#maybe it’s just the type of bandages but like. I could get behind that one. maybe he on to something

[readingwriter92]

Got mildly tipsy and cosplaying Dazai and like. Why bandages around forearms kinda so fucking comfy

[charliemwrites]

A reader x Simon commission piece I just recently finished for my sweet bean N.W. I had a lot of fun writing a little scenario I never would have thought up on my own!

(Reader is described with FAB anatomy, but no gendered pronouns are used. No sensitive content warnings, just spice.)

It’s a perfect day.

The sun is a bright golden marble in a perfect jewel sky, toasting the sand into a powdery bed. There are only wisps of flossy cloud to interrupt the light, a feathery salt-soaked breeze to soften the edge of heat. The water is nothing but lazy ripples, foamy waves crawling up the coastline before slithering back.

And your coworker is soaking wet.

When you first signed on as a lifeguard, you didn’t expect more than some extra pocket money. A little financial cushion while you finished working through your master’s program. A chance to get some sunshine instead of holing up in your room. Maybe the occasional bit of eye candy while you fished children out of the shallows and fussed at families for littering around the barbecue grills.

You didn’t expect Simon “Walking Wet Dream” Riley. (Okay, that’s not his actual nickname – apparently it’s “Ghost.” Because of course it is.) You didn’t expect his big, fuck-off muscles, or his perfect sun-bleached hair, or the dark ink of his tattoos, or…

Well.

You got more than just eye candy when Mister Price hired you. Simon is a whole damn feast. Especially when he’s fresh from a cool-down swim, red trunks weighed down by water and tides, revealing the tantalizing curves of his hips. Droplets skittering over the bulges and divots of his body, sparkling in the sun…

“Excuse me?”

You try not to jolt, head jerking to the guy that hopefully hasn’t been standing there too long. He looks about your age, maybe a bit older. Wavy, chin-length brown hair and eyes nearly as blue as the water. Pretty, in a young Instagram prince kind of way. Maybe your type in another time – the time Before Simon.

“Hi,” you say quickly, “did you need something?”

“Do you have any plasters?” he asks. “My little brother scraped his knee.”

You glance at the kid shuffling just behind him, his knees dirtied and one red with a bit of blood. Nothing serious, you determine, but could use some first aid.

“Oh, poor thing!” you say. “C’mon, we have some bandages in the shack.”

You wave to get Simon’s attention, make the quick hand-sign indicating you’ll be gone for a moment. He notices you, the two boys, then nods and makes his way back to his usual lookout spot.

The shack is a quiet, cool oasis away from the heat. You’ve dozed off next to the mist fan more times than you care to admit, only to be woken by Simon pressing a cold water bottle to your cheek. It used to annoy you, but now you appreciate the reminder to hydrate.

There’s a robust first aid kit in one of the cabinets, though you groan a bit when you see how high Simon’s stashed it this time. Damned tall man; you could swear he does it on purpose. You try to reach it on your toes, but when that doesn’t work, you jump a bit. Still no luck. You’re going to have to get the stepstool at this rate.

“Here, I’ve got it.”

You jump a bit as Insta-Prince comes up behind you, sliding in close before you can scoot out of the way. He stretches his arm over your head, tugging the kit down from the shelf. When you glance up – concerned about something falling on you – you find him smirking down at you.

“Thanks,” you say trying not to snatch it out of his hands.

“Seems like an… inconvenient place to put that,” he muses.

You sit the younger brother on a plastic chair near the door and kneel, kit open on the floor. “We usually keep it lower… I think Simon forgets I’m shorter than him.”

The kid winces a bit at the sting of wound wash but puts on a brave face when you smile at him.

“Seems pretty rude. Is he hard to work with?” Insta-Prince asks.

You hesitate, trying to think of how to respond. Simon was intimidating, at first. Dark eyes and stoic expression, he was difficult to read. Always within a stone’s throw, you used to feel like he was hovering. Like he didn’t think you could do your job right.

Over the months, though, that insecurity has bridged into a tentative friendship. Even if he’s not talkative himself, he lets you chat to your heart’s content. Keeps you hydrated, reminds you to eat snacks and apply sunscreen. Even handles the rowdier beachgoers when they break rules, his bigger stature and sharp glare enough to cow even the most entitled people.

“No, he’s—”

“What’s the hold up?”

You glance up at Simon’s broad form angled in the shack’s doorway. His eyes aren’t on you or the kid, though. They’re on Insta-Prince – standing a little close to you, now that you’re not focused on the younger brother.

“Just finishing up,” you answer, smoothing a waterproof bandage over the scrape. “You did great, buddy, high five!”

That earns you a little smile and the requested high-five as the kid hops out of the chair. When you stand, Simon’s eyes flick to you. Darker than deep water, something swimming within that you can discern from the surface. It makes you fidgety, like you’ve been caught out doing something you shouldn’t.

“Remember to log it,” he rumbles.

“On it!” You lean over the wooden counter to pluck the clipboard from the wall on the other side, relieved that someone put the pen back for once.

“So, you have to write down all the injuries people get?” Insta-Prince asks, trying for casual conversation. The air feels oddly stifling, and gets worse when he settles closer, peeking around to see the sheet.

“Just if we use medical supplies,” you answer, scribbling quickly.

“Lifeguards only in the shack, kid,” Simon interrupts. “Get moving.”

You try not to snort in amusement. While Simon might tolerate you, he’s got a general disdain for most beachgoers – ironic considering how adamant he is about safety. But he seems to find the average person a nuisance to be constantly monitored and herded away from trouble. Like a shepherd with a flock of particularly stupid sheep.

“My brother was hurt, man, give me a break,” Insta-Prince protests, annoyed.

“And now he’s not,” Simon replies. “You should catch up with him. Kids need to be watched, isn’t that right, sunshine?”

You hum absently in agreement, signing off on the injury log with your initials. There’s a beat of silence that itches at the back of your mind. When you look up, Simon’s arching an eyebrow at the guy, thick arms crossed across his barrel chest.

Sir, firearms are not allowed on the beach, you think, before wrenching your eyes from Simon’s biceps.

“Did you need anything else?” you ask Insta-Prince.

“Just what time you get off work,” he replies, giving you big, soft, hopeful eyes.

You blink, a bit shocked. Flirting happens rarely for you, except maybe platonically with Soap or Gaz. To be fair, you’re not exactly the female lifeguard idol that most people would fantasize about. Half the time you jog around in shorts and a rash-guard, more comfortable in unisex swimwear and keeping the worst of the sun off yourself. Helpful to avoid wardrobe malfunctions if a panicking swimmer grabs at you.

Besides, you’re not really looking to get hit on. Hard to keep an eye out for emergencies if someone’s chatting your ear off for a shag by the restrooms. (You didn’t think people really did that until Farah groaned about it at the bonfire when you first hired.) Still, now that it’s happening… you don’t hate it. This guy is objectively attractive, apparently cares about his younger sibling enough to get him first-aid, and is weathering Simon’s increasingly annoyed scowl.

You figure there’s no harm. Not like someone else is showing a similar interest.

“At sunset,” you answer. “So, uh…”

“6:30,” Simon offers.

You shoot him a grateful look as the kid begins scooting for the door, skirting around Simon’s wider, thicker frame. Christ, the difference is stark. You tug at the front of your rash-guard to relieve some of the sudden heat.

“Maybe I’ll see you then,” he says before disappearing around the corner.

You stare after him for a second. He didn’t even ask for your name. “Huh.”

“The hell was that, sunshine?” Simon grouses.

You turn to him and shrug. “No idea.”

“Really now?” he scoffs.

You shake your head, already agitated by the whole thing for no reason you can pinpoint. Lean over the counter again to hang up the clipboard. “Really.”

“This isn’t a place for your silly summer fantasies and little meet-cutes,” he growls. “This is a real job, with real lives on the line.”

You twist around, brows furrowed as your mouth drops open in offense. “I know that.”

“Do you? Then why the fuck were you in here flirting?”

“I was helping the kid,” you argue, “you saw him!”

“Real convenient, that. When the older one’s been eye-fucking you all damn day.”

Any snappy retorts drown in the shock of his crass language and the accusation. All day? That guy? And Simon noticed? Never mind all that – Simon would seriously think you’d use a kid’s injury as an excuse to… what? Get cozy with an attractive stranger while on duty?

“I don’t know what you’re on about,” you huff, “but I need to get back out there.”

As you pass, a big, rough hand snaps out and catches your elbow. You come up short, half-turning towards him, face hot. Equal parts angry and ashamed for some reason. Summer romance your ass.

“Get it together,” he orders.

You click your tongue at him. “Same to you.”

You wrench your arm back and storm out onto the sand, snatching your floatie from the shack railing along the way. Don’t know what jellyfish stung his ass, but you hope he figures it out. Don’t think your self-esteem can take another round of… whatever that was.

The rest of the day passes tense and slow. Without Simon to talk to, and the beach relatively peaceful, you’re left to fixate on the incident in the shack. What was that about? You thought for sure you’d grown on Simon a bit. Sure, you’re one of the younger lifeguards, which is why Price assigned you to Simon’s post, but you’ve worked hard. You thought you’d proven yourself.

Checking your watch, you find that it’s nearly 6:30. The sun doesn’t seem that low yet, but the beach got empty while you were idly keeping watch. Might as well pack it in, you figure.

Not even thinking of Insta-Prince when you hop up the little wooden steps to the shack. Simon isn’t back from wherever he’s monitoring yet, and you’d like to be clear before that changes. Just in case he’s still in a bad mood.

You shed your blue swim-shorts and rash-guard on the counter, leaving you in the more standard one-piece. Roll your shoulders a bit uncomfortably, itching to squeeze into your binder after a day with tits-out. You’ve gotten accustomed to the sensation of leaving it off for the job, but you’d still prefer to wear it when safe.

You flop onto the counter, reaching over the side to fish your bag out from its cubby. Of course, that’s the exact moment that you hear Simon’s heavy step on that creaky board by the doorway.

“Bloody hell,” you think you hear him mutter.

“I’m just about to head out,” you assure him.

“Meeting up with that knob?”

Your temper flares. You abandon your bag and land on your feet, spinning around. Come up (very) short when Simon’s right there, not enough room to breathe without your chests brushing. But you don’t allow yourself to be deterred.

“So, what if I am?” you challenge.

His eyes darken, then narrow. “This isn’t a game you want to play, sunshine.”

“Maybe I do,” you insist, planting your hands on your hips.

He exhales slow and heavy, boxes you in against the counter with hands on either side of you. Your stupid, traitorous heart skips a beat, then trips into double time. Normally he wears a rash-guard too, but not today. No, today it’s swathes of tanned, scarred skin. And it’s so, so close to yours.

“You won’t win,” he warns.

Your tongue feels heavy and clumsy, maybe because your thoughts feel the same way. Now, you’re not always the most aware of “signals,” but there aren’t many other ways to interpret someone near-pinning you to a counter with smoldering eyes.

You scramble to review the earlier confrontation through a new lens. The way Simon glared at Insta-Prince, not you – until you seemed open to his interest. Oh. Ohhhh.

You wet your lips; the way his eyes lock onto the movement bolsters your courage.

“What if… I don’t want to win?” you ask.

His eyes dart up to yours, something a little sharper than longing when he whispers, “I’d make you a sore loser.”

An unexpected laugh bursts out of you; his teeth flash in a crooked smile as he scoops you up so easily. He sits you on edge of the counter and steps between your thighs, pelvis bumping against yours. You gasp, head dropping to stare wide-eyed at the frankly monstrous bulge in his trunks.

“W-wow,” you mumble faintly, thighs squeezing around his hips.

“C’mere, sunshine,” he growls, cupping your jaw.

You tilt your face up, sigh softly as his mouth slots over yours. He tastes like blue powerade and sea salt, tongue curling against yours when you grant him enthusiastic access.

Your hands make scattered, eager work of exploring him, unsure where you want to touch first, just that you have to. He’s as solid as you always expected, densely packed muscle under healthy, hydrated layers of fat. Sun-warm beneath your palms, shudders as your skim them dangerously close low on his twitching abdomen.

“Can I take this off?” he asks, tugging gently at the shoulder strap of your swimsuit.

“Yeah,” you mumble, wriggling closer.

He huffs in amusement, peeling the elastic material over your arms and down your chest while you scatter kisses over his jaw and neck. You gasp into his peck when his calloused thumbs brush your hard nipples. Just a small touch, yet electricity is racing up and down your spine.

“This alright?” he checks.

You hum the affirmative, pressing into his touch as he pinches and rolls the sensitive peaks, slow searching. Reclaims your mouth to swallow each and every little mewl and moan that spills off your tongue. You can’t help rocking against him, hot and hard through the thin layers of swimwear.

“Simon,” you whine against his mouth, “c’mon.”

“Impatient,” he teases, nipping your bottom lip.

“You’ve kept me waiting long enough,” you complain, tugging at his trunks.

“I know, sunshine,” he coos, “just wait a bit longer.”

He takes the tiniest step back, fingers hooking in your swimsuit again to roll it the rest of the way off. You lift your hips to help, nearly squirming as strings of slick web between the fabric and your pussy. But Simon seems hypnotized, snapping the strands with his fingers and following them back to your swollen cunt.

“Fuck, all this for me, baby?” he rasps.

You make an embarrassed noise – which quickly graduates into an alarmed squeal when he drops to his knees.

“Simon, wait, I’ve been working all day and—”

“Don’ give a fuck,” he growls, “I’ve been dying to taste you for weeks.”

He yanks your thighs over his big, strong shoulders and dives in. It’s messy and obscenely loud, filling up the tiny shack and all the empty space in your head. Would be embarrassing if you had any room for something so frivolous. Instead, you’re gone on the way he sucks your clit and laps thirstily at your entrance. Utterly obsessed with the deep, throaty groans that leave you throbbing.

It's been a while, true, but you know he’d have you on edge so fast regardless. And he does, rushing up on it like a building, rolling wave. The devastating kind that’ll drown you in unyielding currents.

“Wait, wait,” you squeak, tugging at his coarse hair.

To his credit, he stops instantly, though he sounds absolutely gutted about it. Pulls back licking his lips like a cat with cream, chin practically dripping.

“Alright?” he asks, voice shredded to ribbons.

“I just,” you pant, “I just w-wasn’t ready to – to… I wanna cum on your cock. Please, Si?”

“Fuckin’ hell.” He surges up, pressing you down flat to kiss you stupid(er) and senseless. The taste of you isn’t as offensive as you expected, not coming from his tongue. “You’ll get anything you want if you keep talking like that.”

“Just want you.”

He helps you off the counter, drags you by the wrist to the plastic chair by the doorway. You’re about to protest – no way can that chair support someone his size, never mind both of you. But then he’s spinning you around, crushing you to his chest, and yanking you down into his lap. Any such nonsense as good sense dissolves like a sandcastle.

You can feel the length of him pressing hot and a little wet against your spine. (So, so high up your spine, good god). When he freed himself from his swim-trunks, you’re not sure, nor do you care at this moment. Your priorities narrow down to one absolute necessity: getting him inside you now, now, now.

“Easy now, baby, don’t hurt yourself,” he purrs in your ear. “Let me help.”

He curls big hands around your hips, tight enough that you relish the bruises that may bloom there later. Supports your weight as if it’s nothing to him, propping you over his lap as you line up his cock, dragging the flushed head through your pooling wetness. He curses low and rough, sinking you down until the tip catches on your entrance.

“There we are,” he grits, hands flexing in your soft flesh. “Nice and slow now, sunshine.”

If you had your way, he’d already be balls deep in your aching pussy. But his grip is firm and unrelenting, lowering you inch by thick inch down his shaft. You back and squeeze around him, encouraging him deeper, faster, helpless little noises escaping from your gaping mouth.

“That’s it, halfway there,” he breathes. “Doing so well.”

You choke. Halfway?! You already feel stuffed, walls gripping every contour of his cock like you were made for him.

He twitches inside you, bulbous, leaking head grinding deliciously, and your resolve cracks right down the middle. You dig your nails into his thighs and slam your hips down, crying out as he buries deep inside. Can feel him nudging your cervix, stretching your silky walls, all the way down to where your opening is sealed tight around the base of him.

“Fuck,” he snarls.

“F-feels so good,” you whimper, head falling forward as you clench around him.

Oh, you are definitely going to be so perfectly sore after this. You can’t fucking wait.

“If you’re that impatient to be ruined,” he chuckles breathlessly, “best brace yourself, lovie.”

You barely manage to get your feet planted before he’s fucking up into you, hard and mean. Just what you want, what you need. Your head falls back to cry your pleasure to the shack roof as you bounce. Rocking your hips each time he bottoms out, grinding him against that spongy bundle of nerves inside you. It’s mind-numbing; you’re leaking around him, know it must be dripping onto the floor at this point.

He snakes a hand around to your front. Brushes where the two of you are connected, the strange and dangerous sensation making tears prick at your eyes. Then his fingers skip up to your needy, oversensitive clit. You almost want to stop him, already so overwhelmed with pleasure. But again, anything like coherent thought is ripped away on a tide of ecstasy when he begins rubbing quick, tight circles.

Your rhythm faulters at the new stimulation, but Simon just widens his stance. It changes the angle, drags the head so perfectly against your g-spot. With the hand still on your hip, he starts jerking you down to meet each thrust. It’s slightly slower, but so much sweeter, combined with the rhythm he’s strumming on your clit.

Your orgasm rises like a tsunami, higher and higher, a devastating force building up inside.

“Simon,” you keen, “Simon, I’m gonna – right there…”

“That’s it, sunshine. Get me nice and wet with your cum.”

That voice, saying such filth in your ear, sends you over the edge. You nearly convulse, eyes rolling back in your head as you scream. Back arching, writhing and gripping crescents into his thighs. And you can feel yourself gushing all over him, onto the floor.

“Yes, yes, fuck, just like that.”

You’re near limp as he keeps hammering into you, practically using you like a toy to get himself off. The thought alone makes you squeeze around him again, a powerful aftershock bringing another flood of wetness. Your head lolls back against his shoulder, crying into his ear, begging him to cum inside you, fill you up…

He crashes his mouth into yours as he cums, groaning into your lax mouth, jerking violently into your overstimulated pussy. You swear you can feel him spurting inside you, thick and white-hot. It feels… it feels…

You break the kiss to suck in a deep breath, lightheaded and still squeaky with pleasure. Simon trails soothing kisses over your shoulder, grip easing up to caress over the forming finger marks. You hum softly, voice husky. Flutter your eyes open and blink at the pink sky out the window.

“Is it… is it just now sunset?” you ask.

Simon chuckles against your ear. “Looks like I was about thirty minutes off. Whoops.”

[r2d2lover]

Healing Touch Part 2

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Reader (QuidditchPlayer!Mattheo x Healer!Reader)

Rating: E

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Unprotected sex, vaginal sex, F/M, cunnilingus, aged-up characters, Hogwarts Uni AU, fluff, like maybe angst

Summary:

Mattheo Riddle comes back for a check up and an answer. (AKA happy smutty October). Part 1.

“Mr. Riddle is back. He’s set up in the same bed as last night and only asking for you. Something about his arm not being set right. I thought I taught you better than that,” Madam Pomfrey scolded you the second you walked through the door to report for your shift. 

“Oh! Okay, I will check on him immediately,” You nearly dropped your items at the matron’s disapproval and hurry to set your things aside. You knew Mattheo said that he would be back the next day, but a part of you hoped that he had forgotten. You needed to buy more time to process what had happened between the two of you, so you had foolishly dodged him around the corridors and snuck food out of the dining hall just so he wouldn’t have an opportunity to corner you. You were surprised that he played you at your own game and decided to corner himself instead. You held your breath while you walked to the back of the infirmary while Madam Pomfrey gave you another look before disappearing into her office. With an embarrassingly shaky hand, you pulled back the curtains around Mattheo’s bed and revealed a smirk that drove a heat deep into your core. Mattheo leaned back in the bed, propped up with pillows with both of his arms folded behind his head. His expression didn’t change when he saw you; if anything, he seemed to grow more amused at the scowl etched into your face.

“I have a feeling you’ve been avoiding me,” Mattheo kicked his legs up on the bed with a big grin. “Now, do you want me to take my pants off or would you like the honors?”

“You can keep your pants on, thank you very much,” You sighed, turning away quickly so that Mattheo wouldn’t catch your reddened cheeks or creeping smile. You placed a temperature gauge into his mouth, which he opened up with a wink. You shook your head while rolling your eyes and a humored scoff, but still you brushed the back of your hand over his forehead and cheeks to feel for any clamminess. “I was told it was your arm that needed looking at.”

“Oh, I just had to say something that sounded serious enough for Pomfrey to let me wait on you,” Mattheo shrugged nonchalantly. “Your work is impeccable. I recovered fine after a good sleep and believe me, I slept really well after last night.”

“Your little stunt could put me on probation with Madam Pomfrey,” You frowned to fight your smile. You pulled out a fresh roll of bandages which delighted Mattheo greatly. He hooked his thumb through his belt loop and shook it in invitation. “And, by the way, I have not been avoiding you.”

“Oh really? Then maybe I was wrong. You don’t really seem the type to run and hide. You’re really bad at it, by the way,” Mattheo mocked. You bit down on your lip to save your pride while you started to undo Mattheo’s belt to get to his thigh. “Though, I will admit, I’m loving this new bashful side of you.”

“I’m not bashful, I’m just doing my job.”

“Are you really going to tell me you didn’t enjoy yourself last night? C’mon, you’re wounding my pride and I think there’s only one type of medicine that can fix it,” Mattheo watched you carefully as you slid his pants down. The memory of last night flooded your rationality and your mouth ran dry. Mattheo chuckled and assisted you in sliding his pants down further. You smiled upon inspection of your work, which was wrapped tightly enough that no extra bleeding seeped through. “Now you’re just a tease. Smiling at me with me exposed like this? Now’s not the time to act so innocent.”

“I told you it was a one time thing, Mattheo. If you need something for your pride, I’m sure you have a line of groupies who would gladly medicate you,” The moment you pressed the cold bandage shears against his leg, you could feel his entire body shiver, which in turn made you copy his movements. 

“Sure, but none of them are as cute as you. Or so adept with their fingers,” Mattheo let out a sigh of relief when you cut the bandage free, revealing a well healed scar thanks to magic. 

“Good news is that you don’t need another bandage. Your leg healed overnight,” You ignored Matteo’s joke and gave his leg a once over with the same salve from last night. He grabbed your wrist as a way to grab your attention. 

“Hey,” Mattheo’s eyes bore into yours. His gaze was much more serious than before and it made your skin erupt in goosebumps again. “I told you last night: This isn’t a joke. But if you want me to stop, I will.”

“I’m saving my own pride. You can’t blame me for questioning your intentions,” You reply, forcing the words past the stop in your throat. “Last night was fun, but that’s not really what I’m about.”

“This isn’t a one off thing for me, princess. I know that’s what you think of me, but you’ve patched me up more than once and you… you actually see me for who I am. Not my last name, not my jersey number, you know…” Mattheo ran a finger across your cheek before letting out a heavy sigh. You froze in place and let your mouth hang open while you tried to figure out a response. Is he serious? It’s all just a cliche. “Merlin… Did I misread this whole thing? Was your conversation just… good bedside manner? Please, just say something.”

“Mattheo- I… No, I do have feelings for you! I just- I…” You finally manage to spit something out in your flustered state. Your confession stuns the both of you into silence. Mattheo's eyes widened, a flicker of hope igniting in their depths. He leaned in closer, his warm breath fanning across your face. He opened his mouth but shut it quickly, but your heart was pounding so loudly in your ears that you wouldn’t have been able to hear a thing anyway.

“You do?” Mattheo croaked in disbelief.

