#knowing they'd do the same for me in a heartbeat

[orangexmachina]

I want what they have

[ddejavvu]

For Tyler Owens x shy!reader maybe it’s their first time sharing a bed at a motel after tornado chasing? Nothing sexual just like sharing a bed and being shy about it?

Heartbeat - Tyler Owens x Reader

please send me tyler owens requests!

You've always been envious of the universal man-ability to fall asleep within seconds of their heads hitting the pillow, but now you're feeling the hurt worse than ever. It's well past one in the morning, Tyler's been asleep for over an hour, and you've been staring at a suspicious patch of something that's probably mold in the corner of the motel room ceiling.

It's not the nicest place, but you're stranded in the middle of a backroad stretch of Arkansas, so any place with a roof, even a moldy one, is a nice place.

Tyler's phone rings, technically set to vibrate but humming nevertheless as it lights up the room. You're expecting him to sleep right through it but he stirs, extending a lazy hand to press at the power button until it stops buzzing. Then, with a hefty grunt, he heaves over onto his side, and comes sleepy-face to sleepy-face with you.

"Oh," He starts, eyes widening from where they'd been barely open, "You're-" He clears his throat, his voice raspy, "You're awake, darlin'?"

His strong arm wraps around your shoulders and pulls you close, drawing you into warmth you hadn't accumulated yourself despite laying for the same length of time. You huddle into it even though there's a fire burning your cheeks and scalding your mind.

When you don't answer, Tyler rambles sleepily, "Sorry, my- m'phone was goin' off. Some scam caller, 'm pretty sure. Were you-" A yawn cuts through his words, "Awake before that?"

"Mhm," You nod, thankful for the sanctuary of his clothed chest despite it being the reason you're so flustered.

"You ever get to sleep, sweet thing?"

That's the million-dollar question. Million-dollar question meaning the one you'd pay a million dollars to avoid answering.

Your answering hum is non-committal at best, but Tyler seems to know there's a reason you hadn't flat-out said yes.

"My poor baby," He frowns, bleary but still concerned, as he pulls back to free your face from his chest. You're still encircled by his impressive arm, though, and you can't meet his eye as he stares down at you.

"What's'a matter, honey-bun?"

"Hm?"

"Why can't you sleep?" He asks, then guesses, "Is it the smell'a mildew that's comin' off of everything?"

His bluntness startles you into laughter, but you know he expects an answer from the way he maintains your gaze, sympathy shining in his sweet, sleepy eyes.

Now starts the squirming, "Um, I dunno. I guess the bed's just not too comfy," You prod at the cheaply-made mattress beneath you, "And- I think I'm just not used to sleeping with other people, y'know, and then the bathroom fan makes a weird noise even when it's off-"

Your attempts to bury the lede had failed. Tyler's brows furrow and he leans in, your nose-to-nose positioning only making your bashfulness worse as he murmurs, "Is this the first time you're sharin' a bed with anyone, sweet thing?"

Even the little details, the soft gust of his breath on your face as he watches you makes your insides crawl with mortification. You're so close, and he's so there, and he's finally figured out that you've never done anything like this before, and- god, how do you play this off?

"No, I have, I- I've had, y'know, sleepovers with friends and, um, I had a cat growing up, that kind of thing. Just not-" You break away when your eyes flicker over his, and you hold eye contact for as long as possible, "Not like this. Nothing like this."

Tyler doesn't laugh, even though he probably really wants to. Even though you've probably made a complete fool out of yourself, and he's going to snicker at your predicament with his friends later, he doesn't laugh, and instead he- he presses a soft, barely-there kiss to your forehead.

"I think I'm a little more involved than a cat," He hums gently, "Are you okay with me touchin' you like this, angel baby?"

His arm is around your waist, and his face is up against your own- that's it. He's not getting handsy, not venturing lower than necessary or trying to shove his large hands beneath your clothes.

"You're not touching me." You attempt to answer, "Or- well, you are, but-"

"But it doesn't matter what I mean by it if you don't like it. So is it okay?"

You consider the feeling of his strong arm tucking you tight into his chest, as well as the intoxicating feeling of each breath he takes being fanned over your face, a privilege you hope you're the only one to have experienced.

"Yeah," You melt into his arms, even squirming closer as he lets you lead, "This is okay. It's- I like it."

"Good." He murmurs, and you feel it more than hear it from the way you're nestled against his chest, "What normally helps you fall asleep? Cat breath?"

"Maybe," You laugh, recalling your tuna-scented companion, "But I don't know. Just- this is nice. Your breathing and," You pause, listening, "The beat of your heart."

Tyler's fingers freeze a beat before they curl against your scalp, raking gently and soothingly through your hair.

"Good." He repeats, and you swear this one sounds shakier, almost thicker than the last one, "That's it, sweet thing, relax. I'll make sure you get to sleep. And tomorrow I'll act like a gentleman, 'won't just collapse into bed and get to snorin'. before you've even brushed your teeth."

Your laugh is the last one you release for the night- the last sound altogether besides the soft breathing that evens in your chest, and it's all funneled into Tyler's chest like a prize he's won.

[0luv9]

sugar rose || theodore nott

Summary: Fool in love, bright like silver, shinning for everyone to see. Life has never been this good for Theo and he'll go out of his way to keep it that way. Or Theodore being utterly and unapologetically in love with you.

Beware: fluff, a bit of smut (which I can't write to save my life), nicknames used (pretty, love), written in second person, no pronouns used, it's just sweet.

I hope this will warm your hearts up a bit, it's a cold winter this year.

Words: 2.1k

Everyone sees it, Theodore being absolutely smitten by you, it's obvious, he has made sure everyone knows that you are his for the taking. Nott was known to be level headed one in the group, like Blaise, never getting into fights but not doing much to stop them either. Unlike Enzo, who was on the other end of the spectrum from Matheo and Draco, always keeping the group out of conflict because he didn't want to lose the house cup, that is. Everyone knew not to mess with the Slytherins, their pride was always at stake.

You were his girlfriend, everyone knows, no-one knows the consequences of thinking otherwise. They'd rather not, it's quite evident that people loved their peace more than to spit some game over a taken girl. That's how it should be, that's how it'll be.

...

You were sitting in Theo's lap, he was reading you the study material for history of magic, you were quite literally bored but your boyfriend was insistent on studying, he was also insistent on doing it with you, he wouldn't let go of you. The common room was empty, it was lunch time and you didn't feel like eating lunch, since you didn't your boyfriend didn't either, so this is how you were spending your time. He was your yes-man, whatever you ask of him, he'll do it in a heartbeat. Infact, he also does things you just think of, as well as the things you expect him to do, he knows you too well, always compliant to your wishes.

You turn around facing him, he puts down the book the very second you smile at him, all his attention on you. The way you look at him, sitting in his lap, with such love, he can feel his heart race, no matter how long it has been with you, the sugar rush never leaves. Theo can spend an eternity looking at you and still not run out of love, he knows it too well, he's far gone, turned too soft but he doesn't seem to mind because it's you. He doesn't care if his jaw hurts, he'll stay smiling when you are around. He starts his day with you in his mind, ends his day the same, dreams of you through the night and is with you throughout the day. He's content like this, there's nothing else he could ask for, he has everything he wants right in front of his eyes.

He doesn't have control over himself when it comes to you, it's all sweet and honey smooth when you are with him, his eyes always drift to you. He isn't hesitant to show his love for you, in fact he's quite shameless with it. You are shy infront of others though, so he enjoys moments like this, when you are alone with him, not afraid to be openly affectionate. Theo likes it when you say his name, "Theo," you breath out, smiling at him as you fiddle with his uniform's collar, unable to look into his eyes for long letting your gaze falter, he nods at you, encouraging you to continue, holding your nape with his hand making you look at him, thumb holding your chin up. You shake your head, smiling again and let your head bump against his chest, blushing, "I'm just happy, Teddy" your face is hidden in his chest, he holds you close, why is it that you are the shy one but it's his heart doing somersaults? "Me too mi amor, me too."

...

Theodore is not a religious man but when he has you infront of him, he'd gladly sink to his knees, thanking the heavens above for their blessings. He's with you in his dorm room, sitting on the loveseat, you in his lap, trailing kisses down his neck. You pull away, sliding off his lap down to your knees looking up at him with such devotion, he feels like a king, you unbuckle his belt with such eager hands he feels his soul escape, as though it has found it's paradise, ready to leave the land of mere mortals.

You love to tease him, knew how to him rile up and you took advantage of it. You pucker your lips around the tip of his length, not giving in easily, your eyes are full of mischief when you look up at him, "Don't tease," he groaned, hand reaching to fist your hair, you giggle as you pull away making him hiss. "Be kind Bella," his jaw was clenched hard with tension, you decide that it's enough, you always think you can hold back from him, tease him a bit more than the last time but your heart just wants to please him. You take his dick in whole, the warmth of your mouth making his jaw fall slack, the tension lifting from his shoulders as you swirl your tongue around the base, dragging it up slowly. Kissing the tip, then pulling away- letting your hand do the work while you give him a coy look. It was fucking sinful, hellish even, the way you were looking up at him. Theo was not a good man he knew that but there has to be a special place in hell for him after this because fuck, the way he loves you on some days is pure filth, there's nothing pure in his mind, there's only his weak submission to carnal desires.

You work your mouth up and down his length, the tip hitting the back of your throat in a pleasurably painful way. "Merlin-" his eyes were blown off to pitch blacks, it was struggle to take him in fully but the fucked out look in his eyes only motivated you. Gagging and choking on his dick, on your knees for him, it was a sight only he could see, only he could take the pleasure of admiring, he relished in knowing that fact that you were only his. Your beauty was for everyone to see, therefore it was something special in seeing you, pretty like this, lips wrapped around him and tear stained cheeks. He loved you more each second, it was worrisome how much he loved you, it even scared him sometimes, he'd go to any lengths for you, it doesn't matter if the world hates him by the end of it, he'll be happy if it means you'll love him a bit more.

Few minutes later he warns you that he's going to reach his limit, you don't let go, hands, lips, tongue, all pushing him over the edge, soon he's coming undone under your touch, you swallow up his release, pulling away your mouth with a pop. You are looking up at him with cum stained lips, zipping him up then straddling him. "That was pure fucking filth, love," he smiles as he looks at your lips, smearing the spit and cum more with his thumb, then pushing his thumb against your lips making you roll your tongue around him, licking away the remains of him, "the only filth I love."

...

Nott wasn't a fan of herbology but when he learnt that you adored certain flowers, he went out of his way to have them potted in your room, asked the professor ways of keeping the plants evergreen, perfected the charm to keep them blooming 24/7, going against nature just to see you smile.

Sometimes you'd make rings out of them, one for him, one for you, he'd wear them till the stems gave out, even then he'd preserve the flowers between the pages of his diary. Some days you'd make pretty crowns for yourself and others, he loved seeing you smile, the way you'd happily run to Pansy and Daphne during your break placing the crowns on their heads. Even they couldn't resist your charm, matching with you throughout the day, smiling brightly at eachother, it was a different kind of pretty, you being happy with your friends. He liked knowing that you had others loving you yet you came back to him, that you loved him more than you loved anyone else, he took pride knowing that his feelings were reciprocated with the same intensity.

"Everyone," you said out of nowhere, standing in front of him with your hands behind your back but talking to his friends instead, the group only sniggered at Theo's reaction, he was trying to get you to look at him, "I have something to confess," you smirked at them, you were wearing one of your flower crowns today and bright clothes as well, quite opposite to the image of the house you belonged to, standing out, everyone played along humming and urging you to continue, "there's this guy I like, a year above mine," you scrunched your nose up, as your friends gasped, "How scandalous, please continue ," Draco smirked, looking at how you were ignoring Theo who just looked confused, "I thought of asking him out on a date, you know with some poppies and roses, how does that sound?" You ask them shyly, still not looking at Theo who was on his feet now, while the others were sitting on the ground, splayed in different positions, all comfortable and happy. "That sounds awfully romantic, he'll surely appreciate it," Pansy quipped, cooing at your blushing face, the others simply nodding and grinning at her words.

Theo called out your name, finally making you look at him, "What Theo?" You ask him, your voice full of innocence, "what are you talking about?" He looks at his friends who just shrug and laugh while he's standing there all clueless. "You know, just confessing to the love of my life, he really is the best" you brightly smile up at him, "it's me, right? Theo?" He laughed lightly,"Ofcourse not silly," now he was confused, what were you on about and why were his friends hollering on the ground.

His face just scrunched up in confusion, you move closer to him, your shoes against his, smiling up at him, eyes full of love. "It's the guy named, Theodore Nott, do you happen to know him?" You were acting up, while his eyes widened, realising that he was being toyed with, not receiving a response, you pull your hands infront, placing the poppy and rose crown you made on his brown curls, "Happy Valentine's Day to guy I love the mostest" it was corny, cheesy and what not but it was sweetest thing at the same time, you were often shy when it came to public display but here you were, telling the world that he was the guy you loved the most- no, the mostest.

Theo was still awestruck, unable to move, only a smitten look on his, you reached up, placing a soft kiss on his lips. All you guys' friends were cooing and cheering when he bent down to kiss you after recovering from the initial shock, poppies and roses on both of your heads, you smiled against his lips as you pulled him closer. You both had drowned the noises everyone was making in the background, which went from cheering to fake gagging when they realised that the kiss wasn't going to end anytime soon. Theo couldn't care less what Valentine's was, for all it meant that he got another reason to celebrate his love for you, "I love you, the mostest." He repeated your words, meaning each and every word, his forehead resting against yours, there was no place better than this, to have you in his arms for everyone to see, for him to see your pretty smile directed at him, full of love and all things sweet and mushy, his face equally as bright. Kissing you again because he could never get enough of you, his heart beating as though he had just ran miles, warmth taking over his body, he doesn't ever remember asking for a life this happy but he's glad his happiness found him because there's nothing better than exchanging stones for roses or maybe it's just you, the rose petals over his gravel, he doesn't care only if it means that he can have you like this, sweet against his lips for the rest of his life. Finding himself closing his eyes, making a promise to himself, of cherishing and protecting this happiness of his, the one he never wished for, being his only wish now.

...

[cheeseceli]

With a hyper s/o

Pairing: Ot8 skz × Gn!reader (individually)

Genre: fluff, headcanons

Request: hihi! i loved your skz with a quiet s/o! is it okay if i request skz with a extroverted and loud s/o? thank you!

Warnings: not proofread

A/n: stray kids comeback soon!! So excited what | fundraiser

Bang Chan

Honestly he gets a little bit worried every time you start to jump and run around lmao, but it's just his protective side showing out. He'd do everything to keep the smile on your face. The boys also are glad you are in his life, as since you came along he seems more carefree, like he can relax a bit more. Maybe you being so alive made him decide to live more as well.

Lee Know

Absolute chaos. When he is on those "I'll just start screaming and let's see what happens" moments, you both become unstoppable. And if you're up to joining in his crazy ideas, he might as well just have found the love of his life. But when he's on his calmer moments, he loves to just hear you talk about anything or just admire you. He finds you so endearing and loveable.

Changbin

I feel like you have scared him quite a few times by being loud but then he's being louder and you just click so well lmao. The boys love him, love you and love you both as a couple but they'd be rolling their eyes whenever you two got together😭 I feel like talking to him would be so easy too. Conversation just comes and goes so normally, you wouldn't even have to try.

Hyunjin

Honestly, he just loves how everything about you seems so bright. He can swear he sees colours more vivid because of you and your little habits. It's almost impossible for him to not smile along your antics and drama. Might even try to keep up with your hype sometimes (mostly fails but he doesn't mind that much, he just likes to see you be his sunshine).

Han

Yes he's an introvert but have you seen this man?? He's ready to set fire to everything most of the time. So this is kinda absolute chaos pt2. Such a good duo, you both share the same braincell. But when the situation calls for it, you are his vitamin and charger. And if you're the dramatic type as well, he's all in for that.

Felix

If Han is his sunshine twin you're his sunshine soulmate. Honestly, the room just brightens up the moment you two walk in. And people can always figure out where you both are just by following the sound of your laugh 😭 that's genuinely cute.

Seungmin

Teases you a little bit when it comes to you being extra hyper and happy about everything, but it's all in good fun. He actually finds it rather cute. It also gives me huge "If you dance I'll dance, if you don't I'll dance anyways" vibes (please someone understand what I mean). Most of the times he's wondering how you have such a big social battery tho lmao.

I.N

Honestly he loves to hear you yap. You always come up with the most random things to say, he never knows what to expect. And even though he doesn't say much back, you always know that he's listening. And it's even kinda cute because when he's only with the boys he'll randomly talk about what you said earlier that day. "Did you know you can hear a blue whale's heartbeat from two miles away?"

Masterlist | you'll probably like: with a quiet s/o

Thank you for reading <3

Taglist (open): @yuyubeans @dandelions-143 @sleepyleeji

Credits for images 1 2 and 3

Dividers by @isisjupiter

[loulovingho]

Buck is rubbing Tommy's bare chest for the first time. He has never really felt up a big muscular hairy chest before

It shouldn't feel this easy.

