya and Hiragi and Sugishita and Sakura

by a miracle he doesn’t get sick

and he stores all the leftover meds and electrolytes (there’s a lot) between your place and his so he’s prepared next time

overall: 1000000/10

realistically: 10/10 (but always 100000/10 in my eyes)

Choji

oh boy

o h b o y

let it be known you try to hide the fact you’re sick from him for as long as possible

read: you fail

he’s showing up at like 7am, waking you up and charging in

did he bring anything?

of course

he’s brought snacks

not healthy ones

you’re not hungry because you’re nauseous, so he just stores them in your fridge and comes to cuddle you

he’ll wait on your every command don’t get me wrong

want water? he’s grabbing you a glass

need to go to the bathroom? he’s helping you up and walking you there, waiting outside the door and helping you back

bored? he’ll tell you all the thoughts in his head! and there’s a lot!

hungry? he’s grabbing those snacks for you!

he’s attentive and sweet, but he definitely is spoiled by Togame so much he’s not entirely sure how to take care of a sick person

but he’s strong so he’ll just beat your illness for you!

he’ll hold you while you rest, turn your fan on when you say you’re hot, turn it off when you’re cold

he tries to braid your hair while you rest, it’s messy but he tried

he ends up getting sick before you’re even better yourself

now Togame is tasked with coming to your place and taking care of both of you

overall: 7/10

he tries he really does

but he charges in with no instructions and just love

which is great but doesn’t treat the flu

Togame

he probably has taken care of an ill choji (^) so he knows what he’s doing

the patience of a saint holy—

he comes to see you when you’re asleep, and he’s silent as he unpacks stuff from the nearby convention store

you wake up startled at him just chilling, probably drinking a ramune and reading something

he keeps his voice soft as he asks if you’re hungry or thirsty

helps you sit up as he hands you a water bottle, and if your hands are too shaky he’d holding it for you to drink out of

he won’t even let you open your mouth to apologize before he’s giving you that stupidly soft smile and telling you he’s happy to take care of you

he keeps the curtains shut so the light in your room is dim, and he brings in candles with your favorite scent so the lights don’t hurt your eyes and the scent helps you feel calmer

not much of a cook himself when it comes to specific food to help you, but he grabbed take out on the way and heats up the perfect portions whenever you’re hungry

not too much so you leave food on the plate but not too little so you’re still hungry after

the man that he is

can definitely see him massaging your hands, your arms and your shoulders cause you’re tense from feeling ill

keeps a bucket or a bag nearby in case you get sick and can’t make it to the toilet

does a little braid to keep your hair out of your face, jokes about how he learned how to braid his hair so he’d he perfect at it for you

tries to brew you tea, and either burns it or under-steeps it

you both opt for just water for the time being

doesn’t get sick, but definitely sleeps for an entire day after you’re healthy

you both do actually— a long sleep cuddled up together

overall; 13/15 i think i made myself fall more in love with him

#hajime umemiya x reader #toma hiragi x reader #tsubakino tasuku x reader #choji tomiyama x reader #togame jo x reader #windbreaker x reader #wind breaker x reader #umemiya hajime x reader #hiragi toma x reader #tasuku tsubakino x reader #tomiyama choji x reader #jo togame x reader

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