“Yeah, I’m not great with feelings and such,” You laugh awkwardly. Mattheo shook his head and smiled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. You reached out and gently caressed the creases. He reached out in reply and gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingertips lingering on your skin.

"I'm not great with them either," Mattheo admitted, his voice low and intimate. "But I know how I feel about you. I've known for a while now."

"I thought... I thought you just saw me as the team healer," You whispered, hardly daring to believe this was real. Your heart skipped a beat at his words. You searched his face, looking for any sign of deception, but all you saw was sincerity and warmth. Mattheo chuckled, shaking his head again.

"At first, maybe. But you're so much more than that. You're brilliant, kind, and you challenge me in ways no one else does. I can't stop thinking about you. In the infirmary… out of the infirmary," Mattheo’s voice deepened and he snaked his hand towards the back of your head. Your breath caught in your throat as Mattheo's fingers tangled in your hair. The warmth of his touch sent shivers down your spine, and you found yourself leaning into him, drawn by an invisible force. His eyes flickered to your lips and despite the two of you having seen each other naked, you never felt more vulnerable. "Merlin…May I...?"

You nodded, unable to form words. Mattheo closed the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a soft, hesitant kiss. It was gentle at first, a mere brush of lips, but it quickly deepened as years of pent-up emotions poured out. Your hands found their way to his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat beneath your fingertips. You smiled slightly, an odd sense of pride bubbling at making the mighty Quidditch player nervous under your touch. Realizing where you were and on the clock no less, you had to pull away. When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless. Mattheo rested his forehead against yours, a smile playing on his lips.

“We actually can’t have sex in here again,” You scolded playfully. Mattheo stopped you before you could fully step away, his arm strong against your waist. “Madam Pomfrey isn’t too thrilled with me, remember?”

“Mmm, you’re no fun. Fine, I’ll restrain myself for now. Meet me in my dorm after dinner,” Mattheo let a brazen hand travel down to your ass and gave it a firm squeeze.

“What a romantic request,” You joked, pulling him off the bed. “Tell my boss I didn’t mess you up on your way out.”

“Will do, princess,” Mattheo spun you around for one final kiss. “And it wasn’t a request. It was a demand.”

Mattheo wasted no time in dragging you into his room after dinner ended. You barely had time to finish your meal before he marched over, made up some lie about needing your assistance with something, and pulled you out of the Great Hall with his arm protectively - no, possessively - slung across your waist. You laughed at the whispers and jealous looks thrown at the two of you, but let the man practically carry you out.

The moment the door to Mattheo's room closed behind you, he wasted no time in pressing you against it, his lips crashing onto yours with a hunger that made your knees weak. Your hands tangled in his curls as he deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with a fervor that left you breathless.

"I've been waiting for this all day," Mattheo hummed against your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. You shivered, arching into him.

"Impatient, are we?" You teased, but your words were cut short by a gasp as he sucked on your pulse point.

"You have no idea," Mattheo murmured, his hands roaming your body with an urgency that matched his kisses. He slipped a feverishly warm hand up your shirt and began pulling the blouse apart with so much strength that you were worried the buttons would pop. "Do you know how hard it was to focus on Quidditch practice when all I could think about was you? I thought about falling off my broom just so you could come patch me up again."

“That’s pretty dark. You don’t have to go to such measures just for my attention,” You smirked, fumbling for his belt. You dragged a hand over the building tension of his pants, causing him to groan.

“Lose the attitude or I’ll lose it for you,” Mattheo warned, raking his fingers down your body. He stopped at your breast, tugging the perched bud to make you moan, then moved down to the thin fabric of your underwear. Your breath hitched as Mattheo's fingers danced along the edge of your underwear, teasing but not quite touching where you desperately wanted him. He slowly slid a finger between you and the fabric and grinned. “So wet for me already. Does being a brat turn you on?”

You could only moan in response and squirmed against the door, trying to create more friction, but he held you firmly in place with his other hand. His finger traced lazy circles, deliberately ignoring your clit that practically pulsed with desire.

"Answer me," Mattheo demanded, his voice low and husky.

"Yes, I do. But I’ll be good! I’ll be so good…" You whined, your hips bucking involuntarily. "Please, Mattheo."

"That's more like it. I love it when you beg," Mattheo chuckled darkly, finally slipping a finger inside you. Your head fell into his chest with a gasp as he began working his finger. With the little composure you had left, you unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it off of him with frenzied greed. You could see the fabric of his shirt bunch up as you frantically unbuttoned it, revealing the toned muscles beneath. Thank you, Quidditch. 

You started placing kisses on his neck, eager to move your mouth down to his chest. You could taste the bitterness of his cologne, but the warm taste of his skin took over your senses. As your lips moved down his neck, you could hear Mattheo's breathing growing heavier and more ragged. He hastily tangled his hands in your hair and pulled it back up to press it against the door. 

“Get on the bed,” Mattheo growled, tearing himself off of you. You obeyed and shed yourself of the rest of your clothes before lying back on his unmade bed. You propped yourself up on your elbows to watch Mattheo to work on your poor attempt at undoing his belt. Mattheo's own fingers fumbled with the buckle, his usual dexterity hindered by his burning desire. You couldn't help but smirk at his struggle, a small act of defiance even as you lay exposed before him. Finally, he managed to undo his belt and pants, letting them fall to the floor with a soft thud. He was a sign of divinity proven in a full view of his carved muscles and dark briefs. You licked your lips, practically drooling at the sight. 

Mattheo climbed on top of you for a quick kiss of desperation while his hand returned to your breast. He massaged the soft flesh, flexing his fingers deep into the mound. His lips quickly moved down to the rest of your body, stopping like his hand did on your breast earlier and taking your nipple in between his teeth. You let out a shrill cry and pressed your back up to meet his mouth. However, he kept moving his mouth down further until he reached your core. Mattheo's breath was hot against your sensitive skin, causing you to shiver with anticipation. He looked up at you, his eyes dark with lust, before dipping his head and running his tongue along your folds. You gasped, your hands instinctively grasping at the sheets beneath you. Your hand flew to his hair, but he laced his fingers with yours and held it against the bed. His skilled mouth worked you into a frenzy, alternating between long, languid strokes and quick flicks of his tongue. Your hips bucked against his face, seeking more friction, more pleasure. You chanted his name and squeezed his hand tighter as his tongue worked you. Mattheo's strong hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he continued. You could feel the pressure building, a coiling heat in your lower abdomen that threatened to consume you. Just as you were about to reach your peak, Mattheo pulled away, leaving you panting and desperate. 

“Mattheo, I was so close-” You whined pathetically. Mattheo shook his head with a sinister grin. 

“That’s for your attitude and your cheeky little smirk earlier,” Mattheo licked his lips of your arousal. He crawled back up your body, pressing his lips to yours in a searing kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, and it only intensified your desire. His hand trailed down your side, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He hooked his hands under your legs and pulled you closer to him while pressing your knees to your chest. You felt the blunt tip of his arousal pressing against your entrance, teasing you mercilessly. Mattheo's eyes locked with yours, silently asking for permission. You nodded eagerly, your body trembling with need.

With a slow, deliberate thrust, he entered you, stretching you deliciously. You both moaned in unison as he filled you completely. Mattheo stilled for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his size. It was different than the purely needy fever from last night, as if he trying to claim every inch of you. His forehead rested against yours, your breaths mingling in the charged air between you.

“Fuck. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to your size,” You whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut so that you would only be able to feel his every inch working you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him to move. Mattheo obliged, starting with slow, deep strokes that had you gasping for air. His hips rolled against yours in a steady rhythm and he intertwined your hands with his, pressing you down into the bed while he started to move faster. You struggled to open your eyes as he started to scratch the spot you needed, but you knew that he would’ve wanted you to look at him.

“And I don’t even need to ask,” Mattheo snapped his hips with a grunt. “Such a good girl.”

The intensity of his gaze was almost too much to bear as he watched your every reaction, savoring each gasp and moan that escaped your lips. Mattheo's pace quickened, his thrusts becoming more forceful as he drove deeper into you. You mewled with every movement of his hips and let his name roll off your lips in drunken lust. The previous coiling heat in your abdomen returned with a vengeance, threatening to overwhelm you. Your fingers dug into his shoulders as you clung to him, desperate for more. Mattheo seemed to sense your need, angling his hips to hit that perfect spot inside you with each thrust. The pressure built higher and higher, your body trembling on the edge of release.

“Please, Mattheo,” You begged helplessly, bringing your hips up to meet his. Every word that followed was a filthily desperate drawl. “I’ve been good! You said I was good… I’m your good girl.”

“What a dirty mouth, but you can do better than that,” Mattheo dug his fingers into your thighs with a matched need.

“Mmm- I’m so close. Please, can I cum? Please,” You pleaded with no shame. Mattheo let out another growl and moved his hand down to your clit. 

"That's it, let go for me," Mattheo panted, watching you come undone beneath him with dark, hungry eyes. The combination of his skilled fingers and relentless thrusts pushed you over the edge. Your back arched off the bed as waves of pleasure crashed over you, your walls clenching around him as you cried out his name. Mattheo groaned at the sensation, his hips stuttering as he chased his own release. Your vision blurred with the white hot stars of desire and Mattheo followed soon after. Your body trembled as aftershocks rolled through you, but Mattheo didn't slow his pace. He gripped your hips tightly, angling you just right as he pounded into you. The overstimulation bordered on too much, yet you craved more. 

The moment stalled when Mattheo’s hips did and your breath finally caught up to you. He collapsed on the bed next to you, practically on top of you because of the small space. Your chest heaved as you struggled to catch your breath, your body still tingling from the intense climax. Mattheo's warm weight pressed against you, his skin slick with sweat. You turned your head to look at him, taking in his flushed cheeks and tousled hair. His eyes met yours, softer this time. He pressed a kiss on your forehead and lightly massaged your still-trembling thighs. Your fingers lazily traced patterns on Mattheo's chest, feeling the strong beat of his heart beneath your palm. He hummed appreciatively at your touch, his own hand skimming up and down your spine.

"That was..." You trailed off, unable to find the right words.

"Incredible? Mind-blowing? The best you've ever had?" Mattheo patted down your wild hair. 

"Don't get cocky," You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips. Mattheo let out a laugh before rolling back over you and covering you in kisses while you squealed. With him hovering over you, you could only smile and drink in his beautiful face. The gentle curve of his jaw, the sparkle in his eyes, the slight dimple that appeared when he smiled at you - all of it belonged to you now. As his mouth met yours, you felt like the real champion.

Divider by @chachachannah

[huihuiheart]

Hair Ties - Stray Kids - Hyunjin Historical AU

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Stray Kids Masterlist

Pairing:  Lord/ Rebel! Hyunjin x Farmgirl! Reader

Summary: Harboring a rebel in your barn on a gut feeling turns into the best decision of you life when he becomes the most important person in it.

Warnings: Mentions of parent death, entitled men, rumors, fire, burns, cursing, almost forced marriage, war themes, rebellion themes, violence themes, unprotected sex, oral, light bondage, light dom/sub themes, Hyunjin slaps reader's thigh once, big dick Hyunjin. I think that's all.

Word Count: 8136

Rumors always flew around you, you’d been used to that ever since your parents had passed. No one to plan your future or care for your needs, at least according to society. You’d taken over the family farm though and one thing that was to your benefit was that all in town agreed your farm produced the best. Crops and livestock. Which is why their sons were always offered to be yours, so they said, but you knew you would be the one treated like property right along with your family’s land. Besides, there weren’t that many good options in town. That and townspeople rarely lasted more than a day on the farms. They considered themselves too good for you, too educated, even if the land and money appealed. They weren’t the only ones that came after you either. Ever since the rebellion started soldiers had been all over. They often came whether to search for hidden rebels or have a place to spend the night. Hence where most of the rumors blossomed, most thought they came to your farm not out of convenience, but for other ‘perks’ you offered. Not that there was any truth behind those rumors. You weren’t that type of person. You had no desire to sleep around, you wanted feelings mixed in. Not that the soldiers never attempted. Heck, some had even offered marriage, for your benefit of course. They said they’d be willing to sacrifice that much for your sake, and perhaps you should have taken someone up on the offer. After all, you weren’t getting any younger. What you didn’t know was that someone was about to come shake up your whole world and that it would be worth the wait. 

You were in one of your smaller fields when you heard a commotion in the barn. The larger animals were out grazing, so it should only be the smaller ones in there, something having startled them all. Squealing, sounding out, and sending you running to see what it was. Only when you got there did you see nothing. No snakes or foxes, nothing that should have spooked them. Nothing at all for that matter. You had quite the intuition at this point though and noticed how they avoided a certain area, so you grabbed a pitchfork and headed towards where they avoided. Lightly moving it through the hay, jumping when it got you a startled yelp in response. A just as startled man sitting up out of the hay. His hair wild, half up, a few pieces of hair sticking out. 

“Who are you?” You ask, pointing the pitchfork at him.

“Relax, I’m not here to cause any problems. I’m just trying to hide.” He answers calmly, putting his hands up in surrender.

“Wait… are you… a rebel?” You cautiously ask, but surely there was no way he could be a harsh, violent, aggressive rebel as they described. He looked so sweet, so angelic.

“Maybe.” He chuckles nervously, climbing out of the hay. Revealing a leg poorly bandaged beneath torn clothing, blood staining through both layers at this point.

Maybe it was his angelic face, maybe it was that you couldn’t turn away someone who needed help, but you sight, “Go to the upper level and hide there. Soldiers are all over here, but never upstairs, only down here.”

The man glances between you and the area you mentioned, nodding. He offers you a smile before crumbling up as quickly as his injured leg will allow for. You turn to calm the spooked animals. Only they don’t calm much when soldiers come barging in shortly after that. The captain among them is a familiar face. 

“Hi Y/N. Sorry to interrupt, but have you seen anyone unfamiliar around?” The captain speaks to you as he does a quick look around. 

“Your timing is truly perfect. A man just ran through here, terrified the animals, but then when I came he pushed past me and ran off. He was going to the north last I saw, but I also had to get the animals under control so I didn’t watch him for long.” You answer, making the mysterious man hold his breath initially concerned you would rat him out.

“Captain, should we conduct a search?” One of the men asked.

“No. Y/N knows what’ll happen if she betrays us.” The captain answers, hand reaching into a barrel of produce to snatch a persimmon to eat, winking at you, “Remember my offer always stands should you get lonely or need protection Y/N.”

“I know Captain Park.” You assure him, watching them leave with bated breath before trying to calm the animals again.

You jump along with them though when the man pops up over the railing, “Do they harass you a lot?”

You sigh and just over the door to the outside pen for the animals for now, “ I mean harass is a pretty strong word.”

“With how he just spoke to you and how he took your fruit without asking, I would say it’s a fitting word.” The man shrugs making his way back down after peeking out of the upstairs window, “ I should probably go now before you get into trouble.”

You sigh, cursing internally at your morals while he bows, “Come inside, your leg is in bad shape, let me clean that up for you before you go.”

You don’t give him time to argue, or for you to overthink things. Leading the way, putting tea on the stove while going to get your medical supplies. Clearing off your table to get him up there. The man moving his clothes away with no hesitation, while you instantly fluster, feeling your cheeks burn.

“Why so shy?” The man asks quietly from his spot. 

“I’m just not used to such actions.” You admit even quieter, feeling shame burning in you as he covers his leg back up.

“Would it help to do introductions first?” He offers, “Or you could let me do it, if you want, so you don’t have to look?” 

“No it'll be hard for you to do yourself, I can do it… I don't know if introductions will help or not though,” You admit, but he shows no signs of mocking or anything. 

“ Well, no harm in trying. I’m Hwang Hyunjin. I’m a rebel captain with the Southern division. “ he beams at you, but the familiar name and the fancy clothes give something away. 

“ Like from the Hwang family? You’re with the rebels?” you’re shocked, to say the least when he laughs and nods. 

“ I certainly am, they couldn't buy out my morals.” he proudly states, giving you a turn to laugh now. 

“ Well, that's admirable at least. You probably overheard it, but I’m Y/N.”

“ Nice to meet you! Thank you for helping me… are you ready to try again?” He asks and when you nod he moves the clothes again. You’re still feeling warm, but not as uncomfortable now. Carefully removing the ruined bandages next, wincing at the sight of the wound. While also trying not to focus on how firm his thigh is. Working efficiently to patch him up. Handing him some tea as well.

“ Is there any way I can thank you? Anything I can do for you before I go?” Hyunjin inquires as he gets up off the table. 

“ No, no, I should have everything just fine.” You insist, helping him to stand again. 

“ Well, I'll remember this and repay you for it one day Y/N.” Hyunjin insists almost as firmly as you before sneaking out and off. Sighing as you go out to try and make up for lost time in your potato field. Going back in after sundown to find a small bag of coins, the tie Hyunjin had in his hair, and a note.

‘ This is my favorite hair ribbon. I’ll be back for it, and when I am I'll thank you for all you did for me today.

Hwang Hyunjin’

You blinked at that somewhat stunned at the action, wondering if Hyunjin was possibly still sneaking around somewhere close by. Putting the note someplace hidden, along with the ribbon so that should soldiers pop up it wouldn't sell anyoneout, or put you at risk. The only real problem that it caused this way was that it led you to think about him. Why your mind kept wandering back you weren't certain. Perhaps it was just concern, after all, he was injured. Brushing it off as you that went about your evening tasks before turning in for the night.

It most certainly was not just concern if your dream that night was of any insight. You wondered how your brain could conjure up such salacious thoughts, and how it could come up with an entire picture of him nude when you had only seen a thigh.  You shook it off though when you realized that beautifully scandalous dream had caused you to oversleep. Rushing up to get straight to work despite the ever-haunting thoughts of Hyunjin running rampant in your mind. 

“ Excuse me.” You hear a voice calling from the edge of the field, an unfamiliar man there and you sigh before walking over to him. 

“ Yes sir, how can I help you?” You answer, taking note of his dress.

“ Hwang Hyunjin sent me. He asked me to get a list of all the produce you sell as well as any other items. We are looking for a supplier for the … estate.” the man says, pausing enough before the word estate you have a feeling it is not actually for that. Still, if that is how it would be known to the public then it would really benefit you. So long as no one knew or found out that the Hwang heir was involved in the rebellion. 

“ Oh, I don't have a list written down.” You tell him, thinking and hoping that he doesn't ask you to write one.  

“ It's okay, just tell me while you do what you need and I'll write it. I don’t want to interfere.” He assures you, smiling brightly as he takes out a paper and begins to write whatever you list with some additional notes, “ Thank you, this is great. We’ll get back with you in a few days.” 

The man left after that, refusing your offers for water or anything, insisting it would interfere too much with your hard work, something that had already happened the previous day with Hyunjin. Turning back to the crops and continuing to tend to them through the rest of the now quiet day.  

It wasn’t until the next week that you heard anything else. A knock on the door that evening, a smiling Hyunjin standing there with some papers in hand.

“I’m not interrupting am I?” He asks, taking note of the pleasant smell.

“No, I was making dinner and doing some work still. Come in and sit, it’s almost done.” You assure, opening the door wider.

Hyunjin really can’t resist such a tempting offer. Making some small talk when you insist he is still too injured to help and should stay seated. Soon presenting a meal and joining him at the table. It is unusual, but not unpleasant to have someone else here with you. Hyunjin seemed to be familiar with some of the rumors pertaining to you now but was determined to hear your story from your mouth. Something else that you were not used to, but you enjoyed it. Someone showing a genuine interest in you, not in whatever came along with. Perhaps that was because he already had so much though, he had no true need for your things. 

“I brought a contract of sorts here. It states what we would like to purchase from you on a continuous basis and for what price. Look it over and let me know what you think.” Hyunjin holds the papers out to you, brows furrowing when you don’t take them, “ What’s wrong?”

“I uhm…” You hesitate, embarrassed to admit the problem, but you also can’t make up an excuse, “ I can’t really read…”

If Hyunjin is shocked then he hides it well. Then again most women of your class didn’t know so it really shouldn’t be that shocking. Other than the words you had picked up from your experience in town though you had just never learned.

“Well I could read it to you, but really you shouldn’t trust what you can’t read for yourself. So how about we agree to each individual sale for the time being? I’ll come teach you to read if you want, and when you can read this then we can sort out a paper contract, sound good?” Hyunjin offers and while you’re embarrassed, the benefits of being able to read are coming to mind and easily outweighing that.

“Okay, I can do that.” You agree, setting up the first shipment with him, along with when he should first come to help you with reading. Only realizing he had left his hair ribbon still when he had already left. It was probably okay though, since he would be back soon.

You weren’t quite sure how to prepare for Hyunjin to help you read, so you just prepared tea for you both. Letting him in when he arrived and sitting at the table with him. Hyunjin spacing letters out on a paper to teach you that and sounding out. That was all for your first day so that you wouldn’t be overwhelmed. Hyunjin leaving you a few simple children’s books should you be brave enough to attempt that now. For some reason you kept thinking about it too, feeling the need to succeed for some reason, wanting to prove to Hyunjin that you could do it. Picking a book to practice repeatedly the next few days until Hyunjin would be back again. This time you were fully prepared too. Giving him his hair ribbon as soon as he entered, before leading him to the table showing him proudly what you could read from the one story. Him showing you another with similar words, only needing a little help with that one. Time passes like that. Hyunjin gives you a slightly more challenging one each time you succeed until you start to hit a wall. This one particular book challenged you as Hyunjin stood behind you, helping over your shoulder. Watching you continuously and frustratingly push your hair back out of the way. Hyunjin’s hands gently pulling your hair back and tying his favorite ribbon into it, so that it would stay out of your face. Continuing to attempt the book for a bit.

“Okay, I think that’s enough. Keeping on at this point won’t help. Go give your mind a break, there’s always time to try again later.” Hyunjin assures you, stopping when you reach to take your hair down and return his ribbon, “ Leave it, it looks pretty.”

It has to be obvious how that flusters you, but Hyunjin does not comment on it.  He simply wishes you a good night and heads on his way. The next day the town is buzzing with rumors as usual, only this time they’re not about you. No, rumors were spreading of noble involvement in the rebellion. Sure no one had any proof at all, and even less on who from that class it could be, but they were out. Spreading like wildfire as everyone speculated who it could be. You get done what you need to in town as quickly as possible to go back home. 

When going out to the field though you take Hyunjin’s hair ribbon to tie up your hair. Setting off to work for a while until you hear a tense and familiar voice behind you.

“Where did that ribbon come from Y/N? It’s obviously a man’s.” The captain speaks from behind you, making you whip around.

“Oh… it was a gift.” You say, reaching over your shoulder toy with the end of it.

“I make so many offers to you and you do this to me?” The captain scoffs and you feel your anxiety rise as his frustration shows. Only you don’t get a chance to respond when Hyunjin miraculously joins at that time, somewhat picking up on the situation.

“Hello flower, what’s going on?” He asks, coming around to stand at your side, hand hovering over the small of your back.

“Lord Hwang? What… What is this?” The captain inquires backing off some now.

“We’re courting captain, I hope for your discretion in this. We’re keeping it quiet until we’ve determined the true depth of our feelings.” Hyunjin speaks smoothly and if the captain is still upset he doesn’t show it.

“Ah, congratulations, I hope things go well. I’ll be on my way.” The captain forces out along with a smile.

Hyunjin waited for him to be gone before removing his hand, “I was coming to say I might not be around as much, but if he’s going to come harass you when you’re alone then forget it.” 

“What do you mean Hyunjin?” You ask, confused by his statement.

“People are catching on to where we’re located so we have to be more careful.” He explains and you hum in understanding.

“Then do what you need to so you can stay safe. It’s fine,” You reply, but there is an upsetting feeling deep in your gut that you don’t understand.