That's what Buck kept telling himself.

Yet, every step they took together was just that.

Easy.

Buck had never been with another man in any type of romantic way. He'd never felt the rough stubble of a two day old beard when he kissed someone. Never had calloused hands tilt his chin up into a kiss. Never had someone with bigger muscles than his own pull him close. Never felt another dick pressed up against his through the fabric of his jeans.

Certainly had never done the things he'd done tonight. Which led them to now, pressed up against each other, legs tangled together, Buck's chest tucked into Tommy's side. He rested a hand over Tommy's chest, feeling his heartbeat, pressing a kiss to his peck when Tommy hummed in contentment.

Buck had made dinner that night. They had planned to watch a movie afterward, but Tommy kept looking at him in that way and Buck couldn't help but forget about doing dishes or starting a movie when his mouth could be on Tommy's instead.

They'd each lost a layer of clothing by the time they made it up Buck's stairs and into the bedroom. Tommy had managed to mutter out a couple, “Are you sure?” and “Is this okay?” questions before Buck, with Tommy's dick in his hand, informed him it was all very much okay and he would let him know if anything changed.

But the look on Tommy's face when they moved just right, the way his abs became more defined when he'd suck in a breath, the noises he made when Buck licked over his nipples, how their bodies felt so perfect together in ways that Buck couldn't even describe. There was no way anything was going to change. No way he'd be stopping this from happening.

There should have been some awkwardness. Should have been fumbling and stuttering and anxiety, but there was none.

Even now, his hand running absentmindedly down Tommy's chest, all Buck could think about was how amazing he felt. How comfortable. Safe.

It was so different from anything he'd ever experienced before. Part of him felt silly. He was glad Tommy had his eyes closed, his own hand sliding up and down Buck's back. Buck was embarrassed by the fact he was blushing. Especially after everything they just did.

But his eyes were transfixed on Tommy's chest. The hair, the firmness of his muscles, the way Buck's fingers moved up and down over his abs like a car driving over hills.

His skin was so warm. And maybe that in itself wasn't exactly new, but it felt new. Different.

They didn't even have the covers over them. Just bare bodies tangled together while the fan spun above them. But Buck didn't feel cold. All he felt was the warmth of Tommy wrapped all around him.

Different.

Comfortable.

Safe.

Perfect.

“Evan?” The raspiness in Tommy's voice only soothed him further.

“Yeah?”

“I can feel you thinking. You okay?”

Buck couldn't help but smile. Tommy was always checking in. Always wanted to make sure they were on the same page.

Buck let out a relaxed sigh. “I- I think I could stay like this forever.” He whispered the words into Tommy's skin like they were a precious secret. He hoped it didn't sound too cheesy. Hoped he didn't say too much. Make it too personal.

His worries were quickly squashed when Tommy pulled him even closer, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, whispering back, “Me too.”

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Chibs with a reader around the same age as Juice and they do it on Chibs’s bike at the club house thinking nobody is there but they get caught by a few of the members

Teach Me How to Ride.

Synopsis - Chibs is teaching you how to ride (in more ways than one).

Pairing - Filip 'Chibs' Telford x Female Reader

Warnings - smut. cursing. age gap.

Age Rating - 18+

Word Count - 1k

Author's Note - thank you SO much for this request, anon. it made me feral. that old man owns me and i'm not sorry about it. always open to SOA and chibs requests. <3

Masterlist. Inbox.

"Any weekend plans, darlin'?"

You smile at the blonde man sat on the other side of the bar you're wiping down.

"Nothing too exciting. I think I'm gonna try and get out on my bike."

His brows raise in curiosity.

"You have a bike now?"

"Yeah. Chibs is teaching me how to ride."

"I bet he is."

You roll your eyes at the snickers that come from the other guys who are dotted around the room.

"Real mature, Jax."

"Is he charging you for these lessons, or are you paying him in other ways?"

You put down your cloth and look up.

"I'll jump over this bar and beat your ass right now, Tig. Don't think I won't."

They all laugh, and you can't help but chuckle along with them. You know they mean well. They'd do anything for you, in a heartbeat.

Eventually, the sun sets, and all of the guys make their way home. You've been restocking the bar, not minding staying a little later if it means you get the job done.

You're crouched down filling the fridge when you hear a familiar Scottish accent echo though the clubhouse.

"You still here, sweetheart?"

You stand up and smile at him, grinning wider when he reciprocates.

"Still here. Trying to get my shit done."

"That's my girl. Always working ten times harder than the rest of us."

You laugh, throwing him a beer.

"You're here late. How did the run go?"

"All good, nothing to worry about," he winks.

You think back to Jax's comment earlier, and decide you've had enough of avoiding the truth. You want answers. You also just kind of want to know what he'll say.

"Why does everyone think we're fucking?"

Chibs practically chokes on his drink, taken aback by your sudden brashness.

"What?"

"You heard me."

He takes a moment to process, before a slow smile etches itself onto his face.

"Why do you ask that?"

"Just something Jax said earlier."

"Ignore that bastard. He doesn't think before he speaks."

You chuckle in agreement, finishing up your jobs for the day.

"You wan' a ride home?"

You nod gratefully, making sure to lock up before walking over to where Chibs is leaning against his bike. He's parked by the door, under the shelter, obscured from the yard. He slips a helmet onto your head, before standing in front of you to do up the buckle. His rough fingertips slide under your chin, clasping the straps in place. He swipes a thumb over your bottom lip gently, eyes never leaving your face.

"You're too good for me," he murmurs. "Pretty young thing like you."

"Everyone already thinks we're fucking anyway," you whisper, smirk on your face.

He chuckles lowly, before leaning in to capture your lips with his. He kisses you with need, unbuckling the helmet he just put on you and dropping it to the ground. He's grabbing at you - your hips, your ass, anywhere he can find. You've got your hands tangled in his hair, yanking roughly when he bites your lip.

The two of you waste no time. Chibs is shrugging his jacket off while unbuttoning your pants, pulling them down. You're fumbling with his belt, undoing his jeans with shaky hands. You're both high on adrenaline, desperate to feel the other person. He smashes his lips back to yours and you groan, reveling in the way he tastes like smoke and peppermint.

Chibs grabs your hips and walks you backwards, twirling you around so you're bent over his bike. You can't help but laugh, remembering what Jax had said.

"What?" he chuckles into your ear, hot and heavy against your back.

"Nothing," you giggle. "I'll tell you later. You gonna fuck me, old man, or just stand there?"

He growls under his breath and smacks your ass as punishment, smirking when you whine.

"You gonna ask me nicely, sweetheart?"

At this point, you're not above begging. Besides, you know it'll do wonders for his ego, and you don't entirely mind that.

"Please, Chibs," you whinge. "Waited so long for this."

"Oh, ya have?" he coos. "Better not keep you waitin' then."

In one smooth thrust he slides home, both of you groaning in unison. He plants a hand on the back of your neck, the other with a firm grip on your hip, providing him with leverage. He sets a steady, even pace, careful not to knock the bike over.

He tilts his hips upwards a little and you keen, seeing stars.

"Right there? Yeah? That's it, isn't it?"

You only nod in response, holding onto the motorcycle for dear life. You trust him, though. You know he won't let you fall.

"Fuck, darlin'. You feel so good."

"So close," you choke out.

"I know, I know. Can feel you squeezin' me. Come on, that's it. Good girl."

The lilt of his accent combined with the glide of his hips is lethal, sending you over the edge in no time. You see stars, heart racing and mind blank.

Your undoing is also Chibs'. He groans as he finds his release, leaning over to rest his head between your shoulders. You're both panting, chests heaving as you recover.

After a moment, the bike groans, and you both jump up, laughing as you do it. You're redressing, Chibs stealing kisses from you, when you hear a voice cut through the darkness.

"Well, shit. I was only kidding earlier."

You can hear Jax's teasing drawl before he comes into view, cocky smirk drawn across his face.

You groan as Chibs rolls his eyes and throws his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him. Both of you know you're not going to hear the end of this for a long time.

[gor3-hound]

TOUCH ME INSTEAD – SCOTT SUMMERS + LOGAN HOWLETT

ft. scott summers x f!reader x logan howlett

a/n: commission for the super lovely @dollfacefantasy. literally check her out i do not have enough praise for her omg... god bless her for feeding my scogan fantasies. title is from the song 'over my head' by james marriott !! thanks to @cubedkennedy and @nexysworld for giving it a lil look over when i was tweaking 😓

cw: 18+ content. mentions of grief + death. gay sex (seriously... reader is in the background of this one), anal sex, oral (m!recieving), overstimulation, handjobs, fingering (f + m recieving), kissing, biting, blood, scott centric. canon divergent but set after x2

word count: 3.4k words

Scott hasn't been the same since Jean's death. He still remembers the jet. Demanding they lowered the ramp. Snapping at Nightcrawler to go and get her. The way the realisation set in as she spoke through Xavier. He didn't believe it at first. Not really. Something in him knew – you couldn't lose someone like her without feeling the shift in the universe.

Everything came crashing down all at once. She was gone. Jean Grey was gone, and he was all alone all over again.

He cried so much the first night without her that his lungs burned and his heartbeat pounded painfully in his head. Hours had passed before he eventually exhausted himself, falling asleep curled up on her side of the bed. When he awoke the next morning, he was suddenly very grateful no one would be able to see just how red and swollen his eyes were under the shades he wore.

There's a feeling of exhaustion that is unexplainable to those who haven't lost anything. Scott’s mind couldn't handle the rapid changing of emotions coursing through him. The regret he felt for every time he didn't put his all in when it came to Jean. The desperation he felt to find some way to get her back, some hint that she was alive somehow. The guilt he felt for every argument they'd had. That he hadn't told her ‘I love you’ the day she died. At the end of it all came acceptance.

With acceptance came numbness. Everything he did reminded him of Jean, so he chose to do nothing at all.

Logan of all people seemed concerned about him. Scott feels a little queasy when he thinks back to the jet, about how he clung to the older man. He felt safe with him, although that's something he'd never admit – even if he knows there's no point trying to hide it; Logan's the only one Scott’s let visit him since he lost Jean.

“She's been askin’ about you, y’know.” Logan didn't have to say who he was speaking about for Scott to know it was you. You had tried to speak to him once he returned to the school after the mission, and he had instantly pushed past you. It wasn't your fault, not really. You just reminded him too much of her in the way you acted. He couldn't stomach your presence right now. He didn't feel strong enough.

“Don't start lecturing me. I don't have the energy for your shit tonight.” Scott remembers how hard he had to try not to let his voice waver. How hard it was not to tell Logan how badly he needed comforting. He was a leader, first and foremost. He wouldn't break down. Not in front of him.

“You should at least come out ‘n eat somethin’.” Scott can't remember the last time he felt hungry.

“Nah. Nah, I can't face the kids like this.” That was the end of the conversation. Every time you or Logan have tried to visit him since has been met with silence and avoidance. He's never felt this pathetic before in his life.

It's better this way, he thinks, curling up with one of Jean's old shirts. The smell is starting to fade. He cries himself to sleep for the first time that night since she died.

˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗

“He's grieving, Logan. You just gotta give him time.”

A scowl spreads across the man's face at your words, brows pinching together as he brings the lighter to his mouth, igniting the cigar he has perched between his lips. He takes a few puffs, breathing the smoke out through his nose as he leans back in the chair.

“He's bein’ a fuckin’ asshole, s'what he's doin’.” He grunts, running a hand through his hair. His gaze is distant at your words. Directed at you, but going right through you. “We're all grievin’. Bastard's just gonna end up killin’ himself at this rate.”

“He loved her, Logan. He's gonna need time to process it.” You say with a sigh, running a hand over your face. Your free hand absentmindedly taps against the table, fingers cycling one by one against the hardwood. The noise draws Logan's gaze downwards, and he scoffs slightly.

“I loved–” Logan pauses. I loved her, he was going to say, but it didn't feel right. He loved the idea of her. Loved her like a friend, once he’d truly gotten to know her. I love him, is what he wants to say, but it isn't the time or the place. What good would it do?

“Doesn’t matter.” He huffs after a moment, grabbing the bottle of whiskey from the jacket hanging off the back of his chair, unscrewing the lid and gulping some down. Nothing he can think of seems right to say at this moment.

Logan can't ever remember feeling so hopeless.

˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗

Numbness bleeds away to self-destruction. Scott can't help but feel as though there's something he should be punished for. He could have tried harder to save Jean. He should have. Maybe she'd still be here if he had.

It's the third time he's been to the Danger Room this week. His muscles still ache from last time, each step he takes causing discomfort to shoot through his legs. The pain is a welcome distraction from his grief. A reminder that he was still alive.

Once Scott is thrown into combat, his mind goes blank. He's able to focus – finally – as his brain quietens down. He blocks each and every attack that comes his way with a hand or an arm, leaving his visor untouched. He has no desire to use his powers today, not when each hit he sustains makes him feel alive again. Makes him forget.

The simulation around him falters and fades, and it feels as though his entire world comes crumbling around him. He's suddenly aware of the throbbing pain behind his knuckles, the ache spreading upwards until a dull soreness settles in the muscles of his arms. Each blow he'd been unable to block sends searing pain up and down his body now that he's not relying on adrenaline to get him through.

His gaze filters across the room appraisingly, eventually settling on Logan who is slowly approaching. Of course it was Logan. It always came back to him.

“I was training.” Scott snaps. Or attempting to, at least. He's winded and tired and sore, and he doesn't want to have to deal with Logan today if he can help it.

“You were takin’ a beatin’. Not gonna learn anythin’ just letting a bunch of holograms kick the shit out of ya.” Logan grunts in response, taking his space in front of Scott.

“I didn't ask for your advice.”

“I couldn't give a fuck either way. Your attitude is startin’ to piss me off.” Logan growls, stepping closer until he and Scott are barely a few inches apart. His hands come up to push at the younger man’s shoulders, sending him stumbling back a few steps. “Hit me.”

“Sorry, what?” Scott replies, brows knitting together as he stares at Logan through the visor.

“C'mon, I know you've wanted to since the day we met. M’not givin’ you another chance.” Scott’s eyes narrow behind his eyewear, but his hands come up to push harshly at Logan’s chest. The mutant doesn't budge. “Really? I know you can do better than that, bub. Hit me.”

So Scott does. He hits Logan as hard as he can, fist connecting with the rigid muscles of his chest over and over again. The skin of his knuckles crack and break, blood marring his pale skin as he unleashes his frustrations out on Logan. He just takes it, jaw set tight. The only indication any of this hurts is his tense expression and the occasional grunt that spills past his lips.

Logan catches Scott when he eventually collapses against his chest with tears in his eyes, clinging to him just as he had that day on the jet. He holds him there until his breathing evens out and he stops crying.

˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗

“Hey, uh… Can I talk to you for a second?” Scott's voice is quiet as he pushes open your door, even in the near silence of your room this late at night. He wasn't sure what he could say to you to make this better. He knows he's been avoiding you. Well, he's been avoiding everyone (except Logan, apparently, who is determined to stick to him like a tick), but he knows you worry about him the most.

“Yeah, sure. What's up?”

“I, uh…” He swallows hard, throat bobbing as he turns his head away. He seems more like a guilty puppy than anything at the moment, tail tucked between his legs as he shifts his weight awkwardly from foot to foot. He scratches at his jaw, stubble irritating his skin that he's been too tired to shave off. “Logan said you were asking about me.”

It's easier to say that then to really address the issue. He wants to speak to you, sure, but he doesn't want to admit how much he's been struggling recently. The idea of speaking about his loss almost feels selfish. You lost her, too. Everyone did. He doesn't know why the idea of speaking Jean's name out loud makes him feel queasy, makes him lightheaded to the point he has to grip the kitchen counter to stop himself from losing balance.

“Yeah… Well, I've been worried. I knocked at your door a few times, but you never answered.” You're not like Logan, you don't just barge in. He's not sure whether he appreciates that fact or not at this moment. He's missed seeing you. He almost regrets hiding away these past few weeks, but he's been acting downright pathetic. You look up to him, and he didn't want you to see him like that, anyway.

“You don't need to be worried about me. I'm alright, sweetheart. Honestly.” He has to be, doesn't he? That's his job. You don't need to know how much he's struggling.

It's a good thing he's doing such a terrible job at hiding it. You raise your eyebrows at him, the muscle in his jaw twitching as he realises he's not getting away with it when it comes to you. He clears his throat, tilting his head away from you.

“I'm fine, seriously–”

“You've been holed up in your room for over a month now. No one's expecting you to be at your best, but you're not even giving yourself a chance to feel better. You can't keep going on like this.”

“Don't.”

“I'm just saying that you're not doing yourself any favours–” A scowl crosses his features as his head snaps back to face you. He stiffens up, pulling his shoulders back. Acting like a cornered animal.

“You don't know the half of what it's been like for me. You barely knew her. You've… what? Been around a few months? Now you wanna lecture me about how to feel?”

He's raising his voice now, and you can't help but mirror his tone. Your body tenses, words sharper when you speak again. “I'm only trying to help–”

“I never asked for your help.” He snaps.