“And give him an opportunity? Absolutely the fuck not.” Hyunjin says adamantly, the force with which he does stunning you, “ Don’t tell me it’s not that bad or that you can handle it. I know him, he doesn’t take no for an answer and won’t listen to you. So just let me help, please?”

You sigh but nod in agreement, really not giving any more argument on this. Hyunjin smiling and insisting you go inside and hydrate before you get overheated. The concern flusters you again as you smile feeling giddy at it. He doesn’t stay long though, soon having to return to the rebel camp, but promising to return that evening.

Only things don’t quite go smoothly for that. Seeing a weird shimmer out your window only to move closer and see everything on fire. Your fields, the barn, and trees. You rush over to open the doors for the animals, them rushing out with you behind, coughing at all the smoke, trying to wave it away from your face. You have no time to waste though, rushing to the well to get something … anything to put an end to all the flames. It’s too far gone at this point though. There’s no stopping it at this point you realize as you look around in a panic. Catching a glimpse of the captain from a safe distance, smiling dangerously at you before riding off. It’s closing in on your house now and you rush in, grabbing what you can quickly; seeds, family, memorabilia, your money, and a few other things before letting out a scream as a rafter falls not far from you burning. Your sign that you have to leave now. Running out, shielding your face with your free arm as you go, hearing a voice but not being able to determine anything about it over the roaring fire. Stepping out you realize you’re trapped by a burning line. Realizing now whose voice it was as you saw Hyunjin and a few other men with him on the other side of the fire. They used the few water jugs they brought to clear a narrow path for you. Hyunjin rushed in, grabbing your wrist to quickly drag you out and away from the flames. Panicking some when you start to cry watching the flames swallow up all that was left. He hugs you close to his chest, petting your head as you full-on sob in his arms. The men staying with you until the last of the flames dissipates into the darkness of night, your life left in embers on the land now. One of the men nodded at Hyunjin.

“Come on, we can’t stay here all night.” He speaks softly as if his words will be the final thing that breaks you. The other men ahead of you and Hyunjin as he guides you are your pace. Until you’re at their camp, Hyunjin breaks you both off to go to his spot, something more permanent than a tent, but not by much.

Hyunjin sits you down, disappearing for a moment before returning with a basin of water. You wince when he touches your arm, now registering the bad burn you have across it. Hyunjin’s touch is delicate as he fully exposes it, using a cloth to gently dab it with water. He then takes a cream and generously coats the burn. Then wrapping it all up carefully before looking over you for any other burns or injuries. When he’s taken care of anything he finds he dips a fresh cloth into the water. He then uses that to wipe off your face and hair first, cleaning them of ash and soot, then moving on to the rest of you before getting you fresh clothes from one of the women in the camp. Leaving you for a short while so that you can change and settle. When he returns the sight makes his heart clench. There you are, broken and injured, barely having had time to get what was precious to you. Yet, here you are with his book and hair ribbon in hand, offering them to him. He knew you had the ribbon since it had been in your hair, but the book was a shock to him. In your panic, you had remembered him and what he valued, including the memories he had tied with this book. The surge of emotions Hyunjin feels overwhelms him and he lunges forward to hold your face in his palms while giving you a deep kiss. Something you didn’t think that you would enjoy so much, but now that you’re doing it you don’t want it to ever stop. Sure it didn’t take the pain away, but it felt like heaven, like the sanctuary you needed right in this moment. A safe, caring, loving space. Something you had been lacking ever since your parents had passed, but not anymore.

“I’m sorry, I just couldn’t help myself.” Hyunjin apologizes when he pulls away, panting slightly as he tries to catch his breath.

“Don’t apologize for something we both wanted.” You counter, eyes fluttering shut, basking in the feeling of Hyunjin’s hand coming up to cup your cheek again.

“You want it too?” Hyunjin is uncertain as he asks, as if not truly believing it.

“I think it is pretty undeniable, even if I haven’t been admitting it to myself.” You answer, eyes still closed and missing the smile it brings to his face.

“It’s okay to have these feelings, you don’t have to do things merely out of duty,” Hyunjin assures and now you’re moving in to kiss him. Hyunjin easing into it and allowing you both a moment to express your feelings in this way. Then he’s giving you both some space again.

“We should stop before we take it too far.” He says, nearly giving in to the quiet whine you let out in response.

“I’m okay with going farther.” You assure him and Hyunjin isn’t sure where he’s getting the willpower not to give in now.

“Darling, I'm not going to make their rumors a reality and taint you in others’ eyes. I have too much respect for you to do that.” Hyunjin insists and it only makes you want him more, but you appreciate his desire to do this for you.

“You’re the only one who has shown me this consideration.” You speak so broken and it makes Hyunjin frown.

“Don’t get lost in your head darling, stay with me.” Hyunjin softly calls to you, as if to ground you, “Come, let’s sleep. You’ve had a very long day.” 

You allow Hyunjin to guide you to lie down now, careful of your burnt arm. Everything catches up to you in the form of exhaustion and snatches you away to sleep. Once your body has slept enough, however, pain radiating from your arm is waking you once more. /getting up when you notice that you’re alone now. Peeking outside you don’t see Hyunjin, but the man that spoke to you in the field, offering you a smile when you lock eyes. His smile puts you at ease and gets you to venture out into the quiet camp. 

“Good morning, how are you doing?” He asks, noting the bandages on your arm.

“Actually… I’m in a lot of pain.” You admit, making his brows scrunch.

“Give me a minute I might be able to help with that.” He tells you, scurrying off and leaving you alone for a moment. Then he’s putting a teapot beside the pot he has over the open flame. Grinding herbs and mixing a few other things in a bowl before adding them to a teapot. He steeps it, pouring you a cup. 

“Here drink this and it should ease the pain soon.” He says carefully handing you the cup, “When Hyunjin is back I’ll tell him to add more ointment to your burns to help too.”

You fluster but not, taking the tea to sip on,  “Thank you. Where is he by the way?”

“He’s on watch, he should be back soon.” He explains and you nod though his focus is already back on the food, “Also, I feel it’s kind of unfair that we all know your name, but you don’t know ours. So, I'm Felix.”

“Nice to more officially meet you, Felix.” You smile, sitting near him, feeling comfortable with him around even as unfamiliar faces begin to join. Hyunjin eventually made his way there as well.

“I see you found the breakfast spot.” He smiles as he takes a seat beside you.

“Yeah. Felix and I talked a little, he made me some tea too.” You tell him, holding up the cup to show him.

“He told me. I’ll help with your bandages after we eat, but you need food to get your energy back.” Hyunjin says and you nod knowing he’s right.

“Afterwards, I want to go see if anything is salvageable and get back to work.” You tell him and his expression shows his concern towards doing that.

“You need time to recover.” He insists despite hearing the adamance in your voice. 

“Yes, but I’m not going to give him that satisfaction.” You respond as Felix walks over with two bowls of food for you, picking up on that part of the conversation.

“Good for you!” The sunshine boy praises before going back to getting people fed.

Hyunjin chuckles, shaking his head, “That’s fair, just don’t push it too much, and someone should be around to keep you safe just in case.” 

“That’s fine, I won’t push too much until I’ve had time to recover.” You agree, eating quickly before going to get ready and look for anything salvageable. Hyunjin and Felix tagging along as you go. For protection, but also to help if at all possible.

The boys head to the barn, looking for any metal or glass pieces that survived. They collect them up in one empty space outside of where the barn had been. While you look through the house for anything that survived having determined that while the cellar doors had burned away everything inside was safe. Keeping your expectations low so that when only some things survived you would hopefully be emotionally prepared.

“We can help you to rebuild,” Hyunjin assures you, and you nod.

“I know, but it won’t be the same. I mean…. My parents built that house…. That barn… it’s where they raise me, but now… now I don’t even have that.” Your admission crashes over them, showing the full impact this had on you.

“Y/N…” Hyunjin starts softly, pulling you into him again, “He’ll get what he deserves. I swear it. Even if he’s smiling now. He can’t just do this and move on with his life as if he’s innocent.”

“Hyunjin don’t go and do something stupid for my sake.” You say, busy focusing on what all needs to get done. Hyunjin gently grabs your wrist and turns you towards him. Palm gently cupping your cheek as he does.

“It is nowhere near the stupidest thing that I would do for you.” Hyunjin counters, before continuing as he sees the concern in your eyes as a result, “Besides he needs to be stopped to make a change anyways. I’m simply more motivated now.”

You chuckle, rolling your eyes a little, “Still… you can’t get hurt for this. Okay?”

“Whatever my lady says.” Hyunjin agrees, leaning forward to lay a delicate kiss on your forehead, “Now let's see what we can get done, hm?”

You all work as late as the sun will allow you to. Making decent progress, but still nowhere near what you would need to be able to return home… or to get the crops started for the next season. Knowing that you’ll have to rely on the little you had to sell and the kindness of others to make it through. 

“Come on Y/N, let's go back to camp.” Hyunjin urges once the sun is mostly set. Encouraging you both to go while there’s still some light.

“I’ll make us something tasty!” Felix adds trying as he usually does to bolster everyone’s spirits. 

It works for now though since everyone is famished after all of today’s work. You and Felix get into a friendly argument over whether you can help him with the cooking tonight or not. Felix eventually wins on the stipulation that you teach him some of your family’s recipes on another occasion. The sunshine boy has proven particularly stubborn on this. Still, when you began to smell his cooking all complaints were gone. Everyone ate their fill before separating for the night. You make your way to the nearby river to bathe. Hyunjin comes when you simply have a towel and flusters.

“I was just coming to check on you… make sure nothing happened,” Hyunjin says, looking anywhere but at you as he continues to fluster.

“You wouldn’t have to try and protect my honor like this if you just married me.” You tease him though to an extent you mean it.

“It’s a little early for that isn’t it?” Hyunjin asks, not pushing the thought away, just shy as he chuckles nervously.

“Hyunjin, you're teaching me to read… you’re helping me rebuild my home… hell you pulled me from a fire. I don’t think it's too early no.” You counter, smiling at him when he shyly glances at you.

“Fair enough, but I really can’t marry you right now Y/N. If I got revealed in any way with the rebellion and we’re married they’ll have your head.” Hyunjin shakes his head.

“What if I’m okay with taking that risk?” You counter and Hyunjin has to stop himself from caving that instant.

“Y/N… love… I would deny myself any of my desires to keep you out of harm's way… something I unfortunately haven’t yet managed to do… just please don’t make this any harder for me.” Hyunjin practically begs knowing that he is a weak man. When you nod he kisses your forehead before taking off so that you can get dressed. Something that you do quickly before returning to his tent only to find that he’s out on a watch. 

The days continue on like that. Some are going with you each day to assist with rebuilding. While Hyunjin seems to avoid time alone with you knowing how strong of a temptation it would be. You were becoming harder and harder for him to resist. Especially when he saw how you would step up and care for various ones in the camp. Things were becoming more and more tense every day as they all felt this rebellion coming to a head. Knowing something had to be up when Chan came over to talk to you alone.

“Y/N… is your home close to livable again?” He asks and your heart stops.

“I’ve stayed too long, haven’t I? I’m sorry.” You apologize before actually knowing what’s going on. 

“No, that’s not it. We’re just going to start moving all non-troops out of camp soon. Things are getting too risky.” Han assures you as he explains further.

“Oh.. yeah I should be just fine going back home.” You assure Chan, though your heart aches some to leave them, knowing that it was going to happen at some point. You’d grown so accustomed to being with everyone all the time that the thought of being alone again hurts. Chan reaches out to ruffle your hair a little.

“It's okay we won’t let anything happen and will be back before you know it.” Chan does his best to reassure you. Chan was always encouraging and speaking reassuringly, optimistically, even if he didn’t necessarily believe it himself.

“You better be.” You try to sound threatening as the man chuckles and hugs you. Something else you would surely be missing soon.

Going to find Hyunjin now, only he gets to you first, “Hey, I heard from Chan. He said he talked to you. I can help with your things.”

You let him know that it would give you both time alone, “Will you really not marry me before this is all over?” 

Hyunjin gives you a soft look, “Couldn’t even let me wait until we finished moving you back…. No, I won’t, but…”

He gets down on one knee, holding out boxes of expensive gifts that he would have traditionally given to your family to you, “That doesn’t mean I won’t propose to you. So….Y/N will you marry me?”

You’re both laughing a little because you already know the answer. Still, you give him your affirmative and accept the box. Hyunjin gets up to kiss you sweetly, keeping it brief so that neither of you gets carried away. 

“You know what this means though right… you have to come back to me in one piece now.” You tell him adamantly, only making him laugh a little more.

“Nothing could keep me away at this point.”  His assurance of that is what you lived on. Days… weeks… passed. Things are far too normal for you as you work to rebuild your life. Hearing reports whenever in the town of the large battles the rebellion was waging against troops and the government. The cities involved getting a breath of fresh air whenever the rebellion forces their tyranny out. The tides were turning in favor of the rebellion, as was public opinion. Unfortunately, that only further angered the government, them getting desperate and just trying to do as much damage as possible. 

Your world comes crashing down when a harsh banging hits your door. Opening it to find no one there. Simply a note with the general’s seal on it. Revealing how he had discovered Hyunjin’s ties to the rebellion and that if you didn’t want him killed you would instead marry the general. Something that you hoped was all an empty threat. Only to realize when a tear-stained Felix and distressed Changbin came to your door that Hyunjin had been captured. Leaving you with no choice, but to follow the directions on the note. Showing up to see the wicked grin on the general’s face. 

“I am glad to see that you aren’t entirely without reason Y/N.” He tells you only to frown when you pull away from his reach for you.

“Prove to me that you have him and that he’s okay first. Considering you’ve been rather untrustworthy lately.” You insist, glaring at him. He simply rolls his eyes and snaps his fingers and soon enough soldiers are dragging in a battered and bruised Hyunjin. The sight breaks your heart.  They’re all watching you closely, but you have to move closer… You have to be sure there’s no lasting harm done to him. When you ensure that you look him in the eyes with your own teary ones. He goes to speak… to comfort you and simply coughs harshly. 

“Hush… it's okay.” You assure him or attempt to anyway. Carefully slipping his hair tie from your frazzled, windswept hair into his pocket, “Everything is going to be okay.” 

You stand and face the general again, ‘Okay, I’m here. Now let him go.”

“You haven’t married me yet, so I don’t think so.” The general counter and you roll your eyes.

“Lock me in a room or whatever, but you can at least give me a proper wedding. Or can you not give me that even?” You goad and he curses at the way you come for his pride.

“Very well…” He turns to his soldiers, “Bound her hands and then let Hyunjin go.”

Hyunjin hesitates until the general places a dagger to your throat and hisses at him to leave. The soldiers lead you to a locked room once he is long gone. Leaving you alone in your thoughts. Only truly able to accept that this is what your life would become knowing that it had saved Hyunjin’s life. The wedding is scheduled for two weeks out and you are locked in one single room for the entirety of it. He truly was trying to go all out with this when an entire lineup of servants came in to get you ready to be wed. Never having felt more lonely than now as you’re surrounded by people who truly do not care about you. Reluctantly walking down the aisle towards the general. Only you never make it as chaos breaks out when you’re about halfway to him. Your eyes widen at the familiar group of men that burst through the doors, taking down any soldiers who stand in their way. Hyunjin soon grabs your wrist and runs out with you calling to the others who follow behind. Your extravagant hanbok flows behind you as you hold tightly to Hyunjin as he leads the way far far from the general. Only stopping when he gets you home, which is now guarded by soldiers of the Hwang estate. 

He smiles at you as he helps you down off the horse, “Sorry that I ruined your beautiful wedding.”

You know he’s joking, but can’t help rolling your eyes, “Ruined it? You saved me from a life of that hell.”

“Well, I couldn’t let you marry him just for my sake. Not when I want you all to myself.” Hyunjin says, tying his ribbon back into your hair.

“Are you still going to make me wait to be yours?” You ask, pouting and he delicately tucks your flyaways behind your ears.

“Just a little while longer love. Then I’ll be all yours. Besides… what kind of husband would I be if I had to run off right away anyways.” Hyunjin gives you a point that you can’t really argue with.

“Fine, but that better means that when you’re back you’re here with me. No more of this going and getting kidnapped stuff.” You insist, “I’ll just have to come get you again.”

“Don’t worry… the next time you walk down the aisle it’ll be to me,” Hyunjin assures you, leaning in for one last sweet kiss before he leaves you again. Something that makes your heart ache even more now since you’re concerned about his well-being after the general’s actions as of late. 

You do your best to keep your days occupied, something that wasn’t particularly hard as you were still recovering from the damage done to your land even nearly 4 months later. Still, nearly constantly your thoughts wandered to Hyunjin who constantly cared for you even from so far away. Having provided protection, finances, books, whatever might possibly be necessary in a time like this arrived at your doorstep, but never alongside him. Something that was about to have you go absolutely insane to the point of leaving to go find the man yourself. Until news hit that the war was over. The rebels had won and things were set for change, even if it would take time. Your breath nearly sucked from your lungs at the news, along with a declaration that the general alongside any other prominent men would be executed for the crimes they committed against the people. You didn’t care all too much about that though as your feet moved before you could think, racing out of the town back to your home hoping Hyunjin would already be waiting for you there. The man barely got to smile at you before you had all but launched yourself into his arms. 

“You’re back.” You nearly sob out though still trying to determine if this was simply another cruel dream or not. Hyunjin’s hands come up to cup your cheeks gently, making you look into his eyes.

“I’m back.” He assures you before his lips are on yours, “I’m never leaving again either.” 

“You better not or this time I’m coming after you myself.” You muse earning a laugh you’ve been longing to hear again. “Now when are you going to make me your wife, I’ve waited far, far too long.”

“I know love, just give me enough time to arrange things, hm? I want to make sure you get the wedding you deserve even if we’re both impatient now.” Hyunjin’s words make you huff softly, but you learned early on that the man had a romantic side and so you feel yourself allowing him to have whatever he desires in that regard without much fight, this is just one such case.

“You better hurry it along though.” You pout and he chuckles with a nod. He makes no move to care for such things now, however, staying by your side well past sundown. Never making any moves though you would have allowed him to. 

Hyunjin didn’t keep you waiting long, quick to arrange things for your wedding. Chan smiles at you as he offers you his arm, having agreed to walk you down. Feeling very differently as you see Hyunjin waiting for you teary-eyed that the last time you were in this position. Getting rather choked up as well, your Hyunjin was safe and waiting right ahead of you about to be your husband. His hand reaches out for you to take and close the gap between you. His eyes are only on you the whole time as this finally happens. The two of you celebrate with those close to you in the same woods where everyone had been hiding out all those months ago. Felix makes sure that you are both well-fed before getting wrapped up in the festivities. It was perfect and yet it was not where your focus was as you watched the joy on the face of the man you danced with. Waiting for the song to end before leaning in. 

“Let's get out of here.” You whisper barely audible over the music, but he picks it up. Nodding at you with a giggle before grabbing your hand to run off everyone cheering behind you. The two of you rush along the familiar path from the woods to your home. Your hands on one another, giggling as you reach the house. “We could have gone to your place. It's much nicer there and all.”

“It’s not home though.” Hyunjin counters as he leads you through the house, placing soft kisses on your face and neck, “I’d rather do this at home than any place full of the nicest things.” 

Your heart swells, eyes glittering up at him until he carefully turns you around to undo your dress’ intricate arrangement of ties and buttons. Helping you to step out of it after he slides it down your form.

“You’re the most beautiful thing that I’ve ever seen.” Hyunjin already sounds breathless as he takes you in. This time it’s you who is closing the gap and pressing your lips together.

“I could say the same about you.” You mumble against his lips as you work to get his clothes off as well. He allows you that before he’s gently pushing you back. 

“Get on the bed for me love, there’s things I don’t think I can wait any longer to do.” He says watching you move to lay back as he desires while he ties his hair up out of the way before joining you on the bed. His eyes darkening at how wet your panties are, licking his lips as he peels the fabric off you. Settling himself between your legs, hands keeping your thighs firmly apart for him. Hyunjin takes in the sight of you for a little longer before he places a soft kiss on your clit. It is immediately not enough for either of you though. 

“Be good for me my lovely wife.” He says before his mouth is opening wide and everywhere all at once as if trying to devour you whole. His tongue is everywhere as his hooded eyes watch intently for all the expressions you make for him. Only he growls when your hands come down to try and move his face closer, not appreciating how you try to interrupt his pace. He pulls away fixing you with a glare as he licks your arousal from his lips. Reaching up he takes his tie from your hair where it still always is, pinning your wrists above your head before securing them with the tie. 

“You will be good for me.” He says more forcefully, an edge to his voice now before he returns to what he had been doing moments before. You are no longer able to act in a way that would impede him. Not that he was trying to deny you or anything, he simply wanted to drag things out a little, allow it to last longer after such a wait. Staying between your thighs well after you’ve cum under the guise of cleaning you up when really it’s that he cannot get enough. Then he’s up to kiss you deeply not that unlike how he was just acting with your cunt as he allows you to taste yourself everywhere on him. It’s taken that dark edge down a little bit, but he still doesn’t release your hands yet. When he removes his underwear you’re glad for how long he drug out oral seeing exactly what your new husband had been blessed with.

“Just breathe love, I would never hurt you… except in ways you would enjoy.” He winks, playfully slapping your inner thigh and smirking at your moan. Pushing your thighs a little higher as he gives himself room to coat his cock in your sticky essence before slowly working in inch by inch as your body is able to take it. Only once he’s in and adjusted you to the feeling with slow, shallow thrusts does he release your hands. Landing against you with a huff as you instantly pull his form against yours needing the feeling of his skin all over yours. Hyunjin moans hotly into your ear as your nails dig into his back.

“I’m not going anywhere ever again love, I’ll always be right here from now on,” Hyunjin assures, kissing the side of your head as he starts to move faster, worked up as you moan into his ear. “There you go love, give it all to me. You’re mine now.”

“Been yours.” You reply back immediately and it has Hyunjin gone, quick to reach down and rub your clit knowing there’s no way he could last now. Both of you go over the edge as you cling tightly to one another.

“I’ve been yours too,” Hyunjin replies breathlessly between pants as you undo his hair to card your fingers through it. Only he was far from done with you for the night.

You wake against Hyunjin’s chest, his fingers petting over your hair as he watches the sunlight filter through the window before smiling down at you. Even exhausted you know that look anywhere.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask softly, shifting to look at his face better.

“The future.” He admits though what exactly about it he leaves out leading you to sigh.

“Leave the future to the future, we’ll figure it out together when the time comes. Just worry about the right now.” You insist, sitting up and moving to straddle him, “And right now your wife has needs.”

Hyunjin chuckles looking at you with heart eyes, “Yes ma’am.”

[justwinginglife]

Just What The Doctor Ordered (A Soshiro Hoshina One Shot)

Y'all know the drill- it's NSFW time.

It's late afternoon and you're typing away at your computer, inputting your latest medical report. You document everything about your last patient, what findings you saw, how you treated the condition, your follow-up instructions for future treatment, the usual.

You're a doctor on base at the Third Division and though usually you see patients either one at a time for their annual check-up's or all at once after a massive battle, at this point in time you have an unusually large gap in your schedule and you plan to make the most of it. You enjoy the peace and quiet because you know that working here, anything could happen at any time and you could be called in the middle of the night if a Kaiju so happened to strike.

You finish your report and lean back in your chair, taking a bite out of an apple you'd rested on top of your desk. You never know when you'll be needed so you make sure to snack when you can to keep your energy up. You stare at the fruit in your hand and laugh to yourself, "Guess an apple a day doesn't scare the doctor away after all." You shrug and start organizing your medical supply cart when suddenly you hear the clinic door open.

You look up to see your favorite patient smirking at you, leaning against the door frame as he clutches his wounded arm. "Soshiro." You say, shaking your head at him, "Didn't I tell you to stop getting hurt?"

He chuckles and pulls himself off of the door frame, sauntering towards you, blood dripping down his skin. "You know I'd do anything to see my favorite doctor."

You knew that was true as you had slowly started noticing he'd become a frequent flyer at the medical clinic, some injuries large, some injuries small. He'd even come in for a papercut once, the cheeky bastard. And he'd always wait for you. There were other doctors and nurses available but even if he was on the verge of death he wouldn't let anyone touch him but you.

You pick up some bandages and something to disinfect his arm. You grab his arm forcefully, leaning in to examine it, to which he grins. "Love it when you man handle me."

You roll your eyes and start cleaning the wound, though the corner of your lips twitch into the beginnings of a smile. He watches as you carefully bandage the cut up. "There- good as new." You say to him, expecting him to flash you that smirk again, maybe press a kiss to your hand, and say "Until next time, doc" as he saunters off down the hallway. But he doesn't do that this time. His eyes remain on you, lips curling into a sly smile.

You raise an eyebrow at him. "Yes, Soshiro? What is it?"

He licks his lips, and leans back on the medical table, propping himself up by his hands resting behind him. His legs spread slightly, revealing a growing bulge in his pants. "Oh you know. I thought we could squeeze in some time for my physical."

You smirk. "Oh really now? And I suppose you'll want me to be extra thorough?"

He winks at you. "Oh baby, I want you to examine every inch of me."

You laugh, amused by his bold attitude today, but the laugh trails off as you realize he's slipped his raging boner out of his pants and wrapped his muscled hand around it.

"And I know exactly which inches you can start with." He whispers, leaning in towards you, his eyes daring yours not to look away as he strokes himself.

Something changes in you. You exhale loudly, the breath a little shaky, as you bite down on your lower lip hard. "Fuck." The sight of him edging himself on, rubbing that thumb of his across his own wet tip, causes a warm sensation to pool in your underwear. You desperately want to know what he tastes like.

He gives you a cocky grin as you get on your knees in front of him but you can tell his heart must be racing as fast as yours because he starts to flush a little at the sight of you positioned like this. In an instant, you close the distance and take his throbbing cock in your mouth. He groans and grips the edge of the medical table tight with one hand, pushing your head in deeper with the other hand. You choke a little and he thinks he might just cum now at the sight of your flushed face, saliva dripping from your mouth as you struggle to take all of his length in. He releases his hand from the back of your head and uses a finger to collect the saliva from your chin, bringing it up to his mouth to taste. He moans into his finger as you suck harder.

You love the taste of him, the way his precum slicks against your tongue, the way his dick gets acquainted with the back of your throat. Still gagging on him hard, you slide your knees apart slightly and slide a hand down in between your legs, slipping your soaked underwear down just slightly so you can finger your dripping pussy. His eyes widen at the sight and he grips the medical table harder, panting "Fucking hell."

For a moment, he just watches as you slide him in and out of your mouth while you touch yourself, his dick hardening itself further against the walls of your throat. Then he can't take it anymore. He balls up your hair in a fist and pulls you off his dripping cock. "That's enough now." He growls. He yanks you to your feet and your panties slip the rest of the way down your legs, crumpling on the floor. Then he gets on his knees and presses hungry kisses to your stomach and your hips before taking the rim of your skirt in his teeth and dragging it down your legs. He licks his lips as he eyes your cunt, bursting at the seams for him. He shoves two fingers deep into his mouth, thoroughly coating them, before he quickly shoves them into you. You yelp as you feel him enter you, his movements desperate and hungry. He savors the feeling of you clenching around him, slicking his fingers with your lust for him, as he pumps them in and out of you, curling his fingers slightly to hit just the right spot. He licks and sucks at your clit as he continues to finger you at a hard but steady pace.

"S-Soshiro." You moan. He pulls his head away from your clit, wanting to see what you look like moaning his name. He groans, not quite expecting the fire it lit in him. You're grasping your breast in one hand, thumb circling your nipple, and your head is thrown back in pleasure. He yanks his fingers out of you quickly, licking them clean as he stands up to face you. He wants that fucking neck of yours, it's like it was made for him the way it's arching like that. He wraps his hand around your throat and pulls you to him, gripping your hip hard with his other hand.

"God, when you fucking say my name." He snarls. Without another word, he's sucking and biting at your neck. The movements wet and messy as though he couldn't care less how he takes you in as long as he gets to devour you. He grinds up against your hips, his cock banging in between your legs as he marks up the length of your neck. He decides he wants to claim your mouth now so after a couple of nips at your jaw he dives into you with his tongue. The kisses are passionate and hungry. His tongue is needy, as though it's been set ablaze and the only thing that can save him is your tongue. He bites down on your lower lip, pulling it back a little with his teeth before releasing. "So fucking perfect." He murmurs as he begins to rub his thumb over the spot where he bit down on your bottom lip.

Then he decides he's had a better idea. He suddenly turns you around and bends you over the medical table. He admires the curve of your ass for a moment, giving it a squeeze, before he plunges his impatient cock into your pussy. You breathing gets heavy and the harsh sounds escaping your pretty lips drives him wild, causing him to thrust into you faster and harder. He digs his fingers into your hip and wraps his other hand around your marked up throat. It's just enough pressure to know he's there, but the sensation sends another moan tumbling out of your lips as more of your pussy dribbles onto his cock.

He smirks as he feels how wet you are. "Such a good fucking girl for me." He growls as he continues pumping into you vigorously.

You whimper and grab at your breast again, riding out the feeling. Then you feel it, a warmth that's started to burn in your core. "Ah fuck Soshiro!" You swear, the words coming out louder than you expected. You clap a hand over your mouth and he smirks again. He yanks the hand from your mouth and pins it roughly behind your back.

"None of that now, darling. I want to hear every filthy little thing that comes out of that pretty mouth of yours."

You groan hearing that and it earns you another sharp thrust. "Soshiro you better not fucking stop, I'm so fucking close goddamnit."

He chuckles darkly. "I wouldn't dream of it. Now be a good girl and soak my cock with your cum, yeah baby?"

You nod emphatically, "Yes baby, fuck yes baby." Your moans get louder as you start to convulse, your walls shuddering around his erection as your orgasm floods out of you. The feeling of the warm liquid dripping down his aching cock as he fucks you harder is enough to send him over the edge as well. With a couple more thrusts, he's soaked you in his cum. He collapses on top of your back, pressing a kiss to your shoulder as he groans, riding out the wave of ecstasy.

You pull away from each other finally, leaning on opposite ends of the medical table trying to catch your breath.

Then he smirks at you as he pulls his clothes back on. "Same time tomorrow, doc?"

You roll your eyes and move to grab a towel to clean yourself up.

He's hit with a sudden wave of possessiveness as he realizes you're trying to wipe away the mess he's made in and on you. He knows you need to get cleaned up but somehow he was hoping to see you drenched in him a little longer. He snatches your wrist suddenly, causing you to drop the towel.

"No one's cleaning you up but me." He pushes you down so that your back hits the medical table. Then he starts to lick his cum off of your inner thighs first. His eyes flit upwards to your soaked mound and an involuntary growl rumbles up his throat.

"Yeah forget about tomorrow. We're going for round two now."

[unholyhelbig]

Part three of loan shark natty

Title: The Oversight [Part 3/7]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Wordcount: 3465

Warnings: Mentions of kidnapping, guns, blood, death, sort of dark nat if you squint, horrible grammar

[A/n: If you guys haven't picked up on it yet, this will be slow-burn. Also, thank you so much for the positive response to this story, it means so much!]

[ Part one | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven ]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

It had been two weeks since the incident that you had deemed ‘the business proposal’, though, if you were being honest, you knew exactly what it was. The bruising against the side of your face, fading from a deep dark purple to an ugly muddy brown reminded you of the encounter. The faster you healed, the more your nerves started to prickle dangerously.

Each time the brass bell above the diner’s door would ring, your eyes would flick to the entrance. With bated breath, you’d study the tired businessman, the English major running on nothing but burnt coffee, or the single mother just looking for some reprieve. Much like yourself.

Clint Barton was the last person you expected and wanted to see. He was certainly the last person you wanted to see, despite the sheepish smile on his face. There was shame etched into his features and a strange softness to his eyes that starkly contrasted the man who had nearly broken your jaw.

His hair was sprinkled with droplets of water, a sweatshirt dotted from the persistent drizzle that seemed to plague the city. He dutifully wiped his feet on the mat and made his way over to you. Instead of his usual booth, Clint sat on the last stool and scratched the stubble on his chin.

He glanced at the menu as if he were going to order something different than his usual. Maybe he wouldn’t order anything at all. But, you had a feeling you weren’t going to escape the conversation at the tip of his tongue, nor the obscenities at the tip of yours.

You poured him a cup of coffee and set it in front of him without being asked. Clint could swallow down a whole pot of extra caffeinated without a second thought. For now, you urged him to pace himself silently.

“You got a couple of minutes?” He asked behind the rim of his cup.

The diner was mostly empty. It was the middle of the workday and had been a slow four hours thus far. There was only so many times you could wiped down the same table and replace the salt in the shakers.

The cook made eye contact with you as he poured alcohol from his flask into off-brand orange soda. You got a short shrug in response. Otherwise, the place was empty. Clint had timed his arrival perfectly.

“Sure. You’re not going to beat the shit out of me again, are you? Those cameras aren’t hooked up, but this is still a public place.”

“Look, I wanted to apologize for that. Bad information breeds bad reactions. I was doing what I was told. You’ll learn that that’s the only way to get anywhere in this practice.”

He stated it plainly as if you weren’t silently inducted into a criminal ring. You weren’t exactly sure what they did but if it was half as bad as what they’d done to you, it was trouble. Clint could sense your unease. He placed his mug down and lifted a bandaged eyebrow.

“Hold your grudge, y/n. I sure would. Natasha simply told me to collect you after your shift. So, you can sit here and glower at me like a grumpy little monster or you can make conversation and we can become friends.”

You hated how good the second suggestion sounded. He was charming in an annoying type of way. You’d never clicked with anyone in the diner before, certainly not the only other employee that stood behind the grill.

Clint was staring at you like he knew you’d already folded. He covered his smirk with another sip of coffee. You wanted to wipe the cocky grin off his face. He had effectively taken a shot at you, that much was true, but you had crumbled just as easily under Natasha’s wishes.

“Friends is a stretch.” You sounded out.

“Acquaintances, then.”

You conceded with a small nod and Clint smiled in a way that could only be genuine. He swallowed off the rest of his coffee and made small talk with you as you hustled around the restaurant. There was a small rush after classes at the community college let out. But you were able to carry on a conversation, learning a little more about him.

He’d been friends with Natasha for a long time. That much was clear by the way his eyes crinkled along the edges when he’d recall memories that stretched past their current affairs and into childhood.  

“We met when we were twelve. I’d just moved to town and was this scrawny, awkward mess of puberty and acne. An easy target is what I’m saying. A lot of neighborhood boys would target me, but I was faster than them. It usually worked in my favor, but there was one day when it had just snowed and it was impossible for me to get any headway.”

Clint regaled you as you filled up his mug for the third time. You lingered behind the counter, chin on your hand as you listened intently.  

“Six of them cornered me at a construction site. I didn’t even know how to begin to fight back. I was beaten close to death and then I heard Nat. She ran head-first into danger, tried to take on every single one of them. Of course, she got the shit kicked out of her too, she was just a kid there was no way for her to win. But that didn’t’ matter because she got back up every single time. Eventually they got cold, or bored, probably both.”

You didn’t want to admit that you were impressed. “Shit, that’s quite the meeting.”

“She’s tough, y/n. Not someone you want to fuck with.”

“So, this is a warning, then?” You smiled.

He shrugged his shoulders “A cautionary tale.”

He drove a 1970 Dodge challenger that smelled like cherry leather polish. It was the nicest car you had ever seen, that is, until he pulled up the iron-gated mansion on the outskirts of the city. There was a brilliant view of the harbor, the water a deep and dark blue that seemed endless, an orange sun casting delicious shadows against the docks.

The house was brick, built in a southern style with a large wrap around porch and a stone fountain in the center of a circular gravel drive. It was three stories of decadence, surrounded by large oak trees and the deepest green grass. This was the home of a Politian, or of someone who had one under their thumb.

Three black SUVs were parked in tandem outside. An equally pitch Corvette Stingray was parked directly in front of the steps. You struggled to muffle the thoughts of Natasha in the front seat. The vehicle suited her, and while you most certainly were not a car person, you knew the value of a ride like that.

Clint squirmed with pride, that same smile on his face. It was one that often accompanied him, you’d learn. He took the steps two at a time and waited to open the doors until you’d caught up. He removed his jacket and draped it over the coat rack just by entryway. You, however, were preoccupied by the elegance of the home.

The floor was a checkered black and white, stretching all the way down a corridor to open storm doors, letting in a crisp spring warmth. Light danced against art that cost more than your entire apartment building. White stairs clung to the wall and curved to the second floor. To your left, a dining room. To your right, a living area that had the softest white carpet, and a cream grand piano that your fingers twitched to run over.

There was a sour scent of bleach that reached your nose, and it was only then, did you realize the blood. It was distilled, a quiet pink color, that had been diluted by diligent scrubbing. The girl, the one that was often at Clint’s side herself, was on her knees a few feet away.

She held a scrub brush that looked like the ones used to clean the grout at the diner. Her forehead was damp with sweat, a few stray strands of dark hair falling into stormy gray eyes. The front of her shirt was stained in the majority of the blood. You failed to see how she would have much to clean from the floor. Yet, the bucket of water next to her was a frothy mess of red.

“An hour,” Clint tsked, shaking his head “I left you alone for an hour. I specifically said that I was coming back with a guest, and it was imperative not to freak her out.”

“I’m not freaked out.”

You were absolutely freaked out. But you were quick to realize whose home you were in. The scrubbing of a crime scene was startling, and you wanted to turn tail and run. However, you had seen worse before and your life had been spared once. You weren’t going to get squeamish now.

“You sound freaked out.” Clint turned his attention back to the girl “And its bad manners. If I were the police?”

“You wouldn’t have gotten through the gate.” She stood, dropping the brush into the bucket with a defiant splash. She was taller than you thought, the deep red of her collar harsh against her skin. There was a smile on her lips, and she reached out a hand to you. “I’m Kate.”

“This is y/n and she’s not going to shake that.” Clint batted Kate’s hand away “Who was this?”

Kate rolled her eyes. It was an action that you yourself would never do. Clint may be a bit aloof, but you had seen him in action. Namely when he was three seconds from snapping the bones in your face. She had no fear of him, though. There was a cockiness, a charming attention, to her stance. He didn’t’ seem to mind, or he had gotten so used to her attitude that seeped into him instead.

“I don’t know. Yelena brought them in. If you’re so concerned about the mess, maybe you should take it up with her.” There was a grin that mirrored Clints. She knew she’d won. “I can go get her if you want.”

“No need. Where’s Nat?”

“Out back by the pool. It’s a lovely day.” She leaned close to you, smelling of cleaner, of tin and of the slightest bit of chewed mint. “It’s great to meet you, y/n.”

You were careful not to lose your footing on the slick floors. Clint nudged the bucket with his toe as he walked by, sloshing about the soiled water. Kate cut him a look that only you saw, but it was one that was almost playful. She shook her head and went back to her task.

There were two things you had picked up from the conversation; Clint was afraid of Yelena, and there was somewhere soundproof in this house that she had taken someone that had lost a lot of blood. You shoved both thoughts to the back of your mind when you exited onto the back porch.

Natasha was stretched out like a cat in the sun. She wore a black bikini that left very little to the imagination. You could feel the blush against your cheeks as you averted your eyes to anywhere else, though, you swore she arched her back from the chair at the sound of your footsteps.

Her hair, still slightly damp, was cascading down her shoulders. She wore a pair of sunglasses, a book that was marked halfway through rested on the table next to her. She had clearly given up on reading, instead fully devoting herself to the sun.

Clint didn’t acknowledge her current state, nor did he have an adverse reaction to it. Your mouth was dry, and you shoved your hands into your jeans to keep them from trembling. It was a mix of fear and attraction that caught you off guard on a mostly empty stomach.

She moved her glasses down the expanse of her nose as you approached. Her stare was a startling green, raking across your form. She quirked an eyebrow. The specter of a smile on her face. Clint had noticed something you didn’t, his body language changing into something unreadable.

“y/n,” Natasha purred your name. You fought back a shiver. “You’ve healed nicely.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“ma’am? What manners you have. That’s severely lacking around here.”

Clint rolled his eyes but kept his mouth shut. You did the same, partly out of fear. But mostly, you were distracted by the scars against her stomach, on her arms and down her back. It wasn’t something you had noticed at first, nor did you permit yourself to stare. Whatever had been done to you when they’d first taken you was nothing compared to what Natasha had been through. Her body told a story, one that you longed to learn.

“Hey sharpshooter,” She turned her attention to Clint “I think Yelena might need your help downstairs. Y/n. Stay.”

It was a clear dismissal, and one that he didn’t’ take lightly. He patted you on the shoulder before entering the house once more. You listened to his footfalls for a few moments, holding your breath until you started to feel your vision falter.

You’d been alone with Natasha before. But this felt different. Heavier. The questions that you’d had these last two weeks were meant to be answered. She gestured for you to sit on the opposite chair, which you did carefully, body tightened to make yourself as small as possible. She removed her glasses entirely, a strand of russet hair falling into her gaze.

“You’re going to quit your job at the diner.” She said.

“I can’t do that,” Your response was automatic.

Natasha sat up, placing her bare feet adjacent to yours. Her knees were pressed against your own. She easily could have pushed your own open and she stared at you as if she contemplated the fact herself. Instead, she lilted her head and peered at you.

“What I mean, ma’am, is that’s my livelihood.”

“Oh, I understand. I wasn’t perfectly clear. You work for me, now. You’re on my payroll. I’m sure it’ll be quite an upgrade.” She leaned closer. “Do you know what I do, y/n?”

You swallowed hard and shook your head. There was an inkling. But it was just speculation. Someone with a home like this had a good handle on business. Natasha certainly conveyed fear, and commanded respect. So did the people who worked for her, willing to take a bullet in moment’s notice.

You weren’t there yet, but you were sure with a little persuasion, you would be. Part of you had felt slighted. They’d pulled you from your life, from your daughter, and threw you into this without any type of explanation.

“The harbor behind you is a center of trade. Whoever controls the harbor controls the city, and for generations my family has had a monopoly when it comes to what comes in and out. There is not a single freight that can dock here without getting past me. Recently, that’s been threatened.”

She sighed and worked a hand through her hair. Her stare flicked past your shoulder, focused on the expanse of water that had been a staple in your life. You’d walk along the docks, chat with the vendors on the way to work. It seemed like a friendly place.

“There are two prominent families in this city, Y/n. The Romanov’s and Danver’s. For the past three years they’ve been pushing back against the real leadership, getting creative. Looking for change. But we simply can’t allow that to happen. Things work as they are.”

You had a feeling that this was the core of her beliefs. Things how they were weren’t so bad. Each person had their own struggles but when it came to integral crime on the streets, in the boroughs, you hadn’t noticed anything and that was the way you liked it. Ignorant, maybe. But it was none of your concern. Not until now.

“A lot of people work for me, but my numbers are dwindling. It’s hard to find good help anymore. You know how it is.”

You didn’t.

“There’s something… in you that I admire. A perseverance to live and protect and you’re going to do exactly that for me.” Natasha stated this plainly. “The Winter Soldier will be predisposed. Not permanently. But I would like you to replace him.” 

There must have been disbelief written across your features because Natasha laughed, actually laughed, as your jaw fell open. It was a lovely sound; you must admit. Bucky was well known in the neighborhood. Even without being knee deep in mafia sludge, you had heard of him. You feared him. And the thought of stirring the same reaction seemed unattainable.

“I… what about Clint?” You asked dumbly. He seemed like the natural choice.

“He’s got his hands full with an heiress who, I’m sure you can tell, is a bit aloof. But extremely valuable. Much like yourself.” She quirked an eyebrow “if it’s experience, you’re worried about, don’t be. I’ll train you myself.”

She stood and tapped your leg with her fingers, arousal shooting straight to your core at the slight contact. Your body almost refused to move, but you were quick to snap out of it when she smiled wolfishly down at you. “Now, have you ever killed anyone?”

Your voice was pinched. “No.”

“We’ll have to change that, darling.” She started to saunter away, grabbing her silk cover-up from the back of a nearby chair. She slid it over her shoulders, and it hugged her form with just enough ferocity as the bathing suit. “Come, dear. I have just the person in mind.”

The basement was significantly cooler than the rest of the house, bathed by the sun. As you descended the stone steps, you fought the urge to smooth your fingers over your skin to quell the frigid air.

Natasha seemed unbothered. She led you into a large room that you assumed was soundproof. It was a fairly empty room, lit with artificial bulbs that reminded you much of the warehouse they’d kept you in for the weekend. This seemed more malicious though. Not something to extract information exactly. A form of punishment.

A man was strung up from a low hanging rafter, his feet barely touching the ground. Rope was tied around his wrists, his hands above his head. Blood dripped like syrup from his lips, from a wound against his side. His left knee looked unnatural and broken.

You fought back a groan at the sight, at the smell of him. One eye was swollen shut, his fingers curling when he noticed Natasha’s presence.

Clint’s back was to you, his fingers dancing over an array of tools. He hummed a Metallica song, stopping at a pair of pliers. Yelena had her arms crossed over her chest, walking a slow, predatory circle around the man.

“No,” Yelena took the pliers from Clint “He will need his teeth to talk.”

Your throat tightened. This was the same woman who had sat next to your daughter in the diner. The one who had complimented her art and your job at raising her. She was easy to have conversations with, charming in the purest sense.

She turned towards both of you. “Natasha, you shouldn’t wear open toed shoes here. It is unsanitary.”

The woman next to you was not admonished in the slightest. Not by the cold or the harsh words of Yelena. Instead, she studied the man in front of you. He was in rough shape. If he hadn’t talked yet, he wasn’t going to. That much was clear.

This felt like the first time you served without following around an older, more experienced waitress. Your fingers were trembling and there was a wild nervousness that was in the pit of your stomach. Eventually, you learned, and it was second nature. You wondered if that’s what Natasha wanted. For you to learn not to cringe away from things like this. Just like the Winter Soldier.

As if to prove your thought process, Natasha said “Which one of you has your gun?”

They both pulled them out of various places at the same time, without hesitation, to the question. It made sense that Natasha didn’t have a weapon on her, not with the outfit that she walked around in. The cover-up was too tight against her skin, too revealing.

Yelena was closer, so Natasha grabbed the weapon from her. “Have you ever shot a gun before?”

“I have.”

Your second foster father was a deputy sheriff in Minnesota. On half-frozen nights, he’d return home from the local bar reeking of sour alcohol and sweat. The door to your bedroom would creak open and he’d drag you from bed, barefoot and in your pajamas.

Most of the time, he had cans set up on an old picnic table that had rotted through. At first, it was your job to set the cans back up and fight off hypothermia. But after three or four sleepless nights, he taught you how to shoot. His body was warm against your back and the first time the gun kicked you had nearly broken your nose.

You considered yourself a good shot when it came to cans, wild turkeys, and even the occasional buck. This was different. This was a human being that was taking in heaving breathes and fighting to pull himself up to give his bad knee a break.

“Do you know how to aim?” Natasha asked.

“It’s been years.”

“Okay,” She breathed.