“What're you girls fightin’ about this time?” A third voice cuts in. You and Scott both turn to see Logan standing at the door, arms crossed over his chest as he leans against the frame. His gaze travels between the two of you, taking in the tension in the room.

“Nothing.” Scott huffs, turning away from him once more. Logan clicks his tongue in response, shaking his head as he steps past the threshold and into your room.

“Could hear both of you from my room.” Logan says, shutting the door behind him. “Hate to say it, but the kid's got a point.”

A muscle in Scott's jaw twitches as he tilts his head to look back at Logan, his body still tense as if he's expecting a fight. He'd rather that than the alternative, but when he sees how you're both looking at him, he knows it's going to be a long conversation if he keeps avoiding the issue.

He breaks far quicker than expected when he notices the expression on Logan's face. He was ready for annoyance, disbelief, indifference, even – anything but concern painting the older man's features. Maybe he's been looking for an excuse to be honest. He doesn't know, but the words come tumbling out before he can stop them, and all he feels is relief.

“I just–” Scott pauses, then swallows, then sucks a harsh breath in through his teeth. You don't need to see his eyes to know he's crying. It isn't long before the tears break past the edge of his shades, travelling down his cheeks in small trails. “I just want to forget her.

I know I shouldn't say that, I just… fuck. Just for a couple hours, or… just something. She's constantly on my mind and I just… I need to breathe.”

He watches as you and Logan share a wordless exchange before moving towards him. The hands that find him are warm and firm and so damn distracting. He lets out a choked sob as he leans into you, arms wrapping around your body as Logan's strong hands grip at his shoulders. His thumbs press into his flesh and rub circles in his tense muscles to soothe him, all while he's clinging to you like he's scared you'll disappear. Truth be told, a part of him is absolutely terrified he might lose you – he's even scared he might lose Logan, that his healing factor will somehow fail or be rendered useless one day and he'd be left truly alone.

He's so lost in his own mind that he barely registers your thumbs brushing the tears off his cheeks, doesn't even hear your whispered words of comfort. But when your lips meet his, everything quietens down for a moment.

When you kiss Scott, it's soft and sweet. The tension bleeds away from his shoulders as he kisses you back, eyes fluttering shut. His hands find your hips, tugging you flush against his body. His lips part further as he feels Logan press against him from behind, leaving him panting into your mouth for a few seconds as he feels Logan's steadily hardening length pressing against his ass and the scratch of his facial hair against his skin as the other man presses kisses along the back of his neck.

You tug Scott's face closer again, and he kisses you back almost mindlessly. Your tongue slides along his lower lip, and he parts them immediately granting you entry. He sucks on the wet muscle before he's licking into your mouth, desperate to taste more of you, feel more of you.

A hand that's too big and too rough to be yours slides under the fabric of his boxers to squeeze his cock. He whimpers against your lips, jaw growing slack as Logan starts to lazily stroke him while grinding against him. He's starting to feel a little dizzy, his legs weak as heat pools in his lower belly. Scott can feel hands tugging and pulling at him, guiding him to the bed on the other side of the room. He lets himself be led without any complaints, the distraction making him desperate. Pliable. He hasn't felt this way since–

The thought leaves him as Logan pushes him back onto your sheets. You watch closely as Logan's hands greedily roam Scott's body, hitching his shirt up so he can lick and bite the toned skin of Scott's stomach.

“Fucking Christ.” Scott hisses, jerking under Logan. When Logan lifts his head from his stomach, the shape of his teeth is visible, and a small amount of blood is visible on his grin. Logan is quick to pull Scott's clothing free, and you shimmy forward to help.

“Open up.” Logan grunts as he taps two fingers against your bottom lip. They part easily, allowing the digits to press against your tongue. You suck and lick at them eagerly, the taste of cigars lingering on the skin as you coat him in your saliva.

The fingers pop free, and he slides his hand down the inside of Scott's thighs until his fingers – warm and wet with your saliva – prod at his entrance. Scott's expression is tense, his chest heaving at the intrusion as Logan sinks his digits in slowly. A whine spills from his lips, hips jerking as he grips at the sheets with enough pressure that his knuckles turn white.

“Fuuuck.” He hisses once more, back arching as you spit in your palm and enclose your fingers around his hard, leaky cock, pumping his length slowly. He's going to go mad. There's no way he can last, not like this. Between Logan scissoring him open and your hand squeezing and stroking, he's going to paint his stomach in less than a minute. “It's too much… please.”

The fingers withdraw from his ass, making him whimper in protest. That is until the blunt head of the other man's cock prods at him, his hips jerking into your grip helplessly as a new string of curses fall from his lips.

“Look so fuckin’ sexy like this.” Logan groans, slowly sinking into him until his hips are flush against Scott's ass. His claws prick gently at the skin of his knuckles, barely unsheathing as he struggles not to immediately rut into the tight heat surrounding him. Scott cums in an instant as the sharp tips graze his skin, ropes of white coating the taut muscles of his stomach.

Your hand continues to stroke him through his orgasm, but then it isn't stopping. And Logan starts to thrust, knocking a choked gasp out of Scott. He writhes under the both of you, chest heaving with heavy breaths. He gasps and whines, torn between bucking into your hand and crawling across the bed to get away from the overwhelming pleasure.

Scott isn't even aware he's been begging until Logan laughs all throaty. Your grip tightens as you pump him with more vigour, his cock twitching in your grasp. “Shit, Scott. Didn't realise you were this much of a slut.”

Scott's body is tense, but he can't form the words to argue with the other man. His lips part, but all that comes out is a needy whine as your lips enclose around his head. His mind is gone – all he can manage is rocking his hips into your mouth, then back to meet Logan's thrusts. His hands move from the sheets to grip your hair, pushing you down further onto his length until he's nudging at the back of your throat. His breaths come out in short pants, thighs twitching as another orgasm approaches.

Logan's hand slides down your back as you work on bringing Scott to the edge, sliding under your pants to tease your entrance. He groans under his breath when he's met with how wet you are, his fingers dipping into your cunt and curling until you're moaning around Scott's cock. Every time he fucks into you, the force of it sends Scott further down your throat.

“Gonna… gonna cum, baby. Fuck.” Scott breathes out, the only warning you get before he coats your tongue with his release. You swallow as much as you can, a mixture of drool and cum leaking past the seam of your lips as you pull off of him.

Logan growls as he feels Scott tightening around him, and it only takes a few more thrusts before he's spilling into Scott. His hand falters slightly for a moment before he shifts, pulling you closer so he can thumb at your clit as his fingers drive into you.

“Come on, baby. Give Scottie a little show, yeah? You gonna cum for us?” His voice comes out breathless, his gaze flicking between you and Scott, who's lazily gazing at you as he attempts to catch his breath. You nod eagerly, head falling back against Logan as you reach for Scott's hand, giving it a small squeeze.

A few more skillful movements of Logan’s fingers has you gasping, body tensing as your climax hits you. Your thighs clamp around Logan's hand, your grip on Scott's making the man wince. You collapse after a moment, but not before you and Logan crawl either side of Scott, curling up against him. He wraps an arm around each of you, nosing at your hair.

For the first time in a while, a small smile curls at the corner of his lips.

[vyzz-undercover]

pspspsps dinner time everyone

[cato/f!ambassador]

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

(5,700ish words) (im cooked)

CONTENT WARNINGS:

•slight dubcon [again]

•hints of size kink

•intercourse [M/F]

•discussions of virginity

•vague breathplay

•even more negligible aftercare

•degrading language

•mild possessive behaviour

•tumblr's pisspoor formatting as per last time

———————————————————————————————————

im once again doing a free magic show here and pulling a rabbit (this fic) out my ass. so, without further a-do the tagging... @kit-williams, @passionofthesith, @pluvio-tea, @the-raven-lady, @bispecsual, @egrets-not-regrets, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @lemon-russ. let me know if anyone else wanna be tagged if i do a part three HAHAHAHHAHA i might double down on the comedy-of-errors and have Guilliman get involved. Not like a three-way with this particular fic, even if I'd love to slut papa smurf out. There's always another time and another chance to sexualise an old man :3

———————————————————————————————————

Cato finds you relatively easily.

Truthfully, you make no actual sport of it. But he's never going to pass up a cheap bit of entertainment at your expense.

At this time of the ship's cycle you're most likely to be in the east wing, pointedly the lower libraries. He knows this. He won't confess why or how he knows, though—so, fuck off.

You're lazy and predictable. To say nothing of the fact you're far too comfortable scuttling about his Father's vessel. If a hypothetical assassin ever could get onto the ship without being stomped into paste by him immediately, they'd have no problems tracking you down. You may as well be a sevitor running on rails for all your movements stay the same.

He notes you're not on the first level.

Nor the second.

You are on the third, in the leftmost quadrant.

In the restricted reading area.

You do have clearance—but the fact still irks him. Typically, this was for his more decorated brothers to catalogue Xenos. Typically, one needed to be accompanied to even access this level.

But oh, no—no, you're allowed.

You're allowed because you are a damnable leach of a woman. And also the bane of his existence, did he mention that? And you're—you're—tucked up in secure side-room, reading on a data-slate; half-asleep in a little blue robe and looking the pict of adorable sloth.

You don't notice him immediately.

Clearly too absorbed in your gerrymandering-for-servitors cheat-sheet.

And that annoys him even more.

Because, are you really that obtuse? So unassailable in your own mind that you're this blatantly fucking oblivious? He's an Astartes, damn it. Sure, he's in casual rest attire instead of clanking plate—but he's a large, two-and-a-bit meter tall trans-human war-machine standing in the doorway—and you haven't even noticed him. Ignorant like some little rodent chewing away at crumbs in it's hovel.

His Father's got a vermin problem on board, and the mice are stupid and bold and literate... along with rather cozy, apparently.

A finely woven navy throw is swaddled around you where you're lying on the chaise lounge. And the sight of you bundled up inspires a vivid déjà-vu of the last time you were alone with him with little more than a blanket over you.

Cato hesitates for a heartbeat, swallows down the sudden lump in his throat and sets his jaw.

He steps into the room and waves a hand over the laser-pad locking mechanism.

There's a fractional second in which you become cognisant to the sound of the shutter door closing and where you actively notice him.

Then there's a shrill scream as if you've pinched a nerve.

The data-slate goes flying, pelted at his head. But it hits the shutter door and clatters to the floor, far-off any hint of a good mark.

Useless woman.

Realising it's him a moment later, you heave out a racketing sigh.

"Throne of Terra, Ca—" you start, and it sounds like you're going to say his first name before you rightly correct yourself and say, "C-Commander, you scared me half to death."

He immediately sets about accosting you, "Have you been sitting here with the door open this whole time?"

"No," you nip out.

"You are aware that I can tell when you're lying?"

"I'm certain you can," your tone flattens in a way he's only ever heard you talk to particularly sleazy representatives with. It's not an honest exchange, it's double-speak. It's mocking. You're mocking him.

He grits his teeth.

You've grown more open in your defiance towards him as of late, certainly not because of any revelation or reason and it rubs him in a dangerous, new way. He's not about to let it slide, either.

"Is that so?" His words are sharp and accusative and he hopes—he hopes he'll get the delight of watching you cower like you usually do when confronted by him. "Have you been lying to me often, then?"

Half his hopes come true. You look away nervously and mumble something almost inaudibly, and he'd not have noticed if not for his far superior hearing.

It was, "...maybe," and all Cato can help but do being himself, is detonate.

"And what have you been deceiving me of, you scheming little whore?" He snarls, fuming—a dozen crimes and sins crowding his mind you might be tried for. Maybe he's been far too lenient to the actual reality of your evil. Finally, validation to corroborate his deviation—maybe you'll admit you're some Slanneshi fleshchanger, and that you intended to have burrowed so deep in his mind.

Nonetheless, you're nowhere near even close to fast enough to defend yourself. But it's not like he gives you the chance.

He's crossed the distance with a practiced speed. And quicker than you can even yelp, you are pinned to the lounge—a shackle in the form of his fist around your smaller throat.

The pressure is a limp handshake by his standards. You're not really choking. Just stifled slightly for good measure.

Still, it'd be a mere flex to break your neck. He could snap you like a stylus with what was to him, ultimately, nothing but a simple twitch of his fingers. And he would think more about the blatant contrasts between you both much longer if he wasn't far too distracted by the fact you even struggle prettily wantonly. Big eyes wide and glossy with animal panic. Involuntary tears gather at the corners as you register what's going on at last. The mad temptation to lick them if they so much as dare trail down your cheeks begins eating at him.

Some rational part of his rational mind reminds him he can't get the truth out of you when he's vaguely throttling you, though—and he lets you go begrudgingly. Instead opting for looming over you as you roll sidelong on the couch, breathing fast.

He crouches down to your level and grumbles, still absorbed in his raging.

"Speak," he barks, and pointedly grabs you by the chin.

"I–I hadn't actually—" you start, breathless as you mumble. "Actually, uh, laid with anyone, even though I nodded I sort of... had."

He's staggered at the statement, "...that's it?"

A vague lie of omission, but it's not the great corruption he sought to root out.

Then he actually thinks about what you've just admitted.

Like fog banished under a rising sun, his anger at the thought of treachery immediately dissipates into blistering revelation.

"Hold on, you..." Cato starts, baffled and completely knocked for a six, meeting your gaze slowly—genuinely stunned as he pulls his hand back fully. "I... I was the first?"

You look away cursorily, face reddening not only with your previous strains, but with embarrassment.

Now, that was the reaction of a guilty conscience.

Cato doesn't know what to do with the information. Nor does he really know what he feels.

He'd been the first. He feels like he's won something over his brothers. Therefore, fuck the lot of them—and fuck Titus, specifically. Even if he's not sure why. He truly couldn't believe it. There's success, sure—but then there's taking the laurels: whole and absolute. And this... this is exactly that. But oh, for some apparently vestal thing, you'd let him bully down to the hilt in your tight cunt; whining like a whore when he spilled himself inside you. Throne, it was almost suffocating to think back on it now. So willing to have your maidenhead taken, nevermind the fact you weren't the only one who'd had a new experience that day. But you didn't need to know that.

"Another notch to my mantel of victories then," he ultimately decides is the best thing to say, gloating to himself.

"Unbelievable," you sigh softly as you shakily sit yourself up.

But there's the problem again. The one tangible, constant problem with having laid you. It's made you mouthy. He only ever glimpsed your boldness when you interacted with other baselines in the past. You never sassed Astartes, or at least, he's never seen you do it. But now that stubbornness and unwillingness to back down in a political forum is on full display heedless of situation. As if you've suddenly become one of the auto-felating Imperial Fists—or any of Dorn's insufferable ball-busting scions, really. Worst of all, it's only managed to somehow make him even more enthralled annoyed with you than usual. You're still too good at quashing your anger, hard as it is to rouse. But he loves loathes that you bite the lure instead of shying off now.

"To think that I was the first—is your entire professional role not centred around charm? Would no one else have you with that rotten attitude you've been hiding?" he says, knowing he's being nasty, knowing he's twisting the knife; and absolutely praying for you to fall for it.

Cato watches a rainbow of emotions pass over your features, before you settle on one that makes you look like you ate something sour. He's hit a weak spot. But the sentiment holds true. His Primarch thinks you the best and brightest to sway planets? You couldn't even seduce some daft, drunken aristocratic fool to fuck you.

You, the prettiest baseline he's ever seen.

...maybe Guilliman is right in saying the Imperium has rolled belly-up with bloat.

"That's not—that's not why and you know it," you open your mouth and jumble your words briefly before getting out, "Do you have any idea how hard it is to find someone who won't have a panic attack because of the several Astartes that insist on following you around?" You continue, raving and flustered, "Do you think anyone would get near me with you—or—or... maybe Captain Acheran, or the good Chaplain, let's say, breathing over my shoulder?"

"You should be grateful any of us waste our time babysitting you," Cato oafishly shoots back like a petulant child, brows furrowing, "You should be thanking me for doing the brunt of it."

Your nose scrunches up, "Pardon me, Commander, it's surely entirely my fault that we are both at the whims of our Lord Primarch."

He pauses.

Something about this interaction isn't stirring his temper like it should.

He should be absolutely livid with anger, or at the very least blowing your eardrums out with a 'shut the fuck up,' at full Astartesian line-command volume.

Yes, he should be seething, and yet he's not. To his surprise, he's actually feeling more enthused than anything.

This feels... exciting, almost.

"You've only grown the backbone to talk back to me because I fucked one into you," he remarks sharply in reply.

You sputter, and go red, robbed of your words.

"Or maybe this is mere performance," He adds with a sneer, tipping his chin up proudly.

You roll your eyes and let out a dramatic puff of air, "Y-You're such a..." you start, but your voice tapers off—and you look away, pouting.

"I'm a... what?" He taunts, leaning close.

You grumble, apparently feeling brave again; meeting his gaze and puffing yourself up.