You flinched when she moved behind you. Her warmth was all encapsulating. She smelled of sunscreen, and vaguely of the salt of the ocean. Natasha’s fingers pressed against your hip, giving you a small squeeze, signaling for you to take a step back.

Her other hand dropped the pistol into yours, heavy and warm. Her hand trailed up your arms, giving you goosebumps, fingers tightening around your own until you held the gun towards the man. The stranger.

Natasha’s chin was on your shoulder, her breathe hot against your cheek. Her voice came out in a whisper. “Right there. When you’re ready.”

She’d aimed the tip of the gun directly between his eyes. You could hear your heartbeat in both ears, vibrating through your body. It wasn’t hesitation, exactly. In this moment, it was his life or yours. Clint and Yelena watched you carefully, with intent.

You took a deep, shaking, breath and clenched your eyes before pulling the trigger. You expected some sort of blow-back. The same throbbing pain that you recalled from shooting at the cans. The scent of gunpowder mixing with cold.

None of those came.

Instead, there was a small click. The safety was on, and though you had squeezed the trigger with the intention to kill, it simply did not fire. You inadvertently slumped back into Natasha and the hand on your hip snaked around your middle, holding you close.

“You won’t have to kill often,” Natasha explained “But it’s good to know you’d do it without question if I tell you to.”

“Oh, Natasha, do not play with her. It is not nice.”

Smoothly, Natasha worked the gun from your hand and switched the safety off before you could blink. She fired two shots in succession, not releasing her hold on you. Your ear was ringing and the man in front of you slumped in his bindings.

“Okay. Very effective. You owe me bullets.” Yelena took her weapon back. “You are cleaning this up.”

“That means I’m cleaning this up.” Clint said.

Natasha hummed in agreement, finally pulling herself away from you. “I think this a job for two, don’t you, y/n?”

There wasn’t room to disagree with her. Not when you could only hear out of one ear, your skin still buzzing from her lingering touch. You could have sworn you felt her own heartbeat against your shoulder blade.

 But you’d never bring that up.

[Taglist🕷♡: @dumbasslesbi, @lostremind, @toocreativeforausername @autorasexy @eringranola @mikookaaaaaao @marvelwoman-simp @pacmanmiles @mostlymarvelsstuff, @mrsrushman, @milfsandtittyenthusiast, @random-raccoon4, @ravenromanova, @mysticalmoonlight7, @ahintofchaos]

[cloverlove-drabble]

TASK FORCE 141 X M!READER

nsfw headcannons :3

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish:

He definitely is a biter, he would leave bite marks all over your body until you're bruised all over your neck and stomach begging him to stop

He loves you're ass, the more muscle/fat on it the better (but if its small he wont complain he just likes asses lolsies)

He'd eat you out for hoursss, its like he gets more pleasure from it then you sometimes

Hes a switch but perfers to give even if he's bottoming, he's just so giving and wants you to feel good

If you want him whining go down on him, hes so sensitive and desperate especially sense he doesn't last long (he makes up for it with stamina alone)

Speaking of stamina he can go round after round he wont be satisfied until you're tired and shaking

Hes so gentle with aftercare making sure to rub you're sore spots and apologize if he bit you to hard, he's not that sorry though

Captain John Price:

I can see him loving being in control BUTTT.. if you ever wanted to dominate him he'd be putty in your hands

If you were to get on top of him and ride him he would go all whiny and have a love sick look in his eyes as he looks up at you

But if you're the one bottoming though, its different

He'd be as dominate as he is in the feild, he would be rough and man handle you (with love ofc)

He'd be the type to bend you over the nearest surface and let out all his pent-up up frustration

Hes into you calling him sir or captain in bed, pull on his hair and call him that and he'll do anything you ask

Hes such a sweet talker, a lot of nicknames and dirty compliments

His aftercare is beyond amazing, runs you a shower, cleans you off, gives sweet praise, and then cooks you something

I need this man biblically

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick:

I am a softie for this man

He'd be so into soft sex, giving or receiving

Hes a romantic with it, he'd try to set the mood with dirty talk and body worship before he could even get you in bed

He loves to bottom, if you were a rough top he'd secretly be obsessed with it, all the commands you give him make him weak in the knees

Please let him give you head, he loves to give, especially if you tug his hair and force him to take you deeper

if you repay the favor and give eat him out back he'd be moaning loudly and wrapping his legs around your neck

for aftercare he loves to give still, cleaning you up and cuddling until you fall asleep

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Hes either a hard top or soft bottom no inbewteen (its cannon because i said so)

When he's in a topping mood he'd blow your back out no mercy, he'd be into putting the dull end of his knife against your neck just because its thrilling

He would definitely love to get head from you, seeing how far he can get down your throat before you have to tap out

He'd go 10x harder if you moaned his name, headboard slamming against the wall and shit

He'd be into risks sometimes, maybe in a alleyway behind a pub but if anyone saw you he'd kill them (😲)

Now when he bottoms he just wants to be taken care of, soft hand jobs, sweet kisses, maybe whipped cream if hes really pent up

Call him a good boy and he'll be whining, trace his scars with your lips and he'll cry from pleasure

Aftercare for him is taken seriously, if he accidentally cut you he'd bandage it and kiss it better, run you a shower to wash you off, an then go snuggle on the couch

:3 my first fanfic on here. in my whore era?!

[oceansblvds]

after dark ; astarion (baldur's gate)

pairing ; astarion x reader

words ; 1.9k

about ; "It was a simple plan, really. Learn what makes you happy, use it against you. Copy and paste from what he had been trained for, make you feel instead of lure you away to some castle. Make you vulnerable, make you trust, make you oh so easy to manipulate."

warning(s) ; fluff, romance, eventual smut, the first chapter of a two part series, cazador (warning in itself), astarion needs a hug, astarion's feelings (another warning in itself),

authors note ; heyyyyy. i've been inactive for a while but i guess all it took was a vampire spawn blonde twink to show up for me to start writing again. anyways! this is the first chapter of a two part series. consider me whipped.

In his years of trying to push away his feelings, none of them compared to this. 

It was an absolute yearning that he had only felt for another person when he wanted to feed, when he wanted to bite something, an almost cannibalistic feeling that had come over him since he had escaped from Cazador’s grasps. He was free. Free to do what he wanted, to bite who he wanted, to feel how ever he wanted and yet, things were still hard for him to manage. The world was so much different than the tiny tidbits of memories that he could remember from his life before being vampire spawn. He couldn’t remember how to act, he couldn’t remember how to feel. It was deep inside of him, and sometimes he wondered if it was there no longer, if all the humanity had been stripped out, leaving him bare and broken, just the way that Cazador had wanted him. 

The moment that he woke up from the nautiloid crash he had thought that being alone would be the best option. He wouldn’t have to listen to anyone else, he wouldn’t have to deal with anyone's incessant whining but his own. But the moment he saw someone coming up to him, just as broken and smokey eyed as him, he had moments of doubt. He didn’t have to be alone anymore, no matter how much he was conditioned to do so. If he was to show any type of connection to any of his ‘brothers’ or ‘sisters’, his master would take them away from him, he would hurt them, and he hoped to whatever god that was out there, if there were any, that it wouldn’t be the fate for you. 

You. 

The thought made his stomach churn. 

It was a simple plan, really. Learn what makes you happy, use it against you. Copy and paste from what he had been trained for, make you feel instead of lure you away to some castle. Make you vulnerable, make you trust, make you oh so easy to manipulate. Copy and paste. Words spoken to you with a type of adoration that only he was good at making sound sweet despite the intentions behind them, make you want. He had done this to hundreds, no, thousands of people in his many years of living and still, you made his plan falter. Only at first ever so slightly, he thought that it was a good thing, maybe you were more easy to manipulate than he previously thought. But then you began to see him, really see him even if you weren’t trying to. You were speaking to him like he was a normal person, like he wasn’t a slave to be ordered around. You didn’t make him bite the drow, you didn’t make him do things that he didn’t want to do despite his words telling you differently. You knew him. 

And it made him absolutely sick. 

Words that he didn’t have the strength to speak continued to pile up in his throat, clawing their deep nails into his flesh with each passing day. But it was a better pain than the one that he would inevitably bring on you. He would rather feel that pain than hurt you. He had come to realize that he would do anything that he could to make sure that you didn’t get hurt. Whether it be standing in front of you when a stray arrow flew or offering to bandage up a cut on your arm, he always made sure you weren’t hurt. 

“Astarion.”

Astarion looked up from the blade of grass he had been staring intently at for the last few minutes, his red eyes shifting instead to you, standing above him with your hands by your side. You’d changed into your nightclothes since the last time he saw you, a few scrapes peppering your face and neck were now visible to him and he could smell you, smell your blood, how tantalizing it was. If he didn’t know any better he would reach out for your hand and plant a kiss on the top of it, a quick thanks for all the things that you didn’t realize meant so much to him. All the things you had done to make him feel human again. Even his name on your lips, Astarion, meant more than it ever had in the past. In previous years it had been said as an order, but the way that you spoke it was so soft, so pretty, so real. If he hadn’t been sitting down on the small blanket outside of his tent he would’ve felt his body wobble. 

“Yes, darling?” 

“I just wanted to make sure that you were alright. I know our mission tomorrow . . . it won’t be easy for you.” 

The mission that you spoke of was something that he had dreamt about since being freed from the nautiloid. Finally taking down Cazador, getting rid of his reign of tyranny and facing his captor for two hundred years. It had taken a while to come into fruition. You and everyone had been coming up with a stable plan for a few days now while you rested from your fight from Moonrise Towers. After a brief word, no, interrogation of a few of his brothers and sisters, you all had learned that Cazador wanted to complete the ritual in a day's time. That meant that you had to strike tomorrow and strike hard. But the nerves had gotten in the way of him getting any sort of substantial rest, and Astarion should’ve known that you would be able to see it. See right through him. 

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be? Finally getting my revenge,” He spoke, almost as though it was a well rehearsed line. His usual tone prickled through the air and his eyes searched for any answer that his deceit had worked on you. 

“I know, but it must be hard to think about going back to that place.” It hadn’t worked. 

You took a kneel down, making your way to the same level as him, sitting oh so close that he was sure if you had gone any further your knees would touch. And that made him chuckle to himself, that he could get so overwhelmed by a mere brush of your touch. “I just want you to make sure that we’re with you all the way. I’m with you all the way,” You almost whispered the last part, and he wondered if you were scared of letting others know of the gentleness you were granting him. Of course, that couldn’t be far from the truth, but it was whatever his mind concocted in the moment. A small smile flashed across your face and he wondered what your lips tasted like. If he would ever be granted that blessing. “You don’t have to hide yourself from me.” The words weren’t spoken but he knew that they were there. You were referring to the night after the Drow incident, when he pulled you aside and gave you a personal thanks for not allowing him to bite that woman. It was the closest you had ever gotten with him, your delicate hand pressed against his own, fingers nimbly interlacing together in a pattern that was only known to the two of you. He knew he didn’t have to hide himself from you, though the fear was still there. He wasn’t sure if it was fear of rejection, or fear of harm. You didn’t deserve to be with someone like him. You deserved to be with someone kind, someone who didn’t have the burden that he had. Someone who could assure you that everything would be fine, someone who could give you safety, give you a family. Astarion wasn’t that person. He wasn’t sure if he would ever be that person. 

“Thank you,” He said with true sincerity, his gaze breaking for a tiny moment as he went to grab your hand, putting his other one on top of yours. Astarion knew he was being greedy of your touch, but perhaps he would die tomorrow. He had to indulge. Even if it was just a mere touch. “You know, you don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to. I know that facing Cazador is not on your top priority list.” You still hadn’t killed Orin or Gortash yet. You still were no closer to taking down the Absolute’s power, and a part of him felt guilty for having his burdens fall on your shoulders. 

The look on your face almost hinted as though he had offended you. For a moment he believed it was his touch but instead you squeezed his hand, leaning in closer almost instinctively. “Of course I have to come with you. I wouldn’t dream of making you do this alone,” You said. “You know, sometimes it seems as though you can’t comprehend that people care about you, Astarion.” A blush tinted your cheeks. “I care about you, I want to make sure that you’re safe.” 

His body betrayed himself. It was as though he was looking at the scene from above. 

Astarion closed the gap between the two of you, hand reaching for your soft cheek and pulling you in, pressing his lips against your own. He heard a muffled noise come from the back of your throat and waited for you to pull away. 

But you didn’t.

Instead you pushed closer, putting your hand on his own, another making its way to the crook of his neck. Your fingers brushed ever so slightly against the two puncture marks on the side of his neck and instead of fear he felt safe. Pushing away from the kiss, taking a breath, he instinctively looked to the sides, seeing that the tents of your fellow companions had been long since tied up for the night. His gaze fell back on you and your cheeks were even more flushed than they had been just a moment before, if it was even possible. 

You opened your mouth to speak. “I-” 

“I’m really sor-” He blurted. 

“Wasn’t expecting-” 

“I lost control of my-” 

“It’s really oka-” 

“We should forget-” 

“I’m glad you did.” 

The back and forth dissipated and Astarion was sure that he had to have misheard you. You didn’t walk away, you didn’t cower in fear, you only returned your hands to his, index finger brushing against his own as they sat in his lap. He gave you a quizzical look, wondering what could possibly be going on in that beautiful head of yours. 

“I’m glad that you did,” You repeated, a whisper this time. It held the power of a million forces of the sun, the way that you said it. “I used to think that it was silly of me to think that way of you . . . of wanting you during these times but. . .” You trailed off, a tiny look of embarrassment twinged at your face. “I am just glad that my fondness of you makes you feel safe enough, you know, safe enough to feel.” 

Oh, Astarion had been such a fool. 

This entire time he had thought that he was protecting you. All those times that you had helped him overcome whatever he was going through . . . when you would let him feed off of you . . . when you did nothing but allow him to be himself. Not a slave, not something that could be ordered around for another, but as himself, as just Astarion. 

You had been his protector this entire time.

[seresinhangmanjake]

Stolen Angel - Part 5

Demon!Jake Seresin x reader

Summary: You thought you were having a one-night stand with some random, normal guy. Turns out he’s a winged, demon-like stalker who has been obsessed with you for years.

Warnings/Notes: Jake is a little dark. Kidnapping. Manipulation. Obsessive behavior. Eventual smut and happy stuff. I’m sure there are typos. This used to be a different fic for August Walker, so if you see it, it’s fine. I wrote that one too.

Words: 3550

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

JAKE POV

Jake sighs at the knock on his door and sits up in his bed. It’s too early. Last night was long, watching you struggle to not verbally defy his every attempt to help you. But your wing was inflamed, which would soon lead to your back becoming inflamed, and he knows you’re intelligent but is it so hard to understand that not taking care of the injury could mean infection? Being here does not make you immune to such ailments and yet you puffed and huffed and barely held your tongue at his cleaning the area and applying a bandage with ointment. And just when you’d had a conversation with him about you being good. Terribly disappointing. You better shape up if you intend to get what you want. 

“What, Javy?” Jake calls at the second knock. 

Javy enters Jake’s room and leans against the door after closing it behind him. “So? You taking her?” he asks. 

“Possibly,” Jake says, throwing his legs over the side of the bed. “There are stipulations, but she’s determined. She’ll do whatever she has to to get there.”

Javy raises a brow. “Does that explain her cozying up to you yesterday?”

A slight smirk sneaks onto Jake’s face. ‘Cozying up’ is definitely one way to describe what you were doing the day before, although your actions were nowhere close to how affectionate you’re capable of being. There is plenty of passion in that body of yours that a few soft touches don’t do justice, but for now Jake will take what he can get. 

“It does,” Jake confirms with a nod. “She’s my clever little angel, but manipulative attempt or not, it’s not like I’m going to push her away.”

“Oh no, of course not,” Javy snorts. “You? Do the respectful thing?” With a shake of his head, he lets out a low whistle to which Jake rolls his eyes. The sarcasm in his friend’s tone is wildly unappreciated.

“Do you honestly expect any better of me?”

“Not these days,” Javy says, “but is it so horrible of me to want you to see the error of your decisions and change? When I offered you a life here you were a different man.”

A different man. A weaker man. A man who had nothing left to live for. 

Losing everything he once cared about—that is what changed him, but who’s to say the man he is today isn’t who he was always meant to be? Maybe it burrowed inside of him long ago and was waiting for the encouragement to expose itself. And what is so wrong about that? That doesn't make him a bad man. 

He was a man who was missing the drive and purpose he needed. But then—despite being under the cruelest of circumstances—he found it. And when you find purpose you have to take hold of it and claim it any way you can before it’s ripped away from you. If Javy still can’t understand that then it must be the type of thing you have to live for yourself in order to grasp how it feels.

Jake’s eyes contain a challenge against his friend’s stare as he leans forward to brace his elbows on his knees and clasp his hands. “You try having Fate fuck you over, and then we’ll see the kind of man you become,” he says.

Javy sighs and crosses his arms. “I’m not denying the poor timing of your first meeting, but you coped with that for years, and now that you’ve snapped–”

“I haven’t snapped,” Jake snaps.

“Yes, you have. She was moving up in her life, finding some happiness, trying to make some friends at a new job, and then you took her,” Javy tells him, but not to chastise. That lecture was one Jake received weeks ago and Javy knows another won’t alter what has been done. “And you can’t keep her in The Tower forever. When this catches up with you—because it will—what do you intend to do?”

“She will love me by then.”

“You’re hoping she will love you by then,” Javy counters, “And you’re hoping when questioned, she’ll lie for you.”

Jake groans and shoots to his feet, running a hand through his hair. Gesturing in the general direction of your room, he says, “If she loves me then she’ll be lying for both of us because she’ll know it’s the only way we can be together.”

“And if she doesn't?”

“I'm not entertaining ‘if she doesn't’,” Jake says harshly. “She will. I’ll get rid of that stubbornness and she’ll remember why she wanted me in the first place.”

Javy pushes up from his leaned position, nearing the blond. “She wanted you because the two of you had some kind of carnal pull to one another, but–”

“It’s more than that,” Jake stops him. “We share more than that. She just refuses to see it.”

But you will. You’ll come to your senses. He knows that it’s more than sex, but it’s because of that sex that he believes something in you felt him over the years even though you did not see him. That’s why it was so easy to come together that night. You don’t sleep with just anyone. You’re picky and careful, as you should be, but you showed no reservations when giving yourself to him. You weren’t timid when he stripped you of your clothes; you were too focused on ripping him out of his. You weren’t embarrassed by your sweet moans and pretty cries. You were comfortable around him, and you will be again. 

When Jake realizes Javy hasn’t spoken, he shoves his thoughts aside and pays closer attention to the look directed his way. It’s a medley of emotions. Skepticism and concern. Cautious hope and pity and acceptance. Acceptance of what, it’s hard to determine. Impending doom, likely, since Javy’s so sure of its inevitability.

Finally, Javy blinks. His lips stretch into a thin line, then he says, “Be smart about this, Jake.” 

And Jake replies, “I’m always smart.”

“You're not,” Javy has no shame in telling him. “That's the problem.”

—

READER POV

“You can’t speak to anyone from your past, you can’t be seen by anyone from your past, you have to stay in my sight at all times, and you can’t do anything that would jeopardize our ability to return here on time,” Jake says. “You break any of these rules and I drag you back before midnight.”

Raising a brow, you cross your arms over your chest. “You think I can’t manage that? I’ve complied with everything you’ve asked of me for two whole weeks.” 

Everything down to accepting his cupping of your cheek one night as he nearly kissed you. He hadn’t though, and his reasons for pulling back instead of taking what he wanted as he’s so used to doing robbed you of four hours of sleep.

“I wouldn’t put it past you to go rogue,” he says. “But you can’t. There are actual consequences I can’t protect you from.”

Yes, you know. He has mentioned that often. “Consequences, Angel. There are consequences to not following the rules.” For the last couple of weeks, it has felt like hours upon hours of the same droning on, the same lesson as if your short-term memory is flawed. But then he’d thrown in “It's your first time, and there’s a chance you’ll forget everything I’ve told you the minute you touch foot down there. You’ll be tempted to break them.” 

That was what finally struck a cord of concern.

Of course, it had crossed your mind to break them, even though you’d known of Jake’s fate when he had done the same, but if he had to warn you of the temptation, you wondered how tempting it would really be. Would you be spending your precious, limited time there miserable because of the invisible chains on your wrists and ankles and the gag in your mouth as you try to resist the desperation to bond with the life you left behind?

“How tempted?” you had asked. 

You were taken aback by one look from him. A harshness was in the green, but you are no fool, and you could see exactly what it was concealing. A memory—pain. 

“Incredibly,” he’d told you. “At least, I was. And I paid for it.”

You hadn’t responded, but you kept his words in the back of your mind, ultimately deciding to trust in your strength. It was either that or risk never seeing home again, and that wasn't, and isn’t, an option for you. 

“I’m not going to do anything, Jake,” you swear. 

He peers into your eyes a little too long, but you let him search for the lie that isn’t there until he’s satisfied. He blinks and then gives a sharp nod. “Good,” he says. “Then close your eyes.”

“What?”

“Close them,” he repeats. “You don’t need to know how to get where we’re going.”

Another thing to comply with. Rolling your eyes, you drop your arms to your sides. Jake pulls a blindfold out of his jeans pocket and folds it in thirds. 

“Seriously?”

He looks up and steps closer. “Close, your, eyes,” he instructs again.

With a sigh you do as he says, then he wraps the fabric around your head, tying a little knot in the back. 

“This is–” Stupid, you were going to say, but you’re cut off by the yelp that escapes your throat when you’re suddenly lifted into his arms, your legs and wings draped over his forearms. 

“Hold on Angel,” he says. 

Your hands clasp behind his neck. “Yea, no kidding.”

When he shoots up into the air, you have to tuck your head against his t-shirt to block out the rush and whirl of wind that’s quickly encompassing you. It’s all too fast, the pressure much too extreme that you feel as if you’ve gained thirty pounds in ten seconds. It’s the initial take-off of the rollercoasters at the theme park you went to as a child. The kind of feeling that locks your limbs in place. 

However, it’s not long that you’re going up before you begin to fall back down at a speed that suggests the man holding you can’t fly and you’re about to greet the end of your life. The sharp change in movement twists and curls your insides. Your lungs are confused, unsure whether inhaling or exhaling would better suit you at the moment. You don’t know, so you don’t breathe. 

Jake lands with a thud and sets you down on wobbly legs. One large hand wraps around your upper arm; the other slips the blindfold over your head and back into his pocket. You’re well-hidden behind a large tree as your eyes adjust to the bright neon lights that bleed from the city night.

Home. You’re home. You’re at the far end of a sidewalk by the docks that no one visits after six o’clock in the evening, but it’s still home, and you already feel yourself being sucked in by the central bustle of bodies and cars. 

You take a step forward, much weaker than you intended, and Jake’s grip on you tightens. 

“Not yet,” he says. “You need to shed your wings.” 

That detail had escaped you, the excitement too overpowering. But you keep that excitement from showing on the outside, just as you had when he’d told you a few days ago that removing the wings was possible for you, too.

Standing taller, you prepare yourself for more instructions.

“Close your eyes again,” he begins, his voice a deep vibration in your ear. “Clear your mind. Create an image of your wings and the feathers plucking free, falling to the ground one at a time until you have no more. Picture the bone and cartilage crumbling,” he says. “And keep doing that until you feel the loss of the weight.”

It takes at least a full minute, but you’re lighter. When you look down, your feathers coat the ground, a few layered with his. Like ash and snow. 

“Good,” he says, but his tone doesn’t match the praise. It’s the slightest bit wounded as if he’s grieving something he held dear. 

You turn your head. Your eyes flick to his and you find them glued to your back—your back which is now bare of the one thing that shows the world you’re something other than human. 