"You're a bully," you hiss, clearly upset but undeniably frazzled enough to be somewhat ranting again as you add, "A bully w-who's so disgustingly egotistical you've convinced yourself you're some great conqueror or... something... j-just for having been in me, as if I've never put anything in myself before."

Oh, but wait, Cato likes the idea of that. He likes it so much he completely forgets to acknowledge the insults in your statement prior. He likes the idea of you suffering like he had been—alone, yearning—aching for something you didn't know the dizzying reality of. He can imagine you smothering your sounds, those blessed whines he's got memorised, into a pillow in that cushy little quarters of yours, squirming on your meagre fingers, or maybe cold silicon. You didn't need that lesser imitation now. Cato'd gladly fill that role. He'd gladly fill that hole, too.

Nonetheless, he immediately wonders who you were getting off thinking about.

He'd streak the length of the ship for it to've been him you'd been fucking yourself over.

"Who were you thinking of?"

You blink at the completely offhanded question, then start sputtering, stalling.

"What? I-I—" you stammer, "That's not important or relevant—I just... did it, it's—"

"Keep lying and see where it gets you," He cuts in, raking you with an aggravated frown, and oh, excellent, you're starting to relearn he's not fond of your half-truthing, finally.

You duck your head a little, cringing under his gaze, trying to scoot yourself backwards. But there's nowhere to go.

Cato realises belatedly that in the middle of your antics, the sleeve of your robe has started to fall from your shoulder. His brain short-circuits momentarily with the sheer amount of air that floods his head. Your warm, soft skin on display just for him. He didn't get to see all of you last time. He felt a good portion of you, yes—but he didn't get the chance to admire acknowledge the whole vista. Not because he was too desperate to rut against to try. Or because he was probably going to swoon like a fool if he did. Shut up, he's no coward. Afterall, his hands had been close to your chest, but now—now he can actually look.

He's going to absolutely ruin that lovely canvas you've given him.

"Nobody," you say softly.

"Groxshit," he snaps.

"Fine—" You swallow and start scrambling for a response, "Malum C-Caedo."

Cato genuinely cannot help but bark a laugh at that, "Spare me, you haven't even met the man, moron—you're only saying that because your most recent reading was on his last briefing," he rolls his eyes. "You forgot I was there with Guilliman when you were given it."

You look at him like a cornered little mouse, and finally—finally, your sleeve falls just enough that he's given a perfect view of one of your tits.

"You already..." you grumble softly. "You already know who, then, so I shouldn't even have to dignify this."

"It's me, isn't it?" He asks darkly, and while he tries to sound haughty, the fact he's thrilled by both the notion and the sight of your partial nudity ends up warping his tone into a vaguely manic chuff.

You glance aside and stammer loudly, "N-No."

No, you say—but he hears your little heart flutter. And sees your pupils dilate.

"I hope you're aware you can't lie to save your life," Cato drawls.

Your gaze snaps back to his, and for a brief second, your expression is flushed with embarrassment; until it changes to a sour little scowl.

"I'm not a bad liar, you're just an Astartes—" you start furiously, but check your flustered anger.

Cato smirks.

It's not a completely clean victory, but it's good.

It means his own lusting madness is at least reciprocally vindicated.

And at that realisation, Cato's impulse control violently loses balance; and he's painfully aware he cannot, for the life of him, contain the hungered almost purr-like sound that crawls up his throat.

You go back to looking transfixed at that, and he pauses.

There's something... pulling him in even more than before. He feels as if he's taken the bait, and the hook, and the line and sinker—hell, he's taken a good bit of the rod, too. Everything's a little too heated, and he's got an innate, intuitive feeling you're just as wound up as he is—wait. He breathes in deep and slow, and scents the air. Throne, he may as well have been cold-clocked at the temple by a Dreadnaut for all the innate information he suddenly receives. You're quite frankly drenched in want. You're getting off on this. Smothering him in a dizzying biological chant of hormones that scream—fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.

He leans close, and puts a hand on the arm-rest; the other palm slowly moving towards your chest.

Your eyes follow it—but you voice no complaints nor rejections.

Justified now, he's ecstatic. And your skin is as perfect to the touch as he remembers.

His hand looks huge compared to the breast cupped in it, idly toying with the consistency of the flesh in his grasp. It's much softer and malleable than he thought it'd be. Almost like a water-skin. Thumb depressing your right nipple, before drawing a thoughtless circle.

You sigh lightly and relax a bit, and Cato takes that as another open invitation.

He uses the same hand to tug away the fabric from your other shoulder.

Quick as anything, he's practically stuffing his face against you without any real warning, ignoring your flinch at his haste. Cato's letting the urges he'd withheld in that wretched shack out. And it's so worth the wait. He groans, licks a fat band over your left breast, and worries at the perked little bud with his teeth until you're squirming; only to drag his attention up to nip at your fragile throat.

You're breathing hard, and you open your mouth as if about to speak—but ever spiteful, Cato rewards your attempt with the drag of his tongue and the press of his teeth; and that promptly shuts you up. The faint salt on your skin isn't half bad of a thing either, honestly. He rather likes it. It tastes like how you smell—and he's absolutely luxuriating in it. It makes it all the easier to map your chest from the curve of your breast to your collarbones, garnishing you with eager drags of his tongue and mouth-wrought bruises.

And now you're glorious. The marks on your skin are vivid—he's guaranteed you won't be wearing anything showy for a good while. No lovely vile plunging necklines for you to display to bastard dignitaries. Not unless you want to explain why they're Cato Sicarius sized. They'll also be a good reminder to you of exactly who's superior.

You're still too dazed by his efforts to realise the extent of his actions, but he knows exactly how hot and bothered it's made you. That honeyed reek of arousal is driving him insane.

Urged on, he digs a hand down and around your back and drags you off the lounge. Manoeuvring to turn so his back rests against the lip of the lounge, nigh dumping you before him on the rug.

"W-Why...?" You blink, stunned for a second before righting yourself and meeting his eyes. Cato's sat himself cross-legged, before letting them unfold, one tenting and the other splaying out.

"I did all the work last time," he starts impatiently, and leans up to grab you by the forearm; bringing your hand close close to the cradle of his hips, "Now it's your turn to do something for once."

...Cato's not sure you're actually listening, because he could've bet his helm you'd've become irate at that statement if you were. That, and you're glaring between his thighs.

Ironically, he also almost instantaneously finds he doesn't really care to continue the train of thought. Not when you trace the engorged bulge of him through the folds of his tunic. Groping at the base, before smoothing your palm to the rounded tip.

There's no accursed buttons between him and the open this time, thankfully—and that means he can simply tug aside the folds of his layered tunic and bare himself from the belly down.

His cock lays fat and heavy with blood, smearing precum as it moves from his navel to leftward on his hip when he straightens up.

You're staring.

He scoffs at your apprehension and says, "Alternatively, perhaps you can—"

A soft, "Shhh," leaves you.

He snorts like a big, angry stock horse, brow raised. No baseline, regardless of rank, would dare treat Cato like this; none would dare even think to treat to him like this. Except you now, apparently. You forget your station, your place. Making demands of an Astartes is nowhere near your clearance. Your best option is to implore, not command. Yours is to nod your pretty thick head and smile your fair rotten little smile and obey your betters.

"Did—did you just shush me, woman?" Cato's nigh instantly consumed by a rush of anger at the sheer audacity, sneering. "In what reality do you think you've any right to shush me? I'm Commander of the Victrix Honor Guard, Grand Duke of Talassar and High Suzerain of—"

Of... of something.

Suddenly your insolence is inconsequential to him. All that matters is the smooth glide of your dainty hand on his cock, and the sight of your thumb and pointer being unable to wrap around and meet given how thick he is.

You look up at him slowly for a second, before your focus returns to apparently sussing out how best to saddle him. It's a timid gesture, like you're anticipating overstepping—you're cautious.

He's about to remind you of the fact you've taken him before, so Cato's proven he fits and all this coyness of yours is arbitrary. But he guesses the point is moot when you're suddenly already stradling his hips.

With one small hand finding a place on his stomach, and the other holding his cock straight beneath the obscurity of your garbs, he feels you lower yourself enough to make contact; testing before offering a little more urgency.

With an agonisingly careful roll of your pelvis, the head of his cock catches against the soft ring of muscle at your entrance for a second.

He grumbles despite himself.

He can't watch his cock sink into you like last time thanks to the curtain of your robe, but at least he can certainly feel every millimeter of it happening.

Tight heat feels like a death shroud over his mind as he draws a blank on anything else.

And finally—finally he's stuffed down to the hilt—and oh, he's filled you to your end just like the last time. Throne, he's drunk off the spongy heat the thick head of cock is squared right up against.

This position's made your cunt just that bit shorter inside thanks to gravity.

You whimper, clearly trying desperately not to start shaking.

You start shaking anyways.

He's fascinated by the small, restless palms now pressed flat and trying to find a counterpoint on his broad, tunic'd chest. Soft and un-calloused aside from the small bump of a pen's rest on your writing hand. Everything about you is warm and soft. Inside and out, you're all his.

He exhales harshly through his nose and blinks, gaze shifting from your hands to your tits, then to your face.

You wear an even more flushed expression now, overwhelmed, with all your focus on him.

Right where it always should be.

"Hurry up," he grunts sharply.

You swallow hard, and promptly drop your gaze.

You, surprisingly, manage to lift yourself up despite your theatrics. And, little by little, he watches you strain up until just the tip of him is still buried in you.

Angling yourself, you keen, carefully sinking back down on his cock and reeling at the stretch again as you settle, ass meeting his dense quads with a soft plomf.

He can see you biting back a moan, pointless as the act is.

"Keep going," Cato grits out, "I didn't tell you to stop."

You frown halfheartedly, and your insides clench around him despite yourself.

You start a slow rhythm, the noise of colliding skin on skin echoes in his ears. Slick friction, and fucked-out, half-stifled cries. Your pace quickening. Riding him. Using him at your own leisure, like the precious wretched little thing you are. You repeat the same dizzying motion again and again, and again—rising and sinking—up, down, up, down; until it's clear you've found an angle that hits something just right, sending you over the edge with a rattling gasp.

A low groan crawls up the back of Cato's throat and slips free without restraint.

He's barely able to cope through the tight squeeze of your orgasm around his cock; but he steels himself, winning the fight to not spill in you right then and there at that. No small thanks to the furious couple hours he'd spent earlier in the simulated night cycle furiously attending his urges.

His calloused mitt can hardly compete with the nigh painfully silken clench of you. And the view—Throne, to simply watch is a level of spectacle he can't even put into words. It's nothing short of hypnotic seeing your face soften with fucked-out delight—he can't believe he'd ever thought it was good the first time around when he hadn't even seen you meet your end.

You stop suddenly, seated to the hilt, trembling and oversensitive—grinding back and forth, nails digging into his pectorals through his tunic.

"Just... n-need t'catch my breath..." You whimper, and that debauched tone wreaks havoc through his mind. An unceasing urge to pound you to tears overtaking what little sense he has left. It's the ravenous fact that you, the little parchment-pushing temptress, are all tuckered out from cumming on him so quickly. He's preening at the fact he feels that good to you—oh, he's going to send you limping back to your quarters.

He wants to watch you break.

"You lazy little cunt, you can't do a thing right, can you?" Cato groans, your thighs twitching as he lifts you by the hips and makes you sink back down.

He gets the treat of seeing your eyes swim back in your skull, dumb with sensation.

Lulled by the reedy, oversexed moans slipping from you with each motion; and he can't help but start thrusting up, matching pace.

"Hardly even four and a half minutes—and you're a mess, absolutely useless." He heaves, dropping you to full-hilt for a second to manoeuvre you better. You're nigh but a gasping dead-weight, delirious.

If you're going to act the entitled bitch, he'll screw you into something alike submission. Which is exactly why he's then pulling out, shoving you against the lounge on your back; and moving your thighs to bracket his hips as he half kneels on the rug. Just to slide himself back inside, balls-deep in willing flesh. The only dignity he affords you then is the space to wrap your arms around and behind his shoulders. Which you rightly do without demand.

Hold on, was the unspoken order.

Then he's fucking you into the lounge like his life depends on it. He's glad to notice it's bolted down, but the damned thing creaks—nonetheless, he can barely even hear it over the perfect sounds you're making.

Rolling his bottom lip between his teeth, barely holding back the noises that choke his own gullet.

"You're so damn lucky you're a nice tight hole," he rasps harshly, "That's all you're good for, hm? For me to fill?"

There's a gutting sort of beauty in the way you're looking up at him with open desperation. He's trying so hard not to fall victim to the siren call of it, but it's perfect vile and he can't help but fold. He'd kill for that look to never leave your face when your eyes fell on him.

"Fuck, I must be in your womb at this rate—would you like that? My load in your womb?" Cato says between a great lungful of air, only to start huffing madly to himself when you nod drunkenly. "Good, because that's exactly where i-it's going."

Mind reeling with every resounding sticky slap of his balls against you, paired with scorching wet slide of him pumping in and out of you. You're crying, all your sensibilities lost in the thorough pace he's ploughing into you with; trying to pull him in by tugging at his shoulders, but with your meagre strength it's merely a vague suggestion.

Still, he leans into it, if only to finally seize the chance to lap the tears off your cheek, and you sob; trying to turn nose to nose with him. Your pathetic pawing at his broad back only exacerbates the overwhelming urgency in his blood.

He's so close.

Bliss crests up like a tide inside him, building and building, stunned with how it makes him buck into you. He's dazed in a way he surely wasn't designed to be resilient against. He can't even shut his damn mouth to stop moaning—and only technically manages to do so when you cover it with your own the very second he's about to finish; your legs squeezing impotently down on his hips, trembling through another climax.

His nerves light up like an orbital barrage, body rocking against the pretty, willing thing below him that you are. He has no idea what's going on beyond that. Are you kissing him? Is that what you're doing? Half his brain is stunned by the idea and the other half is flooded by the rushes of pleasure in his system making his tendons cramp, ravaging him with the sound of his hearts thudding in his ears.

Working himself right into agony; he's tensing against you as he empties himself as deep as he can. His pace finally breaks pattern and staccatos as his mind leadens.

Lulled by the molten satisfaction that swamps him soon thereafter, Cato blindly tries to chase forward and keep your lips on his. Emphasis on tries. He thinks he likes it, foreign as the sensation and sentiment is. He's got his tongue in your mouth, but no real clue what to do beyond lapping further in like a man dying of thirst—and then, of course, you decide to start weakly thrashing for air, blunt teeth grazing against the invading muscle—so, with a miffed groan; he pulls away, drooling as he slumps front-long against you and the lounge with a rumbling sigh, letting his eyes close as he basks in the afterglow.

You're panting still, nosing against the nape of his neck—likely having difficulty respiring under his weight—but despite that, you're still twitching around his spent cock, just like last time.

Wistfully, he wonders if he could sleep with you stuffed full of him like this. Slotted together and absolutely buried in your cunt; reaming you out as far as your small frame will allow. He enjoys the idea of that, and of holding you close.

He listens meditatively as your breathing steadily evens out, a soft in-out rhythm he can hear start in your chest only to feel warmly dancing across his collarbone a moment later.

Your small hand glides up the back of his trapezoid and combs through the short hair at his crown.

He shivers almost immediately at the act, thoughts clouding. He doesn't know what he's supposed to do, now. He can't really bring himself to do anything. He's locked in. It's like he's been sedated, or scruffed about the neck. Then your fingers trace the bare skin behind his ear, and he snaps from the trance enough to crack an eye open to glance down.

"Don't push your luck," he bites out automatically and leers away.

You immediately stiffen, and lurch yourself back—seemingly completely confused.

He's not exactly sure why he reacted that way either, but he's certainly not going to address it.

Ultimately, he opts to pull his cock out of you with scant decorum rather than linger on the topic. Then he settles into a kneel as he eyes the soaked-in stain below the bunched-up fabric of your robe.

"Well," he snorts.

And damn, it's difficult to hold a straight face at the overdramatic, painfully oblivious pout you shoot him.

So, Cato just continues watching you with a cruel sort of satisfaction as you sit yourself up shakily, and realise the mess.

You blanch, promptly shutting your legs and fussing—your ass is half stuck to the fabric of the lounge by your own slick and his spent when you move to stand on shaky, unsure legs.

He's aware of the fact you're after something to wipe away the aftermath. But he's far too content observing you struggle for the moment. Pleased, even. Especially when he's treated to the cringing gasp that slips from you when his semen no doubt starts dripping down your thighs.

You're panicking within seconds. He can hear your heartbeat quickening, plus the acrid tang of baseline stress hormones pervading the room.

There's nothing to spare. Unless you want to leave another smear across the lounge cushioning, but he doubts you'd go so low. He, however, has no such reservations—and yanks the plush velour padded square up to wipe his cock off. It's not as if he wasn't going to toss it down one of the incinerator shafts on the library's second floor anyways.

"Do—" you begin softly, but amend yourself, "Would y-you have anything... to..."

He stares at you, brows furrowed.

Floundering now, you waddle close and swallow harshly.

"To... wipe this up?" You finish, barely a whisper. He can tell you're sour at the fact you're stroking his ego and essentially too full of him to go anywhere.

Cato scoffs, holding up the seating cushion, "What? Too spoilt to use this?"

You cringe at him, "People have sat on that—hundreds of people, probably. I-I don't have your immunity to infection."

Cato cedes on that point at least, because he assumes being a baseline is hell. And so very not his problem, too.

Completely out of left field, comes the temptation to lick you clean. His mulish hind-brain reasons it's a brilliant idea, namely because you'd likely be squirming for him again. Even if he has no real idea of what to do beyond that. Lap at your clit, probably—he's not actually done any of this before except—well, except just slamming into you. He has the basic gist of all of this from biologis graphics and pornographic motionpicts. Yes, the latter are technically contraband on Ultramarine chapter vessels—Throne, he actually remembers when that was put into force. He was still green behind the ears when that'd happened. But those specific brothers had displayed it for abstract amusement, not... it's intended purpose—rather: 'Lo, look at this curiosity, brothers! See they're fornicating, how very so strange! Baselines am-i-right?'

Honestly, it's never actually anything heretical, except for maybe the terrible acting.

He'd deem that punishable by death.

Regardless, Cato's guessing the process of licking something can't really be some sage art form. Not like duelling, and fuck, he's stellar at that. He's stellar at almost everything, he reasons. So why not that? You're such a wanton little thing he'd probably make you finish on accident.

Yet he decides against it as soon as the logical part of his brain boots back up. Largely given the fact he's probably already going to have a hard time as it is trying to avoid others on his way to mask the stink of sex. His brothers have keen noses, it wouldn't be difficult for them to notice the smell of you on his way to his chamber if he's not careful. Let alone if it's smeared all over his face. Next time, however—

"Surely it's not that bad," he says off-handedly.

A surge of shame appears on your face as a red, blotchy belt across your cheeks, and you seem about to protest before he grumbles.

"Still, you really ought to find a solution," he remarks idly, and he notices the implication isn't lost on you.

You frown softly, and wrinkle your nose at him.

"Maybe some manners would help you achieve your goals," he adds, with a clearer spite.

Your frown grows nigh comically harsh.

Cato grunts wryly, satisfied at your annoyance and paws at the hem of his tunic—tearing a portion off and holding it out to you.

You grab the edge of it and tug, but he doesn't let go.

"And what do you say?"

"Thanks," you answer hastily.

He raises an eyebrow and pulls the torn fabric back towards himself ever so slightly, causing you to over extend closer to him.

His stare stays locked on yours, and he gets the treat of watching you dither and fluster under his focus momentarily before you amend, "T-Thank you..." you swallow, and break eye contact, adding; "Commander Sicarius."

"Was that so hard?" Cato scoffs, especially thrilled as he lets go of the scrap—eyeing you as you trot aside, and gingerly begin to wipe away the mess of satisfaction coating your thighs and rear.

When you're decidedly done, you stomp back over to him and hold out the soiled fabric.

He reaches for it, only to have it promptly pulled away.

Cato scowls, and takes a step forward into your space—only for you to inch forward into his.

You're tormenting him then, he decides; or rather he thinks. He's not sure. You don't look smug—you look... nervous? Your lips have drawn into a thin line and you keep glancing between his eyes and behind him randomly.

"What?" He huffs, narrowing his eyes.

"Lean down," you mumble, then quietly make the additional effort of throwing in a "...please."

Cato grumbles at the request but complies, and Throne, he's glad he does; because suddenly you're up on your tip-toes, your hand on his jaw—and your lips are on his cheek.

He blinks, dumb as a mule. It's over as fast as it started and he can't even begin to unpack the elation he's abruptly feeling.

Heedless of his dazzled state, you clear your throat with a bashful laugh—and then the rag is suddenly stuffed into his open hand. He's still frozen there as you practically rush out the room, scooping your previously flung data-slate up as you frantically wave the door mechanism open and vanish from view.

A long wheeze escapes his throat in the empty room, his face thudding with heat.

Oh, he's fucked fucked.

[moondirti]

Idk if you have answered an ask like this already but please feed me some possessive/ jealous Ghost hc or whatever bc that man is 10 times sexier while jealous and possessive.

Pls just imagine jealous sex with this man omg…

he would not know how to handle himself i'm pretty sure. sorry to sabotage your thirst anon, i just love me a repressed man :) anyway, this is for the same mc in cigarettes out the window (reader with the call sign 'scout') but it can be read entirely separate! so, without further ado here's some jealous ghost

He's colossal, a force composed of pure brawn and unfathomable depths. Talk of Ghost illustrates him as a norse warrior to end all, the nightmare fuel of enemies who can't help but pale at a skull face. Wholly a reputation founded on that tactical precision; charcoal eyes, half-lidded to contain the ire that bubbles like magma. It's all physical. You'd just assumed that strength extended to his emotional conviction as well.

But he gets quiet sometimes, eerily so. The type where he embodies his name and dissipates like shadow on you. You don't see him for days.

It definitely depends on the stage of your relationship. Catch him jealous before the six month mark and he'd choose to abandon ship. It's that instinctive fight or flight, the choice to back down and reassess before he loses another one of his men. But you're not the enemy; your hands are soft and supple when they cradle his face, never seeking to add to his scars. You're gentle when you tell him that it's him, always will be; no one can ever compare to the behemoth you'd surrendered your heart to.

It takes a lot of time to get Simon to the point where he allows himself to be possessive. The first time, it goes something like this:

Some bar in France, cleared out for their obligatory drink post-mission. Johnny had held him up, pulling him off to the side to start on a tangent about his makeshift bomb that ended up saving their lives. His eyes stay fixed on you, edging to his peripheral where you're caught up in a rather funny conversation with Gaz.

You muffle your snicker behind a shaking hand. Simons' own squeeze into fists.

While your relationship with the Lieutenant has yet to be defined, the men of the 141 recognise the silent claim that curls over your shoulders. It was written in your sleepy sigh, dewy skin gleaming with contentment, that night they'd woke at a safe house to find you three inches closer to his mattress. It was the first of many, many hints.

Garrick isn't flirting with you, not by a long shot.

But he is making you laugh. Perhaps harder than Simon ever has.

He can't really describe what overcomes him. It's a rib-shattering heartbeat, working overtime to supply his vision with brimming red. A deeply vulnerable pit bottoming out in his gut; that fear, still there, that you're only temporary. He only acts on the former so he won't face the latter.

He leaves Soap with no more than a clap on the back. The sergeant takes it for what it is, a promise to continue later.

"Price wants you on reports."

"Does he?" You shoot him an incredulous expression, shifting back and forth from his blank stare and the captain, who huddles near Laswell over a game of gin rummy.

"Affirmative." The response comes out faster than he'd like it to, clipped with full-bodied aggression.

"Right..." Licking your lip, you take a moment to match your scrutiny to his. Simon thinks he sees it, the glint your pupils take when you finally catch on. It combats the spite that courses through him, pooling down to fill the weight between his legs. Clever girl - you know him, probably better than he knows himself. "And I'm assuming you need to consult me on something regarding that?"

"Yes." It's all the indication you need.

"Well." You look to Garrick. "I'm sorry to cut this short, mate. Remember to tell me about Serbia some other time."

And Simon doesn't miss the odd look the sergeant gives you, lips curled downwards in an acknowledging humour. He doesn’t like that he’s comfortable enough to give that much. 

But you follow him, smaller footsteps matching his as he finds a secluded hallway near the bathroom. It’s a good thing, he – rather, his internal monologue that sounds too much like your voice – echoes.

"Gonna bring up what's wrong, or will I have to force it out of ya. Hm?"

"Didn' appreciate the way he was lookin' at you, pet."

Your breath hitches, clumped lashes fluttering as you take him in anew. If this were anything else, Simon would credit your grin to a cruel sadism. As it stands, though, he lets it guide the flow of his plastered heart. He's on the right track.

"And how was he looking at me, Si?"

The growl that leaves him is untamed, the feral rip release of a hand grenade. A large hand clamps over your jaw, pressing inwards so your lips pucker out at him. The other pushes your torso to the wall, skimming past the hem of your shirt.

It's new. It's thrilling. It's a wildfire turned eternal damnation, fuelled by a fatal sin that forever trumps envy. Lust, bubbling poison to his insecurity - practical headway into something he's good at. Words were never his forte, but he can fuck you like no one else can, thrusting deeper between your velvet walls than thought possible. It's always been enough to spur breathless awe.

Enough, enough.

"Like he could ever amount to me."

[wonwoonlight]

when jeonghan realizes he's in love with you

friends to lovers (??), fluff, i'm not sure there's even a plot lol. just got this sudden, random urge to write bc i was listening to dream (kor ver) earlier. not sure the wc bc i wrote it on tumblr but it's Short 🤍 not proofread. enjoy!

Jeonghan has always claimed he doesn't think he can date a friend.

It's weird.

And he's pretty emotional (romantic?) of a person, so if there's no spark from the beginning, it's likely that his brain has categorized that person as a friend and nothing else. No chance whatsoever that he'd develop romantic feelings in the future.

Though he's also realistic, so he admits that there might be a 0.1% possibility that he might suddenly like a friend romantically. Who knows, right?

But not you.

Not because he thinks you're lacking, but because you've been friends for too long that Jeonghan was sure that if, and only if, there was a possibility that he'd fall for you, it probably had long passed.

He's seen almost every side of you, so have you his. Hell, he's pretty sure he even treats you almost the same way he treats Seungcheol and Joshua; surely, there's no way, right?

"Why are you looking at me like that?" you glare, annoyed.

Jeonghan blinks owlishly; has he been staring at you? His eyes dart to your eyes and then down to your lips for half a second before he searches for your face, both intrigued and curious.

He doesn't register whatever's coming out of your lips, but is it just him or do you actually look flustered the more he stares at you?

"Jeonghan. Stop it."

"Why?"

"The right question is why are you staring at me!" You reaches out to turn his face elsewhere, your palm centimeters away from his cheek when he catches your wrist, his eyes still refusing to look at anything but you.

He sees you pout, and his mind suddenly thinks back about a talk he has with Seungcheol a few years ago, when his friend asked if he'd ever consider dating you because he thought you'd make a good pair.

You had pouted in disgust, told Seungcheol that it's gross to paint that kind of image between you and Jeonghan when you're clearly nothing but friends.

He didn't take that too personally, he remembers, he had simply laughed and agreed. But he also remembers glancing at your lips then, wondering how they'd feel against his, quickly removing the thoughts out of his mind because you're not supposed to think about friends that way.

"Will you be mad if I kiss you?"

Your eyes widen comically, and he would've teased you if he's in his usual mood. But he's not. And he wants to find out if there's a reason behind why he's been adamant about seeing your smile and wanting to stay close to you as much as possible.

"What? Are you drunk?"

"Will you?"

You pause for a second, your eyes searching for him, biting your lower lip before you shake your head no.

His thumb reaches for your lip so you'll release it from your teeth before he places his lips upon yours, his heartbeat ringing in his ears and the tips of his ears burning red.

The kiss (peck?) lasts for a short three seconds (or was it 3 minutes? He doesn't know, he can't think straight with you in this proximity). And when he pulls away, your breath warm against his face, he presses his lips together as if to see whether he can still feel you there or not.

"If you're making all that fuss just to kiss me." You whisper, avoiding his eyes despite the usual teasing tone Jeonghan's used to hear from you. "At least kiss me properly, will you?"

Jeonghan grins. If this is what being in love with your friend is like, perhaps it's not as bad as he thought it would be.

For the first time, he doesn't mind at all being wrong as long as he gets to be with you.

[the-badger-mole]

She knows

She knows

She knows

Zuko had thought his feelings for Katara were his secret. He'd never spoken to anyone about them, and he hadn't been treating her any differently since he'd figured himself out. His feelings were his burden alone, and he intended to keep it that way. Still, she knows ricocheted through his mind. His heart seemed to beat in time to words in his brain as he tried to process everything. The clamoring of the soldiers rushing up the stone stairs; the sound of the stolen air ship coming up behind him; the feel of Katara's lips on his.

Her fingers were clenched tight around the collar of his shirt. Zuko had just come to his senses enough to reach for her waist, intent on pulling her closer, when suddenly Katara shoved him backwards off of the ledge of the broken balcony. An airbender would've caught themselves and vaulted back onto the stone legdge. Zuko was no airbender, though. Their airbender was...someplace else. Zuko wasn't entirely sure of where. So when Zuko landed on the deck of the airship with a bone rattling thump, shock kept him there for the time it took him to refill his lungs. By the time he scrambled to his feet, the ship was already pulling away. Zuko had just enough time to see Katara turn from him to face his father's soldiers. She was outnumbered by at least a dozen, but she stood tall and firm, and even from behind, Zuko could see the determination in her stance. She would fight and die to make sure that he got away safely.

"No!" Zuko shouted. He threw himself at the railing, intent on getting back to her by any means necessary. He would leap from the deck and figure out the rest on his way back. Two sets of strong hands kept him from enacting his plan.

"Let me go!" he demanded pulling against the hold on him. "I'm not leaving her!"

"Zuko!" Sokka shouted. He and Suki pulled hard throwing him against the wall of the ship. "Stop!"

"Turn back!" Zuko half demanded, half pleaded. "We have to go back for her!" He was met with Sokka and Suki's twin grimaces.

"We can't," Suki said, grimly. "We have to get you to safety."

"I don't care about my safety!" Zuko insisted. "I can't leave her behind! Sokka, she's your sister! How can you just-oof!" Sokka's punch didn't hurt so much as it caught Zuko off guard.

"Don't you dare!" Sokka growled. He stood over Zuko, rage radiating from him almost tangibly. "Don't you dare imply I'm not just as worried about Katara as you are. If it wasn't for the fact that we need you to survive the war, I would've thrown you back to them to save her in a heartbeat. But the next best thing I can do is make sure my sister's sacrifice isn't in vain. That mean's getting you to safety and making sure you don't do anything stupid like trying to take on a whole troop of firebending soldiers.

A thousand arguments flew through Zuko's mind. They were superimposed over the image of Katara facing those same solders in his mind. Everything in him was demanding they turn around that instant and rescue Katara. His gambit for the throne was meaningless in comparison to Katara's safety. So what if she had willingly sacrificed herself? So what if he were summarily executed by his father, or even his sister? His own life meant nothing if Katara weren't in it.

Sokka was right, though. Zuko was loathe to admit it, but he was right. Katara knew what she was doing, even if Zuko was certain she didn't understand the full consequence. She'd saved his life. Again. Impotent and helpless as he felt watching her do it, she'd done it willingly. She'd done it strategically. His heart railed against it, but his mind knew why she'd done it. He had the best claim to the throne, after all. They'd talked about it to exhaustion. He'd told Katara all his worries, and she'd calmed them with her certainty that he was the Fire Lord his nation deserved. He'd never gotten the chance to tell her that he though she was the Fire Lady his nation needed, though they didn't deserve her by a long shot. He'd never told her that though he didn't deserve her, he needed her. Like he needed water.

She knew, though. She knew his weakness, and she'd used it. Zuko could still feel the pressure of her lips on his. Could still feel the way her hand tightened on his collar as she prepared to shove him away even while she was pulling him closer. She knew what she could do to him even in the midst of battle.

"They probably won't kill her," Suki said quietly. Both Sokka and Zuko looked up sharply.

"What?" Sokka gasped.

"They probably won't kill her," Suki repeated. "She's too valuable a prisoner. The daughter of the Southern Water Tribe chief? The... the friend of Prince Zuko? She's useful. If she surrenders, she will have a fighting chance." Suki's mouth was pressed into a thin, grim line. She was upset, too, Zuko realized. Maybe almost as upset as Sokka and Zuko were. Only almost, though. Zuko couldn't imagine his future without Katara in it, and Sokka had always been his sister's protector. As Zuko met Sokka's eye across the deck, he knew the Water Tribe warrior had made the same decision he had. If Katara was alive, neither would rest until she was safe again. The details of their rescue mission would have to wait until they could discuss them in private, but they would be going after her.

[glitch-karma]

Can I request another part of your "forgetful reader" headcanons you did but with Jouno, Fyodor, and Ranpo? Nikolai too if that's not too many characters, but dont worry about him if it is. Same prompt but with these characters

I was actually just thinking about my forgetful reader hc's the other day, Idk if other writers do this but I always go back and read my older stuff lmao

So here's part two, I had a bit of trouble figuring out what Nikolai would give his partner as a gift, so that isn't specified, I did add Chuuya and Sigma though

Cw: Degradation/name calling in Jouno's, Slightly spicy in Fyodor's, Kinda OOC Fyodor

Jouno

Low-key high-key an asshole

Don't get me wrong I'm in love with him,

But his love language is degradation (hot)

Jouno constantly is making fun of and being rude about how forgetful you are

If it seriously bothers you, he'll try his best to lay off as much as possible

Only because it's you though

He does get very irritated though

He got you a lovely set of earrings that resembled his a bit

They were honestly very nice and semi-expensive

You had always kept them in a tiny jewelry box on your nightstand

But after a rough day of trying to catch terrorists, you'd clumsily taken them off and fallen asleep

When you were getting ready for work the next morning, you realized they'd gone missing

In a panic, you tore apart your apparent in search of them

After a while, you heard a voice that made you wanna puke

"What's up with you huh? Why's my little troublemaker so frantic?"