His Adam's apple bobs. “Let’s go,” he says. 

“Where can we?”

“Anywhere that keeps you from running into someone that would recognize you or would’ve been concerned about your sudden absence.”

That definitely knocks out work, the old late-night cafe you used to frequent, the park on third—too small. But as far as you know, everything else is fair game. And if it’s not, you’re sure Jake won’t hesitate to inform you.

—

The temptation he’d warned you about isn’t as aggressive as you anticipated. It’s there, for sure, but you don’t find yourself itching to be bold. There’s no one you wish to see, and you skirt the perimeters of the locations you choose because of the thought that you might fuck up and give him reasons not to bring you back in the future.

He should be thrilled with your behavior. He should be riding one of his ego trips from getting you to do what he wants without additional scolding, but that’s not what’s happening. Instead, he’s worse by the hour. 

Occasionally his eyes light up when you smile or chuckle at the places and things you haven’t seen for the month that has felt like a year, but between your grins and laughs, his face hasn’t once failed to fall. 

He has taken to trailing behind you. If both hands are not in his pockets it is because one is running through his hair or down his face. To your statements, he hums. To your questions, he mutters answers. He hates it, you realize. All of it. Almost as much as you hate the place he has forced you to exist in ever since he took you.

His mood is only exacerbated by your desire to go to your apartment.

“Can you hold this?” you ask as you raise the window. “Won’t stay up, and maintenance ignored all of my requests.”

Jake nods, placing his hand on the base of the sill so you can ease yourself through the opening. You do the same for him as he steps off the fire escape onto the ragged carpet of your living room floor. 

You take in the space, and it’s so…weird. Not a thing has shifted from the place you left it. The only additions left out of the memory you’ve kept in your mind are the layer of dust coating every surface and the slip of paper under your front door with Eviction Warning written in red lettering. And the smell. It doesn’t smell like you remember. You’re not immediately soaked in the scent of lavender essence left over from the half-burnt candle on the side table.

“Feels like I’ve been gone forever,” you say. You look over your shoulder at Jake. “Does time move differently there and I just didn’t notice?”

His hands are back in his pockets. His eyes are tired. “No, Angel,” he says.

Your sigh fades into a hum. 

As you move about the room, you measure it all with your eyes.

Your couch. You always sat on the right. That cushion is more worn than the other two. 

The lampshade is still crooked from when you last changed the lightbulb. Its poor alignment had caused a slight burn mark in the material from the shade leaning against the heat of the bulb, and yet, rather than straighten it out, you had twisted it on its diagonal axis so the mark faced the wall.

The TV remote is nowhere in sight, of course, because you were never the best at remembering where you put it down; a habit so frustrating you’re tempted to hunt for it now. 

Your coffee table still has the scratch in the middle from when you’d dropped your mug onto the wood, shattering it to pieces. That had pissed you off. You’d just bought it from the flea market.

A mug—you’d left one out that morning. You turn your head to your kitchen where it still sits on the counter. 

You walk over and grab it. There’s a coffee ring in the bottom, so you take it to the sink and wash it out, then flip it over to dry on a dishcloth. You weren’t a fan of leaving dishes scattered about, even for half a day, but you don’t know why it ever mattered. Since moving in, no one had entered this place but you, and well…him. 

Suddenly, something deep and thick descends upon you. Though the space around you appears to have frozen in time from the moment you disappeared, there are things that did not freeze along with it that you can’t ignore.

Like the food in your fridge and the special chocolate cookies in your cabinet that the grocery store rarely had in stock. Rotten and stale. What a waste. 

There’s a plant in your bathroom—a little one that relied on your sense of responsibility to keep it alive. It sits on a shelf in a dark purple pot you’d found on sale and now brittle leaves surely litter the tiles. 

And, oh god, the cat. You used to leave a bowl of tuna out for the stray cat that climbed the stairs to paw at your window. What about him? Is he ok? Did he give up after being ignored? How long did that take? Did he feel abandoned? Does he miss you?

Bracing your hands on the counter, your head falls forward. You close your eyes and take a breath, and then you open them and—Fuck, there’s a cheerio on the floor. You forgot the damn cheerio; that tiny ring of processed wheat from breakfast that has been hanging out here in limbo wondering if it’ll be trashed or devoured by ants because you were running late that morning and told yourself you’d throw it out later but you didn’t and so there’s a fucking cheerio on your floor. 

You can’t look at it, but then you don’t know where to look, or what to do. You don’t dare go into your bedroom. The sheets will be rumpled. Your underwear will be wherever it landed when it was taken off your body and tossed aside.

Shit, the laundry! You forgot to take it out of the washing machine. Mildew probably grew in the creases and folds. They'll have to go through the cycle again. You'll need detergent. You're out of detergent—used the last of it on the load that needs to be rewashed. Your favorite t-shirts are mixed in there somewhere. But it’s fine. You’ll do a quick wash, quick dry, quick fold, and put them in the drawer where they belong. How long could that take? An hour? Two? You have enough time, right? And while you're at it you really should set some tuna out and get rid of the spoiled food and fix the lampshade and find the remote and apologize to the plant and–

“We can pretend, Angel,” Jake whispers from behind you, making you jolt in your spot. You didn’t hear his approach—he keeps doing that—and he’s so close that his breath flutters wisps of your hair. “Forget everything, for a bit. Be the way we were that night.”

His disruption sidetracks you from the laundry, the cheerio, the cat, the plant, the food. For a second, you can barely process his words, but it doesn’t take long for the confusion to sort itself out.

You swallow. “I thought I wasn’t allowed to be human anymore,” you whisper, reminding him of what he has drilled into your brain again and again and again.

“You’re not,” he says. Then his arms are flanking your sides, palms pressing into the edge of the countertop. “But we look the part, don’t we?” Hot air is on your neck. You think you can hear his heart thumping. “Just tonight. Just here.”

Just here. Here, the last place you were before he made you into the creature you are. Here, the last place you can say that you were entirely you. Here, the last place you spent a happy moment. Your final happy moment. A moment that included him, back when you believed you were bringing home some guy. Just some guy. A beautiful guy. A human guy. 

You liked that human guy.

You miss that human guy.

Sometimes you wish he'd show up again. Save you and promise you it was all a nightmare.

“Why?” you ask.

“Don’t ask why,” he answers. “Just tell me yes.”

And because you don’t want to go back to thinking about what you’ve lost; because you’re uneasy and overwhelmed and numb and weak now that you're realizing home really isn’t home anymore but a ghostly echo of who you were, you don’t possess the mental wherewithal to care about your decisions. All you want is a memory—a good memory—within your reach. 

So you turn yourself right around, and you kiss him.

[python333]

what's a noise to an eardrum? — python³

― ― ― ―

synopsis you've been on a mission for a while, and instead of going back to your quarters after coming back, you head to ghost's.

relationships platonic!ghost & gn!reader.

characters simon "ghost" riley.

word count 2.2k

warnings ghost's pov, 2nd person pov [you/your/yourself], sleep deprivation, bad cliches, bad writing, might be ooc

note hey gang!!! i think i got all the warnings since this is pretty lighthearted considering what i usually post, so enjoy :) lmk your thoughts!

Ghost was sitting at his desk―in his own sleeping quarters, since it’s technically past curfew and he doesn’t need any trouble from recruits about him being in his office after hours, the annoying little shits―typing away at his computer, trying to get a report on his latest assignment done before going to bed.

He’s had a little bit of trouble sleeping lately. Not to say that it’s your fault, but it’s definitely your fault. He doesn’t necessarily need you around to go to sleep, but since you volunteered for a mission a week ago, he’s been a little on edge. Originally, it would’ve been Soap and a few other sergeants heading out to a small town in some country down in Central America, but you took the place of Soap after Price had explained the mission. 

It could technically be done by one person, he’d said in short, but it’s quicker to send out a squadron than a single soldier.

You weren’t the best sniper they had, but you had enough experience with it for Price to approve of you going with one other person to keep watch of you. The long duration of the mission was really to be blamed on how often your target had been moving, leaving you with little room to take any shots. It wasn’t too important of a mission, however―as long as you didn’t miss your target in the end―so Ghost is sure Price is glad that he only had to send out one soldier instead of around six or seven.

Still, despite how there was little to no chance of you coming out of this mission in multiple pieces, Ghost found himself worried; something he, admittedly, feels for a lot of the soldiers here. His worry for you is different, though. Maybe it’s an age thing. Maybe it has something to do with how he’s seen you grow over the years that you’ve been here, and how close you’ve gotten to going from a Private to a Lance Corporal. It’s a relatively low rank for someone in the 141, which only makes him―dare he admit it―prouder. A weird feeling lingers in his mind when the word proud comes to mind as he thinks of you, but he ignores that feeling, instead opting to focus on the report he so desperately wanted to finish.

Despite his usual sleep aversion, he finds himself wanting to sleep for once.

Just as he gets to the middle of his report, he hears a knock at the door. Before Ghost can even say anything, he hears the door open, and his head whips around to see who would decide that it’s a good idea to enter his room without his permission. Though, all of his confusion and building anger dissipates the moment he sees that it’s you. Fresh from medical, he can safely assume, seeing the various bandages and bruises on you, and that odd too-clean smell that’s sticking to you. You look so exhausted, it’s almost funny. Almost. 

You close the door behind you and Ghost turns his head back to his laptop. It’s not that he doesn’t want to look at you, but it’s a little harder to when you look so disheveled. He hears a few footsteps, then the squeaking of bed springs, and a sigh before the rustling of bed sheets. In the faint reflection of his computer screen, Ghost can just barely see you getting comfortable under the covers of his bed, seeming to fully disregard his presence. He doesn’t mind, though. He gets it; that feeling after being on guard for so long, not sure how much of it you can let down even though you’re back on base, and that strange structureless feeling where you wish you had bones but only feel like flesh. 

It’s odd, put simply. When Ghost thinks of the feeling, he thinks of the age-old question, if a tree falls in a forest and nobody is around to hear it, does it make a sound? The feeling is like a constant questioning of what you’re experiencing, the wonderance of whether or not you can feel safe if the safest you’ve ever felt is a feeling lost somewhere beyond you. If you lose a feeling, was it ever felt? If you lost safety, were you ever safe, or, as Maslow would put it, were you always missing that basic need? Ghost knows plenty about missing safety. He knows that his mind blanks when he tries to think about the last time he felt safe before the 141. 

He knows that you know plenty about missing safety, too. Not a lot, because you never say enough to clue him in on just how much you’re missing, but he has his suspicions. Some are confirmed, others mere theories, but still―he knows you well enough. That’s why you’re in his room, not saying a word, just breathing heavily into his pillow and trying to garner warmth from his blanket. He can see you staring at him from the bed. He’s sure you want him to say something, and because it’s you that’s looking at him, he does.

“Back already?” Ghost asks dryly, drawing a small huff out of you. 

“Soap said y’missed me,” you reply, making Ghost scoff, “when he visited me in the infirmary.” 

“Too big of a mouth on ‘im,” Ghost saves the draft of his report, deciding to just save writing it for another time, instead closing out of the program and hovering his finger over the power button on his keyboard, “don’t know how y’managed to understand him.” 

You hum and sit up in Ghost’s bed, the blankets rustling again, and as Ghost’s screen goes black, he turns around to see you sitting up with the blankets wrapped around you like a jacket. He blinks at you, before raising an eyebrow at your position.

“Ruinin’ my blankets?” he asks, though sounding barely offended, “After walking in unannounced besides that little knock?”

“Ruin’s a pretty strong word,” you argue, “and it wasn’t a little knock. It was loud. Practically echoed off the walls.”

Ghost can sense your sarcasm from a mile away, but continues to play along, leaning back in his chair. You look a little more tired covered in blankets, he thinks, those dark circles under your eyes are a little more pronounced. He sees them a lot. Those darkened semi-circles that he used to think were just a part of you, some kind of skin condition, but later realized they were a product of your sleep deprivation. It would’ve been his first thought had he not always seen you with the bags under your eyes, but after going on leave with you―a few months ago, back to his small house, after you had admitted that you preferred staying with him to going back to your dingy apartment―and witnessing you getting proper rest, seeing those circles get a little lighter, he knew that it was more of a sleep issue. 

He’s gone through his fair share of sleeping problems. He still goes through them; everyone in the military does, he’s sure. Ghost used to think that he took the brunt of it, compared to the rest of the task force, not because of the missions but because of what came before the missions. He’s changed his way of thinking since then, has opened up his mind a little more beyond the idea of suffering more than someone else in a specific sense, but he still had that feeling that he took on the majority of nightmares. The word “nightmare” feels a little juvenile for him, but until someone creates a better word for the repulsive things he sees after closing his eyes and just barely drifting asleep, that’s what he’s stuck with. 

“You better hope y’didn’t wake anyone up with it, then,” Ghost hums, “I doubt anyone wants to be awake right now.” 

He sees a small smile grow on your face and small spots of blood arise from beneath the cracked skin of your lips. 

“Everyone here sleeps like a rock as far as I know,” you reply, before pausing, considering, “maybe except for the guys who came in a few weeks ago.”

“I’m sure they’ll be gone by next month,” Ghost tells you, his tone almost reassuring, “I don’t think they can handle any of… this.” 

“You don’t think they can handle your bullying?” you scoff, making Ghost huff out a small laugh, “Weak.” 

“Not everyone’s as strong as you, unfortunately,” Ghost hums sarcastically, getting up from his chair and walking the short distance over to his bed where you’re sitting. Automatically, you move so that Ghost can sit down next to you.

You’re both silent for a little bit. Ghost can see the few healing bruises on your face a little clearer here. Small dark yellows and reds on the sharper points of your face, the parts where the bone is a little closer to the skin, particularly your cheeks and a few over your jawline and near your chin. They’re a bad look on you, not because Ghost doesn’t think you can handle yourself, but because he knows that you can handle yourself, so the only way you could’ve gotten those bruises is if you were forced into a corner. He would consider that they were an accident, somehow self-inflicted, but he knows better than that. 

“Are you tired?” Ghost asks, even though he knows the answer.

“I haven’t slept in a few days.” There it is.

“And for the few days that you did sleep?” He thinks he knows the answer to this too.

“I don’t know if you can really call it that.” Bingo.

It’s not surprising to him. Not only has he been on enough missions with you to know how hard it is for you to sleep outside of the base, but he’s managed to get you to actually tell him about your sleeping struggles. He knows. He watches you subtly kick off your boots, letting them fall over onto their sides, as if you could read his mind and know what he’s going to request next.

“Lay down,” Ghost puts a bare hand on your clothed shoulder and lightly pushes at it, prompting you to lean back onto your side, settling into the bed with the blankets still wrapped around you.

Ghost doesn’t mind the lack of blankets he’s getting. As long as you’re the one hogging them, he finds it easier to go without them, strangely enough. He lays down onto the bed next to you, his head naturally above yours, and neither of you bother to change positions. He doesn’t attempt to pull the blankets from you, and you don’t try to move away from him, the both of you simply existing together in one small space with nothing interrupting you two. A thin layer of air, similar to the blanket covering you, seems to cover the both of you, not trapping you together but instead comforting the both of you. The air feels woven from Ghost’s thoughts, yarn strewn from his cerebral cortex, emotions run through an invisible loom to create the beautiful quilt that covers the both of you. 

Ghost’s hand comes up to thumb at the edge of his balaclava, and he pulls it up the tiniest bit, but then pauses to think.

He knows that if you just turn your head up the tiniest bit, you’ll see his face. The blonde stubble peeking out from under his skin, the small dent forming in the middle of his nose from the constant wearing of his balaclava, and possibly the most embarrassing of all, that small smile he wears that pulls at his already cracking lips that draws blood on occasion. Despite all of this, he pulls his face covering all the way off, and tosses it onto his desk. Your face doesn’t move an inch despite how obvious it is that some kind of fabric has hit the desk. 

He considers saying thank you, but Ghost doesn’t deem it necessary. You’re so close to sleeping that he doesn’t want to risk ruining your chances by talking to you. So, instead, he just brings his arm over your side and lets his hand reach up into the nape of your neck to toy with the small hairs tapering off there. They’re short enough that he’s essentially just brushing his fingers against the skin of your neck, but he assumes you don’t mind, considering how you continue to not move. You stay still peacefully, soft breaths leaving you as your body starts to actually relax.

So you weren’t lying about your lack of sleep, he thinks, his own eyes slowly closing, not that I thought you were, anyway.

Your breathing creates the perfect white noise to him. The vibrations emitting from your larynx that escape your mouth reach his ear canals, where they bounce off of his eardrums, and move down from his middle ears to his inner ears where the nerve endings that live there turn the vibrations into electrical impulses and are translated by his brain into actual sound. The translation sounds like more than just a simple sound, though; it’s like your breathing is translated into actual words rather than breathing, words like safe and guarded. Those small vibrations bounce around in his ears and turn into syllables, then eventually whispers, then firm speech. 

Those words are like music to his ears, as cliché as it is, and he cherishes every word he hears―more than he’ll ever let you know.

[healinghyunjin]

Ice

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x Reader (fem)

Genre: romance, angst, fluff, smut; mafia!AU, strangers-to-lovers, 18+

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: swearing, mentions of violence, mentions of blood; explicit sexual content, unprotected sex (seriously guys - don’t do what they do here, in terms of protection or consent), loss of virginity (graphic)

Author’s Note: Hello everyone! I’ve been gone for a really long time, I know - but I’m finally making my way back to this blog and to writing again. I have a few fics in the pipeline, but here’s my first new release! It’s a very different style/genre/length from what I’ve posted here before; it’s a bit darker in tone and less fluffy (all’s well that ends well though lol) - so feedback and thoughts are extra extra appreciated!

Summary: Sheer good looks aside though…you’d seen his face on the news. What was his name? You remembered that it was something elegant, soft on the lips - a name that didn’t seem to fit the cruel, hardened mafioso it belonged to. 

It was only when those cold icy eyes locked with yours, gaze chilling even from all the way across the bar, that it finally came to mind. 

Hwang Hyunjin. 

You looked pathetic, you supposed. 

Sitting painfully alone, ignored in the midst of this packed club, idly stirring a drink you hadn’t taken a sip of, hadn’t even wanted in the first place. Your so-called date had foisted it on you…before he realized that plying you with alcohol wasn’t going to affect his chances of getting any either way, and quickly left to try his luck elsewhere. 

And it was just as well. You really weren’t cut out for this type of stuff. You’d never been, honestly - you’d gone to a few parties in college, gone on even fewer dates, and done nothing that ended up with you going home with someone. Your roommate had finally had enough though, and that’s how you’d ended up here. 

“Go have some fun for once,” she’d said. “You need to lose that V-card before your tits start sagging, love.” And before you could even think of an adequately snippy response, she’d thrown a phone number at you - a friend of a friend of a friend, supposedly - and sashayed out of your room, hollering behind her that she’d be out all night, so you could bring anyone you wanted home with impunity. 

You’d snorted, shaking your head. You? Bringing someone home? With your dating skills and general luck, you were probably gonna bring home a serial killer - if you even managed to hit it off with anyone in the first place. 

Still, you’d let her squeeze you into a pretty pink bandage dress and ridiculously high heels and send you on your way...just for it to go exactly as you’d thought it would. 

With a sigh, you pushed yourself off your seat, attempting to wade your way back to the bar. You could do with a tall glass of water - and maybe something a little stronger, something that you actually liked - before retreating back to the sanctuary of your own four walls and soft bed. 

Even in the hazy lighting of the club, punctuated only by disorienting strobes, it was obvious that there was something strange going at the bar. The sweaty, suffocating cluster of humans on the dance floor came to an abrupt end, with no one occupying the empty space right next to them. This section of the bar was jarringly, eerily empty, seats and counter all open - except for four men, lounging about like they owned the place. 

You knew better - you really did. But still - you found yourself pushing closer and closer, straight to the outskirts of the crowd, until you could get a clear view. Three of them were turned away from you, leaving you nothing to see other than broad shoulders and backs, straining against tight leather jackets. As for the fourth, however…

The first thing to catch your eye, unique and beautiful, even in the dim lighting, was a gorgeous black and blue tattoo, winding its way around the neck of its equally striking owner. Sheer good looks aside though…you’d seen his face on the news. What was his name? You remembered that it was something elegant, soft on the lips - a name that didn’t seem to fit the cruel, hardened mafioso it belonged to. 

It was only when those cold, icy eyes locked with yours, gaze chilling even from all the way across the bar, that it finally came to mind. 

Hwang Hyunjin. 

You knew you should probably stop. Men like that hurt people for just glancing at them the wrong way - and here you were, having a staring match with the most ruthless of them all. 

And that’s how you found yourself in the alley behind the club, pinned against the rough brick wall - with Hyunjin pressed between your legs. He was everywhere - his lips ravishing yours with hot, predatory kisses; one hand hungrily palming your breasts, the other hiking up your dress, trailing along your sodden panties. He moaned a curse against your lips as he felt just how wet you were for him. 

“You’re ruining me,” he groaned, hand hastily dragging away from your chest to wind around your waist, pulling your lower half against his firmly. “Tell me what you want, angel,” he murmured before breaking off into a hiss, clutching at you as your hips bucked against his. 

“More,” you moaned. Your untouched, unexperienced self was overwhelmed by this man. You were stone-cold sober, your drink abandoned untouched back at the bar, but you were positively high off him, addicted to the way he was making you feel. “Whatever you want to do to me - just more.”

He laughed, pressing a surprisingly tender kiss to the side of your head. “You’re gonna regret that.” And he immediately made to deliver on his promise. You gasped as he flicked the embarrassingly large wet spot marring your panties, nail dragging tortuously against your clit, before drawing aside the gusset, running his fingers through your wet folds. 

You couldn’t help but whimper. “Please.”

“Begging now, huh?” He barked out a laugh, but seemed ready to comply. As he dove in for a messy, passionate, soul-consuming kiss, long fingers of one hand still working your clit, you faintly heard the metallic clink of his belt buckle, the rustle of his clothing, the small sigh of relief he let out against your lips as he freed his cock from its confines. 

“Last chance, angel,” he groaned out, head falling back in pleasure as his hard, hot length slid against your folds. “I’m not gonna hold back after this.”

“I still want it - want you,” you whispered back. “I can take it.”

Those plush lips curved into a wicked, almost malicious smirk. “Good.” And with no further ado, he slammed himself home deep in your cunt.

A soft cry of pain escaped your lips. It stung - but within a second, past the initial resistance, the pain had ebbed away, replaced by a curious pressure, a blossoming sensation of fullness unlike anything you’d felt before.

Hyunjin, however, froze. 

You knew he’d probably felt that thin tissue - your so-called “innocence” - give way. With ominous slowness, he slid his fingers to the place where you were connected and lifted them up to the light. In the harsh gleam of the streetlights above, the faint traces of blood - your blood - marring his pale skin was obvious. 

And when he looked at you again, those ice blue eyes were mask-like, unreadable once again. 

“You know who I am, don’t you, sweetheart?” The endearment sounded like a curse in his mouth; his tone - stiff, chillingly empty - sending a small shiver down your spine. All you could do was nod, silently. 

“Then you must be out of your fucking mind,” he hissed, fingers biting painfully into the meat of your hip, body still pressed heavily into yours. “The hell are you doing giving someone like me something this precious?”

“It’s…it’s not though?” 

Hyunjin raised a challenging eyebrow at you.

“I mean…yes, I’ve never been with anyone before, but why does it matter?” Your words came out in a gasp, almost jumbled - mind and body craving what had been so abruptly interrupted, the pull strong enough for you to blurt out your true feelings…all of them. “I want you, Hyunjin - I want you, and I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want you right now.” 