Oh my lord no

"What are you talking about.?"

"Oh please, your heartbeat is a dead giveaway. Along with the shakiness in your voice. Can't hide from me y'know."

You shakily sighed as you admitted you'd lost the earrings

"Pft- are you kidding?"

He laughed slightly walking towards you

"How pathetic of you, losing a gift from your precious boyfriend?" He sighs in 'frustration'

"They were expensive too, do you even have a concept of money?" He laughs,

At this point, small drops of tears filled your eyes slowly as he kept poking fun at you

"Honestly how air-headed can you get? Tsk, should I be questioning this relationship?"

After a few seconds of silence, Jouno tensed as he heard your quiet whimpers.

He'd gone too far.

For a second, he didn't really know what to do

He sighed, bending down next to you and wrapping his arm around you.

"'m sorry." He mumbled lightly

You sniffled a bit, you looked up to see the concerned frown on his face, along with the softness that was rare for you to see in him

After a moment you sighed, leaning into his shoulder

"I'll get you a million more pairs if it means I don't have to hear you cry again. Truly."

He really was a good man, he just had some issues showing it.

But in the meantime, he'll let you teach him how to open up

I literally love him so much even if he's a dick head

Fyodor

He kinda just doesn't care-

I don't see him as the type to really mind stuff like that in a partner

But I don't really see him doing anything to help per se

He'll give you light reassurance if you're upset, but I don't see him doing too much more though

Surprisingly, he didn't buy you a country

He got you a necklace that was very clearly expensive, it had a key attached to it that was also made of some metal that did not look cheap, along with the small Diamonds and sapphires lacing the key (Real btw you tested it)

It was extravagantly expensive, and he made sure you knew that was less than you deserved (He couldn't find countries on the market)

Wow what a nice gift

Now where the hell did it go?

You, of course, retraced every step

Your apartment? Cleaned vigorously to search and find it

The cafe by your house? You paid every worker to search for it

The Doa office? A wreck

You were ass up on the floor looking under one of the couches when you heard a whistle behind you

When you tuned you saw the man you were scared to see

"Why might you be in such a comprehensive pose my paradox?"

You shakily sighed as you hit your head on the floor

Fyodor then quickly determined why you were on the floor by the necklace missing from your neck

He chuckled a bit as he walked towards you

He leaned down and picked you up, silencing you as he carried you to a basement you were unaware of

Before you could question, he pulled out the necklace, inserted the key into a large door, opening it to reveal a giant glorious room filled with all your favorite things, comfortable chairs, and a giant kitchen

As he set you down you started freaking out

"It's not quite done yet, I wasn't intending for you to lose it so fast. I'll get some help in here as well."

"You- This was all a plan for me?"

You yelled, running around and looking at everything

He chuckled as he grabbed you, leaning down and kissing your neck

"Жизнь моя,(1) you deserve this and more.."

He then threw you on the couch, hitting a button that shut all the doors and windows

"And tonight, I'll prove it to you."

Let's just say, you had trouble walking for awhile

(1) Жизнь моя, pronounced "Zhizn’ moya", means “my life” in Russian and is usually a term of endearment

Sigma

Oh my lord he is so understanding it's crazy

Although Sigma is the furthest thing from forgetful, his brain and schedule will always have room for stuff you need to remember

Got a doctor's appointment you forgot? He remembers and brings you to it

Forgot where you put something important? He knows where it is

Forgot to eat? He'll make you a meal himself

Forgot to meet up with a client? He'll meet them for you

Honestly, he gives you royalty treatment

He loves just giving you gifts in general, so he custom-made you an obsidian necklace that had a poker chip on it, The obsidian in his words was to represent how strong you are, and the poker chip was to remind you of him

It was one of the most thoughtful gifts ever

And you'd lost it

You debated just asking him at first,

But no. Too embarrassing

You'd worn it every day and now POOF

GONE?!

You didn't wanna worry your already busy partner with this

So you tore apart your half of the room before neatly searching through Sigma's half of the room

3 hours later and nothing.

For a second you debated throwing yourself off the sky casino

But then the click of your bedroom door was heard

"Oh my-"

You slowly looked up to see Sigma's confused face as he looked at your side of the room

For a while, he was silent in thought

"Are you.. redecorating-"

You groaned as you fell the rest of the way down on the floor

"I lost your necklace.. I didn't wanna ask you for help."

Sigma chuckles a bit as you look up at him

"That was actually my mistake"

Before you could ask, he walked over to his dresser and opened a small box, pulling it back out

"You'd accidentally left it in the bathroom"

Wow

The one place you didn't check

Definitely cuddles after though

Nikolai

He would not give zero shit's

He just loves you

He might make fun of you a bit, but he honestly just thinks you're adorable when you lose stuff

He asks Fyodor to buy you new things when you lose them rather than look for them-

He has such admiration and genuine interest in you that he gets you gifts tailored exactly to your interests

If you lose a gift from him, he honestly won't be mad

"Awe my Kindred Spirit,"

He grabs his cloak and reaches in, pulling out something even better

"Here does this make it better!?"

"Nikolai!"

He dances around the room with you to celebrate you being happy again

Ranpo

Oh he teases you, shame on you if you think he wouldn't

He gently teases you though, stopping if he gets even a slight hint it upsets you

Ranpo does have amazing patience though, there has never been a moment your forgetfulness has annoyed or bothered him once

He regularly gives you snacks as gifts, but he gave you a silly little necklace with a duck charm (Yes this is a Wan ref)

It was silly and cheap, but it was sweet

When you lost it you were crushed

You looked for it but could not find it

In the morning you went to the agency to try to search for it, but on your way there you actually met with Ranpo at a sweet store

"Hey there detective darlin'!"

He yelled as he ran out of the store

For internally freaked out a bit as he started excitedly telling you about the sale in the store

You chuckled nervously, making him immediately deduce what happened

"Ohhhhh, I see. You lost the Necklace!"

You kinda expected him to figure it out

He then chuckled as he walked over to a small quarter vending machine and pointed at the prizes

"Ya see! We can just keep playing till we get a new one!"

You two then had a small date of finding quarters and playing the Machine till you had a bag full of prizes, and a new duck necklace of course

Chuuya

Although Chuuya is a very understanding person, I can't deny this wouldn't slightly annoy him

He would never make fun of you for it, or make you feel bad though

He will always express that he's not mad at you and does his best to hide his slight frustration

He does understand though, I mean the man didn't remember the first 8 years of his life for years so

He is a little protective of you though. if anyone gave you shit for forgetting something he would a million percent throw hands

He leaves notes all over the house and your hands about important things, he will also text you to remind you about meals throughout the day

"Have you drank water"

"Ah, fuck-"

"Exactly"

Chuuya loves spending money on you

It's his favorite activity

You already have 20 custom-tailored outfits cause of his love for fashion,

But that doesn't mean he can't get you more tailored accessories

One of them was an anklet that had his and your initials in it, along with diamonds and your favorite stone

It was cute, although it was easily hidden by clothes, you wore it very often

You had on the perfect outfit to show it off that day, but when you opened up the cabinet you kept it in, it was gone.

Oh fuck

Panic ensues

The sheets were torn off your bed, and your closet full of clothes from him was searched from top to bottom

The bathroom was also searched along with Chuuya's half of the room

You sighed as you fixed the house, knowing Chuuya hates messes

You then reluctantly called him

"Hey, still at work but what's up doll?"

The softness in his voice made you tear up a bit in guilt

"Chuuya.. I-"

You took a pause to breathe

"I lost the Anklet you gave me."

You heard him gratefully sigh and shuffle in his chair a bit

"That pause made me think you were in trouble"

He joked a bit

"I can buy 20 more of those if I wanted to Sweetheart."

You sniffled a bit

"But that was important!"

He paused a bit

"Are you crying?"

You then paused

"No.."

"Baby."

You could hear him then walk through the halls of the Port Mafia building

"Give me just one sec, "

You heard him then knock on a door and open it

"Hey boss, I need to head home early. Let me know Tomorrow if there's anything else you need me for"

"Alright, I'm on my way home. We'll search together, okay?"

You sniffled a little as you smiled

"You're the best."

"Anything for you Angel."

[vampiricgf]

lil drabble of satoru n reader on a cute pottery class date because I haven't been able to stop thinking about them sobs gimme loverboy satoru pls pls (credit @neptuneblue for this sweet idea ilysm)

0.8k. sfw. set in the same universe as this frat boy gojo fic

You drove past the place weeks ago, nearly getting into an accident maneuvering through traffic to pull into the parking lot and furiously take down the info in the little sign on the window.

Now offering couples pottery classes!

It was perfect and that night you'd spent hours giggling on the old futon in Satorus room talking about going in next week to try a class together. It made your chest feel full and tight, like a million bufferflies were fluttering their wings around hearing him chatter excitedly to you about making the cutest bowl for you.

Just watch, mines gonna be the most adorable one!

You can hear it now in the back of your mind as you stare at your forlorn lover with wet clay splattered all over his hands and smeared in odd patches on his nose and cheeks and you try to hold in the building storm of giggles that threatens to burst like the snap of bubblegum popping.

"What's wrong, baby?" You ask, glancing between the thick, wobbly bowl sitting in front of him and those jewel toned eyes.

"Nothin',' he says and you bite your lip as the laughter threatens to spill over once more.

"It's not nothing, tell me what's up, please?" You implore, reaching across the table to grasp one of his hands, feeling the clay smearing against his and your skin.

His eyes look anywhere but at you for a moment, flicking around the studio before he heaves a particularly dramatic sigh and presses the back of your hand to his cheek.

"I was supposed to make the cutest one for you. Look at it, it's awful."

He sounds so morose you can't help the way you want to get up from the table and cradle his face in your hands, press him against your chest and smother him in affection.

What a big baby.

You can feel your eyes softening before you speak. "Toru you know anything you make me is adorable, right?"

"Aw, don't do the mom voice please baby I can't handle it."

That makes the flurry of giggles erupt, which only serves to deepen his pout and he lets go of your hand abruptly with a hmph before playfully looking away from you. That makes it even harder to catch your breath against the stream of laughter but eventually you do, rising to come around to his side of the table and placing a sweet kiss to his cheek that isn't marred by drying clay.

"I'm serious, I love everything you give me or make for me 'Toru. Because it's from you. But-" you cover his mouth with your hand before he can interrupt, ignoring his exaggerated sounds that threaten to derail your thoughts entirely, "what if we finished it together? Then they'd be like a matching set, like me and you."

You smile at him, removing your hand and for a moment you wonder if maybe you said the wrong thing because he looks so... dumbstruck. It only lasts for a second though, quickly replaced by that familiar, comforting smile.

"Yeah, just like me and you."

It's so soft you almost miss it over the din of others around you in the studio but you don't miss the way your heartbeat picks up, pounding against your ribs as he brushes your knuckles against his lips before turning his attention back to the clay in front of him.

You've never felt so gripped by the urge to tackle and kiss anyone like you do with Satoru.

[kalims]

sugar

flushed — when you fluster them and how they act.

do you want a 'kiss' — not an actual kiss, the chocolate.

falling (asleep) — you fall asleep on their shoulder.

w/ malleus draconia

commissioned by paru !

flushed — when you fluster them and how they act.

typically if it was anyone else, they'd have a really hard time to gauge out a reaction from malleus when the most they'll get is probably a barely evident crease, or raise in his brows.

in this case tis our very lovely mc who malleus is very much already on the ground from how fast he fell. you could do just about anything, give him a rock or something, and he’ll thank you eternally and keep it in a room above the most eccentric gifts he's ever gotten.

(god forbid if sebek ever enters, and sees some random rock on a pedestal meanwhile his gifts for the master is just.. there on some table like malleus didn't even think twice to leave it there then worship that rock!)

^ well thankfully, out of respect. sebek believes that someone like him simply is not privileged enough to enter the room of his esteemed master.

anything remotely affectionate from you would definitely send malleus to cloud nine for the whole day, he's practically emitting comical hearts every second you're together. they're trailing after him as he's following you around.

so you have a variety of choices! a heartfelt compliment, a hug, maybe even a kiss. whatever you choose will only feed on the overflowing glass that's called; 'malleus' love for mc'. trust me if you think he's like 67% in love with you, you're WRONG.

it's actually 101% and it's still increasing I swear 😭 

well the glass I was talking about is probably overflowing right now, and it's also probably going to start drowning everyone.

as in… everyone's just stuck to witness malleus' insanely endearing reactions to your shenanigans. should they be scared that malleus would probably do it in a heartbeat if you asked to take over the world??

yeah they should tbh.

in this case, I believe a close hug then a whisper in his ears would really make that arrow hit straight to his heart. you can't just whisper 'doritos' though! /j but you shall instead proclaim your love for him instead with a single 'I love you'.

it's funny to see his face completely freeze. you can practically hear his brain absolutely blowing up. there's a wobbly grin stretching across his face, the tip of his ears turn a shade of pink.

he looks… shy, but oddly pleased.

hellour congratulations malleus will not stop till you're both bound for life 💀 trust me he won't take anyone else if it isn't you anymore. he loves you THAT much.

malleus is not aware of the feeling blooming in his chest, it's foreign. he could even describe it as addictive. he's clueless really, but what he's sure of is that he wonders if you'd feel that too if he did the same to you.

oh well.. you've exposed him to such a euphoric feeling. it's only natural for him to return the favor. 

so honestly just expect him to be the rizzlord for the rest of your existence, he's rizzing you up every chance he can get. and the fact that most of it is just him not trying at all, and just being himself.

which is also funny cause when he does try to 'charm' you it ends up in fail.

like who let him bring you the 'rewards of his hunt' as a courting offering.

and when he tries to recite a letter he wrote for you, it's very endearing, and flattering but he's been talking for quite a long time now and you're concerned.

do you want a 'kiss' — not an actual kiss, the chocolate.

*malleus holding a big ass bowl* yes pls

^ but that's if he knows it's chocolate, and still wants the legit kiss. in a way that's the amount he'd want if it was the real deal.

not that he does know! cause malleus isn't exactly educated in the chocolate culture. as horrifying as it sounds, i doubt he snacks on chocolate in his free time.

I guess he didn't have much time to be a child :(.

he's tasted it before though! but knowing specific brands doesn't really cross his mind. for malleus chocolate is just chocolate. 

so he definitely doesn't know that there's a brand of chocolate called kisses.

so when you ask him if he wants a kiss he's like: yes. IMMEDIATELY. 

ok maybe not immediately but he gives you this certain look, and when he registers your silence at his face he realizes that you're being serious. 

malleus rn: well I mean ur offering so 

WHEN DID HE EVEN FINISH EATING A MINT CANDY.

jokes aside it's almost sad to think how he'll react when it's in fact, not a kiss.

when you pull out some kind of thing wrapped around in some kind of foil and place it inside malleus' palm he's just confused. where are his kisses?? why are you giving him this thing??

malleus spots the 'kisses' label on it and blanks.

oh.. so that's what you meant.

okay he's happy to receive anything from you but that's foul play!

but he really likes you so he won't comment on it 😞 you didn't even elaborate so it's partially his fault for jumping into conclusions.

no one can explain, not even you when there's a visible aura radiating off malleus. something gloomy, and he won't tell you even if you point out that you've noticed him constantly glancing at your face.

well your lips but you also don't know that.

falling (asleep) — you fall asleep on their shoulder.

would refuse to move at all.

first of all, he's honored that you trust him this much to lower your guard, and fall asleep on him. malleus is aware, sorta. he doesn't stop talking but instead slows down his words.

he doesn't want to wake you up, does he?

so he just settles on rambling in hopes that even in your dreams, his voice would reach you. you'd dream of him day, and night.

but when he's done malleus makes very little movement, hyper aware that you've fallen asleep on him. so when he finally assumes a position most comfortable for you, (plus one where he wouldn't crane his neck too much to peer at you) and he just stares.

he's done this plenty of times when you were awake so he doesn't know why he's doing it now. maybe it's because he sees you awake every time, and when you were, he could see the slightest bit of exhaustion present in your eyes.

this way he can be at peace knowing you are.

he recalls your certain features, he'd love to just gaze into your eyes right now and see himself in it but the fact that he can feel all your weight on him is better than anything he's ever felt before. 

cold, rainy days in nrc are just a blessing from grace.

but you now just discover that rain here is a lot stronger than your local pour back at home. to make everything worse, you had no idea it was gonna rain this hard, and if you did you wouldn't have taken the time to visit the city on a sunday.

now you're stuck waiting under a cover outside a shop. your patience honestly starting to run thin. from your legs sincerely, you're immensely thankful for the random bench under it cause you're sure they would have been quaking from the amount of time you spent waiting.

but you do like the weather, cold weather is rare to see when the sunny days reign over many.

you should have brought a jacket or something.

"child of man?"

you blink when malleus tilts his head at you, a thin smile playing upon his lips. his shoulders seem to ease up at the sight of you. your eyes fly above him, weirdly enough it's like there's some invisible force protecting malleus from the weather so he's completely dry.

albeit weakly, you still make an effort to give him a half hearted wave. 

of which he notes.

malleus makes his way over to you, and your beloved bench you had started acquainting yourself with. "may I?" he gestures beside you, and you take that as an initiative to move over.

he takes a seat next to you right after.

"how are you faring?" his eyes crinkle, he stares deeply into you. 

you chuckle. "well I'm stuck here for a while I guess. I already miss my bed,"

the man beside you raises his brow before lightly raising his shoulder, leaning towards you a little for emphasis but you're sure that's just another excuse to take up more of your space.

you get what he's implying in a second. "oh no, no," you shake your head. that would be… embarrassing. 

but your yawn betrays you, and malleus easily coaxes you into using his shoulder. with or without your will, you can't even remember what happened until you blearily open your eyes, and realize the rain has passed by.

when you wake up you feel like you've had the best sleep in your life. but you're sure you would have frozen to death by now.

your hands feel the fabric between your fingers, previously taken over your shoulders. ah.

… as well as a pair of eyes staining into your existence.

wc. 1.5k

[redsrooftopprincess]

hey so how do you think Mikey’s brothers would deal with him being the first to get a girlfriend and she’s a human one at that. Cuz they clearly never thought any of them would find someone and it’s their baby brother who did the miracle of finding someone? 😂

Hi there! I'm not sure if this is exactly what you're looking for, but you're here so I assume you want my Mikey. Hope this is okay. 😅

Turned Tables

Michaelangelo x gn!Reader

Warnings: Queerphobia

4am and it's last call in The Village.

He's moving swiftly over rooftops, his usual route, a master of speed and momentum, moving through the city like water. He loves it. The rush. The flow. Moving around obstacles like they mean nothing. He is a turtle after all. Water is kind of his jam.

But not tonight. Tonight the heartbeat pounding in his ears has nothing to do with the thrill of movement. Tonight he's wearing his hoodie with the hood up. Tonight they're with him. And if he's spotted, there will be problems.

There have been whispers about suspicious gang movement in the area, and Leo wants to make sure that certain alliances aren't being made. They usually don't come out here. They have designated areas of the city to cover every night. It's smarter to stick to the same areas so that anything out of place will be more noticable. Which means tonight his bros were on his turf, and that scared the shit out of him.

He follows his brothers over storage sheds and HVAC units, keeping an eye out for anything out of place, occasionally glancing down into the streets below, knowing you'll be heading home after the party. Even if he can't say "hi" tonight, it's worth it just to look at you, even if just for a second. You're so damn pretty.

"Hey! Back off, incel!" the shout comes from the street below and he freezes. His brothers manage to get three buildings away before they notice he's missing.

By the time they make it back to the rooftop where he left them behind, he's already put himself, openly, between a group of four drunk bros, and several sparkly queers.

You and your crew had been on your way home from a party. Ironically enough, you'd just been missing your bright-eyed boyfriend, but understood when he said his brother needed the whole team tonight. You knew the score when this whole thing started. Superheroes gotta superhero.

And damn if he doesn't look good doing it.

Hood still up he glares at them, a low growl backing his words, "Wrong neighborhood, my dudes." Mike says evenly.

The look on the drunk bros faces was enough to know they were thinking maybe they'd had too much.

"Fuck it. Not worth it anyway. Fucking queers."

The dude-bros stumble off and Mike turns to face his very relieved friends. "You guys okay?" He says.

"Yes, thank you, papí," says a Drag Queen in red sequins, she walks up and gives him a kiss, leaving red glitter lipstick on his cheek.

"You know I got you, mamí," Mike says brightly, with a wink, making no effort to wipe the lipstick away. At this point they're most likely watching everything from the rooftop, so it didn't matter anymore.

"We missed you at the party," you say with a smile.

His gaze falls on you and his showman smile morphs into something softer. "Hey, Angel."

You look back at your friends.

"Let me guess," says a man wearing gold shorts and matching cuffs/collar, "you'll catch up?"

You grin and they sigh dramatically, teasing you, as they hug Mike goodbye, thanking him and insisting he show up at the next party.

You step forward and grab his mask tails, pulling him down into a kiss. Usually it's enough to melt the tension away. Not tonight. You pull back and look at him curiously before your gaze moves past him and you see black shadows cut out against the light polluted sky. You meet his eyes again and you can see the underlying panic.

"They were gonna to find out eventually," you say, quietly.

He presses his forehead to yours, "I know. I just..." He sighs.

"I know..." You say, touching his face gently. He'd told you about his brothers, and you understand their need for secrecy, you all do. He'd told you if they ever found out, there was a chance they would refuse to let him see you. Keep him from you completely. But there is no way in hell you're letting him go. You'll fight his big bad brothers yourself if you have to. "Go talk to them. Maybe it'll help to know there are people who aren't afraid." You twist the mask's tail around your fingers and tug, pulling him out of his own head, "Do you want me to come with?"

He shakes his head, "I gotta do this alone. Explain some things. But I think you meeting them at this point is unavoidable." he smirks down at you. You've been asking to meet his family. You haven't said anything, but all the sneaking around is starting to get to you.

He's quiet for a few moments, and shifts his weight, stalling. He must be really scared. "Now or never, Sunshine," you say, tugging on his mask tail again. He gives you a nervous smile and kisses you again, sweetly, before walking across the street backwards, just to look at you a little longer.

When he makes it to the alley, he looks at the ladder to the fire escape and sighs. There's a chance this could go well... right?

When he reaches the roof, they're all standing there, staring at him. Mike swallows. "Hey... So yeah, couple things..." He hauls himself over the edge of the building and stands to look up at his eldest brother, arms crossed, waiting. "So... that's Y/N," he says, as if reciting a list, "and those are my friends..." he gestures a bit further, "and -"

"Parties?" Leo's even voice cuts through the air as sharply as the blades on his back.

Mike glances at Donnie and Raph who look at him with a full spectrum of emotion, from betrayal to hope.

"How long has this been going on?"

"Just... A few years."

"Years!?" If Leo had eyebrows, they would have disappeared into his hair... if he also had hair.

"Leo -" Mike tries.

"Years. Parties. For years."

"Leo, if you'd just -"

"People know about us, Mikey. A lot of people. Don't you think that's kind of a big deal? You're putting everyone in danger here. If just one person -"

"Leo they're queer." Mike interrupts solidly. That shut him up. Leo stares at his brother, taken entirely off guard. "If anyone is used to having to hide their and everyone else's identities for fear of literal murder it's them. We protect our people."

"... We?" Raph asks after a moment.

Mikey gives him a look, "I'm a turtle attracted to humans, what would you call it?"

That shut all of them up, and Mike gives them a moment for that paradigm shift.

"Anyway, yeah, I've been doing a quick run through The Village before coming home every night, just to keep an eye on things."

"That's why you've been coming home late? I thought you were just smoking out somewhere." Raph says.

"That's because that's what I wanted you to think," Mike replies. Duh.

"And your friend? How long has that been going on?"

"We're more than friends," Mike shoots back immediately, a fire in his eyes as they meet his eldest brother's. They could come for him, he was used to it. Not you. His brothers eyes widen and they look at each other before landing back on him, "and we've been together for six months, two weeks, and five days," he checks his watch, "Six days. You want the hours, minutes, and seconds or are we done?" He says.

He pushes past Leo, and makes it almost to the edge of the rooftop before hears Donnie speak softly behind him. "... why would you keep this from us?"

Mike sighs, coming to a stop, "Because... I don't know..." He turns around, "I guess I was afraid you'd try and take it away," He looks at Leo almost defiantly. Raph smirks, kinda proud. "Or maybe... that they'd like you more than me." He looks down at you with a sigh, having rejoined your friends. You're laughing. It's his favorite sound in the universe.

Turning around, you catch him watching over you like a guardian angel turtle. You proceed to blow several kisses his way using each hand, before making a heart with them and spinning back around. The last six months have been the best of your life.

Mike can't help but smile, his brothers look on in awe as Michaelangelo's more-than-friend skips on down the sidewalk.

"Look," Mike says, his eyes returning to his brothers, "I'm safe. You're safe. They're safe." He assures, gesturing in each direction in turn, "We're a pretty tight group, and there's a protocol," he looks at Leo pointedly again, "that we follow with new people before anyone even learns I exist. I've saved the sequined ass of just about everybody in this neighborhood. They know me here. We're safe here... ish, obviously."

They're all speechless.

"I don't like this, Mikey." Leo says after a moment.

"You don't have to like it, you just have to accept it," Mike says without any question in his voice.

Leo sighs rubbing his forehead, "Well, at this point I suppose it's too late for damage control." He looks back at Mike, proud and resolute. This Michaelangelo has only made a handful of appearances in their lives, but Leo knew what it meant. He wasn't backing down. This decision had been carefully thought out and every angle considered before it was made. Mikey may play the fool, but he's far from it. A gifted strategist and the best of them at thinking on his feet, if he says it's safe, it is.

Leo sighs again, "Okay," he says, and Mikey can finally breathe again, "but we all need to be in on these protocols, and Don should look over security."

.....

He's just gotten back from his nightly run, and came home smelling like strawberry daiquiris and you... He may have stopped for a minute.

He's just stripping off his gear to hit the shower when Raph appears in his doorway, knocking softly. "Uh hey," he starts, uncomfortable, "You got a sec?"

Mikey tosses one of his hand wraps into the basket in the corner and starts unraveling the other one, a small burst of glitter explodes into the air with the first layer of cloth. Mike snorts and swats it out of the air. "Sure, bro. Sup?"

"I just..." He struggles, looking at the floor, trying to find the words. He's embarrassed he even wants to ask, but he has to know. There's a chance now... A real chance at meeting real people... maybe... maybe even a chance at... "What's it like?" He asks, looking up at Mikey.

"Gonna have to be a bit more specific," his other hand wrap joins the first.

"Yeah. No. Stupid. Sorry," he laughs nervously, shaking his head and looking at the floor. His hands are actually shaking, he clenches them into fists.

"You okay, bro?" Mike asks, changing tone and pausing to look at his older brother, concerned.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he assures, "I, uh..." He sighs and takes a deep breath, psyching himself up. "What's it like... being with someone who isn't scared of you...? Who actually wants you there?" He can't even say the word. He feels stupid for needing to know this damn badly, but he needs to know that it's real. Possible.

A slow smile blooms on Mike's face, his biggest brother would the one to ask. When they played as kids, he's the one that used to ride off into the sunset with the girl. White (well, green) Knight was his default, and a lot of where the anger in him came from as a kid. He had no choice but to live his life watching the world get their happy ever afters, until he died, alone, at the end of a blade. Michaelangelo sees something in Raph's eyes he hasn't seen in a long time. It's faint, and swimming in doubt, but definitely there: Hope.

He takes a breath, crossing his arms over his chest, "Well... It's kinda like..." He pauses, thinking, "Do you remember that old rusted pipe we used to skate on when we were kids?"

"The one that almost killed us? Yeah."

Twelve years old and Donnie had just souped up Mike's board and Raph's skates with some "prototypes." They were supposed to stick to the tunnels near the lair to test them out, but the second they stepped out, Mike made a beeline for the pipe.

The prototypes worked well. Too well. The speed and weight were too much for the rusted metal and it crumbled beneath them, sending them careening down a series of pipes and tunnels with no idea where they were going to end up, or what state they'd be in when they got there.

They skated as best they could, trying to stay on their feet, or even their shells, but everything was moving too fast and there were too many twists and turns. They couldn't keep track of where they were or where they were going, at one point some unidentified substances were involved, and at times it felt as though they would break apart.

When they finally emerged, battered and bruised in an unfamiliar tunnel a little over a mile away, they just sat there for several long moments, stunned.

When they finally met each other's eyes... they lost it. Laughing hysterically with tears streaming down their faces, they could barely feel the sting of cuts or the ache of bruises.

It was terrifying and exhilarating, and at more than one point they thought they were for sure going to die. It had been the most incredible experience of their young lives. They promised only ever to do that once (it 100% should have killed them), but both of them remember, to this day, exactly where that pipe is, just in case they ever want another go.

"It's like that," Mike says, tossing his belt in the corner and walking past Raph to grab a shower.

...

The next evening, before patrol, he receives a visit from a rather concerned looking Donatello. He doesn't bother knocking, but walks into the bedroom and closes the door behind him.

Don spins around to look at him, and raises his hands in a placating gesture. "I'm concerned."

Michaelangelo looks up once he's finished pulling up his shorts. "Okay...?"

"Have you and Y/N had sex? Of any kind, I mean."

"Dude."

"I'm serious," and he meant it. He was wearing his serious face. "Any exchange of fluids beyond kissing?"

Mikey looks at him, Donnie is really, actually worried, and now so is he, "Yeah... why?"

"How often?"

"Dude."

"At least... tell me your wore protection."

"I'm not exactly worried about them getting pregnant, so no."

"Are you worried about them getting regular injections of your DNA?"

This made Mikey pause, why would he... Oh, Gods... He looks up at Donnie, eyes wide and terrified. "Shit, I didn't even think..." He sits down on his pillow pile, thoroughly rocked. His hands cover his face as the possibilities overwhelm him. Mike looks up at his brother with pleading eyes, "are they gonna be okay...? They're gonna be okay, right?"

"I don't know... but I'm going to need a few hair follicles for testing."

"Done," he says quickly, snatching a small baggie from his nightstand and shoving it in his pocket.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I really am a fucking idiot.

Michaelangelo throws on his gear as fast as he can, booking it out of the lair.

He's back in less that 45 minutes

The next few hours are spent with him panic pacing, while Donnie is running tests. Finally, he straightens from over the microscope, one last visual check to confirm what his readouts were saying, and Mike stops, waiting for whatever news comes next.

"Nothing, they're clean. No mutagen detected." Don turns to smile at his brother.

"Fuck, me..." He sighs heavily, breathing hard. The rush of relief makes Michaelangelo so dizzy he has to reach out and catch himself on the wall. Even so, this is definitely something the two of you need to talk about, just in case.

"I'll want to check in periodically, just to make sure it stays that way, but things should be safe enough for now." He pauses and looks uncomfortable for a moment. Emotions are tough for Donnie. They've never made much sense to him, especially when expressing them to others. He knows what they feel like inside his head, but he's never been entirely sure what to do with them. Like he was never given the manual. Even so, he knows that this is important. "Hey, so, um... the probability of something like this happening... one of us actually finding someone, is... Astronomical... Now it’s... slightly less so," he says, thoughtfully, with a soft smile, "so thanks for that."

.....

The eldest of his brothers finally shows up after almost four days. He stands in the open doorway, chagrined, and knocks on the frame.

"Hey, Mike." Leonardo says, taking a few steps into the room.

Michaelangelo looks up from what he's doing and stands, expecting another argument against all of this. He's ready.

"I'd like to apologize."

Okay, he wasn't ready for that.

"I was caught off-guard, and I reacted poorly," he says, "I was worried. I still am. This whole… thing scares the hell out of me. It means there are more pieces on the board, more people to keep safe."

Leo sighs, "It also means that maybe... there can be something more than… this. And I... I don't know if it's worth it yet, the risk, to us or them. I wish I did. This is new... territory for me. I'm used to understanding how things are supposed to work, at least when it comes to us, but this..."

"Hey," Mike says, interrupting Leo's word vomit. Leo tended to keep things pretty close to the vest, even among the five of them, so it didn't happen often, but big things. Important things. Emotional things, could send him spinning out until someone stops him, or he tornados himself into a panic attack.

Leo takes a deep breath, as Mike grins, "How 'bout you let me teach you a couple things, for once."

He smiles back at his youngest brother, chuckling nervously, "Thanks. I would actually really appreciate that." Leo steps further into the room now that things seem settled between them, and pulls a pillow from the pile to sit on, settling in. He dismissed his brothers explanations earlier, he owed it to him to listen now. "So... what are they like?'"

Michaelangelo spends a good amount of time telling him about you, his friends, and how this whole thing got started. By the end, Leo isn't exactly more comfortable about the situation, but he sees the potential, and despite himself, he's just a little excited.

.....

At this point he's pretty sure his brothers are cool with everything. Less cool in one particular case, but he's working on Leo. Michaelangelo's father, however, is an entirely different story.

Leo had told him that morning, after they'd gotten back, and for two days he remained in silent meditation. By the time he emerged on day three, Michaelangelo was afraid to even be in the same room as him.

He knows this is a big deal. He knows his dad has been meditating on his own feelings on the matter and the best way to approach them with his youngest, and this could either go really, really well, or blow up in his face, but if there's one thing he knows about the old rat... he can't be avoided. Not forever.

The fated knock comes on day five.

"Hey," Leo says, "dad wants to talk to you."

Mike takes a deep breath and heads down to his father's room.

"Have a seat, Michaelangelo," he says, gesturing to the empty cushion across from him. There is a low table before him with a chipped pot and two steaming cups of tea.