The iciness of Hyunjin’s gaze wavered, melted just a smidge. His death grip on your hip morphed into a heavy, possessive pressure; his thumb started rubbing circles into that sensitive crease separating your thigh from your waist. “Why?”

You could barely string the words together at this point - but you knew they had to be said. “I…I was alone, you were surrounded by your boys b-but - something made me feel like you were the only person in this club who felt the same…the same loneliness that I did.”

At that, his fingers stilled. Hyunjin’s eyes searched yours carefully - looking for what? You didn’t know. But whatever he found…it seemed to be satisfactory. For those long arms wound tightly around you once again, hiking you higher against the rough wall.  

“Fine. You can have it your way, angel.” And as his head dipped to your neck, lips bruising the signs of his lust onto your skin, a choked moan spilled forth from your lips as those slender hips snapped into yours - pushing his cock further into you, balls deep, stretching your sensitive walls beyond belief.

“So fucking tight,” he murmured hoarsely, now driving himself into you in a steady, punishing pace. “How much would it take to fuck you loose for the first time, hmm? Maybe I should take you home and test it out,” he mused, a chuckle just this side of unhinged bubbling forth from his lips. “Tie you down and fuck this sweet little pussy until it’s swollen and red and aching.” Even just the thought made you involuntarily clench down on him, drawing what was almost a growl out of his throat. “Such a good girl.”

And you? You were lost. With just a small shift in angle, Hyunjin’s cock was now sliding right against that sweet spot, deep inside you, his pubic bone grinding deliciously against your clit. The feeling of his lithe body caged in between your thighs, crushing you in against the wall; the sinful trail of fire his mouth was leaving along the delicate skin of your neck, your throat…if you’d known that this, this is what sex was like - you would’ve had it long, long ago.

…But a little voice told you that - this might just be sex with Hyunjin that felt like this. 

And with that, it wasn’t long before you shattered in his arms, heels digging into his back as the peaks of your pleasure rolled over you - only to scream as Hyunjin’s large hands slammed you down against him, impaling you fully on his cock as, with a throaty groan, he filled you full, hot cum splattering against your sore, sensitive walls. 

There was a beat of silence, with only the sounds of heavy breathing to break the still. As you leaned your head back against the wall, struggling to come back down from your high, you could feel Hyunjin’s gaze burning through you. 

“Beautiful,” he whispered, as if just to himself. You blinked your eyes open to see him watching you - but something about the way he was looking at you had changed. Where before they’d been fiery, filled with unambiguous lust, desire, cockiness - that frenzy had given way to something more…profound. Like he was trying to see you, see through you - see you for who you really were. 

You hated to break the moment - but now that you weren’t burning up with lust, the very physical ramifications of being fucked up against a wall were making themselves known to you. You danced your fingers over Hyunjin’s collarbone. “Can you…”

He snapped out of whatever trance he was in, hands surprisingly gentle as they cupped your thighs, supporting your weight as he let you down from the wall. When you stumbled on landing, the strength in your legs failing you, he steadied you against him. 

“Does it hurt?” His voice was gruff, clearly masking some emotion he didn’t want you to see.

“Pretty sore, yeah,” you admitted with a wry smile. “But hey - makes it more memorable, right?”

It seemed like he wasn’t expecting that flippant of a response from you, for the next thing he blurted out was - “Romantic fool.”

You could tell he hadn’t meant to be so abrasive, a cloud of regret immediately passing over his face, but you knew what he meant. 

“It’s okay,” you told him, shrugging it off. “I know I am and that I shouldn’t-”

You stopped when you felt soft fingers under your chin, lifting your head back up. Hyunjin looked deep into your eyes, the corner of his plush mouth upturned in a crooked smile. “It takes one to know one, angel.”

He bit his lip, hesitating. It looked he wanted to, was about to say something more - but then…

“Well, well…and what do we have here? A stray dog rutting in an alleyway, tsk tsk...” An arrogant, menacing voice called out from the darkness, accompanied by the sound of slow, deliberate footsteps - of more than one person. 

“Fuck,” Hyunjin spat out, blue eyes narrowed in icy fury. “These assholes don’t know what’s good for them.” You watched as he transformed in front of you, back into that cold, dangerous - honestly sexy - mafioso. 

“You need to get out of here, angel - I don’t want those fuckers to get even a glimpse of you.” Hyunjin passed his hands over you, quickly, efficiently straightening out your clothes and his. “Can you do one thing for me? Run back to the boys and tell them that the fucking pirates are sailing in. I’m gonna need backup here.” You nodded quickly, knowing you - and he - didn’t have much time. 

Just as you turned to run away though, Hyunjin caught your hand in his, stopping you. “I…I’ll come find you, okay?” His voice was pitched low, serious in tone. You could tell he meant what he said…at least, for now. You murmured a soft agreement before making your escape. 

Luckily, Hyunjin’s boys were still where you left them. You decided to go up to the one in the middle, the one with muscles straight out of a GQ magazine, who was watching you waddle back into the bar with a knowing smirk plastered across his face. 

Bicep Boy - you might as well call him that - spoke first. “Boss still recovering?” 

You felt yourself flush with embarrassment. For a brief second, you wondered what they thought of you - wondered how many times they’d seen Hyunjin do this exact thing. The thought sent a sudden shudder of jealousy through you - but that wasn’t important right now.  

“No - he, um, he sent me to get you guys. There’s a few guys outside…and he wanted me to tell you that, uh, the pirates are sailing in?”

You startled back as their relaxed, nonchalant attitude disappeared in a flash, the three of them jumping to their feet immediately. “Fucking hell,” the man in front of you hissed, looking pissed as he fished around for a tip to throw on the bar. “Those motherfuckers just can’t stay in line, can they?”

“Wait…” the man next to him, almost drowning in a fancy mink coat, piped up abruptly. “If hyung sent her back to us…does someone need to walk her back?” The three men paused for a second, the weight of their gaze prickling as they turned to look at you again, size you up. 

“No no,” you protested. “I’ll take care of myself - they couldn’t have gotten a good look at me anyways. I’d rather you go back Hyunjin up...make sure nothing happens to him.”

From their approving looks, you’d clearly passed some sort of test. “Take this then,” the third man, silent until now, shoved a ball of fabric into your hands - Hyunjin’s abandoned coat. “That dress stands out too much - and I’m sure the boss’ll be getting it back from you soon.”

And with a surprisingly warm, friendly smile - he and the others were off. 

You were left standing at the bar, with an expensive, bulky coat in your arms and the eyes of most of the club on you. With nothing else to do, you slunk your way out of the club, just as you had looked forward to doing just a short while ago…

But why did it now feel so disheartening?

And…here you were. Alone, at home, on a weekend night - again.

You’d just curled up on your couch, idly watching TV - not because you particularly wanted to, but more because sleep had deserted you. Every time you closed your eyes, all you could feel was the ghost of Hyunjin’s touch - his body against yours, his lips, his fingers on your body. 

You shook yourself off. Maybe some ice cream would help, you mused, shoving off the blankets you’d just tucked yourself into to get up. 

But then - the doorbell rang. 

For a second, you froze. You and your roommate never really had visitors…and the fear that maybe someone had followed you home from that alleyway flitted through you. 

On the other hand though…what if it was him?

Taking a deep breath, you made your way to the door. Keeping the chain hooked, you slowly pulled it open, just a crack - and were immediately rewarded with the sight of those already familiar, icy blue eyes. 

Hyunjin. 

“I’ll…I’ll leave this second if you want me to,” he started, fingers fidgeting with his bracelets. “But I just felt that we left some things…unfinished back there.”

You agreed, but even if you didn’t - you weren’t going to miss out on this. 

Quietly, you let him in. Even though you were positive shit went down after you left, Hyunjin looked perfectly fine - statuesque, just as before. When you gestured to an armchair, he shook his head. “I think I want to stay standing for now.”

Your heart sunk. Maybe seeking you out, coming all the way to your apartment…wasn’t to make the gesture that you thought. Maybe this was just an apology, an attempt to tie things off between you, neatly, permanently, with a bow on top. Maybe…

Shuffling slowly back to your couch, you sat down and waited for him to speak. 

“I…I don’t do this often. I know what it might look like, but…I don’t really sleep around, chase after women just looking for a quick fuck. That’s not who I am…and that’s not what I want you…or this to be.”

At your sharp inhale, he took half a step away from you - his eyes solemn, searching yours to see what he could find. He bit his lip. “This is so selfish of me, I know…but I’d-I’d like to see you again. Take you out somewhere, more formally…as you deserve.”

“Why is that selfish?” A little bud of hope had flowered in your heart…but you were still confused by his hesitance.

He took a second to respond. “You’ll be a target, you know,” he murmured quietly, gazing down at his clasped hands. “I know a lot of dark people - and they wouldn’t give a shit about…using you to get at me. Being seen with me, being with me…you’ll never feel safe again.”

Slowly, you stood up and walked over to him. Standing right in front of him without your heels, without the wall hiking you up against him, you had to tilt your head back to actually look at his face full on - though his eyes still wouldn’t meet yours. And so, you did, running your hands carefully up his arms to rest on his shoulders. 

“Then why do I feel the safest I’ve ever been, Hyunjin, standing here in front of you?”

At that, his head snapped up, finally looking at you directly. 

“I want to try this,” you told him, your voice calm and steady. “I would love to…do something more formal with you too. And…” your voice wavered, as you gathered your confidence in turn, “maybe you could stay with me for a bit tonight too?”

You wished you had a camera to capture how Hyunjin’s face lit up - how those plush lips curved, eyes crinkled up in a genuine, warm smile. “I would love to.” You felt your heart stutter, your own lips curving in response. 

“Well then,” you dusted your hands off, putting on a business-like air for him. “Let’s get you settled first. Want me to make you something? Or is there anything you want to make?”

“I’m useless in a kitchen,” he told you, cracking a sheepish grin. “But I can whip up a mean ice cream sundae.”

So, that’s what he did. You let him make you that sundae - which really was good. You sat side-by-side and watched three episodes of drama, sharing your ice cream in increasingly comfortable, companionable silence. Hyunjin didn’t need to know how much of that time you spent watching him, your lips quirking at just how caught up he got in the show.

You let him take you back to your bed, let him thoroughly, passionately destroy any innocence you had left with every weapon he had at his disposal - his fingers, his lips, his tongue, his cock. Once you’d gotten your fill of each other - once you let him take you and take you again until your cunt was sore and swollen, your thighs quivering from exhaustion - you laid there together in your bed - naked, your head on his chest, his arm tentatively, carefully wrapped around your waist. 

And then…he talked. About how he’d dreamed of being a painter, an artist one day…before his world as he knew it went up in literal flames. About how he would gladly kill - and die - for his boys, his strays, who’d banded around him, put their trust in him when he was nothing. About how being the boss, being the top was lonely - was stressful, painful and exhilarating, all at once. 

By the end, you could tell he was exhausted; his body had drifted down against yours, his head now cocooned against your breasts, and you both were doing your best to pretend the droplets of moisture on your chest were sweat. But still, he listened to you too, never making you feel like your problems - your purposelessness, your friendlessness, your inability to make your own dreams reality - were too mundane or unworthy, even compared to his. 

Finally, you let him pull your weary body against his, curl his lanky torso around yours. “I’ve never slept the night in someone else’s bed before,” Hyunjin offered up, voice soft and vulnerable in your ear. “That makes two of us,” you whisper back, running your fingers up and down the arm wrapped around your waist. He tugged you a little closer in response - and closer still as he fell asleep, taking you underneath with him. 

Part of you had been nervous about going to sleep - in case you woke up just to find that…this had all been a dream. That you were alone, as always, in your cold bed - that you had no lover to wake up to. 

Those fears were dashed the second you woke up and felt Hyunjin’s warm presence still behind you. You rolled over slowly - only to find him already awake, watching you with a small smile. He was a study of contrasts in the pale morning light: soft, pouty lips; mussed hair - bruised knuckles; dark, swirling tattoos. He was beautiful, and - at least, for this morning, for now - he was yours. 

You shoved him headfirst in to the shower, and while he cleaned up and squeezed himself back into those delectably tight clothes from last night, you worked your ass off to make a feast for breakfast. It was worth it though - at least, the shy eye smile, the soft “thank you” that he gave you in response...it was worth it. 

And that’s how your roommate found you when she came back: the two of you perched on your rickety kitchen stools, Hyunjin’s arm now wrapped comfortably around you as the two of you giggled over a drunk video - a music video? - Bicep Boy (Hyunjin had laughed at you, telling you his name was Changbin) and the other two had fucked around shooting last night. 

“Oh!” She gasped. You whipped your head around to watch her do a literal double take at the sight of you and Hyunjin. 

Hyunjin stood up with a yawn, deliberately stretching himself to his full height. “I was just leaving.” You bit back a grin - sure, he might be shy, introverted at his core…but when he wanted to, Hyunjin definitely knew how to put on a show. So you just smiled fondly as, with a lascivious little wink, he leaned down to give you a whopping goodbye smooch, with tongue for good measure. He’d clearly listened to your retelling of your roommate’s role in this whole ordeal. 

“Bye, angel. I’ll text you.” And with a poignant look and a final squeeze of your hands, Hyunjin was off. You almost wanted to pinch yourself as another test, again. But before that - you had something - or someone - to deal with first. 

“Is that…”

“Yes,” you nodded. “The date you set me up with…didn’t pan out, but I ran into Hyunjin at the same club.”

“Looks like you did a little more than run into him alright,” a small, teasing smirk on her face as she looked you up and down. “That’s funny though. I used to…see one of the other guys from SKZ, a long while back…” she trailed off, lost in thought for a second. “It’s a long story,” she sighed, “but anyways…” She shook her head, turning her attention back squarely to you. “You and Hwang Hyunjin, eh? How’d it happen?”

“It’s a long story,” you smiled back up at her, before taking a deep breath. If you’d gained any perspective from what you’d spilled to Hyunjin last night, it would be that the only person who could lift you out of your loneliness…was you. “Wanna talk about it over breakfast?”

She stilled for a second, but you watched happily as a slow smile crept across her face.

“Let’s do it.”

As you got up to make her a plate, you heard a relatively unfamiliar sound - your phone buzzing from not just one, but multiple texts.  

> Hyunjinnie: Same time, same place this Friday?

> Hyunjinnie: If I can make it that long without you…

> Hyunjinnie: ❤️

You didn’t think your heart still had flutters left to give after everything that had happened…but here it was, flittering away. You responded in kind, telling Hyunjin you’d be counting down the days on your end too - and that was the honest truth. 

You’d just sat down again, about to pick up your fork, when your phone let out one final buzz. 

> Hyunjinnie: (Oh, and bring that roommate of yours too. I’m sure your ~Bicep Boy~ would be happy to see her 😉)

It took everything you had in you to keep a delighted giggle from spilling out past your lips. You eyed your roommate, who had a faraway look in her eyes as she methodically buttered her slices of banana. 

Things sure were gonna be interesting around here - and you were so looking forward to keeping it that way. 

[sh1-n0bu]

hii ☆

totally random question

which is your favorite hsr character and what headcanons do you have for them? :3

ITS THAT ONE JING YUAN LOVER HIII!!! HIIIIIIII!!!! HIIIIIIIII!!1!111!!!1!!1!1!!

but for now my favorite hsr character is blade (still). i really don’t have much headcanons unless it’s smt very popular the fandom agrees on. most i have for blade is

a found family trope with the rest of the stellaron hunters. kafka, silver wolf and firefly braids his hair, paints his nails and has weekly self care routine with him. at first he is grumpy abt it but learns to accept it

runs errands for the girls, hes an honorary girlie(●’◡’●)ﾉ has memorized their tampon, pad sizes, preferences and favorite snacks when going for emergency errand runs. tho sometimes calls them to ask “what size pussy is it again?” cuz hes an old man😔

the new recruits or rookies of the stellaron hunters are afraid of him bc he looks so scary and is always glaring at everyone. tho they all look on from the sidelines and gawk when they see traces of the girlies marks on him. kafkas pins, silver wolf drawing on his bandages, soft teal ribbons in his hair etc etc. maybe he isnt so scary after all?

hates anything to do with the xianzhou alliance, it makes his former lifes memories come back and with it, his mara flares up. refuses to accept any mission that has smt to do with the xianzhou alliance but sometimes accepts them if he can get to kill dan heng or be killed by jingliu

wants to fulfill silver wolfs wish and play games with her but his hand hurts whenever he tries to hold a controller. but the two managed and found games they could play together without putting strain on his hand AKA dance games etc

lets the girls choose his clothes when going for a mission that requires him a change of clothes. although he dislikes suits for it kinda takes away his mobility, he lets it be since the girls chose it for him

soft for kids!!! hopes that he doesnt seem too scary when one stands beside him. if the kids are brave and asks him for it, he will let them play with his hair. if it gets tangled, thats fine, hell just chop it off. thanks to his super fast regeneration, his hair grows very quickly too

isnt very keen on acting on his crush or romantic interest bc he will soon die and he doesnt want to leave his lover behind all by themselves. tho he is terrible at hiding his infatuation and the girlies has to play as the ultimate wingmen to set him up for a date with you

cant ask you out for a date for SHIT. he wants to ask you out for a date, any sort of date, but he just doesnt know if he can or what to say

“uhmm… [name]? dinner?”

thats the most you will get from him after a mission, surrounded by corpses the two of you just created. bro is bad with his words, hes more of an action speaks louder type of guy so keep a close eye on his actions instead

always looking out for you even before you got into a relationship. injuries? strange, there are painkillers and bandages on your doorstep. hungry? he has a ration bar in his pocket. and look, its your fav type too. shopping together? let him hold the bags. dw its not heavy, he holds a 1500kg sword on the daily after all

TOUCH STARVED!!!! wants to be close to people or to even hold you against his chest but is afraid that he might scare you away or his mara would ruin the moment. he wants to be soft, genuinely does, but at the same so scared of his own self. when it cones to a relationship, you would have to take the lead. hold his hand, give him a hug, kiss his cheek, but take it slow or you will spook him away like hes a scared cat

speaking of cats, a cat person. you will even find him playing with one of the strays or patting the felines gently

lets you put stickers into his scars at times. finds it adorable how he is such a scary and tough person but has hello kitty stickers decorating his scars and body. the type to let you draw hearts on the back of his hand and say that its childish but refuse to wash it out when in the shower. like that one meme picture where the person has his hand out in the shower

kisses your forehead or cheek after you fall asleep. hes still not quite comfortable with the relationship he stepped into but he is easing into it. just give him some time and maybe, one night when youre pretending to be asleep, you might hear him recite love poems from his home to you in the xianzhou language. is a bit old fashioned so definitely expect yourself to be called “qīn’ài” (my beloved)

[cryingisnecessaryfanfics]

PART TWO

Its 2am have more scar headcannons/imagines

Characters: Razor(platonic), Kaeya, Xiao, Tighnari

Sorry these are probs subpar cuz my writing style varies depending on the bpd mood lmao. Bear with the redundancy of these, there are only so many ways to write the same action.

If youre the anon who sent me an ask im replying to your ask with the inverse you talked about. Stay tuned <3 (its probably gonna take another 6 months but welp)

Not spell checked or proof read sorry lol

Razor (platonic)

Wolf boy has a lot of scars as we can all tell. I feel like he probably doesnt get the point of lotion. Probably says it smells bad, like chemicals. His scars are all really improperly healed. Probably has keloid scars (overproduction of scar tissue). The sheer size of the ones on his arms lead me to believe he never got stitches or bandages of any sort, which makes sense considering his story. Regardless, that shit looks painful lmao. (Lighthearted imagine to start us off)

“Razor!” You yell, damn that kid was way faster than you. You nearly trip over a log as you run after him.

“Razor, stop running dammit.” You continue to shout after him, hoping anything you say might just make him slow down. Lord knows you could never catch up to him.

“It's just lotion. It'll make you feel better!” Your lungs start to sting from the chase and your legs drag behind you. You stop to catch your breath and Razor slows down in front of you.

He approaches you slowly like he's afraid you’ll catch him if he gets too close. “Smells bad,” he says and you all but roll your eyes.

“Sometimes things that are good for us smell bad.” You explain. Razor waits for your breathing to even out before he gets within arms reach of you.

“Like soap?” He says and you laugh at the memory of trying to get him to wash himself with soap instead of the occasional dip in the river.

“Yes, like soap.” You sigh and he frowns. Tentatively he holds out his arm, he looks at you expectantly.

“Finally.” You say under your breath and open the bottle of lotion. You can practically feel Razor's eyes watch your hands cautiously. He doesn't move as you spread some against the skin of his arm.

“Cold.” He comments and you huff a little laugh.

“See.” You say when you finish. “Feels better right?”

Razor finally relaxes and smiles at you. “Yes.”

You're just glad he stopped running.

Kaeya

Not gonna go the obvious way and say his eyepatch because I'm different lmao. I think his knuckles are scarred. I think kaeya seems like the type to cope with his feelings through violence. I think kaeya probably hates himself. When everything gets to be too much he just starts coming out swinging. The kind of person who punches a wall without really thinking about it. But yeah I think he used his fists too much when he was younger and now he wears the fingerless gloves to protect/cover the scars. (Sorry if this is weird or seems ooc, it just makes sense to me idk why)

You first see them when he gets the new outfit in sumeru. Everyone around you seems to disregard them, or maybe just not notice. But you can sense the way he subtly hides the scars, the way he walks with a hand behind his back, one covering the other. Its easy to not notice if you arent always watching closely. Maybe the only reason you noticed was because you seemed to always be staring at him. Kaeya catches you looking more than once and in typical kaeya fashion he deflects with flirting or jokes.

Later, when youve returned home to mondstat you ask him about it and he explains after some persistence.

“Its nothing to be shameful of.” You murmur, a hand holding his, looking at the dry scar tissue.

“Its one thing to have scars from braving a battle, a complete other thing to have them from your own stupidity.” He looks away from you and the eye you can see seems far away. Like he’s recalling something from his past.

“But it wasnt stupid, it was a way to cope. How can anyone think of something like that as not brave?” He doesnt answer you, only frowns slightly, a face youve never seen him make. “Do you atleast take care of them?”

He still doesnt respond. You sigh, exasperated, and pull out your endless bag of goods to find a lotion to help with the dryness.

“What are you doing?” He asks, and you all but cringe at the thought of him not knowing you have to moisturize scars.

“I’m helping you.” You half expect him to make a witty comment but the situation proves to be too heavy and he goes back to staying silent. The whole act goes without words, you spread the lotion over his knuckles, rub it in gently. He doesnt say anything until you slide his gloves back on.

“Thank you.” He says and before you can say anything back he adds, “For your actions and your words.”

You press a kiss to one of his gloved hands. “Your welcome.” You thnk you see his cheeks tint the slightest shade of red before hes back to normal again.

“And here I thought I was the romantic.”

Xiao

I always liked the images of the karmic binds/shackles so I like to imagine his wrists are scarred from straining(?) those too much. I mean considering Xiao is an Adeptus physical wounds wouldn't leave a scar so maybe these more mental-type wounds would. Like the more karmic debt he has the worse the scars get in condition, the less debt the more they fade. Maybe the lotion helps soothe the debt more than anything. Maybe the act of something so comforting and intimate with you lessens the pain. Food for thought I guess.

Every morning, at dawn, Xiao enters a room in Wangshu Inn so his lover can put lotion on his scars. This morning is no different.

“Good morning, Xiao.” You say like always, same pretty smile on your face every day.

“Morning,” Xiao mumbles and frowns as if this isn't his favorite part of the day. He avoids your eyes as he takes off his gloves. As many times as youve seen his wrists, he still gets insecure about them. It's no secret Xiao hates being vulnerable, even around his most trusted companion.

“I saw zhongli yesterday.” You say quietly as he sits down on the bed next to you, lotion in hand. “He was with that harbinger.”