Mike walks into the room. He doesn't seem mad, but that doesn't mean anything. His dad is great at playing it cool. He sits across from Splinter, nervously.

His father asks for the whole story, and listens patiently as Mikey tells him everything. How saving a drag queen one night led to his being accepted and wanted by a whole group of people. Friends that have helped him in more ways than he can count. Definitely more ways than he could ever help them. And you. He tells his dad about you. How amazing you are, how kind and patient, and something he hasn't even told you yet: just how stupid in love with you he really is.

It takes hours.

When Mikey is finished, His father is quiet for a long time, processing everything. He'd received some of the story from Leonardo, and was fitting the new information into the appropriate places, while carefully considering the situation. Mike tries not to panic.

"I'm proud of you, Michaelangelo," he says, finally. Mike's head shoots up from staring into his tea cup to meet his father's eyes.

Okay, what?

"Not only have you done all things possible to ensure the care and safety of both your new friends and our family, but you had the courage to look for something beyond what we know to be safe. You had the courage to try. All that done on your own. And while next time," his father gives him a look, "something like this comes up, I would much rather you come to me first," he pauses to ensure the message sinks in, "I understand why you did not, and you have my deepest apologies for that." The old master bows his head, penitently, across the table.

A half-laugh escapes Mikey, tears of relief stinging his eyes. He was ready to fight for you. In fact, since this whole thing started he's basically been thinking about nothing but what the hell he's going to tell his dad. The last five nights, he's held you a little tighter, a little longer. Not to say goodbye, he'd walk away from them if he had to, if they made him choose. You're too important. But he didn't want to, and now he doesn't have to, and sweet relief pours, fizzing, through his veins

"Really?" Mike asks softly, it wasn't often he got rewarded for disobeying orders, especially when the reward was something this big. You. Holy shit they were letting him keep you. He wipes at his eyes as his father smiles, "I uh... thanks Dad." He says, unsure whether he's laughing or crying.

"I feel as though a new chapter of our lives is beginning, thanks to you," his smile crinkles at the corners of his eyes, "and I look forward to seeing where the tale will take us."

.....

The next morning, Leo, Don, and Raph are sitting around the kitchen table after patrol, when Mike storms in with a purpose.

He slaps a neon green paper down in the middle of the table for the three of them. It's a flyer for a party, happening at Mike's usual spot, tomorrow night.

They look at the flyer, and then each other, before their gazes turn to their father, standing in the doorway with a steaming cup of tea. Four adult turtles, nearly pushing 30, silently begging their dad for permission.

There is a subtle smile under his whiskers as he takes a sip of his tea, "Be back before sunrise," he says, and his smile widens as he sees his children light up with the promise of a new adventure.

They'll panic later, when the reality sets in that they are about to meet a large group of people and they have no idea what they're doing (Leo may already be screaming internally), but for now they're excited, and looking forward to tomorrow.

....

Tag list

@thelaundrybitch @the-cauldron-witch @fyreball66 @ninnosaurus @tmntngl @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @zagreustomb @ramielll @silverwatergalaxy @gornackeaterofworlds @daedric-sorceress @sophiacloud28 @iridescentflamingo @milykins

[lillsisamarshmallow]

Trespassing (2)

Chapter Summary: Y/n is confronted by someone who thinks she shouldn't be here, will someone step in and help her? Is her Dog hybrid friend here? What will happen when she finds him and much more in the alleys?

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Violence, Homelessness, Dirty clothes? Slight Interrogation, Passing out, Unconscious Reader, Implied Starving. Let me know if I missed any!

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Whipping myself around so I was facing this so-called wall, that had once comforted me in this scary alley, now making my heartbeat spike and the panic come back only this time much worse. A broad chest covered by a ripped and stained top filled my view, I could feel the hard breath and hot air hitting my forehead, slowly I brought myself to cautiously look up.

My eyes immediately meeting those that belonged to the person whose sheer aura was making me cower in fear and make my knees buckle in.

Deep endless brown eyes stared into my own, anger, disgust, annoyance filled his eyes whilst mine held the fear and weakness that I felt. A low growl escaped from his lips, I tried to step back and get away from him, but he grabbed hold of me pulling me closer to him before turning around and shoving me away. Now my back faced the entrance to this place. I screeched at the sudden movement before catching my balance and looking up at the man who just so effortlessly tossed me away.

He had dark hair and a pair a wolf ears adorned his head, glancing down I noticed his large tail swaying back and forth behind his legs rapidly.

He took a step towards me, scared I threw my hand out to keep him away, a smirk appeared on his lips seemingly amused by my attempt. Another growl ripped through the air, I looked over to where it came from to see a man with dark brown hair and soulless eyes emerging from the tilted mattress.

As he stood to his full height he towered over me much like the other man, behind him I saw the same tail from before, thick, black, fluffy tail. He slowly stalked his way over to me, panicked I held up my other hand a futile attempt to stop him from attacking me, if he really wanted to, I would be dead by now.

"I-I... I'm just l-looking for my friend" I stuttered out hoping they'd back down if they knew why I was here. I heard a dark chuckle and looked over to the man near the mattress, but it wasn't him who spoke.

"Your friend is not here. Now leave." The man in front of me stepped forwards towards me, instinctively I backed up.

"P-please, I'm sorry for trespassing b-but his name is Jimin and-" Before I could finish my sentence the man in front of me had lunged forward violently shoving me away.

A screamed ripped through my throat at the sudden action and the pain that came with it, I rolled a few times before coming to a stop hitting the rough ground. Groaning in pain I tried my best to stand up wobbling as I did, I quickly stepped back trying to create distance from the man and get out of his area.

I kept backing up until I was in the middle the crossroad of alleys, the other man had by now made his way to stand with the other man. Now seeing them closer the first man was taller by a bit, but both equally towered over me.

I took note of how neither of them seemed to pass a certain point and figured that past that point, behind them, was their territory.

I put my hands out in front of me knowing it would never work against them. "Look I don't w-want any trouble. I just, I-I-"

What do I even want? Why am I here? Jimin obviously isn't here, and these guys clearly don't want me here either.

"...Never mind" I spoke defeated I turned and started to walk back the way I came, only getting few meters before suddenly my body came crashing to the ground with a thud.

All the exhaustion of running here and then getting pushed down, my body had an adrenaline overload and it needed to rest, but I couldn't stay here. I dragged myself over to one on the walls propping myself against for support, my scrapped knees drawing close to my chest, my body was exhausted and so was my mind. I closed my eyes to focus on my breathing trying to calm myself down.

I just need a quick rest... then I'll leave here.

"Y/n!?"

Looking up at the mention of my name I turned to where the person's voice came from. Through my lidded eyes I spot a frantic figure looking around, spinning in circles searching for something or, someone before his eyes lock on my figure slumped against the ground.

Jimin?

Rushing over, the blond figure dropped to his knees in front of me eyes scanning my figure. His golden ears dipping lying flat on his head as his eyes filled with worry and concern from seeing my state.

"Jimin..."

"Y/N, what are you doing here? Oh god, this wouldn't have happened if-" Jimin couldn't seem to finish his sentence as his hands hovered over me not sure what to do, frozen, wanting to help but unsure of the first step to do so.

"No, this is my fault Jimin. I'm sorry, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I'll be fine I just need to-" The world had become blurry around me Jimin's face being nothing but a fuzzy spot as if wearing dirty glasses. Soon everything around me turned fuzzy as well before slowly getting darker and being completely consumed by the darkness. I could hear Jimin calling my name but there was nothing I could do, the gravity and comfort of the darkness being too powerful for anything to drag me out.

"Get her out!"

"She can't stay here."

"She's hurt! We can't leave her".

"Yes, we can! She's human, nothing but trouble she is."

"She's, my friend. She needs help."

"Friend? Jimin you can't-"

The voices of the people around me slowly brought me back the reality. Not knowing where I was, I tried not to move too much as to not draw attention to myself. Slowly cracking my eyes open, it wasn't hard to adjust to the lighting as it was dark wherever I was.

Cautiously looking around I saw 6 men all standing around arguing with each other, I wasn't present enough to understand what they were arguing about, so I drowned them out. Glancing over to the left of the group I saw another man, he looked younger than the others, over his head hung long black locks that went almost down to his shoulders at the back, it looked unkempt, like it hadn't been washed or brushed for a few weeks, but someone had attempted to tidy it up at least. Nestled in with his hair were two long fluffy rabbit ears, dark grey on the outsides with a lighter grey littering the insides.

A bunny hybrid.

Studying the man, I couldn't help but notice that he was eating what looks like a cranberry muffin.

Wait...

I made that muffin this morning, I put on the plate for me and Jimin and he didn't eat it, he took it...home...

I didn't even notice I had been staring at the boy until his dark brown orbs locked with mine, both our eyes widening at realization. He opened his mouth to say something to the other men but before he managed, I abruptly sat up straight taking in my surrounding. I was still in the alley way, on the abandon couch covered with clothes from before that had creeped me out, I looked over towards the group of men only to see that they had already spotted me from my previous alarming movements.

Seven pairs of eyes all staring at me, no one saying anything not knowing where to start, as my eyes travel all over them I realized something I hadn't picked up on before.

They're all hybrids.

The two men from before, a wolf and a panther hybrid, my eyes move to the next person, a fox hybrid, traveling to the next, a sugar glider hybrid, a cat hybrid, the bunny hybrid who had now moved over to stand with others, and a dog hybrid.

Jimin.

His eyes stayed lock with mine, concern and uncertainty swirled in them, before I had time to study the other men one of them spoke up.

"What do you want?" he growled, disgust for my mere existence clear in his voice.

I looked over to who had spoken only to see the same man from before who had pushed me to the ground. My eyes widened in fear as I tried to back up on the couch to create as much distance as possible between me and the violent wolf hybrid.

"I-" Before I could stutter out my words someone had cut me off.

"She came looking for me." Jimin defended me moving to stand in front of me. "She didn't mean any harm. I promise."

I nodded my head violently agreeing with Jimin trying to show them that was why I was here. The man scoffed before sending me a death glare. Jimin turn around and moved block my view of the others with his face. He put his hands on my shoulder, I flinched slightly as my left shoulder was bruising from my previous contact with the ground.

"Jimin..."

"I'm sorry this happened to you, it's all my fault and-"

"Jimin no, this is my fault, I came looking for you and was trespassing. I'm just glad that you're okay. I see why you don't eat as much and why you bring the left over back here" I spoke softly with a small smile.

Jimin looked down ashamed, seeming unhappy that I knew about this.

"I'm sorry, I won't bother you-" Cutting Jimin off I wrapped my arms around his neck bringing him closer to me embracing him in a hug. He didn't return the hug at first, his arms hanging by his sides. Seeing as I wasn't letting go Jimin hesitantly moved his arms to wrap them around me. Sighing into the hug I slightly calmed down, my breaths matching Jimin's, before I remembered the six other hybrids around me.

"They won't hurt me, will they?" I fearfully whispered into his ear.

Recalling what I told Seoyeon about seeing Jimin having bruises a few days ago, my mind started racing.

Did they hurt Jimin too? Did they give him those bruises?

"D-did they hurt you too?" I stammered holding Jimin tighter and pulling him closer as to get him away from them.

"What? N-no, no. They would never hurt me" Jimin said shocked by my question.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive, and I won't let them hurt you either" Jimin gave me a reassuring squeeze before slowly letting go. Still facing me Jimin looked down at me from his standing position. I leaned to the side to see around him and check on those other hybrids, to no one's surprise they all stared - or more like glared back at me, startled I leaned back to my original position nervous, looking to Jimin for help.

Seeing my struggling self, Jimin took the initiative and turned to face the others and sat down on the couch. Curious eyes found mine trying to avoid eye contact with them my eyes darted around looking at the area around me. Across from me sat an old chair but it didn't match with the couch, left of the chair laid a thin single mattress with some worn down blanket on it. I looked to the other side of the chair to see the mattress from before leaning up against the wall, shielding half of the entrance was a stack a cardboard box making what looked like some sort of wall. As my eyes continued to truly study the area I had been in, cardboard boxes set up as tables, mattresses, all the dirty clothes and ripped blankets splayed on the ground and various objects, I came to the horrid realization.

They all live here...

"Guys, this is Y/N." Jimin’s voice brought me out of my thoughts looking to him as he spoke. "She owns a café a few blocks from here. She's where I've been getting the food.".

"Jimin! Have you been taking her food? I thought I taught you better than that." The sugar glider Hybrid spoke in disbelief has he strode over to Jimin who was right next to me.

"No! He didn't steal anything, I-I've been giving him food." I spoke raising my voice a little. "He's been joining me for lunch." I spoke to the hybrid who was now standing in front of Jimin and I.

He looked at me questioning before looking back at Jimin for reassurance to my accusation. Jimin looked up at him nodding confirming what I had already said.

"Good, I didn't raise no criminals" The man hummed before turning to me. I visibly tensed up before he spoke “Why were you looking for Jimin?”

"Well after he left, I was worried because he wasn't eating much and saving the food for leftovers." I spoke quietly, intimidated by the broad man in front of me. "B-but I see why now."

He stared into my eyes as I spoke and kept staring after I had finished. I could see the kindness in his eyes hidden by his protectiveness. Nervously a small smile tugged at my lips trying to ease the tension between us. It worked as he returned his smile backing away from me.

"You make really nice muffins." A voice broke the silence everyone turning to look at the who had spoken. It was the bunny hybrid, he moved slightly closer the others trying to hide behind them at my gaze.

My smile only grew at his kind words. "Thank you, I'm glad you like them.".

His big grin appeared showing off his bunny teeth and cheeky smile.

Jimin and his friends kept talking as I listened to what they were saying I moved slightly in my spot trying to subtly stretch my arms. My hands landed on the couch something beneath my palm made me grip on to the mysterious object. Looking down I saw it was a piece of clothing, looking closer it had holes and it and was very discoloured by use and dirt. Disgusted from touching the item, not know exactly what it was or where it had been, abruptly drop it back to the couch flicking it away from me grossed out releasing I had been sitting on dirty clothes. I looked up a repulsed expression clear on my face, I locked eyes with the panther hybrid, he looked embarrassed quickly looking away from me averting eye contact.

"How can we trust her?"

I turned to see the cat hybrid staring right at me before his gaze shifted to next person who spoke.

"We can't."

"Namjoon, she is Jimin's-" "I'm sorry." I declared. "I didn't mean to invade your territory or be here uninvited. Genuinely I was just worried about Jimin, and your right." I continued trying to stand up stumbling a bit, Jimin reached out to help me. I took his hand helping me to stand stably. "You can't trust me. You don't know me. Thank you for helping but I should go." I mumbled the last part bowing before shuffling out past the boys before a hand harshly grabbed my wrist.

In my spot I froze not wanting to move from my spot out of fear. Not looking back, I kept my eyes trained on the ground. Before I could react, whoever was holding me had grabbed my waist and spun me around to face them. Surprised at the two people behind me I stared up at the man holding me still, he had deep chocolate eyes and brown hair and two fluffy orange fox ears on his head.

"Thank you" He started. "You have no idea how much that food you've been giving Jimin, has helped us."

A warn thankful smile on his face, at hearing his words my heart flooded with warmth at how my baking was able to help them. I glanced to the bunny boy who stood slightly behind him before looking back at him, by now he had let go of my waist and was holding my hands in his.

"It means a lot really, even though you didn't know you were helping us all as well and thought it was just Jimin, we really needed it." Unshed tears slightly pooled in his eyes before he blinked them away beaming at me.

"Yes, thank you, all the food was so good too." The other guy gushed. "I'm Jungkook and this is Hoseok" The bunny hybrid gestured to the fox hybrid in front of him when naming his friend. "Don't worry about Namjoon, he just wants to protect us, you just have to earn his trust.".

"Yeah, Taehyung and Yoongi are really just little kittens once you get to know them too." Hoseok chuckled.

"Thanks, it's nice to know you guys liked my baking." I blushed from all the praise about my pastries I had made. "And I'm sorry again for just walking in unannounced."

"You were looking out for your friend, our Jiminie, thank you for caring about him it shows more than you could possibly imagine. Most humans want nothing to do with us or will-"

"Thank you" Jungkook cut off Hoseok before they both shared a look. I smiled at them before stepping back ready to take my leave, judging by how the sun was no longer directly above us I figured it had been few hours since I left, and Seoyeon was probably worrying about me.

"I'll see you guys around." I nodded before making my exit down the way I had come hours ago. As I went to turn the corner, I saw them both standing there, I wave them off before I saw Namjoon walk out and usher them back into the side alley before we made eye contact. He shot me a glare and stared me down before turning and walking back himself. I took that as my signing to truly leave as I continued down the alleys on my way back to the shop.

A/n: Ahhh! Next chapter is here! The first few chapters of this series might be a bit shorter, I aim to get each chapter between 2-3k words. Also Thank you all so much on the support on the first part and the teaser, I did not expect that amount of interaction, it makes me so happy knowing people have enjoyed what I’ve been working on, so I hope you all enjoy! Have a nice day & Thankyou all for reading! 💜