“Tch. Useless scum.” Xiao comments and you laugh.

“He seemed happy, Xiao. Try to be tolerant of his friend.” Xiao just rolls his eyes and rests his arm in your hand. You continue to talk about your day as you open the bottle of lotion and start to spread it out against his wrist.

Xiao stays quiet during this, as he always does. You think he must enjoy your voice because he's always been intent on listening to you speak even if he usually prefers silence. He absorbs your words so soaked in affection and the ache in his body seems to lessen. Pain becomes distant, horrible and intense feelings become easier to push away.

It's over before he realizes it, you've put the lotion away simply holding his hand now, savoring the feeling of his skin against yours. He leans against you and you hum in content.

Maybe this is healing for the both of you. Mutual comfort.

Tighnari

I know a lot of people like the idea of him having scars from getting struck by lightning so i'm just gonna play off of that. Lighting very rarely leaves scars but the scars it does leave are burns. The electricity also causes nerve damage so you'd have to be very gentle and careful when handling tighnari’s scars. They're probably on his neck/back so itd take a lot of trust for him to let you see him so vulnerable. He probably already has lotion he puts on himself but its very hard to reach your own back so eventually he asks you for help.

You've seen him put lotion on his scars many times, watched him wince at the pain of it. You refrain from asking him if he wants your help. Tighnari is independent, he doesn't need anyone's help. But maybe itd be less painful if he didn't have to strain his muscles to reach the scars.

He doesn't say much when he asks the first time. Just tells you to be careful. He starts to list the ingredients of the lotion he's made. How he found it, what the weather was like that day.

No matter how gentle you were he’d still pause in the middle of sentences, and with his back to you, you never saw his winces but you knew they were there.

“Okay,” you say when you've finished and you know he's relieved it's over even if it was a more pleasant experience than him doing it himself.

But he thanks you anyway, and he’ll ask you to do it again the next day.

[twipsai]

omega and silver fic is up! ill put the full thing under the cut yayyy

~

Days and weeks and months melted together, years going by as his body rusted and decayed, warping itself beyond repair as fewer and fewer people dared to enter the Flame Core, fewer caring to check in on them.

He wasn’t conscious for a large portion of it. How could he be? Why would he be? Any reason to stay present was gone.

So he sat. He waited. For what, he wasn’t sure.

…

And then.

And then one day.

One day, something new. The feeling of something stirring against his chest awoke him from a multi-decade slumber. It took minutes, maybe hours, for all of his systems to come back online. The ones remaining, anyway. Everything hit him like bullets— two lifeforms detected, tactile input detected, loss of ammunition, left shoulder joint disconnected, motor functions offline…

Everything buzzed faintly.

Finally, he could see again.

He shifted his cameras down to see…

“CHILD.”

The kid’s eyes flew open as he stumbled backwards from being curled up against his side. A scream erupted from the child’s body. Analysis showed he was a hedgehog, about six, not matching anyone stored within his database.

Though, there weren’t many people around who did, anymore.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” Omega questioned, voice echoing unpleasantly against the cavern’s walls.

The child didn’t answer, his breathing picking up speed as his hands started to tremble. He fell to his knees, eyes wide and unblinkingly staring at Omega.

“I BELIEVE I MAY HAVE FRIGHTENED YOU. THIS WAS NOT MY INTENTION.”

It looked like the child couldn’t breathe, now, as if he was being strangled by an invisible force. He grasped a hand around his neck while tears rolled down his cheeks.

Somewhere in his data storage, something like a memory surfaced. It was an unfamiliar feeling.

At some point, someone he knew had something like this happen to them.

“INITIATING ‘COMFORT’ PROTOCOL.”

Through old, crackling speakers, a song started to play. Even with the terrible audio crunching, the piano still rang out as soft as ever. Slow notes drawled on. The lifeform behind him shifted. The child took about 3.49 seconds to visually indicate he had heard the music. His ears perked up and his terrified eyes softened. Over the course of six minutes and twenty-three seconds, the child’s heart rate decreased from 110 beats per minute to 100.

The first thing that tiny child squeaked out was, “Can you move?”

Omega responded after a moment to check. “NO.”

The child then slowly stood, inching forward on trembling legs to sit closer to the music. He leaned an ear to Omega’s chest where the sound crackled out from. He was way too warm for a tiny child, and if he wasn’t showing no other symptoms, Omega would have thought he was sick.

As the song steadily reached its conclusion, the child seemed about as relaxed as he was going to get.

“What is this?” he asked.

“GYMNOPEDIE NO. 1.”

The child looked up and squinted his eyes, confused. “I don’t understand.”

“IT’S A VERY OLD SONG FROM AN ESTIMATED 400 YEARS AGO.”

“A song? What’s a song?”

Omega was never very good at explaining the more… human aspects of life. The alive parts.

Others would be better suited to explain this.

He knew many that could’ve.

“A SONG IS TYPICALLY A COLLECTION OF NOTES PLAYED IN SUCCESSION TO CREATE A MELODY. WHY WERE YOU SLEEPING ON ME, CHILD?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I DO NOT CARE. YOU HAVE NOT ANSWERED MY QUESTION.”

The child’s grey quills flared out even more than they already had, and he fidgeted with the bandages around his wrists. “Your body is cold. It’s very warm here. I was just trying to cool off…”

“WHAT IS YOUR NAME?”

“I think it’s Silver.”

“YOU ARE NOT SURE?”

“No.”

“WHY ARE YOU HERE?”

“I’m trying to get to Crisis City.”

That was an unfamiliar location. Omega checked his residual memory, and cross referenced it with previous data he had archived. “THE RUINS OF SOLEANNA.”

“Um. Maybe?”

“THE HEART OF IBLIS. INQUIRY: WHY IS A TINY MEATBAG LIKE YOU MARCHING TO YOUR CERTAIN DEATH?”

Silver sat down in the place where his left arm should have been, under exposed wires sparking threateningly. This close, Omega could see the scabs on his knees, the blood soaking through the messily-wrapped bandages, the cuts littering his arms and legs, his calloused hands and feet— he could see the determination in his eyes as he folded his hands in his lap and furrowed his brows. “I'm going to defeat Iblis.”

If Omega could laugh, he would. “DOES NOT COMPUTE. SILVER THE HEDGEHOG: SMALL, MORTAL, POWERLESS. IBLIS: GIANT, IMMORTAL, POWERFUL. I ASK AGAIN; WHY IS A TINY MEATBAG LIKE YOU MARCHING TO YOUR DEATH?”

“Because I have to! I have powers no one else has, if there's something I can do, then I wanna help!”

“FURTHER DATA NEEDED. WHAT POWERS DO YOU POSSESS, CHILD?”

“Um, someone told me its called psy– psycho— um—”

“PSYCHOKINESIS.”

“Yes! Psychokinesis!”

There was no telling how powerful the child actually was. Omega knew better than to underestimate children at this point, when three had accompanied him on adventure after adventure before the flames had consumed the world.

They were children. Most of his companions were. 

His chest suddenly felt strange. Felt. He tried to run a diagnosis on his power core, only to find that it was still destroyed. Nothing had changed about his state. What made that feeling?

“Excuse me, uh… sir?”

“OMEGA.”

“Huh?”

“THAT IS MY NAME. E-123 OMEGA.”

“Oh. Well, your eyes are glowing.”

Strange. Someone once said that he was very expressive— he thought it was what she called “sarcasm”, but then went on to explain all the little things she noticed about him, and how he reacts to things. It seemed that, even with almost all of his functions offline, he was still finding ways to express himself.

“Omega?”

“WHAT.”

Silver looked up at him shyly. “Can I lean on you again? It’s very hot in here, and you’re very cool…”

“I LACK THE PROPER MOTOR FUNCTION TO STOP YOU.”

“That’s why I asked.”

A memory surfaced. Covered in rust and cobwebs and ash.

A very long time ago, he was carrying someone gently, as gently as he could. This person was tired— he had been through a lot that week. He could barely stand. So he carried him to his room quietly, trying his best not to tear the blankets he used to tuck him in. He must not have done a very good job at being quiet, because he woke up to a degree.

“Omega,” he mumbled, eyes still half-closed. “Don’t… don’t let anyone do anything to you. Even though you’re… you’re a robot… you should get to be your own person…”

He quietly took a step back. 

“YOUR MUMBLING IS INCOHERENT,” Omega replied. “TELL ME TOMORROW; I WILL STILL BE HERE.”

And he turned.

And left.

Silver, for one reason or another, was dragging up memories that he thought had been trapped in old storage. Maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t had a conversation with another person in over a hundred years. Maybe the long stretches of silence had a way of turning one into a poet.

“YES,” Omega finally replied, “YOU MAY LEAN ON ME.”

Silver crawled over his lap, smushing himself in between Omega’s in-tact arm and torso, forehead leaning against his upper arm. If Omega thought the child would listen, he would warn him about getting tetanus from his rusted fingers.

“I have a question now. Is that okay?”

“YES.”

“How old are you?”

“73,784.8 DAYS HAVE PASSED SINCE MY CREATION.”

“Uhhh… that’s a lot…”

Eggman didn’t program conversion to weeks, months, and years into his internal clock. Eventually it would stop counting up when it hit 999,999.999 days. It also meant that he had to mentally convert it himself. “APPROXIMATELY 200 YEARS.”

“Oh.”

…

The child looked up at him with impossibly large eyes.

“Oh! Were you around before Iblis was, Omega?!”

“YES—”

“Can you tell me about it?! Please! I’ve heard stories but— but not from someone who was there! You gotta tell me!”

Much to his dismay, Omega was finding this child amusing. And familiar. “WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE TO KNOW?”

“Um, um…” When he was in thought, Silver fidgeted with his poncho’s hem. “Tell me about the sky!”

“...THE SKY?”

“Yes!”

Omega hadn’t been outside for most of his lifespan— he had spent it in the Flame Core. But he did remember that— “IT WAS GIANT.”

A massive expanse that blanketed the entire earth. A constant in a chaotic life. No matter where you went, the sky followed.

“IT WOULD CHANGE COLOR. MANY COMPARED IT TO A PAINTING.”

The child looked up at him with wonder in his eyes, absorbing every syllable.

“IT WAS THE ONE THING IN LIFE THAT REMAINED.”

Absolute awe was written on Silver’s face. 

Omega could make a well-informed guess of what awaited him outside the cavern if he was ever fixed.

“Can you tell me about the people?”

“YOU ASK MANY QUESTIONS.”

“I haven’t gotten this many answers before.”

They were his companions. Teammates. Friends, though, that was pushing it a little, as one of them would say. After so long to think about it, to put his feelings into words, he came to the conclusion that he must have cared about them. They were almost all gone, now. Almost. But he could remember watching them from afar, completely captivated by how they moved. It was all just play to most of them. They would train against each other, race across continents, get takeout in the middle of a mission… Everything was just another day. They laughed in the face of danger. They stood tall. They cared.

Oh, how they cared.

“I BELIEVE THEY WERE NOT VERY DIFFERENT FROM THE PEOPLE OF THIS TIME.”

“No?”

“NO. THEY WERE ALL JUST PEOPLE. MUNDANE.”

Silver knitted his brows together in thought, then pointed past where Omega’s cameras could reach, behind the two of them. “Was he there?”

But he knew.

He knew.

Knew who he was pointing to.

“YES.”

“What’s his name?”

“SHADOW.”

“Why is he trapped in there?”

While Omega couldn’t see him in his position, he knew exactly how Shadow looked. Arms up and cuffed with giant metal rings, attached to a hexagonal cage that stretched over him in a diamond shape, glowing pink and white. The image was committed to his long-term memory.

Perhaps it was better he couldn’t turn to see.

“HUMANITY THOUGHT HE WAS THE CAUSE OF THE FLAMES OF DISASTER.”

Silver stood and walked behind him. The tingle of apprehensiveness of having his back turned to a sentient being was duller than he remembered. “Was he?”

“NO,” he could say for certain. “NO, HE WASN’T.”

“Then why did they do this to him?”

He could remember his claw gripping Shadow’s neck as he begged and pleaded for mercy. He remembered his body acting without his command as he unfeelingly attacked him. He remembered Shadow going limp on the floor, almost dead. He remembered watching as people crowded around him and quickly put him into stasis.

He remembered standing with him,

for centuries.

Maybe as an apology. Maybe because it was what he was built to do.

He remembered.

“HUMANITY FEARS WHAT THEY DON'T UNDERSTAND, CHILD.”

Quietly, Silver walked back to Omega’s side, leaning on him once again, and a little more curled up in his lap than he was before. “I know,” he said. “I know that.” 

Of course he did. Omega could have guessed that, especially in this world; this world that was dominated by terror. After all, Silver was here, alone, at six years old. Whatever reason he had for that couldn't be a pleasant one.

“YOU REMIND ME OF THE PEOPLE I FOUGHT ALONGSIDE BACK THEN.”

“Before Iblis?”

“YES.”

“I do?”

“YOU ARE MARCHING TO FACE IMPOSSIBLE ODDS. YET YOU REMAIN OPTIMISTIC. YOU STRIVE TO PROTECT A BROKEN WORLD THAT HURT YOU.”

Silver fidgeted with the hem of his poncho. His markings pulsed with light. “Even if the whole world was against me,” he whispered, “I'd still protect it.”

“I SEE. INQUIRY;”

“Mhm?”

“HOW CAN YOU FIGHT WHEN YOU KNOW YOU CAN'T WIN?”

For a long time, Silver stayed quiet.

He spoke slowly. “As long as I don't give up… there's hope.”

How optimistic. How cruel, for a child to say those words with a trembling voice. If Omega could, he'd weep. 

Then, he returned to his excited demeanor. “Hey, you know what? I could probably get Shadow out of there!”

“YOU COULD NOT.”

“I could try! If I could wake your friend up, then maybe—”

“CHILD.”

He stayed quiet.

“I MADE A VOW TO PROTECT THOSE I HELD DEAR.” He flickered some of the lights on his body on and off. “I BROKE THAT VOW ONCE. NOW, I WILL REMAIN HERE, BY HIS SIDE, UNTIL I AM GONE.”

Silver was practically curled up in his lap, forehead rested on his chest. His body temperature had dropped significantly since he had woken up. “Okay, then. Hey, I have another question.”

“ASK IT.”

“Can you make that ‘song’ again?”

How optimistic.

How cruel.

“YES. I CAN.”

The piano hummed through his broken speakers. It made ear-splitting popping noises occasionally, but Silver didn't seem to mind. He shifted so his ear was right above Omega’s internal speaker.

His companions would have liked Silver. It was obvious— maybe even Shadow would have. But they were separated by eons.

Omega only hoped the next time they met, it was for a kinder reason.

‘Hoped’...

Silver must have been rubbing off on him. 

[destinyisastar]

So, you like dogs?

Summary: You seem to be way too happy at the agency, Dazai and Atsushi (mostly Dazai) make it their goal to find out why.

Tetchou x fem reader*

--------------------------------------------------

You walk into the agency more happy than usual, and Dazai seems to be the first to take notice. You're humming a sweet tune to yourself, you gladly take the paperwork that is offered to you by Ranpo, and you're the first to offer to go shopping with Yosano. 

What could be going on with you?

“Hey, Atsushi-kun, do you think anything about Y/N is different today?” whispers Dazai to Atsushi who is doing the remaining paperwork his senior gave to him.

Atsushi takes a quick glance up and sees you happily doing paperwork. 

“She seems fine to me.” Atsushi says and goes back to doing work.

Dazai stares at you, “No, no” Dazai puts a hand over his mouth and moves closer to Atsushi, “Look more closely, she seems way too happy to be doing paperwork.” 

Looking up once more, Atsushi does see what Dazai is talking about.

You're all smiley, which Atsushi does find a bit strange, especially with the mountain of paperwork you’ve been given. You seem to be doing it with ease.

“Maybe she’s happy because she just wants to be?” Atsushi tells Dazai.

Dazai shakes his head,” I don’t think so and for that reason I will make my life goal to figure out why she’s so hap-” Kunikida smacks Dazai in on the back of his head, “Will you get to WORK you sack of bandages!!”yells Kunikida,” Stop bothering Atsushi and get back to your own reports.”

Dazai rubs the back of his head,” But Kunikida look at Y/N.” he whispers.

Kunikida takes a glance at you.

“I see nothing wrong with her,” Kunikida looks back at Dazai,” Instead of watching her like a creep you should be doing your WORK!” exclaims Kunikida.

He goes back to his desk, while Dazai continues to stare at you.

You look up from your stack of papers to see Dazai staring at you.

You give him a smile and a quick little wave and continue humming to yourself.

Just what is going on with you?

—------------------------------------------------

As the work day comes to an end you still have a smile on your face.

You pack up all your items and head to the door with glee. But what you don’t notice is a Dazai and annoyed Atsushi following close behind you.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You are sitting on a bench at a nearby park with your phone in your hand, you seem to be waiting for someone.

While Dazai and Atsushi are sitting behind a bush, with Dazai staring at you through the shrubs. 

“Dazai I still don’t know why we have to do thi-” 

 Dazai cuts him off,“Shush now Atsushi, we might finally get some action around here instead of the never ending boredom.” 

Atsushi does have to admit, it has been quiet as of lately. But maybe quiet is a good thing.

“Atsushi look!!” 

A man in uniform makes his way towards you. He has flower petal tattoos under his left eye and a smile on his face.

You stand up from the bench with a wide smile on your face, “ I missed you.”  You wrap your arms around Tetchou’s neck.

 He smiles down at you, and kisses your forehead.

Your smile grows wider. “How about one here,” you point your finger to your lips.

With a smile he puts his lips on yours. The kiss is sweet, a type of “ Hello, I missed you ” kiss.

His hand reaches yours and pulls them to his mouth, giving your knuckles a tender kiss.  

“I missed you more.”  he tells you sweetly. 

You look into his eyes, “Let's go home.”  

Tetchou takes hold of your hand and you both begin the journey home.

—------------------------------------------------

Behind the bushes is a very jaw dropped  Dazai. 

His eyes stare at both of your figures, till Atsushi slightly pushes him. 

“ A DOG!!!!”  he turns to Atsushi , “ SHE'S WITH A DOG!!” 

Atsushi is taken aback a bit. “ Dazai, I don't think that guy was a dog.”

“ NO, A HUNTING DOG!!” 

“ A hunting dog?” 

“I can’t believe this! My belladonna is with a mutt!!” Dazai cries out with a hand on his chest.

This new found discovery will be talked about.

—------------------------------------------------

The next day you return to the Agency with a smile.

Dazai has his hands clasped together, staring at you intently.

“Dazai, why are you still staring at her?” Atsushi asks.

He continues to stare,muttering, “ a dog,.... dog,... dog,..... dog,.. a dog.”

Atsushi takes a deep breath and goes back to work.

Dazai abruptly stands up and walks towards your desk and crouches next to you.

You look to your left,” Oh, hi Dazai, how are you?”

Dazai grabs your hand, “ My sweet, sweet, belladonna,” he rubs your hand slightly with his thumb,” I had no idea you,” he takes a deep breath, “ you…”  he looks into your eyes, “ that you liked dogs.” he whispers.

“I’m sorry, what did you say Dazai?” 

“YOU LIKE DOGS!!”

You take a moment to take in his response, “ Well, dogs are nice pets, so yeah, I like dogs.”

Dazai stands up once more and puts a hand to his forehead dramatically and shuts his eyes, “ Even hunting dogs?”

Your face turns red.

“Dazai will stop bothering Y/N and get your ass to work!!” Kunikida yells to him, “And what's this talk about hunting dogs?”

“Should I say it or should you say it, Y/N?” Dazai smiles at you.

“ Hunting dogs a-are a good type of dog,” your face is still red, “They make for nice trackers and they are g-good company.”

“Yeah, I bet they make good company.” 

“ Alright that's enough, Dazai don’t you have other people to bother?” Kunikida tells him.

“Nope, I just want to talk to Y/N about her dogfriend.”

“Dogfriend?” Kunikida questions.

“Nothing to worry about Kunikida~kun”, He pats Kunikida on the back, “Everything is all covered here.”

Kunikida looks between the two of you, he sighs, “ Just finish your reports.”

After Kunikida leaves to go about his business, Dazai takes a chair and sits right next to you.

“So,” he puts a hand on his cheek, “you like dogs?” smiling at your red flustered face.

--------------------------------------------------

Why is math so hard?????

Have a good day!💕

[peterman-spideyparker]

The Girl Before (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Hi! This was written on my phone in maybe fifteen minutes and isn’t really proofread. I don’t know why I have so many angsty ideas lately, but here’s another one. I might do a part two, but for all intents and purposes right now, this is a stand alone.

Summary: You love Matt. Even after your breakup, you still have so much love for him. But now, it’s clear that you’re the furthest thing from his mind.

Warnings: Angst, unrequited love, drinking, heartbreak

Other Characters: Foggy Nelson, Karen Page

You don’t even know why you’re drinking a beer. You hate beer. You don’t even know why you’re here at Josie’s. But it’s the only thing that makes sense for you to be doing right now. It’s sad to be drinking alone, drowning your sorrows in the dark of your apartment, but it’s even sadder to be drinking alone in a bar with a drink you don’t even like to try and get over a guy. But the thing is, it’s not just some guy. It’s Matt.

Matt is the love of your life, you have no question in your mind about that. You were in love with him, and he was in love with you. But somewhere, somehow, something went wrong. Terribly, horribly wrong, and he broke your heart and left you to pick up the pieces. For him, it was like he was tearing off a bandage. But for you, it was like the car stalling on the tracks with a train barreling toward you showing no signs of stopping until all that was left behind was wreckage. An unrecognizable mess from something out of the blue.

Somehow, you heard that Matt was engaged. To whom, you don’t know, and when he’s making that vow in front of his loved ones, you don’t know. If anything, she’s probably gorgeous. Matt has always had a type, a type that you always felt you were an anomaly in. He never seemed to care, and after a while, you believed him. He just loved you, no strings attached. Sweet affection, soft kisses, seemingly unconditional love. And then, one day, it all just came undone.

Maybe that’s the real reason you’re here—on the off chance you’ll run into Matt, you’ll come to him or he’ll come to you, you’ll patch things up, and you could move back toward what you were. You know the kind of life he leads. It’s hard, so damn hard, but you know you can trust him and what he does and he knows that you’ll be there for him when he needs you. With another swig of your drink, you purse your lips and frown as it goes down your esophagus. Ugh, you really hate beer. As the bottle meets the napkin on the counter, your attention is drawn to the opening door. A small little group in black tie attire enters, laughing and cheering as they enter the bar for their little reception. Your heart stops and you almost fall off of your stool when you see Karen, Foggy, and Matt as some of the last bodies to enter in the group. The move to a couple of tables in the back, Matt kissing the temple of one of the girls in the group. The fiancée, no doubt. The way he smiles, how he carries himself as he moves to the bar breaks your heart. He pauses when he gets to the bar, seemingly recognizing your presence at the far end of it, but you see a little shiny, new gold band encircling his fourth finger. Your heart shatters, the shards then cutting you from the inside out leaving you in immeasurable pain. Why weren’t you good enough for him to stay? What did you do wrong? Why don’t you have the matching ring on your left hand?

Before the tears can roll down your face and you lose all sense of emotional control at the end of the bar, you place some money on the counter and hop off your stool, throwing your bag over your shoulder and rushing out of the bar as fast as you possibly can. Except for Matt noticing you, or at least what you think is him noticing you, you make a pretty clean escape.

When you met Matt, you were so sure he was the one. Now, you have to live with the fact that to the love of your life—the only person you ever really, truly loved—you didn’t mean as much to him as he did you. To Matt, you were just the girl before the one.

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